The Wake-Up Call by Beth O’Leary EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Beth O’Leary
- Language: English
- Genre: Holiday Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Izzy
IF LUCAS IS DOING SOMETHING, I HAVE TO BE DOING IT,
too, but better.
This has generally been very good for my career over the last year, but it
does mean that right now I am grappling with a fir-tree branch which
measures at least twice my height and four times my width.
“Do you need help?” Lucas asks.
“Absolutely not. Do you?”
I swing my branch into position and narrowly avoid smashing one of the
many vases around the lobby. I’m always dodging those things. Like much
of the furniture at Forest Manor Hotel and Spa, the vases come from the
Bartholomew family, who own the estate. Morris Bartholomew (Barty) and
his wife, Uma Singh-Bartholomew (Mrs. SB), have turned the grand house
into a hotel, and they’ve repurposed as many of the old family furnishings
as possible. I am all for an upcycle—it’s kind of my thing—but there’s
something urn-like about some of these vases. I can’t shake the thought that
one of them might contain an old Bartholomew.
“Is that whimsical?” Lucas asks me, pausing to examine my fir branch.
I’m tying it to the bottom of my side of the staircase. The Forest Manor
staircase is famous—it’s one of those gorgeous sweeping ones that splits in
two midway and just begs you to walk down it slowly in a wedding dress,
or maybe arrange your children up it for an adorable Von Trapp–ish family
photograph.
“Is that?” I ask, pointing to the potted tree Lucas has hauled in from the
garden and placed at the bottom of his side of the staircase.
“Yes,” he says with absolute confidence. “It is an olive tree. Olives are
very whimsical.”
We are dressing the lobby for tomorrow’s wedding—the bride’s theme
is “winter whimsy.” Lucas and I have decided that asymmetry is whimsical,
so we are each doing one side of the staircase. The trouble is, if Lucas goes
big, I have to go bigger, so now quite a lot of the garden is in the lobby.
“They’re also Mediterranean.”
Lucas looks at me flatly, like, Your point is?
“We’re in the New Forest. It’s November.”
Lucas frowns. I give up.
“What about my silver fairy lights, then?” I ask, gesturing to the small,
sparkling lights woven through the greenery that now runs up my bannister.
“Do you think we need some on your side, too?”
“No. They’re tacky.”
I narrow my eyes. Lucas finds everything about me tacky. He hates my
clip-in highlights, my baby-pink trainers, my fondness for supernatural teen
dramas. He doesn’t get that life is too short for rules about what’s cool and
what’s not cool; life’s for living. In full HD. And baby-pink trainers.
“They’re cute and twinkly!”
“They’re so bright. Like little daggers. No.”
He unfolds his arms and places his hands on his hips instead. Lucas
likes to take up as much space as possible. This is presumably why he is
always at the gym, so that he can claim yet another inch of my airspace
with his ever-broadening shoulders and his bulging biceps.
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