A Summer of New Beginnings

by Lisa Hobman

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, God, I really am never going to live that down, am I?’

  He sighed as his shoulders relaxed and relief flooded his features. ‘So… when can you move in?’

  *

  Christmas morning Zara awoke to the smell of bacon cooking and her stomach grumbled in anticipation. She climbed out of bed and wandered into the living room where Slade were informing everyone, in no uncertain terms, what day it was and the tree lights were twinkling away. Bess greeted her with a wet nose to her bare leg, which made her squeal. The dog thought this was some kind of a game and fetched her Santa toy.

  ‘Bess, you are bonkers.’ She wrestled with the collie for a while until Lachy brought through a plate of bacon sandwiches.

  ‘Good morning, sexy,’ he said as he planted a kiss on her head and the sandwiches on the coffee table.

  ‘Good morning. Mmm, they smell delicious.’

  ‘Tuck in before they go cold. The coffee’s on.’

  She grabbed a sandwich and took a huge bite. ‘So today’s the day you meet my folks,’ she said through a mouthful of bacon.

  Lachy laughed, his shoulders bouncing as he did. ‘You do know that saying it with a mouthful doesn’t make it any less scary, don’t you?’ Zara grinned. ‘Anyway, should I expect your dad to punch me for taking his little girl away to Scotland?’

  ‘Actually no, they were surprisingly accepting of it all when I mentioned it. It was a relief. Dad’s looking forward to coming up to visit. He says he wants you to set him to work.’

  Lachy raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, that can easily be arranged but he might regret it. You never know, they might just relocate themselves.’

  ‘Funnily enough, Will has applied to two universities in Scotland, so you never know.’

  They finished their sandwiches and, of course, Bess got one of her own. As the collie lay munching happily on her breakfast Lachy pulled out a small box from under the tree.

  ‘Now, this may come as a surprise to you but I brought this gift with me from Scotland, ready wrapped before we had our conversation about you moving north. I was super organised for once.’ He handed it to Zara and she chewed on her lip. It was ring-box-sized. She tore off the paper and sure enough there was a little hinged box inside with a decorative bow on top. Her heart hammered at her ribs as she put her fingers on the lid and lifted it.

  Inside was a little silver key. Zara took it out and looked up at Lachy with a question in her eyes.

  ‘Remember when you left the croft after the accident and I gave you the keyring?’ She nodded. ‘I hoped, even way back then, that one day I’d be able to give you the key to go with it. And here we are. I knew as soon as you shouted at me outside your tent, when I found you illegally camped, that I’d fall for you. And it happened fast. And I knew from the moment I kissed you that I’d do everything I could to make you mine. It may have been a rocky road to get here, pardon the pun, but you’ve had my heart since the day I met you. And now you have the key to our home.’

  Zara’s lip began to tremble and she crawled into his lap and kissed him with every ounce of love she felt for him. She knew that the symbolism behind it meant that this was it for them. He might never lock the door to his home, but she knew that this was the key to his heart and to his life. And now they were hers.

  One month later

  The last of the boxes had been unpacked and Zara stood in the lounge at Scouriemore Croft as Lachy put the last of their photos up on the wall. It was really feeling like home since little bits of her furniture had arrived in her dad’s van when they’d visited. The fire was blazing and there was an aroma of freshly made hot chocolate wafting in from the kitchen. Snow blanketed the ground outside and the sheep were safely in the barn now that winter had really set in. The freezer in the barn closest to the house was stocked to the brim and the fibre broadband was up and running, meaning she could have video calls with Noah, her agent or her publisher whenever she needed to.

  The old antique desk by the window had been cleared of Lachy’s and his father’s paperwork and her laptop sat there now, with book three open at chapter one. She would never get used to people wanting her autograph in their copies of her books, but at least she could escape to this beautiful croft when she wanted to shut out the world and spend time with Lachy and, of course, Bess too.

  She sat down at her desk and peered out of the window at the beach below; the icy-cold water lapped at the shoreline and she knew that later, regardless of the cold, she would be down there, wrapped up like an Eskimo, with Bess, throwing her favourite ball. But for now her new best friend walked over and snuggled by her feet, just as she did every time Zara sat to write.

  Lachy came over, wrapped his arms round her and kissed her temple tenderly. ‘I’ll go warm some stew on the range for dinner whilst you finish that chapter. Then later we can snuggle up and watch a movie before bed.’

  ‘Mmm, sounds perfect,’ she told him as she nuzzled into his embrace.

