A Little Christmas Faith Read online

  Copyright © 2017 Kathryn Freeman

  Published 2017 by Choc Lit Limited

  Penrose House, Crawley Drive, Camberley, Surrey GU15 2AB, UK

  www.choc-lit.com

  The right of Kathryn Freeman to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying. In the UK such licences are issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Barnards Inn, 86 Fetter Lane, London EC4A 1EN

  MOBI: 978-1-78189-411-8

  EPUB: 978-1-78189-410-1

  To my boys, my husband, and my mum. I love you all to bits.

  To all those who love Christmas – may this year be your best Christmas ever.

  Contents

  Title page

  Copyright information

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  About the Author

  More Choc Lit

  Introducing Choc Lit

  Preview of A Second Christmas Wish by Kathryn Freeman

  Acknowledgements

  They say never work with children or animals; Faith and Adam might agree with that, as it is quite possible a child and two dogs stole the show from them.

  Chloe is a typical teenage girl. Though I have teenagers, they are of the male variety so a special thank you to my gorgeous niece, Tiegan who gave me some ‘teenage speak’ so I could make Chloe’s character as real as possible. And thank you to the equally gorgeous Maddi and Gracie – for being my nieces, too.

  Nip and Tuck are little scallywags, and their characters are based on two other canine scallywags I know: Ted and Oscar. A big thank you to them, for being such an inspiration, and to their owners (Jane, Tony, Emma and Tom) for allowing me cuddles with them now and again (the dogs, that is).

  There is a host of other people I’d like to take this opportunity to thank:

  My fabulous editor, who picked up my terrible gaffes, smoothed out the rough parts and made sure the final draft was far better than the first.

  The Choc Lit Tasting Panel, who supported A Little Christmas Faith for publication, especially: Maureen W, Rachel A, Cheryl S, Anne E, Elaina J, Susan D, Melissa C, Gillian C, Heather P, Stacey R, Florina O, Margaret M, Sally SD, Gaele H, Linda T, Isobel J, Gill L, Els E, Hannah M and Liz R.

  Book Bloggers. I’m so lucky to interact with so many wonderful book bloggers on social media. Their enthusiasm for reading and their kind support of writers is humbling. Thank you for taking the time to help this author.

  Authors – including my fellow Choc Lit authors. I can’t conceive of another profession where so much help, advice and encouragement is freely, readily, and happily given.

  Family and friends (including Mum and Dad 2, Charlotte, Sonia, Neve, Gill, Laura, Michele, Sheyline and Tara). Thank you for still asking about my next book. It is coming!

  My publisher, Choc Lit. Without them, this book wouldn’t exist, because it was their idea for me to write my first Christmas book (A Second Christmas Wish). And their encouragement that led me to write this one.

  You, my dear reader. Thank you so much for buying and reading A Little Christmas Faith. I hope you enjoy Faith and Adam’s story. And I wish you a very Happy Christmas.

  Chapter One

  Ten days before Christmas

  Only a fool would open a hotel ten days before Christmas.

  Faith swept her hand lovingly across the gleaming oak reception desk; she guessed that made her a fool. A smile spread slowly across her face. At least she was a happy one.

  The old wooden door creaked open and a smart looking couple in their late sixties strode in, the man dragging a ridiculously large wheeled suitcase behind him.

  Faith hid a smile. ‘Good afternoon, Mr and Mrs Watkins. Welcome to The Old Mill. The Lake District’s newest, and if you forgive my bias, finest, boutique hotel.’

  The lady chuckled, the curls of her silver hair bobbing. ‘Why thank you. It’s a delight to be here.’ She elbowed her companion in the ribs. ‘Isn’t it Eric?’

  The gentleman huffed. ‘Would be if I hadn’t had to heave this ruddy suitcase out of the car and across gravel that puts Brighton beach to shame. Who the blazes would put gravel in a hotel car park?’

  Faith’s lips twitched. ‘A hotelier short of money, perhaps?’

  The lady let out a humph sound. ‘Ignore him. He’s miffed because I couldn’t decide which clothes to pack, so I put them all in.’

  ‘We only live three miles away,’ the man muttered, but his eyes were twinkling.

  ‘We’re staying in our daughter’s new hotel for a few nights,’ her mother countered. ‘I wasn’t sure what I needed.’

  Faith laughed and went to hug her parents. ‘Whatever you wear, I couldn’t have a more perfect couple as my first guests.’

  ‘Let’s see if you’re still saying that when she’s complaining about the vegetables being overcooked.’ Her father picked up the case again as Faith began to lead the way to the room she’d allocated them on the ground floor.

  ‘The vegetables will be perfect,’ she answered. ‘Mario and Antonio are fabulous chefs.’ Faith was confident the restaurant was in safe hands, thanks to the Italian brothers. It was the rest of the hotel she was now agonisingly unsure about.

