Snowed In for Christmas, page 1
Select praise for Sarah Morgan
“Morgan expertly avoids cliché and easy fixes, resulting in a deeply believable portrait of a family relearning how to love each other. Readers will be delighted.”
—Publishers Weekly, starred review, on One More for Christmas
“Morgan’s latest Christmas tale will delight readers and give them the perfect excuse to snuggle up for a few hours with a cup of hot cocoa.”
—Booklist on The Christmas Escape
“A journey of love and festive cheer.”
—Woman’s World on The Christmas Escape
“Morgan’s gently humorous aesthetic will leave readers feeling optimistic and satisfied.”
—Publishers Weekly on A Wedding in December
“Her lovingly created characters come to life, the [dialogue] rings true, and readers will fly through the pages and then wish for more.”
—Library Journal, starred review, on How to Keep a Secret
“Packed full of love, loss, heartbreak, and hope, this may just be Morgan’s best book yet.”
—Booklist on One Summer in Paris
“Warm, funny and often insightful, The Summer Seekers is a satisfying dose of escapism with plenty of heart.”
—Shelf Awareness
“The perfect gift for readers who relish heartwarming tales of sisters and love.”
—Booklist on The Christmas Sisters
“The ultimate road-trippin’ beach read and just what we all need after the long lockdown.”
—Booklist, starred review, on The Summer Seekers
Snowed In for Christmas
Sarah Morgan
To my family, for all the wonderful Christmases.
Sarah Morgan is a USA TODAY and Sunday Times bestselling author of contemporary romance and women’s fiction. She has sold more than twenty-one million copies of her books, and her trademark humor and warmth have gained her fans across the globe. Sarah lives with her family near London, England, where the rain frequently keeps her trapped in her office. Visit her at www.sarahmorgan.com.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Acknowledgments
Excerpt from Summer Wedding by Sarah Morgan
1
Lucy Clarke pushed her way through the revolving glass doors and sprinted to the reception desk, stripping off her coat and scarf as she ran. She was late for the most important meeting of her life.
“There you are! I’ve been calling you. I’ll take that—” Rhea, the receptionist, rose from her chair and grabbed the coat from her. “Wow. You look stunning. You’re the only person I know who can look good in a Christmas sweater. Where did you find that one?”
“My grandmother knitted it. She said the sparkly yarn was a nightmare to work with. Feels weird wearing it today of all days, but Arnie insisted that we look festive so here I am, bringing the sparkle. They’ve started?” She’d hoped she might just make it, but the desks around her were all empty.
“Yes. Get in there.”
Lucy replaced her running shoes with suede boots, hopping around as she pulled them on. Her fingers were so cold she fumbled. “Sorry. Forgot my gloves.” She thrust her bag toward Rhea, who stowed it under the desk.
“What was it? Trains not running?”
“Signal failure. I walked.”
“You walked? You couldn’t have grabbed a cab?”
“Everyone else had the same idea so there wasn’t one to be had.” She dropped her scarf on Rhea’s desk. “How is the mood?”
“Dismally lacking in festive joy given that we are all waiting to lose our jobs. Even the Christmas sweaters aren’t raising a smile, and there are some truly terrible ones. Ellis from Accounts is wearing what looks like a woolly Christmas tree and it’s making him itch. I’ve given him an antihistamine.”
“We are not going to lose our jobs.”
“You don’t know that,” Rhea said. “We’ve lost two big accounts in the last month. Not our fault, I know, but the end result is the same.”
“So we need to replace them.”
“I admire your optimism, but I don’t want to raise my hopes and then have them crash around me. I love my job. Companies always say we’re a family and it’s usually a load of rubbish, but this one really does feel like a family. But it’s not as if you really need to worry. You’re brilliant at what you do. You’ll get another job easily.”
She didn’t want another job. She wanted this job.
She thought about the fun they all had in the office. The laughter. Late-night pizza when they were preparing a pitch. Friday fizz when they had something to celebrate. The camaraderie and the friendship. She knew she’d never forget the support her colleagues had given her during what had undoubtedly been the worst couple of years of her life.
And then there was Arnie himself. She owed him everything. He’d given her back all the confidence that had been sucked from her in her first job, and he’d been there for her at her lowest moment. She’d worked for Arnie for six years and she still learned something new from him every day. She had a feeling she always would, because the company was small and nimble and everyone was encouraged to contribute, whatever their level of seniority. That wouldn’t happen if she moved to one of the major players.
“Do I look okay?”
Rhea reached out and smoothed a strand of hair out of Lucy’s eyes. “You look calmer than the rest of us. We’re all in a state of panic. Maya has just bought her first flat. Ted’s wife is expecting their first baby any day.”
