Fern bit back a grin and saw a flash of panic go across Amelia’s face.
‘Oh no,’ Amelia said, briefly closing her eyes. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re that relative.’
Fern gave a sheepish shrug. ‘I am. But to be fair, I am a little stuck up, drink overpriced lattes and love a good designer coat.’
‘Sorry,’ Amelia apologised immediately, scrunching up her face in embarrassment.
‘Honestly, don’t worry about it. I know nothing about this place or my great-aunt Matilda.’
‘She was one of a kind and she will be missed. You’ll be able to read all about her on page five.’ Amelia gestured towards the newspaper.
They stepped inside The Story Shop to shield the newspaper from the breeze and Fern opened it up.
Legendary Antique Dealer Matilda Hartley Passes at 85
Puffin Island has lost one of its most cherished figures with the passing of Matilda Hartley, the eccentric and beloved proprietor of No. 17 Curiosity Lane. Her tiny shop, brimming with forgotten treasures, was a haven for collectors and wanderers alike.
Her passing at the age of 85 leaves a void in the heart of Puffin Island. The world seems a little dimmer without her bold presence, but her legacy lives on in the countless treasures she preserved and the stories she safeguarded…
Fern found she felt a little sad, which was daft, given that she was reading about a relative she hadn’t even known she had. There was much more to the article but Fern was keen to see the shop for herself, so she looked up at Amelia and asked, ‘Can I keep this?’
‘Of course, and I’m sorry about what I said before.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I may have been travelling since eight a.m. this morning but I do have a little sense of humour left.’ She smiled to herself. That was primarily down to Daniel. If he hadn’t made her train journey so enjoyable, she’d undoubtedly be in a right bad mood by now! She waved goodbye to Amelia and walked down the lane. After she located No. 17 Curiosity Lane, she was heading straight to the B&B in search of a bed for the night.
And there it was, right in front of her– No. 17 Curiosity Lane.
It looked exactly like the pictures online. It was in need of paint and repair, but the old stone building had a fairy-tale charm, with ivy creeping up its walls and the crooked wooden sign swaying gently above the door. Fern stood outside, suitcase at her side, staring at it with a dazed sort of disbelief. She still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact she’d inherited an antique shop. An actual, real-life, full-of-old-stuff antique shop.
She was about to chalk this up as yet another bizarre twist in her life when something caught her eye, a light flickering inside the shop.
Her heart pounded. Was someone inside? A squatter? A ghost with a taste for ambient lighting? Steeling herself, she gripped the handle and pushed the door open. It creaked, releasing a thick, nostalgic aroma comprising dust, polished wood, old books and that distinct air of things with stories to tell.
Then she saw him. She couldn’t quite believe her eyes.
Leaning back on the chair behind the cash desk, one leg resting over the desk itself, chewing on a pencil, looking entirely at home, washim. The gorgeous man from the train. The one who smelled out of this world. The one who had handed over half his sandwich with a grin, shared his KitKat without hesitation and let a starry-eyed little boy strum his guitar like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Daniel.
Her heart was now pounding for all the right reasons.
What were the chances? Slim. Non-existent. She had spent the rest of that train journey quietly wishing she’d asked for his number, convinced she’d never see him again. Yet here he was, grinning at her like the universe had decided to play matchmaker after all.
Fern couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face.
He took his leg off the desk and leaned on the counter, arms folded, eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘Well, well. If it isn’t my favourite train companion. What are the chances?’
Her laugh bubbled up before she could stop it. ‘I cannot believe this.’
‘Neither can I,’ he admitted, his lopsided grin doing something ridiculous to her stomach. ‘But I’m thrilled about it.’
She shook her head, giddy. ‘This is surreal.’
‘Or,’ he said, ‘it’s fate.’
The way he said it– so easy, so sure– made her pulse race.
She tilted her head playfully. ‘What exactly are you doing inmyshop?’