  Behind her, Faith heard her father drop the handle of the case, leaving it to clatter to the floor. ‘Good God.’

  She swung round, following the direction of his eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Beside him, her mother’s mouth gaped open. ‘Oh my. It’s very … festive.’

  Faith studied the huge Normandy fir she’d begged the local garden centre to help her erect. At over ten feet tall, it did rather dominate the hallway. But wasn’t that the purpose of a Christmas tree, to dazzle?

  ‘Did you leave any decorations in the shop?’ her father asked, his eyes skipping from the heavily festooned tree to the giant gold bells she’d hung over the fire place. Then across to the fairy lights she’d twisted round the old beams and the ivy garlands draped over the mantelpiece. Finally his eyes rested on the reindeer family in the corner, lit up like Oxford Street.

  She bit her lip. ‘
Too much?’

  ‘Not at all,’ her mother cut in, giving her father a stern look. ‘Christmas isn’t subtle. It’s cheerful, bold, over the top.’

  ‘You can say that again.’ Her father shook his head. ‘When it comes to taking it all down, I’m busy.’

  ‘Dad.’ Faith bumped his arm. ‘Don’t talk of taking everything down already. It took me all day yesterday putting it up.’ Worry niggled, squirming inside her like a bed of worms. ‘I bought the decorations in the sales last year when I was planning to open the hotel at the end of October. I figured it would be a useful hook to get those early bookings. You know, position it as “The Christmas Hotel”. Stay with us and experience all of the joy of Christmas with none of the effort.’

  Her mother beamed. ‘Like we’re planning to do.’

  ‘Exactly. Only then we had the building delays and I didn’t dare take any bookings until I knew when we’d be ready. Now I’m opening with a week and a bit to go and so far my only guests are my parents … although I’m delighted they’re here,’ she added hastily when her father coughed. ‘A young couple with two young kids who arrive on the twenty-third. And a guy travelling alone who’s booked the suite for two weeks. Arriving tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh heavens.’ Her mother clutched at Faith’s hand excitedly. ‘Your first paying guest.’

  ‘Better hope he likes Christmas.’

  On seeing her father’s wry smile, Faith rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, okay, maybe I went over the top, but there didn’t seem much point having decorations and leaving them in a box. And anyway …’ She surveyed her handiwork. Perhaps it wasn’t sophisticated. Perhaps there should have been some sort of theme, matching colours. But still. ‘I like it.’

  Stepping round the tree, she led them down the corridor, stopping at the end door. There she slid the key into the door of room number one – no modern card system for her.

  Her mother let out a wistful sounding sigh as she walked in. ‘Oh darling, it’s beautiful.’ There were tears in her eyes as she turned towards her. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

  ‘Really?’ Faith wanted to believe her. She did believe her, most of the time. Yet those insecurities – what would her guests think? Would they like the rooms? – kept nipping at her. ‘You don’t think the grey walls are too austere? Is the purple too much?’ She’d agonised for weeks over the colour scheme and the décor, in the end going with her instinct rather than her head. Modern and unfussy, she’d decided, rather than traditional to match the building. She liked the idea of the contrast and hoped it would accentuate the period detail of the seventeenth-century building.

  Now she worried it looked ridiculous. Like she’d tried to pretend the old building was a shiny, new, modern one. With walls the colour of a prison cell.

  Her mother patted Faith’s cheek, her eyes glistening. ‘The walls aren’t grey my dear, they’re dove. And I think the whole look is perfect.’

  Faith smiled gratefully, her gaze drifting over to her father who’d just managed to manoeuvre the huge suitcase into the room.

  ‘Anyone care what I think?’ he asked, after poking his head inside the en suite.

  ‘Don’t tell me. You’re disappointed you haven’t got a Christmas tree in here.’

  His usually gruff face relaxed and he chuckled. ‘Christmas decorations aside, I think my daughter has made one hell of a hotel.’

  Delight mixed with relief and Faith wrapped an arm around each of them. ‘You know I couldn’t have done it without you, don’t you? Without all the Watkins family.’ While she owned the majority of the hotel, it was her family – parents, sisters Hope and Charity and brother Jason – whose investments had turned her dream into a reality. The daft part was, she hadn’t even been looking for a hotel yet. Not when she still had lots to learn about the business – and a deposit to save up for.

  But then she’d seen The Old Mill advertised for sale. One viewing, and she’d fallen in love.

  ‘We only provided money, darling.’ Her mother sat down on the bed, smiling up at her as she sunk into it. ‘It’s you who’s done all the hard work. Besides, we’re expecting to become very rich on our investment.’

  Faith laughed, though the kernel of unease in her chest refused to budge. Almost two years in the planning, a month since she’d started to advertise the hotel properly and only two bookings so far. She knew it was early days, knew the delay had cost her dearly in terms of Christmas guests. Knew too that the summer was the busiest time for the Lakes. Still, it was one thing opening your dream hotel. Another keeping it open long enough to make a living from it.

