The Lavender Bay Collection: including Spring at Lavender Bay, Summer at Lavender Bay and Snowflakes at Lavender Bay

‘It’s silly. I’m being silly. It’s not like I’ve seen you every five minutes, but at least I knew you were only a train ride, or a couple of hours drive away. An eight-hour flight is something different all together.’

Beth squeezed her arm. ‘You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.’

Eliza’s sigh tickled the hair on her shoulder. ‘It’s not even certain he’s going to get it, so I might be worrying over nothing. It won’t be the end of the world, and it would be the ideal time for us to start a family as I won’t be working over there.’

The lack of enthusiasm in her voice set alarm bells ringing in Beth’s head. Planning a baby should be something joyful, a time for celebration and excitement. Eliza made it sound anything but. ‘The last time we talked about it, you weren’t ready to have children.’

Her friend rolled over onto her back, and Beth could sense her drawing away. ‘I’m not getting any younger. If we’re going to have kids, now’s as good a time as any.’

Bloody hell, she was too drunk, and nowhere near drunk enough to have this conversation right now. ‘There’s plenty of time, Eliza. No need to rush into any big decisions just yet.’

‘You’re right. There’s no need to worry yet, he hasn’t even got an interview.’ Eliza yawned. ‘I think the wine’s gone to my head, and got me talking nonsense. G’night, B.’

Feeling like she’d failed her friend, Beth gave her arm a final squeeze. ‘Night, darling. Sleep tight.’ From the way Eliza tossed and turned beside her, it seemed a fruitless wish—for both of them.

Chapter Twelve (#u8be2e51c-489a-586d-bf3e-0f8634823a14)

‘Shoulda brought the spare key.’ Sam muttered to himself as he knocked on the back door of the emporium for the third time to no answer. Having seen Eliza take a couple of bottles out of the pub fridge, he’d assumed they’d be a bit worse for wear that morning and decided to make them breakfast. Beth had left a spare key at the pub, for emergencies, and he’d briefly considered using it so he could set everything out properly, before worrying she might see it as a violation of trust.

He took a couple of steps back and looked up at the closed curtains over the windows of the flat above. Surprises always seemed great during the planning, but relied on other people to play their part—which was never guaranteed when they didn’t know they even had a part to play. Balancing the cardboard tray in his left hand, he fumbled in his pocket for his phone and scrolled through to find Beth’s number.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. ‘Ungh?’

‘Hey, Beth, you wanna come down and answer the door?’ A loud groan echoed in his ear, and he stifled a grin. ‘Beth, you okay?’

‘Beth’s dead. This is her ghost.’

Sam laughed. ‘Can ghosts open doors? I brought you guys breakfast.’

‘Ghosts don’t eat. I’m never eating, or drinking again.’ She whimpered. ‘You made me think about drinking, why did you do that? Do you hate me?’

‘No, I don’t hate you. I like you very much, that’s why I made you bacon sandwiches and a Mr Barnes’ Secret Hangover Cure shake.’

‘Chocolate?’ She sounded almost perky and Sam knew his instinct had been right.

‘Yes, chocolate for you, strawberry for Eliza, and caramel for Libs.’ There was no big secret to the milkshakes—the milk helped to hydrate and neutralise an acidic stomach, and the oats and a raw egg provided energy. He added their favourite flavouring to mask any bitterness from the soluble painkillers. The bacon in the sandwiches was grilled rather than fried because, contrary to popular opinion, greasy food was the worst thing going for a hangover.

‘What are you waiting for? Bring them up.’

Sam rested his head against the back door. ‘You need to unlock the door first.’

‘But I’m dead and a ghost so I can’t get up. Hold on…’ Sam listened to her as she woke up the others, smiling so hard it made his face ache. God, she was adorable when she was like this—funny, sleepy, with just a little dash of vulnerability.

The dull sound of footsteps on the stairs sounded from inside and he straightened up in time to catch the full force of Libby’s scowl as she yanked open the door. With her hair stuck up at all angles and the smudges of makeup under her eyes it was like being snarled at by an angry panda. Grabbing one of the tall plastic cups from the cardboard tray he thrust it at her. ‘Caramel.’

Libby snatched the drink and took a deep slurp from the straw. ‘God, that’s good. I love you.’ She sucked down another mouthful. ‘Not feed-me-amazing-things-then-kiss-my-face-off love you, I’ll leave that to Beth.’

‘Excuse me?’ He tried to ignore the heat rising on his face. What the hell had Beth been telling them?

The cheeky minx grinned at him, then clutched her head with a groan. ‘Damn, it’s hard to be smug when you’re full of Lambrini regrets.’ She pointed at the padded bag in his hand. ‘What’s that?’

‘Bacon sandwiches.’

‘Forget what I said before. I do feed-me-amazing-things-then-kiss-my-face-off love you.’ She grabbed his hand and Sam found himself being dragged up the stairs. Halfway up, Libby called out, ‘Beth, I’m stealing your boyfriend, all right?’

Beth shuffled out of the bedroom, tugging down the rumpled leg of her pyjama shorts. Her normally sleek hair straggled around her face which was so pale her dark eyes dominated her elfin features. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend, but if you’re referring to Sam, you can do what you want with him if you stop shouting.’ She held out her hand and Sam gave her the chocolate shake.

