A/N: This chapter is first, and foremost, a birthday present for the lovely ChelsieSouloftheAbbey. She asked specifically for "Snowed-in Chelsie. MARRIED."
Well, I happen to have this long-running fic with most of those details…just the snowed-in part was missing. Send her birthday wishes, and thank her for being such a great member of this fandom! She is a wonderful person, very kind and generous, and deserves all the good things this world can give.
There is a nod to another fandom in this chapter, to the show Lovejoy. I simply couldn't resist adding one of my favorite characters to this chapter. It's a small nod, but it's there. To those of you who may have seen that Phyllis Logan show, enjoy!
A small section of this chapter is to satisty chelsie-prompts challenge "Cocoa".
And last but not least, a disclaimer. CSotA and I have a maddening habit of writing fics (without the other knowing) that weirdly mirror each other. This chapter is a victim of that. In my defense, I started writing this several weeks ago and didn't tell her anything (because birthday surprise), only to find out two days ago that the Borg fandom brain had happened AGAIN. The use of Dan Fogelberg's song "Same Old Auld Lang Syne" here is purely coincidental.
I think. I'm beginning to have doubts…
April 2017
The move to their new home happened so fast it almost felt like a dream.
Or, as Charles told Elsie, it happened like everything in their shared life together was falling into place. Like it was meant to be.
The former owners of their new house, the Hendersons, had already moved out of state. They were delighted to get an offer so soon, and accepted the Carsons' second offer within twenty-four hours of receiving it after only countering once.
Charles and Elsie's former house had been on the market barely a month, and had no offers yet, though there had been interest. Charles fretted that they would not be able to sell it quickly.
It was Mary who came to their rescue. Charles Blake, a university acquaintance of hers, had recently returned from a job overseas and was looking for a place to live. He was not ready to buy a home yet, but the Carsons agreed to rent him their old one for a year. The younger man would do some improvements on the house while he was living there. Then they would put it on the market again.
Charles and Elsie closed on their new house on the first Wednesday in April. Charles took Thursday off to supervise the movers in the morning, and Elsie took a half-day. They stayed up late setting up the kitchen before falling asleep in their new bedroom to the sound of rain on the roof.
He woke slowly in the dark room. Drifting out of sleep into awakening. His eyes were closed but even so, he felt the newness, the strangeness of their home.
Not everything was strange, of course.
Elsie lay in his arms, still deep in sleep. Her breath came out in little puffs on her pillow. The familiar sound made Charles smile.
He shifted slightly, the comforter sliding off his shoulder. His phone was on the edge of the bed.
5:56.
He pressed the heel of his hand to his eye.
Why am I awake so early?
The movers, thankfully, had done all of the heavy lifting the day before. But moving boxes and putting away all of their kitchen paraphernalia, as well as moving other boxes to make sure they had paths throughout the house, had given Charles aching muscles. He felt better than he had the night before, just a little stiff, but he had expected to sleep straight through to the alarm.
The heater kicked on.
There was a ribbon of light on the floor, making its way through the curtains. It looked entirely too bright considering how early it was.
He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake his wife. The sight outside made him gasp.
Snow.
Snow.
And not just a light dusting or heavy flakes floating in the air (though there were a lot of those). Snow completely covering the street and yards around, leaving mounds on top of cars and trash bins.
Charles was still staring at the brightness outside when Pepper brushed against his leg. He flinched, looking down, and suddenly felt the chill through the window.
At least they knew their furnace worked…not that they had much doubt on that. It was new, and in excellent condition.
But…but…snow in APRIL!?
They had had the occasional flurry, or cold spell that occurred in early spring. But what was going on outside was something he could not remember happening for years.
Pepper whined, her cold nose against his ankle. He knew that sound.
He pulled the curtains a little farther apart to see into the room, without turning the light on. Thankfully, the second box he opened had more of his winter clothes inside. He grabbed an old cardigan and one of the pairs of jeans Elsie had insisted on buying him for Christmas. He had wanted to argue with her (he simply did not wear jeans), but when she told him how good he looked in them, he gave in and kept them.
How could he say no to a woman who told him how much she admired his bottom?
As he buttoned the cardigan over his t-shirt, he glanced at Pepper. He did not want a repeat of what had happened earlier at their old home, but he had a feeling it was much colder outside than it had been the day he'd embarrassed himself in front of the Mikulskis.
The dog did not want to go outside.
She sat down on his feet when he cracked open the back door. Marigold's swing and the bench in their backyard were covered with several inches of white. The wind whipped against his legs, and the snow swirled thick and fast around them. Charles shivered.
"Come on," he murmured, trying to move Pepper forward. She whimpered, clearly not wanting to leave him. "I know you have to go. If this were a normal day in April, you would have no problem, but it is what it is."
And as much as he loved her, he was not willing to let her do her business inside in their new house.
Eventually he had to get her leash and pull her outside. She did what she had to as quickly as possible, but even so, both of them were nearly frozen after he'd picked her up and waded through the mound of snow on the patio and through the back doors back into the family room.
He found an old towel and dried their puppy off in the laundry room. He put food and fresh water in her dish, and in Spike's. His snow-soaked shoes were left to drip-dry on another towel.
There were two messages on his phone, and a missed call from Mary.
Mary Crawley to Charles Carson, 5:59
I will not be coming in today. Georgie's school is closed, and I haven't had a decent night's sleep in months. Matthew is planning on being at the office as soon as he clears the driveway.
He quickly sent her a reply. There was no need for her to push herself. She hadn't listened to him when he told her she could start her maternity leave early, but she insisted on working as long as possible.
She had delivered George early, but her unborn daughter was nearly ten days late.
Robert Crawley to Charles Carson, 6:07
Cora got a call from a nurse friend of hers working the night shift. The roads are awful. Will probably be late coming in – Tom's brother is bringing his truck over here.
He fumbled with the TV, making a mental note to figure out the cable later. The local news reports were full of horrific car accidents, school closings, and weather reports predicting record snow. And dire warnings saying if you don't have to be somewhere, STAY HOME.
He had been planning on going into the office for a few hours to get a little work done. It would do no good to fall too far behind; if things piled up, he'd have to bring work home, and he was less and less inclined to do that.
He glanced around the box-strewn family room.
Not a sound came from the master bedroom.
6:16.
It took the managing partner of Carson, Crawley & Bates all of two seconds to make his decision.
He initiated the emergency calling tree, calling Robert first. Then he called Violet.
"I'm glad you came to your senses," she told him. "One day every decade or so of closing the office will not sink us. While I have every faith in my own ability to drive through a snowstorm, I have little faith in my fellow man to do so. It's best for everyone to be safe."
Robert would call John, and so on down the line. Violet would call Isobel and the city office would be notified.
But Charles called Thomas, then Beryl, himself.
Mr. Barrow seemed confused as to why Mr. Carson was calling him, and not Mrs. Carson. But he took the news of the firm's closed status with surprise and not too much evident glee (though Charles was convinced the younger man was dancing a jig inside) and promised to notify the support staff assigned to him.