  As she gazed out at the view before her to the snow-capped mountains in the distance, she thought back over the past twelve months and all that had happened, from the NC500 that had brought her to Scotland in the first place, to the book that had changed her career dramatically and to meeting the love of her life. She knew she could have been forgiven for expecting to wake from a vivid dream to find none of it was real. But this was her life now. Her reality. And it couldn’t have been more perfect.

  Who could have predicted, when she finished her novel the previous summer, that the most incredible of all the new beginnings she would experience would be her very own?

  Epilogue

  Ten months later

  Zara sat at the table in the prestigious Gladstone Library in London’s Whitehall Place. Lachy clutched her hand and bounced his knee up and down.

  ‘I think you’re more nervous than I am,’ she whispered.

  Lachy squeezed her hand. ‘I think I am. You look far too chilled out. What’s going on?’

  ‘Oh, I think the champers you had delivered to the hotel room this afternoon helped a little. And what happened after the champagne helped even more.’ She nibbled her lip and gave him a knowing look.

  He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. ‘I don’t think it had the same effect on me. Maybe we should try again when we get back.’

  ‘You’re incorrigible, Mr Grant.’

  ‘I certainly am where you’re concerned, Miss Bailey.’

  It was strange to be at the OFAL awards again. But it was even stranger to be in London for them. This year they were being hosted by London-based Bench Publishing. The setting for the ceremony was stunning. The shelved walls were filled, floor to ceiling, with books, some of them pretty ancient. The ceiling above was a painted, carved, relief plasterwork and in the centre of each panel was an ornate brass chandelier with opaque glass shades. The table centrepieces were tall candelabras with fresh flowers decorating the stands. It was a truly elegant affair.

  The lights dimmed and a hush fell on the room. From what Zara had read of the nominees, the evening was set to be fantastic and very diverse. Zara was shortlisted in the overall Novel of the Year for her debut, New Beginnings, and only when the introduction music played did her nerves really kick in.

  Her mum and dad grinned at her from across the table and Shelley, Jake, Marco and Toby held up crossed fingers as she glanced their way. She was, as always, grateful to them all for being there; especially Shelley, considering her pregnancy announcement the previous week and the fact that she was suffering from what was evidently all day sickness. At least they hadn’t had to travel far this time.

  Award after award was announced and everyone applauded and cheered for both shortlist candidates and winners. The Best Unpublished Newcomer award was won by a young woman of nineteen and she trembled like a jelly whilst up on the stage. Zara wanted to go up and hug her.

  The evening floated by and finally it was time for the Novel of the Year award. Zara’s heart rate incre
ased, Lachy’s knee bounced faster and it looked as if the whole of her table were holding their breath. The list of books was a combination of the people she was shortlisted with the year before and a few other, more established authors. Her favourite author, Ruby Oates, was presenting the award and Shelley had said it was a sign. Zara didn’t think she believed in signs, but the jury was still out.

  Ruby stood on stage and chatted about her own journey as a writer and Zara listened intently, fascinated, but she heard Lachy chuntering, just above a whisper, for Ruby to get on with announcing the winner. She stifled a giggle.

  ‘So without further ado, ladies and gentleman… I’m pleased to announce that the Original Fiction Association Literature Awards Novel of the Year goes to…’ A thrumming vibration of anticipation could be felt and Lachy’s hold became tighter on her hand. Her heart pounded and her stomach somersaulted. There was an overly long dramatic pause… and then, ‘Zara Bailey for New Beginnings!’

  Her table erupted, everyone was up on their feet, cheers rang round the room, but Zara sat there stunned, staring straight ahead, surrounded by people jumping and applauding her.

  Lachy crouched before her and cupped her face in his palm. His smile was warm and so incredibly handsome and for a moment she forgot why she was so nervous. ‘Zara, my love, you need to go and collect your award. You did it. You won.’ He kissed her and drew her from her trance-like state. She stood, and as applause echoed round her she made her way to the stage.

  Once up there, Ruby kissed her on both cheeks and whispered, ‘You look a little more shell-shocked than when I met you last year. I’ve read the book and I have to say it’s wonderful.’ Zara’s eyes were wide. Not only had Ruby remembered her, but she’d loved her book too. And Zara had thought last year’s awards were a dream come true. She took the crystal trophy from Ruby and thanked her. When she lifted it a little she saw her name engraved at the bottom on a silver plaque. Bloody hell, this is real.

