‘I was scared you might not want the same. This is my dream, isn’t it?’ He shrugged almost in defeat, but still with hope and reached for his wine. He’d said enough, now he needed to know her thoughts.
‘Well, it’s a lot to take in.’ She gave a faint smile.
‘It is,’ he nodded, but still looked expectantly at her. He needed more than that.
‘And… I guess I need to think about it.’
He had hoped for a more positive response, but then of course he would. Rory was used to winning people over with his words. At least it wasn’t an all out ‘no’.
‘But Cumbria? No, that’s not for me.’
That’ll teach him to underestimate her. Whilst she wasn’t sure about the lifestyle, she was sure about the location. And he couldn’t help but admire and respect her for it. He took hold of her hand and kissed it.
‘OK. Cumbria’s out. I’ll cancel the viewing. But what about the farmhouse in Chipping?’
‘Yes, that’s a possibility,’ she conceded. ‘Although I suspect it needs a shedload of money spending on it.’
‘But, it is a possibility?’ he asked, giving her a coy smile.
‘Maybe.’
‘And you’ll come with me to view it?’ he pressed.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Good,’ he gave a huge beam.
‘And Rory, no more secrets, OK?’ She arched an eyebrow.
‘No more secrets.’ He clinked his glass with hers. Then a playful smile hovered over his lips. ‘So who’s this blacksmith that appears on your blog?’
‘Sorry?’
‘The guy putting up the curtain poles? Who was looking down your top?’ This time he arched his eyebrow mockingly.
‘He was not!’ she laughed.
‘Hmm, looked a bit too familiar for my liking,’ he said with humour.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ she spluttered, still laughing, then added, ‘Talking of too familiar, I noticed that estate agent give you her business card.’ She tipped her head to one side, waiting for his response.
‘Which I politely returned,’ he batted back with a wry grin, relieved to have the old banter between them.
‘Yes, you did,’ she smiled. ‘Now let’s eat.’
Chapter 25
Adira was trying her best to stay cool, calm and collected. Like a swan gliding gracefully on the surface, however, her feet were paddling furiously underneath. The wedding was just one week away. Inside The Laurels was pandemonium. Decorations were still being erected and the colossal fir tree standing in the hall had yet to be dressed. Last-minute arrangements needed confirming and amongst all this kerfuffle was a very suppressed, frustrated Fletcher.
He had been given strict instructions to bed rest. Something which didn’t come naturally to him. Fletcher was always on the go, busy doing something, seeing someone. Having to spend time sat up in bed with a newspaper for company didn’t suit. He hated the isolation, constantly calling for Jasper or Adira to sit and chat to him, which they were happy to, but were also busy with all the wedding plans.
Lilly had been an absolute angel, reading his favourite Dick Francis novels to him and continually running up and down the stairs with cups of tea, but no cake. In fact, under ‘new rules’ there was to be no cake, no fry-ups and above all, no alcohol.
Was life worth living? thought Fletcher bleakly. Then he reminded himself of how fortunate he’d been. He had been given a wake-up call to address his lifestyle. Again. Just a few months ago he had indeed started a new, healthy regime, under his doctor’s orders, but somehow he’d lapsed into his old ways. And this was the result; an angina attack and bloody solitary confinement. It was his own fault and he would not take life for granted as he had. He was needed here at The Laurels. Jasper needed him. A wave of guilt hit when recalling his anxious face in the hospital. No, from now on, it was porridge for breakfast, salads for lunch and a wholesome dinner in the evening. Whisky was out… hmm, maybe the odd tipple now and then. Well, he had to keep body and soul together, didn’t he?
‘Adira!’ he bellowed down the stairs. Adira, who was occupied decorating the Christmas tree, looked up in alarm.
‘Fletcher, what are you doing out of bed?’ she asked accusingly.
