“Yes. It’s your vision for the hotel, and I’m going to be part of the hotel.”
If only her permanent staff were as interested. “I’ll send it to you. The woman who called was a bit vague, but she said youwere a sort of trouble-shooter—that you go wherever you’re needed? That must be fun. You can find yourself doing pretty much anything?”
“Yes.” Abby took the case from her with a smile of thanks. “My role is varied. It’s interesting.”
“And you get to see a lot of hotels, which means you can take the best of what you see and apply it elsewhere.” Evie gestured to a steep, narrow street. “We have to go this way. It’s a bit uneven underfoot. Forget vicious rocks and dangerous tides—I always thought that this street was probably the biggest hazard the smugglers faced. Imagine walking up this after a bottle of rum or two. They probably all had broken noses. Will you be okay in those shoes?”
“I’ll be fine.”
They walked together down the steep, narrow lane, the wheels of Abby’s case bouncing over the cobbles.
“It’s not for everyone but I love this place. In summer it’s swollen with tourists, but in winter it’s mostly locals with a few hardy longterm visitors.” Evie paused outside her cottage. “This is where I live. My dad is right next door. If you need anything at any time, day or night, just call me or knock on one of our doors. We’re here to help.”
Abby studied the cottages. “You live next door to your father?”
“Yes. My cottage used to belong to my grandmother, although I’ve gradually done it up to suit my taste. I adored Granny, but not her interior design choices. She had a thing for porcelain cats.” Abby gave a wistful smile. “You’re close to your dad.”
“Yes. My mother died when I was born, so it has always been the two of us.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Dad and I are close and I have what feels like a million proxy mothers in the village. How about you? Family? I assume you’re not married.”
“Not married,” Abby said. “So far I haven’t met anyone that makes me want to rethink my workaholic lifestyle.”
Evie laughed. “Well, don’t tell anyone you’re available or they will set you up with every single man in the village. We’d better pretend you’re married with seven children. The pub is just down there—” She gestured. “It overlooks the harbour.”
As they reached the main street the crowds thickened. There were people wearing shorts and T-shirts, their faces red from too much sun and not enough sunscreen. Fractious toddlers whined, and dogs pulled at their leads and panted in the heat. “At five in the morning, this place is deserted.” Evie led Abby round to the back entrance of the Smuggler’s Inn and opened the door. “Tristan?” She yelled his name. “Are you there or have you been trampled by tourists? He’s probably down in the cellar.”
Abby held back. “You don’t knock or ring the bell or something?”
“I’ve known Tristan since I was five years old. His mother used to plait my hair because my dad always struggled with it. So no, I don’t knock or ring the bell. Tristan can be a bit gruff but don’t be daunted. He’s a big old softie really.” Evie yelled again. “Tris?”
“I can hear you. The whole county can hear you. And of course I’m here. Where else would I be?” Tristan emerged from the cellar carrying two large boxes. He dumped them on the floor and rubbed his biceps. There was a streak of dirt on his cheek and his dark hair was in a state of disarray.
Evie stepped forward and hugged him. “I thought you might have escaped this place and be sunning yourself on an island in the Caribbean and drinking rum from a coconut. I’ve brought you a new guest—this is Abby. She’s going to be helping me at the hotel.”
Tristan wiped his hands on his trousers. “I wasn’t expectingcompany. I’ve been sorting out the cellar.” He nodded to Abby. “Tristan Penrose. You’d probably rather I didn’t shake your hand given what I’ve been hauling around down there.”
Evie felt guilty for not having called to warn him that they were on their way. “Shall I grab the key and take her up? We don’t need to bother you.”
He scowled at her. “I’m the landlord, Ev. It’s my job to make guests welcome.”
“Well, currently you’re wearing your grumpy face, so you might want to rethink your approach to customer relations.”
He ran his hand over the back of his neck and breathed out. “Long day and we still have the evening to go. You know what it’s like at this time of year.”
That wasn’t it. She knew that wasn’t it. She’d known him long enough to know when something was wrong.
“How’s your dad?”
“Doing fine, thanks.” He disappeared through a door that led to the bar and returned a moment later holding a key. “I’ll get Matt to take your luggage up.”
“No need,” Abby said smoothly. “I can handle it, thank you.” Evie saw Tristan’s gaze travel from Abby’s face to her shoes. To his credit, his expression didn’t change.
“If you’re sure.” He gave a nod. “Settle in and then come and find me. There’s a small kitchen in the Lookout, but it’s not great for cooking anything substantial. I’ll arrange for you to have something to eat in the pub.”
“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.” Abby was close to frosty and Evie didn’t blame her.