  As her mother went to coo over the bathroom – grey slate tiles, walk-in shower, sleek white bathtub with curved sides – Faith pushed her worries aside. The restaurant had a handful of bookings tonight, she had a guest arriving tomorrow.

  Baby steps.

  Adam felt a prickle of guilt as he listened to his voicemail. A message from Emma. Again. It was the third year in a row she’d invited him to hers for Christmas. And the third year in a row he’d avoided her.

  No, he told himself as he hauled his suitcase out of the cupboard in the spare room, careful to miss the neatly folded stack of bedding piled next to it – he wasn’t avoiding her. He was going away.

  It was just unfortunate he always chose to go away for two weeks over Christmas. Or at least he had, for the last three years. An image of Emma’s face the last time she’d seen him flashed through his mind. The misery in her eyes, the coolness of her tone when she’d spoken to him.

  He forced the image away and determinedly began to go through his wardrobe, methodically picking out what he needed. Work-out vests, gym shorts, two pairs of jeans.

  A knock on the door stopped him in his tracks. Damon was early. Had to be, because Adam was never late. Adam expected punctuality, so he in turn was punctual.

  Leaving the packing annoyingly half done, Adam went to answer the door. His friend stood huddled in the small porch, clearly trying to protect himself from the grim, wet December weather.

  ‘Get your lazy arse out of here and into the car.’

  Adam glanced down at his watch. ‘You’re five minutes early.’

  ‘So, sue me. You always tear me off a strip when I’m late. Now you’re giving me stick for being early. What’s wrong? Have I interrupted something important? Mary Berry not finished showing you how to make lemon drizzle cake?’ Damon’s mouth formed what could only be described as a smirk. Clearly one of them was finding him funny. ‘I know, it wasn’t Mary, it was Nigella, wasn’t it? She was licking the chocolate off a big wooden spoon, her tongue curling round the—’

  ‘Can it.’

  Leaving Damon standing in the draughty porch, Adam went inside to fetch his jacket. Served the bastard right for taking the piss out him. So, he enjoyed cooking. Found it therapeutic, some of the time. He couldn’t see what was so damn hilarious about it.

  When Adam came back out again, Damon had retreated to the shelter of his car. ‘I’ve guessed it,’ Damon announced once Adam had squeezed himself inside. Clearly sports cars weren’t intended for men of his size. ‘I’ve interrupted your packing, haven’t I? Because you’re the one guy I know who packs the night before, rather than the hour before.’

  ‘I’m the one guy you know who’s organised,’ Adam agreed. ‘And I’d have finished packing if you’d been on time instead of early.’ Fidgeting in his seat, he pressed the button that was supposed to push the seat back. Seemed it was already at the maximum. ‘Why the hell do you drive a car meant for midgets?’

  Damon flicked him a disgusted look. ‘My car, which you’re very welcome to be in, by the way, was designed for human beings of normal proportions. I doubt apes were part of the designers’ brief.’

  Adam let that one slide. With his beard, height and added muscle since he’d begun working out borderline obsessively, he was
probably closer to an ape than most people who drove a sports car.

  ‘So, where are you sloping off to this year?’ Damon asked as he sped up to overtake a lorry.

  Adam shut his eyes. Over the eight years of their friendship, he’d learnt it was easier to spend the journey in blissful ignorance when getting a lift from Damon. ‘I’m not sloping off anywhere. I’m having a well-deserved Christmas break in a hotel in the Lake District.’

  Damon shook his head. ‘Man oh man, the lengths you’ll go to, to avoid Emma.’

  ‘I’m not avoiding anyone,’ Adam returned stiffly, though the guilt settled back in his stomach again, making him a little queasy. Or maybe that was Damon’s driving. ‘I wanted a change of scenery, that’s all. The hotel was suggested to me by a client and I thought I’d give it a try.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Jason Watkins. We designed his new shop. The hotel is his sister’s.’ Adam and Damon weren’t just friends, they were business partners; architects with equal shares in their own practice. They worked surprisingly well together, despite everyone warning them against it. You’ll murder each other by the end of the week, other friends said, knowing how different they were. Not just physically but in their outlook. Damon was talkative, easy-going, the life and soul of any party. Adam was more introverted, content to watch, his quieter personality turned taciturn over the last few years.

  ‘What’s so special about the place?’

  Now that was something Adam couldn’t answer. Truth was, Jason had mentioned it just at the right time, when Adam had been wondering where he was going to disappear to this year. He winced, mentally rephrasing that. When he’d been wondering where he was going to spend his well-earned Christmas break, this year. ‘The sister only opened the hotel recently.’ And he’d had the distinct impression, both from the way Jason had spoken, and the easy way the lady on the telephone had slotted in his two-week stay, that he was one of the first guests.

  Damon winced. ‘Oh boy, I hope she’s ironed out all the problems before you arrive.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’