Page 13 of The Secret Holiday Kiss

Once they had the desk in the middle of the floor, the two chairs facing out towards the lane, Daisy laughed. It looked like an intimidating interview setup.

‘Anything else?’ Lars asked.

Daisy looked at her half-drunk coffee. ‘No, I think we’re good.’

‘Ah, but you must say what you mean. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’ Without putting a coat on, he opened the door and strode down the street, leaving Daisy alone.

She took out her iPad and opened a blank document, then tapped the pencil against her lip. Ideas were already clamouring for her attention, and she knew the hard part would be controlling them, discarding the ones that wouldn’t work, homing in on something cohesive. The tension in her shoulders eased as she worked, and when Lars came back with takeout coffees and two chocolate twists, she decided this was the best morning she’d had in a while.

‘Right,’ she said, when she’d taken a bite of the twist and could feel the sugar coursing through her bloodstream, ‘this is what I’m thinking. Let me know which bits work or don’t work for you.’

Three hours later, and Daisy’s screen was full of possibilities and her mind was buzzing. Lars liked a lot of her suggestions, but he’d had longer in the space, longer to think about what he wanted, so together they’d honed the ideas into something more concrete.

‘I’ll work this up into a proposal,’ she said, sitting back in her chair. ‘Give me a few days, then I’ll send it over and we can look at the timeframe and the contractors you’ll need to hire. I’ll project manage, if you’re happy for me to?’

‘Of course. And you think it is doable by the end of January, even with Christmas in the way?’

‘I do. It isn’t a large space, and the fitting isn’t too complicated. As long as we communicate with everyone, that timeline is achievable.’

‘How many days would you be on site?’ Lars leaned forward, toying with the napkin that had held Daisy’s chocolate twist.

‘Usually for something like this, one day a week. I want to keep a close eye on progress, but if we hire tradespeople we’re confident about, I won’t need to be here much at all.’

‘Shame.’ He said it lightly, but his dark eyes held hers.

Daisy laughed, her cheeks warming. ‘We’ll firm up the plans first, find our team, build a timeline around when they’re free to work. You know I’ll always be available if you need me.’

‘I would very much appreciate that, Daisy.’

‘Of course. I’m not that far away, whether I’m in London or up on the coast.’

‘And how is it, being up there? It is where you grew up, isn’t it?’

‘It is. It’s a lot …’ She could have finished there, because it was a lot, staying in her childhood home, spending time with Harry again, getting to know Sophie.

She hadn’t made any more forays into the village since meeting Avery the week before, but she had gone on long walks, reacquainted herself with the parkland and the cliff path, which was the best way of blowing away the cobwebs after a day spent at her laptop. ‘It’s a big change,’ she settled on. ‘But while my flat’s being renovated, I don’t have a lot of choice.’

‘Perhaps I could come and see you there? I’ve been exploring the coastline since I moved, and as you can see, I want to bring the sea into my design. Mistingham would be an ideal research location. We could go for lunch.’

‘Oh.’ Daisy’s heartrate picked up. Lars, in Mistingham? She wasn’t sure she was ready for that, even if his attention was flattering. ‘That’s … let’s see how we get on,’ she said. ‘I’ll get these plans drawn up, and we can take it from there. I should go.’ She stood up, tidying things into her bag, finding her coat on a hook outside the office.

Lars walked her to the door, his hands in his pockets, his smile easy. She had no idea of his relationship status. He didn’t have a ring on his ring finger, but that didn’t mean anything. Perhaps he invited himself to women’s home towns all the time? Perhaps he was just being enthusiastic about the café, wanting to make it an authentic Norfolk establishment.

‘It has been wonderful to reconnect after all these years,’ he said. ‘I knew when I saw your portfolio, the hotel transformations, that there was nobody else who would do for me. I was impressed the first time we met, and the way you have honed your craft … this will be special, Daisy.’

‘I’m flattered,’ she said, ‘even though I’m sure any number of designers could create something you would be happy with. But I’m glad you’ve put your faith in me, and I’m thrilled to be working on it.’

Lars kissed her on the cheek. His aftershave was rich, amber and sandalwood, so very him. ‘Goodbye, Daisy.’

‘Bye, Lars.’ She stepped out into the cold. It was after lunch, the sugar from the chocolate twist was zinging through her body, and she wasn’t ready to get back in her car and drive for an hour, though she would need to soon if she didn’t want to navigate narrow country roads in the dark.

She went into Jarrolds, the city’s independent department store, and browsed the luxury skincare and handbag concessions, smelling every Jo Malone candle to centre herself after her meeting. She bought a sandwich from the deli and sat at a high table, watching shoppers explore the displays of chocolate truffles and expensive coffee machines.

This place felt like London, only an hour from Mistingham but so different to it. Just like Lars was a complete contrast to Avery. She couldn’t imagine Lars listening to Jimmy Nail or Belinda Carlisle while he planned his coffee shop empire. Because, after his comments about Mistingham, she was sure that was what he wanted: not a single café in Norwich, but several in the most affluent areas of Norfolk. Burnham Market, Holkham, Wells-next-the-Sea, maybe stretching to Suffolk as well.

Why would you want your city coffee shop to evoke the coastline if you weren’t creating a brand that would comfortably sit there, too? Daisy might have spent the last few years focused on projects in Europe, but wherever they were, she had got good at reading what her clients really wanted, beneath their talk of paint colours and Minotti sofas.

Would he come to Mistingham and want a café there? She thought of the bakery, of the sweet girl Lucy, and Imogen, the woman who had been with her. Sophie had told her the girl was Dexter’s, and that Imogen was his new partner. She’d seen for herself how popular the bakery was. What if Lars wanted to bring one of his irresistible cafés to Perpendicular Street?