Page 23 of A Winter Wish

Lexie couldn’t help glancing toward the end of the table, to where Theo was sitting. For a second their gazes met, held. Heat flashed through her body, making her tighten her grip on her wineglass. But so what if he’d overheard? She lifted her chin slightly, as if in a silent dare. Then his gaze slid away, back to the woman in the blue blouse, and Lexie let out a slow breath, flexing her fingers on the stem of her glass. Was that a point to her? Regardless, she made sure not to look down his end of the table for the rest of the meal.

Chapter Nine

Lexie walked a few paces behind Mike as he led the group through the Biovès Gardens—the main point of interest in the Lemon Festival, where there were giant sculptures, all made out of lemons and oranges. Among them was a sculpture of a woman throwing a javelin, a man holding a torch, a gorgeous horse. And some of them were huge. At least thirty feet tall. Around the gardens people were posing with the sculptures, queueing up to get the best spots. Lexie had a moment of wishing she was more of the arty type—what must it be like to build a sculpture out of lemons of all things? Pretty bloody cool was the answer.

The smell was incredible, the sharp and sweet citrus filling the air. The sun was beginning its descent, but it was still light—not like the dark winters of England. Still, it was getting cold, and Lexie was glad of her winter coat as the breeze tugged at her hair. The whole group of them were ambling through the sculptures together, Mike chatting to the two men who had been sitting on Lexie’s right at lunch, while Theo had the attention of the woman in the blue blouse with the bored husband.

Theo glanced over at her, noticing her looking his way, and she turned determinedly away, catching sight of the nervous-looking redhead she’d been sitting next to at lunch. She moved a little closer to her.

“Hey. Lucy, right?”

“Oh, yes, right.” Lucy had been holding her phone and nearly dropped it, before stashing it in her coat pocket. “Hello. Mike introduced you, but I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten your—”

Lexie smiled. “Lexie.”

“Lexie, of course. I’m sorry, it’s just if we had a conversation and then I still couldn’t remember, it would be even more awkward to ask, so I thought I’d better get it out of the way.” She let out a laugh that was a little too high-pitched. “Are you here on your own too? Or, no, sorry, you’re with your boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“My…You mean Theo?” Lexie shook her head. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh. It’s just you came in together—to lunch, I mean. That’s all.”

“Right. But he works…I mean, we both work at the company. We sort of…Well, it was my dad’s company and now…” Lexie huffed out a breath, annoyed at herself for floundering. “Well, anyway, we’re with the company.”

“Oh that’s wonderful. How amazing, that he started up something like this. I always admire anyone who starts up a business; it must be so tough.”

And it took determination, didn’t it? Determination to start something, to see it through. How had Richard had the perseverance to build a successful business, yet not been able to stick with either of his two families, in the end?

“How about you?” Lexie asked, wanting to change the subject. “What brings you here?”

“Well, I came on my own.” She made a face. “Recent breakup.” Then she sighed. “Well, not that recent now. But I’ve never been anywhere on my own before—I know, don’t laugh—and I thought, France can’t be that hard, can it? And it’s nice being in a group. So if you work for the company, does that mean you know all about the festival?” Lucy’s eyes brightened, and Lexie felt the urge not to let her down.

She cleared her throat. “Well, ah, the idea behind the festival can be traced back to 1928—to bring back some winter business, one of the hotel owners had the idea to host an exhibition of flowers and citrus fruits in one of the hotel gardens. It was so successful that they did it the year after—and made it bigger.”

“That’s cool,” Lucy said, glancing around at the sculptures.

“Yeah. The official Fête du Citron didn’t begin until 1933, though.”

This was all stuff you’d find in a brochure or on the internet, but Lucy was nodding along.

“Ah…Every year is based around a different theme—last year was rock and opera, this year is the Olympics.”

Lucy shot her a look, then nodded toward one of the sculptures. “Hence the massive hoops.”

“It would probably explain that, yes.” The two of them laughed, slipping into an easy conversation after that.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Lexie asked.

“Well, we’ve got that crêpe-making thing, don’t we? Presumably we’re supposed to have them with lemon and sugar—they’ll get the lemons in somehow, I’m sure.”

“Oh right, yes.” Lexie nodded, trying to pretend she knew all about the schedule.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” Was she going? She had no idea.

“Good. Because I was a bit nervous, coming alone. It can be hard, sometimes. So it’s been really lovely talking to you.”

“Lucy, darling!” The woman in the blue blouse, the one who seemed to find Theo a bit too interesting, called over, and both Lexie and Lucy looked in her direction. She was standing by one of the stalls at the edge of the garden, which were set up Christmas-market style. “These are the candles I was telling you about! You must come and see.”