Christmas With Her Boss. Marion Lennox

her.

      He had to contact her. Her entire Christmas would be ruined.

      ‘I can’t stay here,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘The airport’d be better than this.’

      ‘Hey!’ Letty said.

      He didn’t have time or space to pacify her. All he could think of was Elinor—and two small kids. ‘I need to use a phone,’ he snapped. ‘Now.’

      ‘I have supper on,’ Letty said.

      ‘This is important. There are people waiting for me in New York.’

      ‘But you’re not due there until tomorrow,’ Meg said, astounded. ‘They’ll hardly be waiting at the airport yet.’

      ‘I still need a phone. Sort it, Jardine,’ he ordered.

      He watched her long thoughtful stare, the stare he’d come to rely on. This woman was seriously good. He depended on her in a crisis.

      He was depending on her now, and she didn’t let him down.

      ‘Supper first,’ she said at last. ‘If it can wait that long.’

      Maybe it could, he conceded. ‘Supper first. Then what?’

      ‘Then I’ll take you over to Scotty…to Scott’s friend, Mickey’s. Mickey lives two miles north of here and his parents have satellite connection. You can use the Internet or their Skype phone for half an hour while I catch up with Mickey’s mum. The weekend before Christmas she’ll probably still be up.’

      ‘I need it for more…’

      ‘Half an hour max,’ she said, blunt and direct, as he’d come to expect. ‘Even that’s a favour. They’re dairy farmers and it’s late now. But you should be able to talk to New York via Skype. Mind, it’ll be before seven in the morning over there, so trying to wake anyone up…’

      ‘She’ll wake.’

      ‘Of course she will,’ she said, almost cordially, and he looked at her with suspicion.

      ‘Miss Jardine…’

      ‘I’m Meg,’ she said. ‘Remember? Meg until I’m back on the payroll, if that ever happens.’

      ‘I don’t believe I’ve fired you.’

      ‘So you haven’t,’ she said. ‘And Christmas miracles happen. Okay, I’ll take you over to Mickey’s and I will try and get you in touch with New York but let’s not go anywhere until we’ve had some of Letty’s mango trifle. You have made me mango trifle, haven’t you, Grandma?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘Then what are we waiting for?’ she demanded, and she grabbed her bag, manoeuvred her way through her dog pack and headed inside. ‘Trifle, yay.’ Then she paused. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, sir,’ she said, looking back. ‘I mean…William. Do you want your mango trifle in your room? Do you want me to take you straight there?’

      ‘Um…no,’ he said weakly.

      ‘That’s a shame,’ she said. ‘If you’re sitting at the kitchen table you’ll want seconds. There’s less for us that way, but if you’re sure…Lead the way, Grandma. Let’s go.’