by Eve Devon
‘Also,’ she added, ‘staff need to be the right fit and, honestly, how could you possibly think that Gloria would fall into that category?’
Emma straightened as if that extra half an inch would help her stand her ground. ‘You gave me a chance—’
‘Don’t you dare say when no one else would,’ Kate shot straight back, hating hearing Emma’s voice change from confident to small and hesitant. That her friend could feel she was second-best or some sort of consolation hire when she hadn’t taken a step backwards since the moment she’d walked in and made them all feel as if working hard at The Clock House was going to be a pleasure, not a chore, wasn’t a nice feeling at all.
The days were hectic in the countdown to opening, but how could she excuse missing Emma feeling so raw still after not getting that part she’d so badly wanted? ‘Ems, if you hadn’t come here, you would have got back up on that horse and landed a role you were perfect for and you would have been the studio’s first choice – their only choice.’
If she had her way, Emma would happily stay at The Clock House running Cocktails & Chai, but she had to place the ball firmly in Emma’s court.
Her friend had to choose. Really choose what she wanted because Kate didn’t want her to feel trapped here. That wasn’t what coming here was supposed to have been about. ‘It’s okay to tell me you’re missing your old life, you know. I can find a way to work things out here, if you need to go back?’
Emma swallowed. ‘Do you want me to go back?’
Kate heard the underlying uncertainty. Her friend never faltered when it came to enthusiasm and positivity and Kate realised it was the highest form of people-pleasing. She didn’t want Emma to stay out of gratitude. She wanted her to stay because she felt she belonged.
She’d seemed so happy and confident in her decision to come here but now all Kate could think was how Emma had flown thousands of miles leaving behind her passion and everyone she was close to.
‘Do you want to go back?’ she forced herself to counter.
Emma shook her head emphatically and, relieved, Kate let out the breath she’d been holding. ‘Good. Because the minute you mentioned you were thinking of giving acting up, you became my top choice to run Cocktails & Chai. And it’s more than being about you having handy work experience. It’s about this feeling I have that you’re going to be exceptional at it.’
Emma swallowed and Kate saw her eyes fill with tears. ‘Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that. And, maybe because of that,’ she said, clearing her throat and pulling herself up tall again, ‘I’m going to push my luck and tell you that I really think Gloria might be an asset to the team. We’re all here because we wanted to make a change in our life. A change for the better right?’
Juliet aimed a soft smile at Kate. ‘Why do I feel as if we’ve been hoist with our own postcards?’
Kate thought about the postcards hanging up at reception and heard her resolve let out a whimper as Emma’s expression took on a pleading quality.
‘I think Gloria’s at that stage where she’s looking to make a change too,’ Emma said. ‘At least let me interview her. I’ve interviewed heaps of candidates before.’
Kate felt one of her eyebrows arch up.
‘A few. I’ve interviewed a few,’ Emma said, with a winning grin.
Kate’s eyebrow lifted higher. In none of her plans for The Clock House had Gloria Pavey ever featured.
‘Okay I’ve only ever carried out one interview,’ Emma confessed. ‘But that went really well and she got the job.’
Kate folded her arms and thought that now would be a really, really good time for Bea to give her a sign or whisper in her ear what she should do.
Silence.
Great.
Never around to answer the really tough questions.
‘But why would Gloria want to work here?’ Juliet murmured.
Emma thought for a moment and said, ‘She’s lonely, I think.’
‘We can’t give someone a job because they’re lonely,’ Kate automatically replied, and then swallowed because wasn’t that partly why they’d given her mum the baking for The Clock House?
She looked at Emma. Was this why she’d only taken one of her days off? Maybe it was less about having too much to do and more about not wanting to spend the time alone.
The last thing Kate wanted was Emma thinking that if she just kept busy the holes and wounds inside her would automatically fill up. She knew that didn’t work because she’d spent years simply going through the motions after Bea had died. It hadn’t been living and she didn’t want that for anyone. Even Gloria, she admitted quietly to herself.
