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

Beth grinned. ‘I get twenty percent commission on any orders placed here tonight so make sure he doesn’t scrimp.’

‘Good point, I’ll talk him into a matching necklace. I pushed two of his babies out of my body so that man owes me.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t look at me like that, young lady. Thirty hours of labour for the first and over eighteen for the second. He’s going to owe me for the rest of his life.’

Paul slid his arm around her waist, the other resting on a walking stick Beth hadn’t seen him use before today. Another sign he was taking his health more seriously. ‘And I enjoy paying back the debt, my dearest heart. Come on now, lets get this lot outside before they drink all the booze.’

Watching them go, a tingle of warmth spread through Beth easing her nerves. Most of the people there had been on their feet all day dealing with the worries and stresses of their own businesses, and yet they hadn’t hesitated to give up their evening to welcome her back into their fold. It made her sad to think her mum had never been able to see this side of life in their small town.

Once everyone gathered on the pavement outside, Beth took her place next to the rope the joiners had attached to the tarp covering the sign above the front windows. Libby handed her a teaspoon which she tapped against her glass until the conversation died down. Staring out at her friends and neighbours, she felt the collective weight of their expectations and uttered a silent prayer she’d be up to the challenge.

‘Ladies and gentlemen. I want to thank you all for coming here this evening to help me celebrate the official re-opening of the emporium. I know how much Eleanor meant to you all, and she meant the absolute world to me.’ Beth had to pause for a moment and gather herself. ‘I never expected such an incredible gift and I only hope I can do her faith in me justice. Yes, I’ve made some changes, but this will always be her place.’

She passed her glass to Libby and took the rope in both hands. Please work. Please, please, please. Beth pulled hard and the tarpaulin tumbled down. A sigh rippled around the crowd and she knew she’d made the right choice. ‘Welcome to Eleanor’s Emporium.’

‘Last load.’ Beth promised herself as she yanked open the dishwasher door and wafted away the steam billowing out. Her feet were killing her—the heels had been a huge mistake, even if they’d been a perfect match for her blouse and pencil skirt. First thing tomorrow, she was going online to look for some pretty flats. She scrunched her aching toes inside her fluffy slippers and sighed in relief. Now if she could only find a full-body slipper to ease the stiffness in the rest of her. ‘Last load,’ she muttered and bent to empty the glasses from the dishwasher.

She’d just placed the last glass in the slotted box they’d come in when the bell at the back door buzzed. Grumbling about the strain in the back of her calf, she limped down the stairs. Common sense kicked in the second before she pulled open the door—she was alone in the place after all. Flipping on the exterior light, she squinted at the large shape on the other side of the frosted safety glass. She checked her watch, it was past eleven. A frisson of fear shivered through her and she took a reflexive step backwards. ‘Who is it?’

‘It’s me.’

‘Sam?’ The security chain rattled as she slipped it off and opened the door. ‘What are you doing here?’

He held up a bottle of champagne and a polystyrene box. ‘I bought you dinner.’ Her stomach rumbled reflexively, and he smiled. ‘All those sausage rolls, and I bet you didn’t have a single mouthful all evening.’

Her hand settled on her noisy stomach and warmth flooded her cheeks. ‘I was a bit busy. By the time I thought about it, the plates were empty.’

He lifted the box towards her. ‘Tonight’s special was chicken curry.’ Her mouth watered at the thought of it. ‘I didn’t get around to eating either. That drop-in guest turned out to be a pain in the arse. He hated everything about his room, even down to the brand of the freebie toiletries. I ended up giving him a bottle of fancy shower gel Mum gave me for Christmas and changing out the pillows. About the only thing he didn’t complain about was the curry, so it must be good.’

Beth laughed and held open the door to let him in. ‘You should have come to the party, I had nothing but happy customers.’

‘Really? That’s fantastic. We definitely need to toast that.’

Beth locked up and followed him up the stairs and into the kitchen. ‘One more glass and I might fall over. What I missed out on with the nibbles, I more than made up for with drinks. Every time I turned around, someone was there to refill my glass.’

He paused in the act of pulling plates out of the cabinet. ‘We can have a soft drink, it’s no big deal, I just wanted to celebrate with you.’

Sliding her arms around his waist, she pressed against the broad, solid warmth of his back. ‘Open the champagne. If that chicken curry is as good as you claim I might just take advantage of you.’

Sam turned in her arms. ‘That sounds like the booze and the aftermath of the adrenalin talking.’

She pressed a row of kisses along his jaw. ‘Maybe a little, does that matter?’

His arms dropped to press her tight against him for a moment, before he eased her gently away. ‘It matters. I wish all the way down to the ache in my groin that it didn’t, but it matters. We’re going to eat this curry, drink a pint of water each, smooch a bit on the sofa and then I’m tucking you into bed—alone.’

‘Do you know how annoying it is when you take charge all the time?’ She stamped her foot, immediately regretting her show of petulance when her toes began throbbing again.

‘You’ll thank me in the morning when you don’t have a hangover or any morning-after regrets.’

He had a point, although she doubted there would be anything to regret about letting him into her bed. Opening the cupboard next to him, she grabbed a couple of pint glasses and carried them over to the sink. ‘You’re probably right. After all, being such a mediocre kisser doesn’t give me much hope for your prowess between the sheets.’ She bit her lip to hold back a giggle as she filled the glasses.

‘Mediocre? When did I get downgraded from basic to bloody mediocre? Your memory must be failing, woman. Here let me remind you.’ Beth found herself hauled around and swept into a tight embrace. Sam’s lips slammed down onto hers, and then he was kissing her so deeply she didn’t even mind the way it made her aching toes curl in her slippers. By the time he released her, she had to clutch the sink behind her so she didn’t slide to the floor.

With a satisfied sniff, Sam wandered away to dish up the curry. Placing the plates on the table, he nodded at the seat in front of her. ‘Are you sitting down? Your dinner’s getting cold.’

‘I’ll be there in a minute, just as soon as my knees stop wobbling,’ she admitted.

The expression on his face could only be described as gloating. ‘Mediocre, huh?’

Gathering the shreds of her dignity, she slid into her seat. ‘Did I say that, I think I meant to say adequate.’ It might have been her turn to gloat as he choked on a mouthful of his curry. She offered him one of the glasses. ‘Water?’

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

It had been the right thing to do. Sam attempted to console himself the next morning when he climbed out of his lonely bed and hit the shower. Beth had been buzzed, and not just on the champagne. Once he got her talking about the party she couldn’t stop, her eyes shining with excitement as she recalled anecdote after anecdote about things that had happened, comments and compliments she’d received. When he heard about the reaction to the new sign, as well as what she’d chosen to call the place, he got a lump in his throat the size of a boiled egg. Speaking of which…he was on breakfast duty for their guests this morning so there had been a shred of practicality to his decision not to stay over as well.

Dragging on a clean T-shirt and jeans, he made his way to the small upstairs dining room where he’d set up three of the tables for breakfast the previous evening. One of the tables was already occupied, and he paused on the threshold to swallow a sigh when he recognised the awkward guest who’d arrived the previous day. ‘Good morning, Mr Coburn. You’re an early bird. Did you sleep well?’

‘Once all the racket next door quietened down I had a reasonable night, thanks.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Your literature implied breakfast started at 7 a.m.’ The timepiece on his wrist looked as expensive as the discreet logo above the breast pocket on his immaculately ironed shirt. The neck lay open, showing a thin gold chain with a St Christopher medal hanging from it. He’d seemed older when he’d arrived the night before in a smart pinstripe suit, but in the early morning sunlight, Sam judged him to be near-enough the same age as him.