‘Oh!’ Her head snapped round. This wasn’t what she’d expected, especially since Dawn hadn’t seemed annoyed when Florrie had returned home last night. That said, the chilly attitude she directed at Florrie was still in evidence, as was the cold look in her eyes that betrayed the fact she regarded her future daughter-in-law with utter disdain, which was another reason Florrie didn’t want Dawn Harte living in her home.
‘I could see it didn’t go down well at first, but then she just nodded and said she’d look for another B&B. I have to say, her reaction was so unexpected, it’s made me feel a bit wary, for want of a better word. At least if she’d started her usual yelling and shouting, I’d have known where I stood, and what was going on in her mind, but thinking about it now, her reaction is making me a bit uneasy.’
As his words sank in, wariness had started to seep through Florrie, too. She knew exactly what Ed meant.
‘Well, at least you set her straight about not staying with us.’
‘Aye, but then she switched her attention to the bookshop, saying what she’d do if she ran it. Rattled on about her ideas for the rest of the evening.’
Hearing this set fresh alarm bells clanging loudly in Florrie’s ears. All she wanted was for her and Ed to be able to get back to being excited about their forthcoming wedding as they had been before Dawn had landed on their doorstep. She had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.
SIX
Florrie was adding more books to the display of the latest novel by local romance author, Jenna Johnstone,You Had Me at Chocolate Cake. It had pride of place at the front of the bookshop; a stopping place for their customers before they lost themselves down the neat rows of bookshelves. The display was comprised of not only the paperbacks with their bright pink covers, but also a deep faux chocolate cake, complete with generously proportioned slices and fake crumbs scattered around, courtesy of Ed and his creative talents. The books had been flying out of the shop at such a pace that morning, it was the second time Florrie had restocked the table, not that she was complaining. She’d be sure to tell Jenna when she popped in with Jack later that morning to discuss the joint author reading they had planned for next week.
‘Care to join me in the kitchen for a mug of tea and warm croissant freshly purchased from the bakery?’
Florrie looked up to see Ed heading towards her. Her eyes flicked to the clock above the counter to see it was five past eleven.
‘Wow! Is that the time?’ She’d wondered where he was going when he’d popped out ten minutes or so ago, but she’d been busy serving a customer. It was probably why she hadn’t spotted him when he’d returned with a bakery bag in his hand.
‘It is, and I thought since we barely had time to manage much breakfast, you might be feeling a bit peckish; I know I am.’ He patted his stomach and flashed her the smile that was guaranteed to make her heart skip a beat. ‘Thought you might need a bit of fortification before our eleven thirty meeting with Jack and Jenna. It’ll no doubt spill over into your lunchbreak, so a cheeky little croissant will help stave off your hunger.’
Florrie had to admit, she was tempted. She glanced over at the counter to see Leah, the bookshop’s young assistant, chatting away to a customer in her usual friendly manner, her glossy chestnut ponytail swishing as she nodded her head. Leah had opted to take a later lunch so she could meet up with her boyfriend, Marty, who was a trainee solicitor at Cuthbert, Asquith & Co across the square from the bookshop. The last rush seemed to have calmed down and Florrie was aware a couple of their regulars were currently browsing the aisles at a leisurely pace, while several customers had headed straight for the teashop upstairs. Gerty, the Labrador, was curled up in her bed by the counter, sleeping contentedly. Everything seemed to be under control. Her thoughts went to the meeting with Jack and Jenna.
‘There’s plenty of time to devour a croissant,’ said Ed, reading her mind.
‘And I can help Leah hold the fort, lovey,’ said Jean, smiling fondly at Florrie and giving the younger woman’s arm an affectionate squeeze. She’d been restocking shelves in the romance section nearby and was on her way to gather up more books when she’d overheard Ed. ‘You might as well take advantage of this lull while it lasts; go and enjoy that croissant while it’s nice and warm, especially if you didn’t manage much breakfast. I’ll finish the display here.’
Like all of the bookshop’s staff, Jean was wearing the navy-blue Happy Hartes hoodie with its red font, teaming hers with a pair of smart dark blue slacks and dusky pink desert boots she’d just bought during a recent shopping trip with Jenna, and thought rather daring. With her neatly trimmed salt and pepper bob, rosycomplexion and youthful outlook, you’d never guess she was approaching her eighties, and was regularly told she looked a decade younger which always had her beaming bashfully. And since she and her son, local author and poet, Jack Playforth, had invested in the bookshop, it seemed to have added an extra spring to her step.