‘Okay,’ Kate sighed. ‘She can have a trial period. If—’
Emma brought her hands together in a clap of glee and broke into a little victory dance.
‘—If she comes in first for a chat. Tell her she’s going to have to eat a serious amount of crow.’
Emma stopped mid-dance. ‘How serious is a serious amount?’
‘Enough for me to be satisfied our customers aren’t going to have to worry they’re being served afternoon tea by the woman who accidentally-on-purpose insulted them in the corner shop only hours before.’
‘Okay.’
‘I mean it,’ Kate said putting on her serious boss face. ‘I’m not interested in seeing her come through those doors for the wrong reasons.’
‘That’s fair. That’s more than fair. She’s trying really hard to put her behaviour behind her. You’ll see. Even Eeyore—’
Kate’s antenna shot up. ‘Eeyore?’
Emma grabbed hold of a couple of bee decorations and scrambled up the ladder as if heading for higher ground. ‘I mean, Jake – even Jake seemed to get on well with her.’
‘I knew it! You feel bad your matchmaking didn’t work and guilty because Jake rumbled your little plan.’
Emma sighed with bemusement. ‘Gloria doesn’t seem upset at all that Jake isn’t interested. But, yes, okay, Jake was a little,’ she stopped, dragged in a breath, ‘upset at my match-making. I have to go on a date with him as punishment.’
Kate looked from Emma to the chandelier shining brightly from the centre of the ceiling, the glass droplets seeming to wink at her. She’d loved the chandelier since she’d been a little girl and seen it in glamorous black and white photos from the 1920s that Old Man Isaac used to display in the foyer.
When Daniel and Oscar had brought it down from the attic and re-fitted it in this room for the summer village fete it had felt to Kate as if it was hanging once again in its rightful home. But she hadn’t really given much thought to the folklore surrounding it being back up at The Clock House again until she’d seen Jake Knightley standing under it with Emma, the day he’d come to talk about his designs for the courtyard.
With a huge grin she turned back to Emma and said, ‘I don’t think you’re going to find your date a punishment, and if you’re hoping Jake will, I think you’re wrong on that score too.’
‘Speak of the devil,’ Juliet said, looking out the window.
‘Oh no,’ Emma moaned, running a self-conscious hand over her hair. ‘What’s he doing here?’
Seconds later they all heard the main doors open and a man’s footsteps approach.
‘Jake,’ Kate announced, swallowing her grin and throwing Emma an innocent look, ‘fancy seeing you here?’
‘What do you mean?’ Jake asked, somewhat grumpily as his gaze took in the large Christmas tree taking up most of the window, ‘you phoned me and asked if I could bring all my lights.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember now,’ Kate said and tried not to react to Juliet’s ‘please tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing’ face as she walked over to him. ‘Here, let me take those for you.’
She went to take the boxes but he didn’t release them and she grinned in delight as she watched his gaze seem to get stuck on Emma.
‘See something you like?’ she whispered to him.
‘What?’
Tearing his gaze from Emma, he shook his head a little, clung onto the boxes, and said, ‘I take it you wanted these lights for the outside of the building?’
‘Mmmn, Daniel and Oscar have done the front. These will be great for the courtyard.’
‘I’ll go and give them a hand.’
‘Thanks.’ When he stayed where he was, she leaned forward and added, ‘You’ll probably want to move in order to do that.’
‘Right, um,’ he slid his gaze to Emma again and said, ‘While I was here, I thought I’d have a quick word with Emma.’
‘Sure,’ Emma said.
‘In private?’ he said.
Oh, no way was he about to tell the girl who went in to bat for everyone and thought of herself last that now he was sober and had had time to think … With her grip still on the boxes, Kate tugged until Jake was standing more underneath the chandelier and gave him a don’t-even-think-about-it-mister stare.
‘Juliet and I were just telling Emma how if there was one thing she didn’t have to worry about, it was you,’ she said.
