Read Online Christmas Yet to Come by Marian Perera - Free Book Online

Christmas Yet To Come always appeared at the stroke of the third hour after midnight. Either way, it was hardly enough time to read her book, not that she wanted to spend her few remaining hours reading.
    For once her appetite deserted her, and she knew Justin could tell when he glanced at her plate, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he told a few stories of his work as a banker, including how he’d once spotted a counterfeit five-pound note and, following protocol, had detained the man who’d given it to him until a police constable arrived.
    â€œSo the constable came in,” he said. “The fake banknote was on a table where the suspected counterfeiter couldn’t have reached it. The constable asked if he could compare it to a genuine fiver to be certain, but when he did, there was no difference. The two notes were identical. I thought I’d made a horrible mistake. The suspected counterfeiter threatened to sue me for slander, but the constable told him to calm down and leave quietly because I was just doing my job.”
    Laura thought that over. “But you were sure it was a fake?”
    â€œOriginally, yes.”
    â€œWho went near it between your original inspection and the constable picking it up?”
    â€œNo one.”
    That left only two possibilities—either Justin was wrong, or the constable had switched the note for a real one, and when she said so, he chuckled. “You’re right. Thankfully that occurred to me, and we managed to delay them both while we sent an urgent message to the nearest police station with the constable’s name. They’d never heard of him, so they came to investigate. Apparently he and the counterfeiter worked together, and his job was to go into the bank to spring the trap if his partner seemed to be delayed there for any reason.”
    Pleased though she was that she’d guessed right, she didn’t like the idea of someone trying to deceive him when he had been working honestly. It was odd, because while she had been indignant about her being reduced to humanity and thrown into a snowbank, she hadn’t imagined she could feel the same on someone else’s behalf.
    â€œI wondered,” she said. “Let’s say someone died and left you a million pounds.”
    Justin sighed, shaking his head. “It’s always about someone dying.”
    She tried to hide any amusement at the theatrical response. “Fine. You saved the Queen’s life and she gave you a million pounds. It’s the money that matters, not how you came into it.”
    Justin looked horror-stricken. “Do I have to pay taxes on it?” She folded her arms and he stifled a laugh. “I beg your pardon. Please go on.”
    â€œWith that much money, would you work?”
    He leaned back in his chair. “I suppose not. I could live off the interest.”
    â€œAnd do what?”
    She hadn’t expected a quick teasing riposte, and sure enough, there was none. All the humor faded from his face, and he looked as he had done when he’d first let her into the house: uncertain because he didn’t know what to do under those particular circumstances.
    â€œI’d take painting lessons,” he said finally, as if admitting he would have to learn how to dress himself in the morning.
    â€œReally?” That had been the last thing she’d expected to hear. On the other hand, she only had to look at the parlor to know he could be imaginative when it was called for.
    Justin looked even more embarrassed. “I used to paint occasionally, when I had time. There are a few canvases wrapped up in the attic.”
    â€œWhy don’t you display them?” Laura thought he’d have his choice of bare walls anywhere, but at once she realized the answer. “Oh.”
    â€œThey’re not good enough. I had everything correctly proportioned, and no mistakes in perspective. The colors never clashed. But there was always