The records clerks supervisor was happy. "I am glad," she confessed. "We're fairly stuck here, and Bill didn't even want to try to clear our road until the snow stops. But if I may, why are you calling me, Mr. Carson? Usually it would be Elsie doing this."
To no one but Beryl would he tell the real truth.
"She's still asleep. I didn't have the heart to wake her yet. She worked very hard yesterday supervising the movers, and unpacking the kitchen."
"I see," she paused. He could practically hear the wheels spinning in her head. "So you closed the office both out of concern for everyone's welfare, as well as giving your wife a nice day off to settle in, but mostly to give both of you the opportunity to enjoy each other in your new love nest!"
He was entirely too used to her teasing, but he couldn't help being baited. "Mrs. Mason-" he sputtered, but she only laughed at him.
"Have a nice day, Mr. Carson. Ooh, it's a Friday, too! Well done there, a long weekend! Don't worry, I'll ring Mr. Molesley and the rest of them."
And she hung up before he could say another word.
He stood in the middle of the family room, his eyes on the empty fireplace.
You know that's why you really closed the office. You couldn't resist Elsie, sitting in front of the fire with a glass of wine. That contented smile on her face…
He sent an email blast to everyone in the firm, even the part-time workers, telling them to stay home and stay safe.
He was very glad the Hendersons had left some firewood. He stacked some of it on the hearth, trying not to make too much of a mess, mindful of the boxes all over the family room. Then he returned to the bedroom. He switched off Elsie's alarm on her phone, glad to have caught it before it went off. Removing his socks, he climbed back into bed and laid down next to his wife.
She wore a slight smile on her face, as if she were having some lovely dream. Her left hand lay close to her face and her ring glinted next to the red and grey strands of hair on her pillow.
He watched her sleep for a long time until his own eyes grew heavy. The only time he woke was when he heard a thump, and he raised his head. Spike jumped from a box then left the room through the open door.
Charles woke slowly again, feeling refreshed. He brushed his fingers softly against Elsie's cheek, feeling like his heart would overflow.
Our first day in our home. Together.
There is nowhere I would rather be.
According to his phone, it was nearly half past eight.
"Elsie," he whispered, leaving light kisses on her hair and on her face. "Elsie, love, wake up."
"Mmmm." She turned her face further into his touch.
It felt delicious, this wonderful feeling of warmth and contentment. Faintly, she knew her alarm would go off soon, but she wanted to prolong the sensation of being half in sleep and half awake, as much as possible.
The fact that Charlie was trying to wake her so gently made her love him all the more.
"Els," her husband's voice murmured. She could hear him smiling. "Mrs. Hughesss…"
His calling her by her former name nearly made her smile. It brought to mind hours spent in his office or hers, sparring over the traditional legal culture, and falling in love with each other without either of them realizing it.
"Good morning to you," she whispered sleepily, her eyes blinking open finally. The light was strong in the room, peeking through the curtains. "Och…did I oversleep?" Her eyes widened in panic. "You should have woken me sooner!"
She threw the comforter back and sat up. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, unconcerned. Vaguely, she wondered why he was wearing clothes instead of his pajamas.
"I closed the office."
"What! Why?" Why hadn't he woken her up?
"Because it's snowing like Christmas outside, and the roads are horrible." He kissed her temple, pulling strands of hair from her face.
"It never is," she muttered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "You're a horrible liar, Charlie. Besides, it barely snowed on Christmas-"
He let go of her, grinning as she marched to the window and threw the curtains open. It was too funny to see her stupefied expression, and he barely managed to keep from laughing out loud.
"You see?" He got up, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head.
It was a whirl of white outside, the flakes coming down so fast their neighbor's house across the street was difficult to see. A thick white carpet blanketed the yards, driveways, and street. Any tracks that might have been made by cars had long since been covered.
"I can't believe it," she said, her eyes wide. "It was a bit cold yesterday, but I never thought…was snow predicted?"
The move had distracted her from paying attention to much else.
"Flurries were, yes. Anything more than that, no. All the schools are out, and the local authorities are urging everyone to stay home." He ran his hands up and down her sides, feeling her shiver.
"So you closed the office. Both of them."
"Yes. I thought it best for everyone to be safe. I rang Beryl and Mr. Barrow too, so everyone in the calling tree was contacted. I'd know by now if they weren't."
She nodded, hearing him, but her thoughts far away. Thinking of snowy winters in Scotland, of chasing Becky through thigh-high drifts. Of scraping off her car one winter outside of Carson, Crawley & Bates. Feeling wet and half-frozen.
Of the Christmas Eve when Charles had proposed. There had been snow that night. Falling softly while he knelt in front of her.
And now he stood behind her, keeping her warm while they watched the snow fall outside.
Our first day in our new house, and it's a snow day!
She was delighted. For more than one reason.
"What time is it?" She murmured.
"Um…about a quarter till nine, I think." He started to turn around to check, but she grabbed his hands, keeping them on her waist.
"Did you let Pepper out?"
"Early this morning. She didn't like the cold. And yes, I dried her off in the laundry room when I came back in," he dipped his head to kiss her cheek.
"Thank you. And thank you for closing the office and ringing the others, even if you didn't consult me." A corner of her mouth turned up, a slight grin.
"I was thinking of you, as it happens." He felt the familiar stirring low at the sight and feel of her. She'd been too tired to search for a nightgown the previous night, so she wore one of his old white t-shirts. It was so faded he could see the outline of her nipples through it. Her hair was tousled.
She turned into him, her hands moving to his chest. They kissed quietly. Lips pressing, moving. Opening, tongues tasting each other. His stubble scratched her face.
The only sounds were the low hum from the vent and the moan of the wind outside.
Elsie grabbed Charles's left hand on her waist and pressed it onto her breast, the soft flesh. He moaned and pressed his other hand into the small of her back. Sliding down, his fingers clutched her bottom. She gasped at the contact and he stumbled backwards, sitting down on the bed. She straddled his lap and they continued kissing, her hands making his curly hair wild. His hands roamed freely over her naked legs and against her back, pulling her closer into him.
She unceremoniously ripped off her shirt and let him caress her breasts.
Her breathing was rather ragged.
"I thought," he whispered, nibbling her ear, "we could take advantage of the weather and stay home together."
His jeans were beginning to feel very uncomfortable.
"Oh, I see-Mr. Carson," she stuttered, leaning back and unbuttoning his cardigan. He shrugged out of it as she pulled the sleeves from his arms. "That was what you really wanted!"
"Is it not what the office manager wants?" His voice was little more than a rumble, his eyes devouring her. Elsie bit back a whimper.
"I love you," she whispered. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, grazing her teeth along his bottom lip. He fell backwards onto the bed and she fell on top of him. They broke apart briefly, but she continued to kiss the managing partner until he gasped for air.
"Give me a moment, young woman," he laughed a little at their mutual hunger. Like a crazed pair of youngsters who can't keep our hands off each other!
She slid further down his lap while he sat up, trying to remove his t-shirt. She giggled at her fumbling and his insistence on doing nothing, letting her pull the shirt over his head.
"You can be very lazy – when you want to be!"
