Tristan wasn’t exactly giving her a warm welcome. What was wrong with him? She wanted Abby to feel comfortable and at home. Right now she was neither. She was wary and distant and nothing like the woman who had been laughingover a scone in the garden and listening carefully to Evie’s work issues.
Evie felt a flash of sympathy. It must be daunting coming to a strange place where you knew no one. She was probably missing her friends, colleagues and family back home and Tristan being all growly and broody wasn’t exactly going to make her feel welcome.
Evie decided a rethink was necessary.
“If you have the energy when you’ve unpacked and settled in you could just come round to mine. It will probably be pizza and salad, but you’re welcome.” Her plans for a long soak in the bath and an hour in the garden with her book vanished into the ether, but she reminded herself that she could do that any night. The priority right now was to make sure Abby felt at home.
“That’s a kind offer,” Abby said, “but it has been a long day and I’ll probably just take a shower and collapse into bed.”
“You definitely need to eat something before you do that,” Evie said. “The food here is amazing. I recommend the fish pie. If you’re tired, Tristan can bring it up to your room, can’t you, Tris?”
He looked at Evie and there was a gleam of something in his eyes. “If you want the room to smell of fish, sure.”
Abby gave him a cool smile. “I don’t eat much in the evenings. Usually just an apple.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “An apple?”
“An apple?” Evie echoed him, appalled. “I’d die if all I ate was an apple.” She decided this conversation had gone on long enough and grabbed the key from Tristan. “Thanks for this. You’re obviously busy. We’ll let you get on with things.”
And scowl at someone else.
Without waiting for Tristan to respond, she headed insidethe inn and up a narrow flight of stairs. The walls were covered in black-and-white photos of boats. Fishing boats. Sail-boats. A lifeboat and crew.
At the top of the stairs she opened a door and took another short flight of stairs up to the Lookout.
“How old is this place?” Abby was staring at one of the photos on the walls.
“Old. Seventeenth century, I think. Maybe older. The cellars were used by smugglers. Some of the rooms still have trapdoors and hidden cupboards. They were good at hiding contraband. Sometimes they sank it in the harbour. This room—” she fiddled with the key and managed to unlock the door “—was used as a lookout. Hence the name.”
“What were they looking out for?”
“Ships? Excise officers? Jealous wives and girlfriends?” She shouldered the door open. “You won’t find any alcohol hidden under the bed though. These days if you want brandy you just phone down to the bar. Here you go. This is it. Home. It’s not exactly spacious, but it’s cosy.”
Abby followed her into the room and Evie saw surprise on her face.
“It’s gorgeous. I expected something dark and—I’m not sure—sinister?”
The late-day sunlight sent a rosy glow over the room, bouncing across the wooden floors. There was a desk beneath a large window that overlooked the harbour and the cliffs, and a comfortable armchair.
“The bathroom is through here—” Evie pushed open the door and saw with relief that it was gleaming and that there were fresh towels. Whatever was wrong with Tristan and his team, at least he hadn’t fallen down on the job. “I know it’s not big, but—”
“It’s perfect.” Abby walked to the window and stared out over the cliffs. “Thank you.” She turned. “You’ve been kind. You should go home and relax. You’ve earned it.”
She’d thought she wanted to do just that, but there was something about Abby that made her hesitate. She seemed—vulnerable? No. Not that. She’d had no trouble putting moody Tristan in his place and she was clearly independent and used to looking after herself.
What then?
Evie couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe she just needed a friend. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you to join me for a glass of wine in my garden? It goes well with apple.”
Abby laughed. “Maybe another night. But thank you.”
“If you’re sure.” Comforting herself with the fact that she’d tried, Evie handed over the key and headed back to the door. “If you need anything call me. Or Tristan. Despite appearances, he’s very approachable. I know he seemed a bit moody, but it’s not personal. Things have been tough for him lately. His dad fell down the steps in the cellar a few months ago and he broke more bones than I can bear to think about. Tristan has had to step in, and that hasn’t been easy for either of them.”
She closed the door behind her, headed downstairs and found Tristan behind the bar, serving customers.
Evie stepped behind the bar and stood at his elbow so he couldn’t ignore her.
“Okay, sunshine. Tell me what’s wrong.”