  She realised a hush had settled over the room. They were waiting for her to speak. Oh, dammit… maybe I should’ve actually written something. If only she’d listened to everyone who had insisted she would win.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Ahem… thank you so, so much. This is a bit surreal. If someone had told me a year ago that I would be up on this stage collecting an award for a book I’d written, I’d have said they were delusional. But… here I am.’ She paused and tried to look for Lachy, but the lights were too bright. ‘Now… I hadn’t prepared a speech… I think my family and friends have more faith in me than I do in myself, so I’ll start by saying thank you to them for their undying love and support.’ More applause and a whistle from her dad. ‘And my wonderful publisher and agent, who put up with my neurotic emails filled with self-doubt. But there’s one person in particular that I want to thank and that’s my partner, Lachy. He grounds me; he lifts me up when I’m low. He keeps me fed and watered when I’m writing. And he reads every single thing I write and gives me his honest opinion.’

  Emotion bubbled up from deep within her and she fought to keep her composure. ‘I once told him I was a strong, independent woman, even though I was covered in mud and struggling at the time. I think I still am… although Lachy would probably just say I’m stubborn. But even a strong, independent woman needs someone to share her life with.’ She placed her trophy on the podium. ‘So… instead of a long, drawn-out speech I just have one question to ask.’ She turned to face the direction of the table of her family and friends, hoping Lachy could see her. ‘Lachlan Grant… will you marry me?’

  The room erupted once more and, from somewhere, music began to play. A spotlight pointed to her table and her friends and parents were clapping, her mum and Shelley were sobbing, but Lachy wasn’t there. Panic set in as her eyes darted round the room. She spotted Shelley gesturing and pointing for her to look to her right and when she did, her gaze fell on Lachy. He was kneeling on the stage a few feet away.

  The applause died down and Zara looked at him with confusion. He grinned and wiped at his eyes. ‘You kind of stole my thunder there, Bailey.’

  She smiled down at him. ‘What are you doing down there?’

  ‘Well… As you were proposing to me over the microphone, I was sneaking up here to propose to you.’ Laughter and applause rang round the room.

  She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands as tears escaped and Lachy held aloft a small red velvet box. ‘This one isn’t a key, by the way,’ he said so only she could hear. He opened the lid and inside was the most beautiful diamond ring Zara had ever seen.

  ‘So my question to you is, will you marry me, Zara Bailey?’

  ‘Yes, 100 per cent, yes!’ She launched herself at him and kissed him as the audience stood and applauded the happy couple.

  He whispered, ‘I think we might need to buy a cabinet for your awards. In fact, I should probably tell you I have builders booked to start next week on the barn closest to the house. You’re getting your own writing studio. Complete with your favourite view. I think every successful, strong, independent author needs one.’

  ‘Oh, I love you, Lachlan Grant.’

  ‘And I love you too, soon-to-be Mrs Zara Bailey-Grant.’

  We hope you enjoyed this book.

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  Acknowledgements

  The inspiration for this book came from travels round the north coast of the stunning country I now call home and I therefore wish to thank the warm-hearted people who reside in the Scottish Highlands for their hospitality. You and the magical place you live in are the reasons I return every year.

  I also want to thank the Proclaimers for their uplifting, foot stomping music that had a hand in getting my ideas flowing. The working title for this book was originally ‘500 Miles’ – similar to their well-known song, and I lost count of how many times I listened to this and their other tracks throughout the writing process.

  A squishy hug is going out to Caroline & Christine for being my beta readers during the writing of this story. As always you were honest and supportive and I love you very much for that.

  Thanks to my marvellous editor Lucy and each member of the fantastic team at Aria Fiction for being utterly fabulous. From editors to cover designers, proofreaders, the marketing team and everyone else involved – I’m so grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to work with such a lovely and enthusiastic group of people.

  I’m sending love and thanks across the pond to my agent Tracy too. Thank you for working so hard for me and my books. I appreciate all you do.

  I have a wonderful network of support around me made up of both family and friends and I’m so incredibly thankful for having you all in my life. There are far too many for me to name individually but know that my heart is full because of you.

  Finally I want to thank my readers. It still floors me that people actually read my books because they want to and I don’t think that will ever really sink in. I never take reads or reviews for granted and appreciate every single one. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  About Lisa Hobman

  LISA HOBMAN’s debut novel was shortlisted in the 2014 RNA. Her stories centre around believable, yet down to earth characters and the places in Scotland she has visited and fallen in love with. She is a happily married mum of one with two energetic dogs.

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  First published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © Lisa Hobman, 2019

  The moral right of Lisa Hobman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.