The shirt didn't quite make it over his head.
"I can't see you." His voice was muffled, his face entirely covered. Still laughing, she yanked the shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. She was on her knees with her head a little higher than his.
"There, it's off," she cupped his chin playfully. "No thanks to you…why do you like to let me do all the work?"
As the words left her mouth, she realized the answer to her question.
Her breasts were right in front of his face.
Elsie huffed out a breath, half amused and half rolling her eyes. "As my best friend would say, 'Men!'! Do you all really think of nothing else?"
"Not when there are such lovely ones in front of me," he smirked. Dipping his head, he drew the right one into his mouth, gently teasing her nipple into a hardened peak, and kissing her scar. Elsie sucked in a breath so fast it sounded like a hiss.
"Oh god, Charlie-" She lost her breath as he lavished tender attention on her sensitive skin. He leaned back against the pillows. With every hum, every flick of his tongue, she got more and more aroused.
She adored it, his teasing and tormenting her like this.
Her sighs and little moans were driving him crazy. Reluctantly, he pushed on her thigh to get her to move off of him. He hated the loss of her warmth, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
He removed his jeans and boxers in record time. When they sat together again in the middle of the bed, their kisses ever more passionate, it took all of his will power to break their embrace, one hand on her back and the other holding her face.
"Wait."
"Wha-what?" She gasped, her chest heaving. Her face was flushed and her lips were swollen.
"Lay down." Elsie did so, reaching up to pull him on top of her, but he evaded her. He pulled off her underwear much slower than she thought was necessary.
"Charlie…" she raised herself on her elbows. "What are you doing?"
He grinned at her and went on all fours above her. He barely grazed her lips with his, then bent and kissed her neck.
"Loving you." His breath was warm. Even more so when he murmured against her belly. She squealed, his silver curls soft beneath her fingers.
Her body was trembling. She knew, she knew where he was going, and the anticipation alone was almost enough to send her over the edge.
"You don't have to do this," she breathed, laying back against the pillows as he left a slow kiss just above where the hair of her mound began.
"I want to." His breath was warm against her hip. He swirled his tongue at the place where her thigh and abdomen met, his gentle hands moving her legs apart.
She melted into the touch of his lips on her sex. She tried not to push his head any farther forward, mindful of his stubble, but the way his nose brushed against her nub-
"Mo chridhe, yes," she cried out, arching into him. "There, y-e-e-e-s-s-"
His expert lips in her soft folds, what was he doing to her, his tongue drawing her nub further into his sweet mouth. A shower of swearing and Gaelic erupted from her until she reached her peak, and she came hard into his mouth, her voice echoing in their bedroom.
He adored it when she came undone like this. No restraint, nothing held back. He swore under his breath when she flinched, knowing the roughness on his chin was to blame, but was elated when she pushed on the back of his head, her fingers clutching his hair.
Burying his face between her thighs, he lapped at her as she thrust her hips forward again.
She was singing, one hand holding him to her sex, the other twisted in her own hair. The feel of him, just there. The wanting, the need for him, always sated yet never enough.
Yes, my love, yes, my husband, my only love. What you do to me, no one else could do.
Her throat felt dry when she fell backwards once more and he rose up on his knees, his hands caressing her thighs. He smiled at her, and it widened when he realized she couldn't speak. His lips were wet.
He laid down next to her, kicking away the tangled comforter, and held her as she shook, coming down from her high.
To see her darkened eyes, her red flushed face was enough to keep him aroused.
More so when she wrapped her hands around his sex, and began a slow rhythm up and down the warm skin, his hardening manhood. Charles left out a soft groan.
"Do you like this?" She asked in a seductive purr after several minutes of his panting.
"Y-yes," he ground out. "God, Elsie, yes, so good…"
"I want you," she swallowed, feeling him jerk forward as her pace increased. "I love you, my man." She reached up and brushed her fingers over his chest, through his silver hair there, coming to rest on the scar over his heart. "Always."
She felt tears in her eyes, desire and love mingled.
"I love you," he murmured, curving his fingers along her jaw and kissing her.
"Touch me," she whispered. Even as she said so, he slid his hands from her face and down, stopping momentarily to cup her breasts and rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. Her breath hitched. He dipped one single finger into her sex, feeling the wetness, and she moaned.
"I want you," she repeated, pulling him on top of her. "Please." His erection was hard against her belly.
"How?" he managed to gasp between frantic kisses. Her legs fell open.
"Here, Charlie," she begged, both of them desperate to join. "Inside me, I want you inside, all of you-"
He breathed out as he slid into her. Slowly moving in and out, increasing the friction, loving the feel of her wetness, her tightness, drawing him in.
Bringing him home.
He tried to hold on, but she felt so good, and when she set her feet down on either side of his torso, he cried out and began to pound into her.
"Yes, Elsie!" he yelled, their bodies molding into one.
My darling, my other half, my love. Yes, my sweet, yes, my fair wife, there is no one else I could ever want.
"Harder," her breath was hot on his shoulder. She marked his collarbone, her fingers digging into his back. "Take me, my man. I am yours - harder, oh god, yes, there, just there, ah-h-h-h-h-"
Closer, closer, until there was no way they could be any closer. She felt her sex pulse around his, the singular feeling of him inside her.
Home at last.
He roared above her, feeling her climax. His heart exploded when she screamed her release. They came together, fiery lovers, murmuring into each other's mouths, sweat beading on her breasts and mingling with the damp hair on his chest.
Again, my love. Stay with me.
She was so much smaller than he, and yet they fit together perfectly. He reveled in the strength of her need for him. The way she held nothing back.
That has never been her way.
His office manager had always been honest with him. Told him what she thought. Pushed him, sometimes further than he had felt comfortable. But never so far to break his will. She respected him too much to do that.
As his wife, as his woman, it was the same.
She loved the way he gasped her name. The way he touched her, loved her, until she wept with desire for him, then gave her everything. All of himself.
You always have.
The managing partner had been a good man to work for because of his standards. He never asked for anything that he was not willing to do himself. He had listened to her and sometimes overruled her, but he had never disparaged her. He trusted her completely.
As her husband, her man, nothing had changed.
They kissed, noses rubbing against each other, hands in hair. Finally, Charles slipped out of her and grabbed the comforter, pulling it over them. It took a long time for both of them to get their breath back.
She felt very warm and blissful, cuddled against him.
"I love you." Her voice was hoarse. She trailed her fingers over his lips. He kissed them.
"I love you," he murmured. Wrapping his arms around her, he glanced towards the brightness outside. "It's quite cold out. It'd be cold for February, never mind now."
"I'm glad we don't have to go anywhere today," she mumbled underneath his chin. "We should send Bertie something next week – how many real estate agents would stock the refrigerator as a housewarming gift? He's wonderful!"
"That he is."
On the other side of the window the snow continued to come down.
After getting up (the second time, for Charles), they both showered, reveling in the size of the master bathroom.
"Marigold was right," Elsie commented as she finished showering, and Charles shaved. "There is an echo in here!"
