A Brush with the Moon (Fosswell Chronicles) (Foxblood Book 1) by Raquel Lyon

Author:Raquel Lyon [Lyon, Raquel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2010-11-28T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

THE PARTY PREPS began straight away, and Beth kept me busy not only with the invites, but with numerous shopping trips and endless idea questions, all for a small Christmas party. If she ever got married, I’d have to leave the country.

True to her word, she went totally overboard with the decorations, and by the day of the party, a ginormous ten-foot tree was standing in the middle of the front wall, dripping with baubles and twinkling with over five hundred bulbs. Nets of fairy lights, topped with holly and evergreen garlands, covered every inch of the walls and windows. Streamers of tinsel and foil hung in swathes across all angles of the ceiling with glittering disco balls dangling amidst the loops, and a life-sized automated Santa stood between two long tables along the back window. Outside, a huge blow-up snowman swaying in the wind welcomed everyone to the door. It was about as tacky as you could get.

“I’m having a slight wardrobe crisis. What do you think of this outfit for tonight?” I asked, standing in the doorway wearing an old favourite.

“Burn it,” said a flustered Beth, flitting around in the kitchen, hardly glancing at me at all.

“What? That’s not very nice.”

“Neither is that get-up. If you don’t want my opinion, don’t ask for it,” she huffed. “Oh, damn, where’s the cooking foil? I can’t find anything today.”

I wandered over and opened one of the drawers, casually removed the roll of foil and handed it to Beth. “Need some help?”

She gave a long sigh. “Sausages on sticks, bowls of crisps and nuts…those I can manage, but I could use some help with the things that actually need cooking. You know I’m crap at that. Would you mind?”

“Of course not. You only had to ask. I just thought the party was your baby, and I didn’t want to intrude.”

“Babe, I need all the help you can give.” She smiled. “Sorry for being a bitch. I’m just a little stressed,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Why don’t you wear that new dress you bought in Carleigh?”

“The red silk shift? Nah, I really shouldn’t have bought that. It’s far too short, and I can’t wear a bra. I was going to return it.”

“Are you mad? You look hot in it! Look, all men are after one thing…boobs and booty. You present it in a pretty package, and they’ll be panting at your feet. Don’t be such a chicken. Live a little.”

By six o’clock, our work was done. Beth had disappeared into her room to get ready, and I was having a quick glass of wine to settle my nerves.

“Knock, knock,” said Justin, letting himself in. He placed two large platters on the counter. “Mummy wanted to contribute, but it looks like you’re pretty much covered,” he noted, surveying the long, red-clothed tables, now groaning under the abundance of food they carried.

“Thanks. Yes, I think we’ll be eating leftovers for a week.” I laughed, drained my glass, and immediately refilled it.

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