‘You were?’ his gaze narrowed and if she’d been anyone other than Kate Somersby she might have felt as if she was wading into dangerous waters.
‘No you weren’t,’ Emma said glaring down at Kate.
‘You weren’t?’ Jake asked again.
‘We were about to, weren’t we Juliet?’
Juliet’s eyes said ‘why am I being dragged into this?’, but her voice said, ‘Oh, definitely.’
‘We wanted to reassure her you weren’t one of those guys who reneges or,’ Kate paused, ‘chickens out on stuff.’
Jake stared back at her like he was only a couple of heartbeats away from telling her exactly what she could do with her meddling.
Kate’s gaze didn’t waver.
Juliet always understood exactly what she was saying without having to actually say it.
Men!
So incredibly dense.
Jake’s gaze filled with a dangerous glint. ‘Did you just say I was incredibly—’
Kate had no choice and unleashed her best don’t-be-a-dick stare on him and finally must have got through because his jaw slammed shut and she could see the ticking muscle there.
Tough.
To send her point sailing home she said, ‘Yes. I mean, we all know it’s been a while. Of course the first person you asked out wouldn’t be out of pity or anger or alcohol.’
With a deep breath in, he moved slightly so that Kate was out of his immediate sight line. ‘Emma, are you free on Thursday?’
‘Thursday?’ she parroted.
‘I thought I’d cook dinner for you.’
‘Dinner?’
‘You do eat, right?’
‘Do you cook?’
‘I can handle myself in the kitchen.’
‘Great.’
He turned to look at Kate with a ‘happy now?’ lift of his eyebrows and when Kate made a ‘keep going’ motion with her hand, he rolled his eyes and turned back to Emma. ‘Come early so that I can give you that tour of the gardens while it’s still light.’
‘About 3-ish?’
‘It’s a … date.’
‘Fabulous,’ Kate said, grabbing the boxes from him. ‘Give the man a gold star—oh, wait, I actually have one of those, can you grab it from the crate of decorations and pass it to Emma for the top of the tree? Juliet and I will see how they’re getting on in the courtyard.’
A couple of hours later, everyone stood in the courtyard. Technically the big switch on would happen on the tree-lighting night, but they had to test their lights worked and it seemed extra special with only her and Daniel, Juliet, Oscar, Emma and Jake.
As the lights flicked back off and their spontaneous burst of applause died down, Kate suddenly grinned and breathed out a happy, ‘Oh.’
‘What?’ Daniel asked.
Kate inhaled. ‘You smell that?’ she said, looking up to the sky.
‘Smell what?’ Emma asked.
‘Breathe in,’ Kate told everyone.
‘I don’t smell anything,’ Oscar said.
Kate simply looked up at the sky.
Jake snorted. ‘You’re not one of those weirdos who thinks they can smell snow coming, are you?’
‘Just call me Lorelai,’ Kate said.
‘Never heard of her,’ Jake commented and at Juliet’s, Emma’s and Kate’s collective gasp of outrage added, ‘What? Is she some famous meteorologist?’
‘Lorelai Gilmore?’ Emma giggled. ‘Yeah, of sorts.’
‘From where?’ Jake asked suspiciously.
‘Hartford.’
Daniel laughed. ‘She’s not even a weather presenter. She’s an innkeeper.’
‘Some friend of your mother’s then?’ Jake asked Kate.
‘She’s not even real,’ Daniel informed him.
Emma looked like he’d just sworn like a trooper. ‘Lorelai Gilmore is so real.’
‘Mark my words,’ Kate said, looking at Jake and Emma. ‘Something special is coming.’
‘Whatever it is, it isn’t snow,’ Jake said under his breath.
Kate laughed.
She had a feeling Jake wasn’t about to know what hit him.
Chapter 23
Nightly Haul
Emma
Emma wasn’t in the least bit excited or nervous and any suggestion she was, would earn her commentators, in this case a pair of cheeping robins keeping pace with her like they’d been despatched to escort her to her destination, a very stern scowl indeed.
