Free Kissing Father Christmas by Robin Jones Gunn Page B

her about Ellie’s invitation and how I hoped to return in the spring. The first question she asked after that was about Peter. Unlike Ellie and her politely subtle raised eyebrow style of probing, Miranda dove right in.
    “Do you think there’s something there?” she asked. “I mean, you two seemed to hit it off nicely at our wedding.”
    “We did,” I agreed cautiously. Once again Prudence was telling me to guard my secret thoughts and not entrust myself to anyone. I found it difficult to do so because I liked Miranda very much and wanted to keep our cousin connection growing even closer.
    “How has it been for you to be around Peter now? Is he showing an interest in being more than friends?”
    “No.” The answer popped out before I could decide if that was the most honest assessment. “I mean, he’s nice and friendly. We had a great time last night and he was a terrific tour guide. But he made it clear the first time I saw him after I arrived that he’s only interested in being friends.”
    Miranda looked at me as if trying to decide if she wanted to believe me or not.
    “We’re good chums,” I said a little too brightly. “I’m fine with that. I didn’t come here looking for love.”
    I wasn’t sure if I agreed with my own statement. I definitely didn’t want to read in Miranda’s inquisitive eyes whether she was buying it. My eyes lowered to my lap where the purple notebook was awaiting my attention.
    “You know, I’ve wondered how it was for you when you moved here. Did you feel at home right away?”
    The best thing about Miranda, I decided just then, was her calm way of understanding how to shift topics and make others feel comfortable in the midst of it. She started telling me the whole story of how she found her way into the Whitcombe family. She had come to England a couple years ago in search of her birth father, whom she’d never met. Miranda never imagined her father would be Sir James. Happenstance, as my cousin Ian had called it, led her to the Tea Cosy where she was soon enveloped into the Whitcombe family at Christmas.
    “It took Edward a while before he accepted me as his half sister. Now that he has, I feel at home here in every way.”
    Miranda slowly plunged down the stopper on her glass French press. She looked out the window and added, “Now that the paparazzi have moved on to other, more interesting women, I feel that I’m accepted by all the members of the Whitcombe family. Edward’s mother, Margaret, was especially gracious to me, considering all the circumstances. You haven’t met her yet and you probably won’t. When Ian and I got engaged last Christmas, she announced two days later that she was going to live with her daughter in Bedford. No one could believe she’d move out of the manor, but she did. She said it was because Bedford is closer to her doctors in Cambridge. I still feel that in spite of her kindness in welcoming me into the family, she prefers to not be around me.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m the constant reminder that her husband was unfaithful.”
    “But you had nothing to do with that.”
    “I know. But the media had a field day when they found out and security had to be hired to keep the photographers from intruding into the lives of the family. As I said, it all died down. Ian and I chose to make our home here, so I think that’s why Margaret chose to make her home elsewhere.”
    “But you said she was kind to you and welcomed you here.”
    “She did. And grace offered in words can be very healing, but actions are the true expression of love. I want to believe that Margaret left Whitcombe Manor as a gesture of love to Ian and me as well as a way of finding her own sort of comfort in the face of a difficult family situation.”
    I nodded my understanding. “That’s similar to what I’ve seen in my mother. She’s given full-time care to her father-in-law, my Opa. He’s been an invalid for almost six years now and lives at my parents’