He straightened up and held out his hand. ‘Hi, Finlay Armstrong. What part of Scotland are you from?’
She was startled by his question and took a few seconds to answer. He could almost see the recognition of his own accent before she finally reached over and shook his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Karen. I’m from Ayrshire.’
There was something in the wistful way she said it that made him realise this wasn’t a visit.
He kept hold of her hand. ‘Have you been in London long?’
She sighed. ‘Three years. I had to move for work.’
He nodded his head towards the rocking horse. ‘Your little girl was admiring the rocking horse.’
Karen winced. ‘I know. I asked for one every year too as a child.’ She glanced down at her child again then met his gaze. ‘But we can all dream.’
He sucked in a breath. When was the last time he’d done something good? He’d been so wrapped in his own mourning for the last five years he hadn’t really stopped to draw breath. Even when it came to Christmas presents he normally gave his PA a list and told her what kind of things his family preferred. That was as much input as he’d had.
He thought about the prettily wrapped present that Mrs Archer had left for him at reception. He hadn’t even opened it yet.
He kept his voice low. ‘How about Molly gets what she wants for Christmas?’
Karen looked shocked, then offended. He knew exactly how this worked. He shook his head. ‘I work for a big company. Every year they like us to do a few good deeds. A few things that no one else finds out about.’ He pulled the card out of his pocket, still keeping his voice low. ‘There’s no catch. I promise. Give the girl at the desk an address and time for delivery. That’s all.’
Karen sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t want to be someone’s good deed.’ He could see her bristle.
He gave a nod of acknowledgement. ‘Then how about a gift from a fellow Scot who is also missing home?’
Her eyes filled with tears and she put her hand to her throat. ‘Oh…oh, then that might be different.’
He glanced down at Molly and smiled. ‘Good. Just give the girl at the desk your details. I’ll arrange everything else.’
‘I don’t know what to say, except thank you. And Merry Christmas!’
He gave her a nod. ‘Happy Christmas to you and Molly.’
He ruffled Molly’s curls and walked away, not wanting to admit to the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. That was the first time he’d wished anyone Happy Christmas in five years. Five long, horrible years.
What had he been doing? Had he been ignoring people around him like Karen and Molly for the last five years?
He heard an excited laugh and Grace walked through with one of the sales assistants from another room. Grace’s cheeks were flushed pink with excitement and she was clapping her hands together again.
The girl really did love Christmas.
One part of him felt a selfish pang, while the other dared itself back into life. In a way, he’d felt better sticking his head in the sand for the last few years. Some of this Christmas stuff made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. Parts of it were making him relive memories—some good, some bad.
But the thing that he struggled most with was feeling again. Feeling.
The thing he’d tried to forget about.
He touched the saleswoman’s arm as she was still mid-discussion with Grace. ‘I need you to add something to the order.’
Grace’s head shot up. ‘What?’ Then her expression changed. ‘Really?’
He gave a nod and gestured to the white rocking horse. ‘The lady in the dark coat, her name is Karen. Can you make delivery arrangements with her?’
The saleswoman shot a glance from Grace, to Finlay and then to Karen, who was still standing in the distance with Molly.
‘Of course,’ she said efficiently, adding the purchase to the bill.
What was he doing? All of a sudden Finlay was feeling totally out of his depth. ‘Let’s go,’ he said to Grace abruptly.
She looked a little surprised but glanced at her watch. Did she think he wanted to beat the traffic? ‘Thanks so much for your assistance. I’ll be back at The Armstrong for the delivery.’
She rubbed her hands together again. Something sparked into his brain. The one thing he’d thought to do back at the hotel.
He pulled out his phone and spoke quietly as they hurried back outside to the car. The light had almost gone completely now and most of London’s stores were lit up with Christmas displays. The journey to Harrods didn’t take quite as long as he’d imagined.
Grace gave a sharp intake of breath as soon as the gold lights of the store came into view, lighting up the well-known green canopies.
He touched her elbow. ‘We need to do something first in here before we go to the Christmas department.’
She looked surprised. ‘Do you need some Christmas gifts for your family?’
He shook his head. Thick flakes of snow were falling outside. ‘That’s taken care of. This was something I should have done earlier.’
They stepped outside as the chauffeur opened the door and walked in through one of the private entrances.
A woman in a black suit with gold gilding met them at the entrance. ‘Mr Armstrong?’
He nodded. She walked them towards some private lifts. ‘This way, please.’
The journey only lasted a few seconds before the doors slid open on women’s designer wear. Grace frowned and looked at him. ‘We need to go to the Christmas department.’
He waved his hand. ‘In a few minutes. I need to get something here first.’ He turned to the personal shopper. ‘Do you have anything the same shade as her shirt? And some black leather gloves please, lined.’
Grace was still frowning. ‘Who is this for?’
He turned to face her. ‘You.’
‘What?’ It was a face he recognised. Karen had worn the same expression thirty minutes earlier. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
Finlay held out his hands. ‘Look at me. I’ve dragged you halfway across London in the freezing cold with snow outside.’ He touched her arm. ‘You’re only wearing your suit and a shirt. You must be freezing. I feel like an idiot standing beside you in a wool coat.’
She tipped her head to the side. ‘Then take it off. It’s too hot in here anyhow.’
She said it so matter-of-factly. As if he should have thought of it himself.
He shook his head. ‘But once we get back outside, you’ll freeze again. You were rubbing your hands together the whole time we were in the last two stores. It was obvious you were still cold.’
The personal shopper appeared carrying a knee-length wool coat in the exact shade of pink as Grace’s shirt. She held it up. ‘Is this to your taste?’
He smiled. ‘It’s perfect.’ He gestured towards the coat. ‘Go on, Grace, try it on.’
She was staring at it as if she didn’t quite know what to say. Then she shook her head. ‘You are not buying me a coat.’
He took the coat from the personal shopper and held it open. ‘You’re right. I’m not buying you a coat. The Armstrong hotel is. Think of it as part of your official uniform.’
She