“Stop! If you keep reminding me of the stakes I’ll be waving goodbye to calm.” Lucy pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. “I ran the last mile. Tell me honestly, does my face look like a tomato?”
“It has a seasonal tint.”
“You mean green like holly, or red like Santa?”
“Get in there—” Rhea gave her a push and Lucy sprinted toward the meeting room.
She could see all of them gathered around the table, Arnie standing at the head wearing the same red sweater he always wore when he wanted to be festive.
Arnie, who had set up this company over thirty years ago. Arnie, who had left his family’s Christmas celebrations to be by her side in the hospital when her grandmother had died two years earlier.
Lucy pushed open the door and thirty heads turned toward her.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve only just started.” Arnie’s smile was warm, but she could see the dark shadows under his eyes. The situation was hard for all of them, but particularly him. The unexpected blow to their bottom line meant he had difficult decisions to make. The thought of it was obviously giving him sleepless nights.
She’d seen him working until midnight at his desk, staring at numbers as if willpower alone could change them. It was no wonder he was tired.
She sat down in an empty seat and tried to ignore the horrible burn of anxiety.
“It’s a Christmas campaign,” Arnie returned to the subject they’d been discussing before she’d interrupted. “Think festive sparkle, think Christmas trees, think snow. We want photographs of log fires, luxurious throws, candles, mugs of hot chocolate heaped with marshmallows. And fairy lights. Fairy lights everywhere. The images need to be so festive and appealing that people who think they hate Christmas suddenly fall in love with Christmas. Most of all they need to feel that their Christmas will not be complete unless they buy themselves and everyone they know, a—” Arnie looked blank. “What is the product called again?”
Lucy’s gaze slid to the box on the table. “The Fingersnug, Arnie.”
“Fingersnug. Right.” Arnie dragged his hand through his hair, leaving it standing upright. It was one of his many endearing habits. “The person who advised them on product name should rethink his job, but that’s not our problem. Our problem is how to make it the must-have product for Christmas, despite the name and the lack of time to build a heavyweight campaign. And we’re going to do that with social media. It’s instant. It’s impactful. Show people looking warm and cosy. Has anyone tried the damn thing? Lucy, as you were the last one in through the door and you always forget to wear gloves, you can take one for the team and thank me later.”
Lucy dutifully slipped her hand inside the Fingersnug and activated it.
They all watched her expectantly.
Arnie spread his hands. “Anything? Are you feeling a warm glow? Is this life-changing?”
She felt depressed and a little sick, but neither of those things had anything to do with the Fingersnug. “I think it takes a minute to warm up, Arnie.”
Ted looked puzzled. “It’s basically a glove.”
“Maybe—”
The comment was so Arnie. He was a relentless optimist.
Lucy felt the lump in her throat grow. Arnie had so many big things to deal with, but the client was still his priority. Even a client as small as this one.
“It’s warming up,” she said. “It may even cure my frostbite.”
Arnie grabbed one from the box. “It would be the perfect stocking filler. I can see it now, keeping hands warm on frosty winter nights. Does it come in small sizes? Can kids use it? Is it safe? We don’t want to damage a child.”
“Children can use it, and it comes in different sizes.” Lucy felt her fingers grow steadily warmer. “This might be the first time in my life I’ve had warm hands. It might be my new favorite thing.”
“We need photographs that appeal to kids, or more specifically parents of kids. All those activities parents do at Christmas. Ice skating, reindeer—the client specifically mentioned reindeer,” he floundered and glanced around for inspiration, “doing what? I have no idea. Where does one even find a reindeer, apart from on the front of Alison’s sweater, obviously? And what do you do when you find one? Maybe someone could ride it. Yes! I love that idea.” One of the reasons Arnie was such a legend in the creative agency world was because he let nothing get in the way of his imagination. Sometimes that approach led to spectacular success, but other times...
There was an exchange of glances. A few people shifted in their chairs and sneaked glances at Lucy.
She looked straight at him. “I think using reindeer is an inspired idea, Arnie. Gives us the potential for some great creative shots. Maybe a child clutching a stack of prettily wrapped parcels next to a reindeer, capture that look of wonder on their face, patch of snow, warm fingers—” she let her mind drift “—aspirational Christmas photos. Make it relatable.”
“You don’t think someone should ride it?”
She didn’t hesitate. “No, Arnie, I don’t.”
“Why not? Santa does it.”
“Santa is a special case. And he’s generally in the sleigh.” Were they seriously having this conversation?
There was a moment of tense silence and then Arnie laughed and the tension in the room eased.
“Right. Well...” Arnie waved a hand dismissively. “Get creative. Whatever you think will add that extra festive touch, you’re to do it, Lucy. I won’t tell you to impress me, because you always do.”