Talk of food appeared to have prodded Florrie’s appetite awake and her stomach growled loudly, making both her and Jean laugh. The meeting would no doubt mean she’d have to skip lunch and wolf something down later. ‘After hearing that, I think I should take your advice, Jean. Mind, be sure to holler if you get a rush on.’
‘Will do, petal. Now go on, off you trot, the pair of you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Florrie smiling. She’d caught Jean observing her and Ed that morning and suspected the older woman had sensed an air of discomfort between them and would be keen for them to put it right. Nothing much got by Jean, and she’d know it would have something to do with Ed’s mother’s arrival at the bookshop yesterday afternoon. And though Jean rarely said a bad word about anyone, there was one person she really didn’t like, and that was Dawn Harte. Make that two – her dislike of Peter Harte was equally intense.
In the kitchen, which was tucked away at the back of the shop, Ed pulled out a chair at the small table. ‘Madame,’ he said, adopting a faux serious tone as, with a flourish, he gestured for Florrie to sit down. She did so, giggling as he made a performance of laying a paper napkin on her lap. His serious face broke into a smile before he took her face in his hands and delivered a warm kiss to her lips, making her heart tumble around in her chest.
‘What’s all this about?’ she asked when he finally pulled away. She took in the neatly set arrangement, a small vase of flowers in the centre, wondering why he hadn’t suggested popping up to the teashop.
She watched as he pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. ‘I was conscious of things feeling a bit awkward when we were talking earlier and I wanted to grab the chancefor us to have a chat, make sure you were okay. Plus, like I said before, I thought you might be feeling a bit hungry.’ He reached for the teapot and set about pouring them each a mug of tea. ‘I thought you’d prefer to talk somewhere a bit more private than the teashop, where there’s a chance a customer could overhear our conversation.’
Since it had opened in the bookshop’s converted living quarters last year, the teashop had become a great success, with both Florrie and Ed pleasantly surprised – and relieved – at how popular and well received it had been by locals. Bookshop customers were tempted upstairs by the clinking of china, not to mention the mouth-watering aroma of food that occasionally sneaked down and mingled with the smell of books. The tearoom had quickly become a place where friends regularly met before heading down to the bookshop and having a leisurely wander along the aisles of books. Florrie would go so far as to say, it had become an attraction in its own right, tempting those who declared not to be keen on books or reading. It had increased the bookshop’s footfall and given sales a healthy boost on a scale neither Florrie nor Ed had expected.
‘Oh, right, okay.’ Florrie picked up the knife he’d set by her plate and sliced off a piece of croissant, concern prickling over her skin. Had he been speaking to his mum since they’d arrived at the bookshop? And, if so, did he have something to say that he’d rather wasn’t overheard? She braced herself for what he was about to tell her.
‘I just want to make sure you know that I haven’t forgotten how difficult my parents have been with you, not to mention how badly they treated my grandparents; keeping their existence a secret from me for so many years is unforgivable.’ His expression suddenly darkened.
Florrie put her piece of croissant back on the plate and reached across the table, resting her hand on his. Much as she wholeheartedly agreed with his assessment of his parents, she felt it best to remain quiet on that score. Instead, she pushed her mouth into an appreciative smile.
‘I hope you understandthat you come first to me, Florrie. In everything. Before I met you, I had no anchor, my life was meaningless. Empty. I just seemed to drift from place to place, feeling restless and unfulfilled. I was lonely, even though I hadn’t realised that at the time. And then, fate intervened and brought me to Micklewick Bay, and to you.’ He squeezed her hand and treated her to another one of his heart-melting smiles.
‘Oh, Ed.’ Florrie felt a lump form in her throat and swallowed it down. ‘Mind, I’m not so sure it was fate, I reckon it was more like Mr H getting up to mischief and playing cupid; doing a spot of meddling from beyond the grave.’ They both laughed at that.
‘Aye, come to think of it, you do have a point. It was a crafty move on Grandad’s part all right, naming us as the benefactors of the bookshop and throwing us together whether we liked it or not.’ He popped a piece of croissant into his mouth and chewed, looking thoughtful.
‘It so was.’ Florrie smiled as an image of Mr H bloomed in her mind, a surge of love warming her heart.