As she walked up the long sweeping drive to Knightley Hall, she wrapped her coat tightly around her and thought about how when she got back home later she was going to have to put away all the clothes lying on her bed because in disturbingly accurate pre-date behaviour – even though this wasn’t a date – she’d taken out all the clothes she’d brought with her and sighed over and discarded nearly every option. Though it was a wonder her brain had been functioning enough to evaluate each option, she’d been shivering so much. Note to self: next time figure out what to wear before she got in the shower.
‘Not that there’s going to be a next time,’ she assured the robins as they flitted in and out of the holly hedge to her left.
Talk about her plan to fix up Jake and Gloria backfiring. She’d been so sure they’d get on. Positive he’d enjoy Gloria’s acerbic wit, what with his being the same, albeit on a grumpier level.
‘Okay,’ she muttered when one of the robins did a Top Gun flyby past her nose. ‘I admit it. The whole point of arranging it so that Jake was off limits was so that I’d think about him less.’
The other robin flew past her to settle in the hedge opposite. ‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘So far, that’s not really working out for me.’
Maybe she should have called Juliet and asked her what to wear? She had vintage-chic down perfectly. Then she’d thought about asking Kate but reasoned that she wasn’t sure she could pull off the daisy dukes and Doc Martens look.
Not that she should be making a special effort.
‘Because this isn’t a date,’ the robins seemed to be singing at her before breaking out into bird-cheep laughter, their wings helpfully stopping their sides from splitting.
Truthfully she didn’t know what this was.
She only knew what it wasn’t.
And it wasn’t Jake wanting to spend time with her because he liked her.
He’d asked her out because he’d been angry with her, his pride dented. And he’d looked forward to the experience so much he’d then tried to wriggle out of it.
Good thing she’d gone for her best pair of midnight-blue skinny jeans and black wrap-around top with the sequins that flirted along the edge, then.
Completely casual.
Especially when matched with her black suede over-the-knee high-heeled boots.
Totally practical for the English winter, she decided, clacking up the lane.
Shoving her scarf higher over her mouth she took a last look around for her com
padres and spotted them in one of the topiary spirals. With a wink at them, she turned, blew out a breath and rang the bell of Knightley Hall.
When Jake opened the door, the first thing she registered was that he hadn’t shaved and that his stubble, once again, made her think: Vikings and Pirates and Lumberjacks, oh my.
He moved to casually lean against the door-frame, looking every inch the A-list celebrity in a commercial for aftershave, and her gaze dropped to take in the long-sleeved waffle-textured top in dove-grey that perfectly displayed an impressive shoulder line and chest, before her gaze wandered lower to the fit of his dark jeans.
She knew how long it took stylists to get actors perfecting the casual, sexily rumpled, yet utterly-in-control look. So she could get a little annoyed it had probably only taken him ten minutes of jumping in and out of the shower, before shucking into a pair of perfectly fitting jeans and top.
‘You’re here,’ he said.
‘You seem disappointed,’ she replied. ‘Thought I’d chicken out?’
‘And miss getting to see around Knightley Hall? Unlikely.’
So he thought the only reason she was here was because she was nosy? It rankled.
Trying to see past him into the hallway, she asked, ‘Are you going to invite me in, then?’
He waited a heartbeat and then pushed the door open wider and stood to the side so that she could pass.
The entrance was stunning.
What she could see of it in the dim light.
All dark wood panelling on the walls and green and white encaustic tiles laid in a geometric pattern on the floor.
And then there was the grand staircase, its apple-green carpet held in place by brass stair rods, inviting her upwards as if it was a yellow brick path to adventure.
She was staring up at the galleried landing, imagining Jake as a boy, pushing toy soldiers through the banisters and watching them parachute down to the ground below when the adult version of him stepped up behind her and said, ‘Welcome to my humble abode.’
She turned and found him staring at her like he was waiting for her to not be able to see past the threadbare carpet, or the bare yellow light bulbs, or the draft whispering over her face.