“You want me to take on the account?” Lucy glanced round the room. There were twenty-nine other people in the meeting. “Maybe someone else should—”
“No. I want you on this. Getting influencers on board at this late stage is going to be next to impossible, and you’re the one who makes the impossible happen.” He rubbed his chest and Lucy felt a flash of concern.
“Are you feeling all right, Arnie?”
“Not brilliant. I had dinner with one of our competitors last night, Martin Cooper, CEO of Fitzwilliam Cooper. He was boasting about having too much business to handle, which was enough to give me indigestion. Or maybe it was the lamb. It was very spicy and I’m not good with spicy food.” He stopped rubbing his chest and scowled. “Do you know he had the gall to ask if I could give him your contact list, Lucy? I told him it would do him no good, because it’s your relationship with those contacts that adds the magic. The whole thing works because of you. You have a way of persuading people to do things they don’t want to do, and definitely don’t have time for.”
Lucy chose not to mention the fact that a recruiter from Fitzwilliam Cooper had approached her twice in the last month about a job.
She thought it wise to change the subject. “Finding a reindeer in the middle of London might be—”
“There are reindeer in Finland and Norway, but we don’t have the time or the budget for that. Wait—” Arnie lifted a hand. “Scotland! There are reindeer in Scotland. I read about it recently. I’m going to ask Rhea to track down that article and send it to you. Scotland. Perfect. I love this job. Don’t you all love this job?”
Everyone grinned nervously because almost without exception they did love the job and were all wondering how much longer they’d be doing it.
Lucy was focused on the more immediate problem. How was she supposed to fit a trip to Scotland into her schedule?
“It’s only two weeks until Christmas, Arnie.”
“And you know what I always say. Nothing—” He put his hand to his ear and waited.
“Focuses the mind like a deadline,” they all chorused and he beamed like a conductor whose orchestra had just given a virtuoso performance.
“Exactly. You’ll handle it, Lucy, I know you will. You’re the one who always swoops in and saves the day and you’re always great with everything Christmas.” Arnie waved a hand as if he’d just gifted her something special. “The job is yours. Pick your team.”
Lucy managed a weak smile. His enthusiasm and warmth swept you along. You couldn’t say no to him, even if you wanted to.
And what would she say, anyway?
Christmas isn’t really my thing anymore. No, she couldn’t say that. She’d leaned on them hard at the beginning, when the agony of grief had been raw and sharp. But time had passed, and she couldn’t keep being a misery, no matter how tough she found this time of year. She needed to pull herself together, but she hadn’t yet figured out how to do that. There were days when she felt as if she hadn’t moved forward at all.
But her priority right now was the company, which meant she would have to go to Scotland. Unless she could find reindeer closer to home. The zoo? Maybe she could persuade the client to switch the reindeer for a llama. Alpaca? Large sheep? Her mind wandered and then someone’s phone pinged.
Ted jumped to his feet in a panic, sending papers flying. He checked his phone and turned pale. “This is it! It’s coming. The baby I mean. The baby is coming. My baby. Our baby. I have to go to the hospital. Right now.” He dropped his phone on the floor, bent to retrieve it and banged his head on the table.
Lucy winced. “Ouch. Ted—”
“I’m fine!” He rubbed his forehead and gave a goofy smile. “I’m going to be a dad.”
Maya grinned. “We got that part, Ted. Way to go.”
“Sophie needs me. I—” Ted dropped his phone again but this time Alison was the one who bent and retrieved it.
“Breathe, Ted.”
“Yes. Good advice. Breathe. We’ve done lots of practice. I mean obviously it’s Sophie who is meant to be doing that part, but no reason why I can’t do it, too.” Ted pushed his glasses back up his nose and cast an apologetic look at Arnie. “I’m—”
“Go.” Arnie waved him toward the door. “And keep us updated.”
Ted looked torn. “But this is an important meeting, and—”
“Family first.” Arnie’s voice was rough. “Go and be with Sophie. Call us when you have news.”
Ted rushed out of the room, then rushed back in a moment later to collect the coat he’d forgotten, and back again a moment after that because he’d left his laptop bag.
“Also,” he said, pausing by the door, breathless, “I have a train set arriving here today. Can someone take the delivery?”
Maya raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “A train set?”
“Yes. It’s a Christmas present for my baby.” His voice cracked and Arnie walked round the table and put his hand on Ted’s shoulder.
“A train set is a great choice. We’ll take the delivery. Now go. Ask Rhea to call you a cab. You need to get to the hospital as fast as possible.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Ted sped out of the room, knocking into the doorframe on his way out.
Maya winced. “Can they give him a sedative or something? And is a cab really going to be quicker than taking the train?”
“It’s going to be quicker than Ted getting flustered and lost,” Arnie said. “At least the cab will deliver him to the door, hopefully in one piece and with all his belongings still about his person.”