She made coffee and tea, then made scrambled eggs on toast while he stacked wood in the fireplace. A fire blazed merrily by the time they sat down on the bar stools next to the island.
"I like how open this room is. We can extend the kitchen table when we have guests," Elsie blew on her tea. "And it is nice having a fire. It's quite cozy."
Charles smiled, scrambled eggs on his fork. "It's much better having a real fire. A gas fire has heat, yes, but it's not the same thing." As if to prove his point, the fire snapped behind him.
"Oh wonderful!" She rolled her eyes. "You're going to be a fire snob from now on!" She shook her head, laughing at him.
"You know you love it," he bit into his toast. "The fire."
She arched an eyebrow, turning to look at the crackling flames behind them.
"Almost as much as I love you."
He went to work in the library after breakfast, unpacking the boxes there and organizing many of their books. Not all of them would go in the room across from the master bedroom (and indeed, not all of them would fit on the shelves), but he relished the task of seeing where everything went. Where the books fit.
She went upstairs to unpack one of the bedrooms upstairs. It seemed incredible, considering the weather, that Easter was little more than a week away.
Becky would be their guest and would spend Saturday night at their house.
Elsie hummed as she hammered nails and hung pictures on the walls. One was an old photo, a black-and-white picture of the farm in Scotland. Another was a drawing Becky loved, purchased from a local artist. It was of a calico cat winding its way through a patch of daffodils.
She smiled as she hung the photo of her and Becky together at her wedding. There was a double bed in this room, and twin beds in the other bedroom upstairs. No doubt others would sleep in this particular room, but she and Charles wanted to make at least one of the guest rooms more "Becky's", so their sister would feel at home whenever she stayed with them.
She was vacuuming when her husband came upstairs.
"Oh!" She put a hand to her chest when she saw him leaning in the doorway. "I didn't see you there! Thank you for bringing the sheets up. They can go in the linen closet in the hall."
"Do you need me to help you make the bed?" He asked. "I thought I'd come up and see what you've done."
"Sure," she took some of the linens from him. "The pillows are in the closet. You can put the rest of the sheets in there, too."
He came back to the room and helped her spread the fitted sheet over the mattress cover. Spike ambled into the room and jumped onto the bed. Charles groaned.
"Get off," he pushed the cat, hoping he'd move, but the obstinate feline only rolled over and blinked at him. "Spike! We're making the bed here! Go somewhere else!"
"Come on, you," Elsie dropped the corner of the sheet and leaned over, picking the cat up. She rubbed his ears. He purred and nestled into her as she petted him. "You're a good boy, but now is not the time to jump on the bed." She let him go, and he dropped to the floor. Charles rolled his eyes as he quietly laid down next to the bedside table.
"He never listens to me. He's definitely your child."
"You can't shout at him, Charlie. He won't listen-"
"I was not shouting!"
"Our next-door neighbors would disagree," she pursed her lips, her eyes twinkling. "Let's finish here, and you can show me your progress downstairs."
"This is really lovely," he said as they finished. His eyes lit up as she plumped the pillows and put them on the bed. "This is definitely Becky's room. When the children come to visit, they can stay in the other room."
"Unless we have more than two of them at once," Elsie said. "Then some of them will have to sleep in here."
"We won't worry about that now." He put an arm around her and kissed her. "Speaking of the children, Anna sent you a video earlier. I thought you'd like to see it."
"I do indeed," she took her phone from him and watched it. They both laughed watching John sled down a hill at the park by their house with Poppy and Sebastian.
"It's a good thing John was on the sled too," Charles chuckled. "There's so much snow the kids together wouldn't be able to move it themselves!"
Elsie's goddaughter waved enthusiastically at the end of the video. "Hi, Nana Elsie! Hi, Papa Carson!"
"Do you like the snow?" Anna's voice was heard. John picked up Sebastian, who was trying to eat snow. The tiny boy looked very confused about the amount of white on the ground and in the air. It almost buried him.
Poppy nodded. "Yeah…Sebastian likes it too. But he can't walk in it. There's too much for him."
"There's plenty of fun for you," John covered the top of his daughter's head with his hand. He grinned at the camera, looking at Anna. "And for us. Though some of us are getting cold," he raised his eyebrows.
"John Bates, are you making fun of me?" Anna asked. She would have sounded angry if she hadn't laughed. She moved the camera down, showing all the layers of clothing she was wearing. "It's not fair – I've been standing here getting you all on camera, while you've been carrying the kids and the sled up and down the hill fifty times!"
There were other pictures and videos on social media for the Carsons to see. Robert, Tom and Cora with George and Sybbie; Edith and Marigold with their little schnauzer Max. Jimmy and Thomas drinking hot mulled wine on their balcony. Andy had somehow made it to Daisy's apartment, and there was an album of pictures of them attempting to dig out her car.
In another short video on Facebook, Joe laughed when Phyllis walked out of their front door, only to slip and fall sprawling into a huge heap of snow.
"You knew how slippery it was out here, and you still let me walk outside!?" She huffed, her hat askew. Still, she grinned. "What kind of a husband are you?"
"The kind who will walk behind you," Joe said. The shot of the camera showed him walking out their front door, only to fall sideways. Everything went blurry and white. "Oops – see, I told you! Is my phone okay?" He brushed it off, his forehead visible. "Yep, still going!"
"I have to give it to Mr. Molesley," Charles said, wiping his eyes. "Not only did he keep his word and walk outside, he posted the video himself. He didn't leave it to Phyllis."
"He never does take himself too seriously," Elsie smiled. She checked her news feed once more. Everyone's status was what she expected. Surprise over the snow, delight over a rare day off, some concerns about traveling. Isobel rarely posted on Facebook except to share pictures of George and the other children, but she'd posted barely ten minutes earlier.
This day is full of surprises! – feeling blessed.
"Els? Do you want to see the library?"
"I certainly do," she said, putting her phone in her pocket and following Charles out of the bedroom. He stopped for a moment to look at the boxes around the window seat. Snow still drifted in the air through the window, but it had definitely slowed down.
"Oh," Elsie said, waving in the direction of the boxes, "I thought I would put some of Becky's books, and the children's, on those shelves underneath the window seat, along with some of the games. The rest can go in the playroom."
The large space taking up the back of the upstairs was to be set aside as a space for when the Carsons would have younger guests.
"That's a good idea," he nodded as they went down the stairs. "I think some of Sybbie's books are mixed in downstairs…I haven't quite gotten through all of them yet."
The built-in shelves in the library were a little over halfway filled. The ones that weren't had books stacked on them, in some semblance of order. Elsie stifled a laugh.
This is so like him. So meticulous, always.
A small oval picture of Mary and Matthew that he'd had for years was on one side of a shelf, countered by Elsie's favorite picture of Anna and John.
Her heart melted when she saw the desk. He'd carefully arranged several pictures on it. There was one of Beryl and Bill, another of Robert and Cora. But in between those were pictures of them. At Pedro's, at their wedding. There was one of them at the Biltmore that a friendly guest had taken of them in front of the mansion.
In pride of place was their official wedding picture. Them in front of the altar in the church, the afternoon light pouring in one window.