He’d never seen her grumpy before, and he had to admit he kind of liked it. ‘I’ll take these into the kitchen and plate up. Did you two break my sister?’

The bathroom door opened. ‘I’m alive…I think.’ Eliza pushed her wild curls off her forehead and frowned at him. ‘I’m not talking to you.’ She made to push past him, then stopped to grab the final milkshake from the holder. ‘Traitor.’ She stomped towards the kitchen.

Sam followed hot on her heels. ‘What? What the hell did I do?’

His sister spun around to raise a shaky finger in his face. ‘You kissed her!’ She hissed through her teeth. ‘She’s my best friend, Sam, and she’s been through a lot in the past few months. The last thing she needs is you fooling around with her. What were you thinking?’

Dodging the finger she was jabbing at his face, Sam crowded close to his sister. ‘Woah! Back up there a little, missy.’ He glanced over his shoulder to check they were alone, then lowered his voice. ‘I’m not fooling around with Beth. It was something and nothing, it happened on the spur of the moment and we’ve both agreed to forget about it. Get your facts straight before you start throwing accusations around.’ So why had she told them?

Clutching her head, Eliza slumped into the chair he’d hung his jacket on. ‘Shh. I’m sorry, all right? I’m just worried about you, that’s all.’

Sam abandoned his search for the plates and took the chair next to her. Looking past the pale face, the messy hair and smudged remains of her makeup, he could see the concern in her eyes. ‘Hey, kiddo, what’s got your knickers in a twist?’

‘Don’t tease me, this is serious.’ Her hand closed over his forearm. ‘I don’t want her getting hurt.’

‘No one’s getting hurt. We’re friends. Nothing more.’ He paused, then frowned. ‘Why aren’t you worried about me getting hurt?’

Eliza made a rude noise. ‘You’re my brother, and I love you, but you’re a bit of a player. When was the last time you were involved with any woman for more than a couple of dates?’ Without giving him a chance, she answered her own question. ‘I’ll tell you when—never. Beth’s not like that, she’s had one serious boyfriend and he broke her heart.’

Damn. Eliza might look all sweetness and light, but she knew how to strike a low blow. Sure, he’d played the field, but it had never been malicious on his part, he’d just never found someone he felt truly comfortable around. There were women who he was friends with, and women he dated, but he’d never found anyone who managed to meet both criteria. Until now. The realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks. Mouth dry, Sam cast a quick glance at his sister, relieved to see she was rubbing her hands over her face in an attempt to wake herself up.

He dropped a quick kiss on head, then pushed himself to his feet. ‘No one’s getting their heart broken, least of all Beth. I promise you.’

The warming bag had done its job in keeping the bacon at a palatable temperature, so Sam made himself busy slicing the fresh rolls he’d brought with him and layering them with crispy rashers of meat. While his fingers carried out the task almost by rote, his mind whirled. Before Beth had returned to the bay, he’d been restless and miserable, his relationship with his father under threat. Talking to her about everything had been easy, partly he supposed because she knew him so well already.

The attraction he felt for her was understandable. Sam had always had an affinity for leggy brunettes with eyes like melted chocolate; anyone looking at his previous girlfriends could have worked that out. Oh. Oh. He wanted to smack himself in the head for being so blind. He wasn’t attracted to Beth because she resembled the kind of woman he liked. She was the original. The one he’d imprinted upon that blustery night on the promenade.

Voices sounded in the hallway, and he turned his back to busy himself with breakfast as Libby and Beth wandered in to join his sister at the table. The three of them were busy alternating between bemoaning their hangovers and slurping their milkshakes and didn’t seem to notice his sudden silence.

They fell on the rolls like a pack of ravenous wolves the moment he placed them on the table. Sam braced his palms on the kitchen counter and took a deep breath. If he didn’t pull himself together, they’d realise something was wrong. He’d grilled enough bacon for his own roll so claimed the last chair and looked back and forth between them. Nice and casual, easy does it. ‘Just how much did you drink last night?’

It was Libby who answered. ‘Only three bottles, and one of those was Lambrini.’ She shook her head sadly, then clutched it with a whimper. ‘When did we become such lightweights?’

Stifling a smile, Sam patted her hand. ‘It’s your age, Libs.’ He stood up, crossed to the window and rolled up the blind. Shrieks greeted the bright steam of sunlight, and he shook his head. ‘You guys are kind of pathetic, you know that, right?’

Feeling a bit steadier, Sam decided to stick with his original plan. He grabbed the kettle, filled it and flipped it on. ‘Okay, I’ll give you ten more minutes to feel sorry for yourselves and then you need to get dressed because we’re going for a walk on the beach.’

A chorus of groans greeted him, then Beth muttered, ‘You’re not the boss of me.’

The little bite of sassiness was something new. She’d been a lot shier when she’d been a little girl. He liked this new side to her, it spoke of a growing confidence he wanted to encourage and nurture in her, and that meant giving her something to push back against. He turned to rest against the counter and folded his hands over his chest. ‘Do you, or do you not want to get that bedroom decorated this weekend?’