“You came here to escape Christmas?” “I thought it might be easier.” She picked up her knife and fork and sliced through the lamb. “I thought I had more chance of avoiding festivities here than I did there. You promised me a secluded log cabin. It sounded appealing.” “And then you found out my family makes a big fuss of Christmas.” “Mmm.” She chewed. “That came as a bit of a shock, but I’m over it now.” “Why do you hate this time of year?” “It’s frustrating trying to get anything done. Publications run on a skeleton staff, opportunities for coverage go down, people in the office walk round wearing ridiculous bits of tinsel in their hair—” “That tells me why Christmas is inconvenient. It doesn’t tell me why you hate it.” A few seconds passed. “It just isn’t a happy time of year for me.”