Her husband radiated joy, his beaming face delighted. She had to remind herself that the ravishing woman in the picture was her – her wedding day was the happiest day of her life, and it showed.
"Oh Charlie," she whispered, "This is perfect."
"We both can use the desk whenever we need to," he kissed the top of her head, rubbing her shoulders. "I thought some of our favorite pictures should be in here."
"We could fill all the shelves with nothing but pictures, never mind books," she laughed. "A lot of them will have to go upstairs or in the family room."
He started to reply but stopped when they both heard the sound of a phone ringing.
"That's yours," she said, checking hers. "Where is it?"
His eyes widened. "Um…"
They both scrambled around the room, looking on stacks of books and stumbling over empty boxes, trying to find the source of the sound. On the very last ring, he found it, forgotten on an upper shelf.
"Hello?" He asked, slightly out of breath. He'd been so concerned with answering he hadn't checked to see who it was.
"Carson?" It was Mary.
"Yes, I'm here," he said, glad to hear his goddaughter's voice. "How are you? I expect you've had a relaxing day, staying in."
"I wouldn't say that," her voice sounded drier than usual. And more scratchy. "It's been the farthest thing from relaxing, actually."
"Why?" He picked up a few pens on top of the desk and put them in a drawer.
"Well, I started having contractions around seven this morning-"
"What!?" He cried, nearly dropping the phone. Elsie glanced up at him from the floor where she was sifting through books, alarmed. "Are you still in labor? You need to get to the hospital…"
How will she get to the hospital on a day like this?
"I am at the hospital, and it's all over," Mary said, a little louder. "There is a story as to how it all happened, but maybe it can wait. The fact is the baby's born and we're both fine."
"Thank God," Charles sighed, sinking into a chair. Elsie got up from the floor, gesturing to him.
"What is going on?" She whispered. He told her that the baby was born, but Mary started talking again.
"-the phone to Matthew, he can fill you in. The nurse just came back."
Charles clicked the button for the speaker phone and set it on the desk. He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath.
"Hello, Carson?" Matthew's voice was as calm as ever.
"We're both here," Charles said as Elsie said hello.
"Hello, Mrs. Carson. Well, as you're both listening, I'd best tell you everything now. Mary's fine, and the baby is wonderful…" Matthew trailed off, and Charles and Elsie smiled at each other, thinking the same thing.
He's besotted already.
"Mary started having contractions early this morning, like she said. She's been having them on and off for weeks, and we thought it was a false alarm again. But shortly after Robert and Tom picked up George to take him sledding, her water broke. I rang the emergency number, but they were jammed with people calling about accidents. They told us they would try to get us an ambulance, but the roads were so terrible it would likely take some time. Some ambulances had been caught in accidents too, you see. In the middle of talking to the dispatcher, Edith rang Mary's phone to ask if Robert had left his phone here. She was trying to get in contact with him. When Mary told her what was going on, she just told us to wait and she'd be there as soon as she could, and she hung up. Well, you know she lives about a twenty-minute drive from us on a good day-"
"Right," Elsie murmured, her mind whirling.
"-and I thought, how could she get here when the bloody ambulance would have trouble, but in the meantime I was trying to help Mary-"
"Which I'm sure was not easy," Charles muttered. Mary's whole pregnancy had been difficult. He didn't want to think about how she'd be in labor.
"-but what do you know, in less than half an hour Edith showed up at our door! Her editor Laura has a four-wheel drive truck, and apparently on a ski trip several years ago she'd taught both Edith and Michael how to drive the thing."
"And…and so Edith drove you and Mary to the hospital?" Elsie asked. She had a mad desire to laugh, but contained it.
The irony.
"She did." Matthew sighed. In the background, they could hear someone talking over a loudspeaker. "I just stepped out in the hall for a moment. I don't mind telling you – I know you'd never repeat any of the details – but when I think about that drive, part of me wants to laugh. Oh, I didn't want to laugh while it was going on, I assure you-"
"Of course not," they said at the same time. Charles's eyebrows were raised, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Elsie bit her lip but she smiled through it.
"-Mary was in a good deal of pain, but she still managed to complain about not wanting to deliver in the back seat of someone's truck. Edith concentrated on driving, but she yelled at Mary to shut it, saying it was more important that she work through her contractions than to sneer about her driving."
Elsie covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. She could imagine the entire thing.
Oh Sybil, how you'd love this!
"We got to the hospital, and Charlotte Isobel Crawley arrived an hour and a half later, just after noon. Eight pounds, eleven ounces, twenty inches long. Unlike George, she already has a headful of hair. Dark, like Mary's."
"Charlotte…" Charles said softly. Elsie slipped her hand into his.
"So is Marigold at the hospital, too?" She asked. "Is Edith still there?"
"Marigold is at home. Laura's watching her. I think Edith's going to leave in a few minutes…" Matthew stopped abruptly. "Hang on a moment." He talked to someone, then came back to the Carsons. "That was Edith. She's just leaving now. She's going to drop Laura off at home, and take Marigold to Robert and Cora's. Then she'll pick them up and then Isobel, and drive them all over here. Tom's watching the children." His voice grew soft. "The best part about today, other than Charlotte being born, was seeing Edith hold her not ten minutes after she was born. Mary asked Edith why she'd gone to the trouble of driving us herself through a snowstorm, rather than just let a professional driving an ambulance do it. Edith said she'd lost her husband, and she'd lost her younger sister. She wasn't going to risk losing her only living sister, even if it was Mary. I know it sounds trite – but you know Edith."
"Yes, we do," Charles said, squeezing Elsie's hand. And Mary.
Matthew handed the phone back to Mary. She reassured the Carsons that she really was fine (Elsie gave her silent credit for this, as her husband always worried about the eldest Crawley daughter), and confirmed that her daughter's name was in fact a tribute to Charles.
"The nurse already asked me if I was a fan of the royal family," she said, sounding annoyed. "Since, you know, we have George and now Charlotte. It's ridiculous! Matthew and I were always going to give George his name. That was Matthew's grandfather's name. And Charlotte is named after you of course, Carson."
"Thank you," he said, a lump in his throat. "I am honored."
"You have been a great influence on my life," Mary said. She was unmistakably sincere. "It's only right."
"And it is a fine tribute to him," Elsie agreed, feeling a rare tenderness for Charles's goddaughter. She couldn't resist saying something further. "It was very good of Edith to help you."
"It was. Fortunately, she isn't asking for the moon in return."
Something in her voice made Charles sit up.
"What did she ask for?"
Both of them heard the smile in Mary's voice. "Oh, I won't tell. Not Matthew, not even you, Carson. Edith and I are sisters. And sisters have secrets."
They took a short walk after ending the conversation. Neighborhood children were out enjoying themselves, and adults were clearing driveways and sidewalks – when they weren't engaging in snowball fights or building snowmen. One woman was making snow angels with her two young daughters.
Charles glanced at their snow-covered driveway and front sidewalk from the street. "I don't want to think about clearing it," he mumbled, gripping his wife's hand so neither of them would slip. "Not today. I'll think about it tomorrow."
