Page 88 of Mirrors of the Past

Chapter Thirty-Three

Present

If someone had told Tegan how successful her midwinter wedding exhibition would be, she would have nodded and agreed and said of course it would.

But if she was honest, she’d had her wobbles over the last three months or so, and, truly, if anyone had told her how much she would ultimately enjoy working with Ryan Jackson, she would have thought them crazy.

However, she had loved it.

He’d made a point of coming up on the opening day — on his day off, apparently — to give her moral support, a bottle of champagne, a lovely box of chocolates and a huge bouquet of flowers. He’d then asked Coren if he could work on Pencradoc’s ticket kiosk that day as well, to help out.

‘You really don’t need to be here,’ she’d said, gnawing at the edge of her thumbnail, bobbing around next to him as they’d prepared to open up. ‘Nobody will come anyway.’

‘Yes, they will.’ He grinned at her. ‘Trust me. I’ve been sharing the hell out of it on Wheal Mount’s socials as well. I think you underestimate Elsie’s fan base. Wait and see. And if not, I’ll be here and we can commiserate with each other and get wrecked at the White Lady tonight to forget it all.’

She couldn’t help but laugh. ‘It’s a long time since I got wrecked!’ she said. ‘But — crap. I didn’t arrange any press coverage!’ She looked at him in a panic. What a stupid, stupid, rookie mistake!

‘Not to worry,’ said Ryan. ‘I did. And also, it’s a while since I got wrecked too. Maybe we’ve grown up a bit.’ He smiled at her, then nodded towards the door. ‘Do you want to unlock it? I’m ready for the onslaught.’

The onslaught was a trickle at first and Tegan started to panic, but by about ten o’clock, there was a steady stream of visitors — including a journalist from the local newspaper and someone from Sunday Stage, a creative-arts magazine who often reported on the Pencradoc and Wheal Mount events. Tegan could have hugged Ryan — but, obviously, she didn’t.

Almost everyone left looking delighted, apparently stunned at the amazing outfit and chattering excitedly about how romantic it was, and how perfectly presented it was. The beautifully illustrated copies of The Snow Queen, ordered by Tegan on a whim, flew off the gift-shop shelves, as well as so many postcards, pretty notebooks, sketching and painting sets, guidebooks and reproduction wedding photos — so much so that Tegan found herself called into the gift shop to help out.

When they closed the door on the final visitors of the day, she looked up at Ryan and exhaled.

‘Wow.’ She shook her head. ‘Did we do that?’ She pointed at the closed door, and then at the healthy sum in the till. ‘Sorcha radioed through before and said her takings had been much higher today in the tearoom. Actually, she was asking if I could go over and give her a hand, but I couldn’t so I had to send Katy over.’

‘We did do that. Or rather, you did. And it was just as well Katy was around, wasn’t it?’

‘Definitely. But honestly.’ She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t have done any of this without you.’

‘Yeah, you could.’ He grinned, shrugging his jacket on.

‘Well, yeah, I could,’ she said nonchalantly, teasing him. ‘But it was better with your help. It actually was.’

‘Better than that sodding catalogue we effed up in Glasgow?’

‘Much better.’

‘If we’d adulted earlier, the first time we worked together, we would have been unstoppable.’ He looked at her, a little sadly perhaps. ‘How stupid we were. Never mind.’ He blinked, as if trying to stop himself saying something. ‘Anyway. Yeah. So, White Lady? Not gonna get wrecked, but I think we can celebrate. My trusty van is ready and waiting for me in the car park, so I’m good for a celebration.’

‘I think we can certainly celebrate,’ she said.

‘Um, yeah.’ He looked down for a moment and took a deep breath. ‘Also, I have something to tell you. I didn’t want to say until after today because I didn’t want to take the shine off your exhibition.’

‘Oh?’ Her heart pounded a little faster.

‘Yes. Another — um — cause for celebration.’

‘Really? What . . . what’s that?’

‘I got the job.’ He looked up at her, his eyes sadder and more puzzled than they ought to have been considering he had his dream job. ‘The Glasgow one.’

‘Oh. I mean oh! Brilliant!’ She forced a smile on her face and tentatively reached out and patted his arm. ‘Well done.’ The leather coat felt cool and ridged where the creases were on the arm. That little gesture turned her stomach into a spin-dryer and she felt as if she was going to burst into tears.

This sucked. It really did.

But she was not going to rain on his parade?