"Very wise, Scarlett O'Hara," Elsie teased him.
Walking to the end of their cul-de-sac, they looked down the main road. The snow had mostly stopped, except for a few stubborn flakes still in the air. The main thoroughfare was empty of vehicle traffic. One young man slogging his way through the knee-high snow with his black Labrador said it had been cleared once, but that had been hours before.
"It looks like they haven't been back since," Elsie rubbed her nose. Her eyes watered in the brisk air.
Charles stopped to talk with one of their next-door neighbors before Elsie pulled him away. It wasn't that she didn't want to be friendly, but it was cold outside.
And snow was melting in her boots.
She warmed herself in front of the fire. It was so very nice to have one, she thought.
"Pepper has more sense than we do," she said, sighing as the heat seeped back into her bones. "She's done nothing but lay in the family room all day."
Their puppy snored from her spot next to the recliner.
Charles got out several ingredients for a hearty soup and started chopping vegetables to prepare for it. Elsie went back upstairs to unpack more boxes.
Midway through the afternoon, he found her reading on the window seat with a woven afghan wrapped around her. Spike lay curled on her lap. The afghan was one of their favorites, a pretty blue, green and purple blanket given to them by Margaret Bates.
Elsie looked up, removing her glasses in surprise. "What is this? Cookies? I thought I smelled something sweet!" She shook her head fondly. "You have a sweet tooth, Mr. Carson."
He grinned, setting down a plate of oatmeal cookies. "Fortunately, Mr. Pelham left everything we needed to make these." She took the steaming mug from him. "And the cocoa. I know you prefer tea, but-"
"But nothing," she sipped the hot liquid, liking the marshmallows on top. "Ooh, this is perfect. I love you," she beamed up at him, and he bent over to kiss her. "I hope you left some for yourself, too."
"Both cookies and cocoa." He had left the other mug on one of the stairs, afraid he'd drop it on the way up. Retrieving it, he joined her on the window seat. "A Visit from St. Nicholas?" he read the cover of the book in her hands. "Whatever made you want to read that? It's April, dear," he sipped some of his cocoa, relishing the warmth as it flowed into his chest. When Elsie raised an eyebrow at him, he winked at her. She laughed.
"Someone mentioned Christmas this morning…and after hearing Mary's news, I remembered you read it to Sybbie and Marigold last year," she said softly. "Now you'll have another wee lass to read to."
"I know a lass I'd like to read it to," he murmured. "If she'd like."
"Yes, I would like it," she handed him the book and held her mug of cocoa between both of her hands.
She loved to hear him read aloud, and he loved to do it.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer…
"Reindeer would have come in handy earlier," he commented after finishing the famous poem. He set aside the book and picked up his mug, dipping a cookie into it. "Especially for Mary and Matthew."
"But who needs reindeer, when Edith has a four-wheel drive?" She asked, deadpan. They stared at each other, then laughed quietly.
"Marvelous!" He shook his head in wonder. "Who would have guessed Edith would be the one to come to the rescue?"
"I wouldn't have," Elsie said frankly, "But only because she and Mary have been at odds their entire lives."
"I love Mary, and always will, but after Sybil died and they still weren't close…well." Charles ate the rest of his cookie. "I never thought it would happen. It took a late due date and a surprise snowstorm – plus Edith's unknown driving skills – to finally crack them."
Thank God.
"They'll never be good friends. It seems that they understand finally that they're sisters, not rivals," Elsie drank some more of her cocoa. "I should put away the rest of these books. They certainly won't put themselves away!" She sighed, pulling a wild strand of hair over her ear. "But it is so nice and cozy here."
"I remembered you reading on the window seat at the Cottage," Charles held out his hand when Spike trotted over to him. "You hardly left that spot while we were there."
"I can hardly believe this is our house," she whispered, suddenly teary. Steam rose from her cup. "This is our home. For good."
"Yes it is." He knew what she meant. They had lived almost their entire lives alone, separate. Since their marriage, their personal lives had meshed together almost seamlessly. They liked the house they had before, but it had been his, not really hers.
Now they had a home that was both of theirs, equally. It was a physical reminder of their life together.
She finished her cocoa, feeling thoughtful. It had meant so much to Charles to have a home that was theirs, and not just his. She had been more casual, content to let things happen naturally. But she had fallen in love with this house from the first day she saw it.
They shared a chicken-and-noodle vegetable soup for dinner in front of the fire, along with ham sandwiches. Charles switched on the TV just long enough for them to see the report on the record snow – and that it would likely all melt before the end of the weekend.
"I would rather have a pretty yard like the one outside now, rather than a wet mess of puddles," Elsie muttered. "There's nothing to be done about it. Maybe if you wait long enough, you won't have to shovel the driveway after all!"
"I will shovel it tomorrow," Charles said, handing her a glass of Pinot Noir. "Mary and Lottie will be home by tomorrow afternoon, and I would like to go see them."
"Hopefully the roads will have been cleared at least a little by then," Elsie mused.
While she did the washing-up, he took Pepper outside again and then happily re-built the fire. It was the last of the wood, but he thought it very unlikely they would build another for another six months.
Elsie had just set the timer on the dishwasher when she heard the crackle of the record player.
"Bing Crosby?" She laughed, turning off the main kitchen light. There was only one lamp on. Other than that, the only light came from the dancing flames in the fireplace. "I suppose if we're going to pretend that it's Christmas, we may as well break out all the music, too!"
"You don't mind, do you?" He asked, taking her in his arms and twirling her to the sound of "Mele Kalikimaka". "I feel like it wasn't much of a Christmas in 2016."
He didn't have to say anything more. The memory of Michael Gregson had overshadowed the holidays.
"I don't mind a bit," she said, the corners of her lips turned up. "I was just surprised you got out those records." She reached up, messing with his curls. "You know I'd dance with you to anything."
He was glad that he'd organized the records before packing them away.
Otherwise we would have been spending hours digging through boxes.
"Dancing in front of a roaring fire to Christmas music in April," Elsie sighed, leaning her head against Charles's chest. "I don't mind, but it is rather late for this!"
"Rather like us." He brushed his lips along her hair. He twirled her around, laughing as she pirouetted under his arm.
"Sybbie would like to see you spinning in a circle," he chortled. "We should send her a video of us dancing."
"What? And have Tome plaster it all over Instagram before morning? Never," she huffed, grinning.
"Whew, I need a drink," she said laughing as "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" finished in the background. "Would you like something?"
"Yes, please." He turned to the stack and flipped through it. Finding the one he had seen earlier, he hesitated, but lifted the needle and set it down. The machine crackled to life once more.
"I always thought this song was sad," Elsie sipped her Pinot as she came from the kitchen. She handed Charles his glass. "I'm surprised you put it on."
"Mmm," he murmured, savoring the scent of the wine. He tasted it, then set his glass down on the hearth. "It is, I suppose, but I've always been fond of it."
Elsie stood still, listening as she took another sip. "Does it remind you of Alice? I wouldn't blame you if it did." Her eyes were gentle.
It never ceased to amaze him that she understood him so well. "At one time it did," he stared into the dancing flames. "For obvious reasons. But for a long time it made me think of another woman. One much dearer to me."
"Oh?" She knew he meant her. But she also hoped he wouldn't become melancholy over the years they had walked side by side, but not together.
He took her hand once more, and slid his left arm around her waist, swaying to the music. "Do you remember Christmas Eve, 1994?"
Christmas Eve, 1994? No…
She ran years through her mind. The lyrics of the song reached her ears.
And then she did remember.
"Oh, Charlie," she whispered. "You were so lonely."
"Yes, I was."
"I should have insisted you stay…"
"No, you should not have," he said. "And I was glad you didn't. I was glad you were not like me then, that you weren't alone."
Christmas Eve, 1994
Loud chatter and laughter made the room a noisy din. Charles slumped his shoulders at the bar.
This was a mistake.
Staying at home would have been a bigger mistake.
Stewing in self-pity, regretting the past.
He sighed, glancing down the bar to make eye contact with Brian. The bartender was busy, mixing an Amaretto Sour. He said something to Eric, who hurried by with another bucket of Budweiser.
All the managing partner had wanted was to have a quiet Christmas Eve at Pedro's. Maybe chat with Brian until the place closed early, and forget his loneliness and pain for several hours before going home to sleep.
If I could stop thinking about Alice for five minutes…
Then in the late morning on Christmas he'd go to Robert and Cora's for brunch. See the girls and give them their presents from him.
But Pedro's this Christmas Eve was anything but quiet. It was a Saturday, for one thing. For another, several local businesses including a few law firms (but not Carson & Crawley) were hosting a party. The place was jammed.
Several friends had hailed Charles earlier, seeing him at the bar, but he had politely turned down their invitations to join them.
None of them understood what he felt. The new medical examiner for the county, Dr. Richard Clarkson, was sympathetic, but Charles didn't know him well enough to feel comfortable telling him the history of his sorry love life.
You've never told anyone. Not even Robert.
He swallowed the last of his second bourbon, hoping it would chase away the memory of the woman that haunted him. But no such luck.
Someone kept playing that bloody song.
Met my old lover in the grocery store
The snow was falling Christmas Eve
I stood behind her in the frozen foods
And I touched her on the sleeve
She didn't recognize the face at first
Then her eyes flew open wide
She went to hug me and she spilled her purse
And we laughed until we cried
Tears started in his eyes. He would never meet Alice by chance anywhere, ever again. She had passed away over a year earlier of cancer. For some reason this year it felt worse.
Brian finally made his way over to him at the end of the bar.
"Sorry, Mr. Carson. I'm run off my feet," he gasped, running a hand through his dark hair. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. "Another bourbon?"
"Don't worry about it," Charles waved his hand, dejected. "No...a beer or an ale. Your choice. Just something different, please."
"You got it," the bartender started to say something else, but was hailed by a couple several seats away. His assistant Eric stopped in front of Charles, a rag in his hand.
"Can I help you, Mr. Carson?"
Charles fought not to sigh. The young man was all right, but he was rather dim. Really, the one time I asked him to bring me a good local brew, Stag was NOT what I had in mind!
"No need, Brian's just…" His voice trailed off as they both glanced at the bartender, who was in conversation with Judge Lawrence. The man was the circuit judge.
"Look, Eric." He raised his voice, making sure he heard him. "I just need something that's unusual. Unusual, not Budweiser or Coors or-"
"No Stag," Eric's earring glinted. He nodded earnestly. "I made that mistake once, Mr. Carson. I won't do it again. You can trust me!"
And he vanished into the back before Charles could say anything else.
00000
The dance floor was so crowded Elsie kept bumping into people. Martin tried to shield her, but it was impossible.
"Let's sit down," he finally said, drawing an arm around her waist. She nodded, and they made their way back to the table.
No sooner had they reached the corner of the room than he pulled her into his arms and pressed a long, lingering kiss against her lips.
"W-what was that for?" She stuttered. She stumbled backwards, feeling her chair against her legs. He held tight, keeping her from falling.
"Do I need a reason to kiss the woman I love?" His brown eyes twinkled. "You're always gorgeous, but tonight you're stunning." He kissed her nose.
"Thank you," she blushed. She kissed him on the cheek, then sank into her chair. She drank some water to buy time. Gather her thoughts.
She cared for Martin Dye a lot. More than she'd cared for anyone since her ex-husband, Daniel Hughes.
She had been in a relationship with the associate from Jones Day for two and a half years. He was a lovely man, with a witty sense of humor and a cheerful outlook on life. He was gentle with Becky.
In short, he was as perfect as she could expect.
Dan Fogelberg's voice floated across the room.
She would have liked to say she loved the man
But she didn't like to lie
They sat catching their breath, watching the other dancers.
"Would you like another drink?" She asked. She really didn't want to get up again, but their glasses had been empty for a long time.
"Yes, please. Another vodka tonic, if you don't mind." He tilted his head, his handsome smile making her heart skip.
"I don't. You got them the last time. Be right back." She got up and walked towards the bar, feeling his eyes on her. Despite her uncertainty, she enjoyed knowing he noticed no one else.
And for a woman pushing forty, that is no mean feat!
The bar was packed. She could barely get close enough to see the bartender, much less make herself heard. She finally squeezed herself in between Judge Julian and a woman talking loudly next to him.
"A vodka tonic," she said as loudly as she could without shouting. Still, Brian cupped a hand around his ear.
"A vodka tonic for Mrs. Hughes," a familiar deep voice rumbled nearby. Elsie turned so fast she felt (but didn't hear) her neck crack.
"Mr. Carson? What are you doing here tonight?" She would have thought her boss would be at church, or with family on Christmas Eve. Though, as she thought about it, she didn't think he had any family.
Sad.
"I meant to have a quiet drink tonight. I forgot about the party. I thought Brian would close early, to be honest." The clock above the bar showed it was half past six.
She moved along the bar until she was next to him. He started to get up, but she shooed him down.
"There's no need, I'm just getting drinks for me and Martin."
"Oh. I didn't see him," he said, glancing about the room. "Or you, until just now."
He was very glad to see a familiar face. Especially someone he knew who wouldn't pry and ask more questions like Beryl, or try to drag him into joining a merry group, like Robert.
"It's hard to see anyone in here," she replied, glad to see him even though she had just seen him the day before, when the office closed early. "Are you here with anyone?"
She wondered what kind of woman he would like. She had never heard of him dating anyone in the few years she'd known him.
"No, it's just me," he said, leaning on his elbow. His smile did not quite reach his eyes. "Maybe I should have accepted Ms. Anstruther's invitation," he joked.
She laughed out loud, well aware of the Merton attorney's reputation. "You know better than that."
He chuckled. "I do. I would have called Mrs. Patmore to ask her to join me, but she's gone to her sister's."
Elsie's heart twinged at his expression.
He's lonely.
"I expect you'll visit Becky tomorrow."
She was glad he had changed the subject. It surprised her a little that he remembered her sister's name.
"Yes. She's quite looking forward to it. She loves Christmas," she smiled, her face softening at the thought of Becky.
The magic of the season was made for her.
"What will she think of your hair?" He asked. The office manager had recently displayed a new hairdo. It was a short one, cropped above her ears. He personally didn't like women having shorter hair, but she pulled it off.
"I think she'll like it. Her own hair is rather short."
"Isn't it cold?" Charles drummed his fingers on the bar. "This time of year, with the wind on the back of your neck-"
He stopped abruptly, mortified. His face grew red.
What will she think of me, saying something like that? She'll think it's inappropriate.
Elsie bit her lip in amusement at his embarrassment.
He's entirely too proper for his own good.
"Here you are, Mr. Carson, something unusual. I brought out several, in case anyone else wants to try it." Eric opened a bottle and poured the dark liquid into a clean glass. Charles picked up an unopened bottle, frowning.
"'Balmaha Best'? Where on earth did you get this? And what is it?" He squinted at the logo on the bottle. The picture of a stag did not reassure him.
"Brian picked it up when he was in Europe back in September," the wavy-haired young man said, setting down the glass. He closed his eyes, concentrating. "It's a Scottish dark ale…uh….from somewhere close to Loch Ness? No…um…another one…there's a song about it…"
"Loch Lomond?" Elsie supplied, fighting back a laugh.
"That's the one! Thanks, Elsie," He grinned at her. "You look smashing tonight, I don't mind saying it. Is that dress new?"
"It is, thanks. Would you mind pouring a glass of that ale for me? I'd like to try it." She smoothed out a wrinkle on the purple fabric.
The ale wasn't bad. As Charles took another sip, he glanced Elsie's way.
She is a very attractive woman.
Now stop that. She works with you, and more importantly, she's in a relationship with someone else!
She would never go for someone like you, anyway.
Alice didn't.
"Easy, Mr. Carson," Eric said suddenly. "You've already had the bourbon, and before that, the pinot noir."
Charles looked down. His glass was nearly empty. Elsie raised an eyebrow.
"That isn't like you." Not that I really know what his drinking habits are. Or that it's any of my business.
"Ah, well." He set the glass down on the bar. "It's Christmas Eve."
And I've nothing better to do.
"Here you are, Elsie," Brian finally made his way over to them, setting the vodka tonic down. He frowned at Eric. "Why did you bring those out? Did Mr. Carson specifically ask for it-"
"It's all right," Charles said. His head was beginning to feel like it was detached from his body. "I asked for something different. There's no problem."
"I said you could trust me," Eric smiled, rather smug. Elsie rolled her eyes.
Martin joined them, having waded through the crowd. "I'm sorry I sent you over here," he apologized. "I should have known there would be a crush at the bar." He picked up his vodka tonic, thanking Brian, and sipped it. "Mr. Carson! I didn't know you were here."
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Dye," Charles took his offered hand, shaking it. "I was just leaving, actually."
He felt jealousy flood through him. At Martin, at Mrs. Hughes.
Why do you care? Of course they are here together. You are just a lonely, sad man.
He paid Eric. Part of him wanted to stay longer, but he knew he was pushing his luck as it was.
And he didn't want to be rude to Mr. Dye, or his office manager.
Elsie watched him leave his seat, her ale forgotten in her hand. The stoop of his shoulders was unlike anything she had ever seen. Martin tugged at her elbow.
"Let's go sit down."
"Just a minute, please." She handed him her drink. The managing partner pulled on his black overcoat. She hesitated for a moment, then said it anyway.
"Are you sure you won't stay for a little while longer, Mr. Carson? It is Christmas after all."
He smiled. It was more like a grimace, and his eyes were tired. "Yes, it is. I'll be fine," he said at her worried look. "I'm going to Mr. Crawley's tomorrow. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Hughes."
"Merry Christmas," she murmured. She wanted to say something further, but what, she didn't know.
It was rare for her not to know how to reach someone.
He thought about saying something. That he was glad she wasn't alone, that she didn't live with the memory of someone she couldn't reach.
But words failed him.
He gave her one last half-smile and walked out of Pedro's.
The light snow falling was more like rain.
Charles rubbed Elsie's back as they swayed silently to the music. "Shhh," he soothed her. "Don't berate yourself. I was glad to talk to you that night. You made me feel less lonely for five minutes, and I appreciated it more than you knew. Or maybe it was Eric who made me feel better," he joked. She did laugh at that, wiping tears from her eyes.
"Oh, definitely Eric," she chuckled. She sighed, listening to the song. "Martin and I broke up a few months after that," she remembered. "I think part of me saw it coming. Maybe. I took it hard at the time, but in retrospect of course it was the right thing." She looked up at him. Her eyes were bright. "I have you now."
I said the years had been a friend to her
And that her eyes were still as blue
But in those eyes I wasn't sure if I saw
Doubt or gratitude
"You were beautiful then," he rumbled, brushing a kiss on her forehead. "But nothing like now. Today."
"Flatterer," she shook her head. "Wrinkles all over, body parts sagging…"
He pulled her chin up. "Beautiful. Don't argue with me, Mrs. Hughes," he wagged his eyebrows. "You'll never win that argument."
She said she saw me in the record stores
And that I must be doing well
I said the audience was heavenly
But the traveling was Hell…
"Record stores!" She brushed her hair back from her face. "If that doesn't date the song now, I don't know what does!" She wrapped her arms tighter around her husband. "I could never imagine you as a traveling musician, could you?"
"Never," he scoffed. "I've always loved routine. Order. Being home in my natural state." He grinned down at her and they kissed, tasting the wine on each other's lips. "I never wanted to travel much," he murmured as she clasped her hands around the back of his neck. "And as the years went by, I found more and more reasons to stay close to home…I always forgot important things when I did travel." They smiled, thinking of his winter coat. "But if I traveled it meant I was far from you. And I didn't want that."
"Well," she murmured, running a hand down to his chest, "We can travel together after you retire. You said you would tell Robert and the others after the baby was born," she said. "I hope you haven't changed your mind."
He lifted her hand on his chest and kissed it, turning it over to nuzzle her palm and wrist. "Not at all."
The record player went to static and they broke apart. He started the song over.
"Before we dance again," her eyes sparkled in the glow of the fire, "I propose a toast."
He took his glass from her. "To what? Christmas?"
"Time. To the unexpected, and the routine. To snow in April, and Fridays at Pedro's – which we're missing tonight," she reminded him. "They're closed, anyway. To our spirit children making appearances when they want to, and our furry children close by. To the time we have together. To us," she clinked his glass.
"To us." He finished his wine. They set their empty glasses high on the shelf above the hearth.
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to time
Reliving, in our eloquence
Another "Auld Lang Syne"…
The record player crackled forgotten long after they finished dancing. Pepper and Spike chased each other around the playroom upstairs.
In the dim light of the fire, Charles cried out as Elsie moved above him on the couch. He grabbed her hips, thrusting slowly, maddeningly, until she came undone, keening, her hands on his chest. They slept together in a tangle of limbs, warm and sated in their new home.
The heater turned on.
Outside, the snow began to fall a little heavier as the night deepened.
