Greengage Shelf

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  Kit whistled low. “Ah, all that’ll put an instant stopper on any romance.”

  “Exactly. Uncle Maximillian hasn’t had a partner since his late wife. Mainly due to his hatred of crowds and people in general, which means he rarely meets anyone. He is also rather… eccentric.”

  “Eccentric? By normal standards or by Greengage standards?”

  Laura looked pained. “Both.”

  “Whoa.”

  “Exactly,” Laura said. “He dropped in at the office a few minutes ago. I thought he wanted to check on Gage Farm, even though he isn’t involved in the family business anymore, but what he actually wanted was to lament his failed relationship and say he needs a change.”

  “A change?” Try as she might, Kit couldn’t figure out where this was going. All she had to go on was the nagging unease in her stomach, which felt like she’d eaten a kilo of vibrating marshmallow.

  Laura avoided her gaze. “I’m afraid so. The change he has in mind is going back to the comfort of where he grew up, occupying one of the dusty guestrooms in Howard Hall. Oh, and remind me to thank my helpful cousins for this. They suggested that it might distract him to do a good deed for someone else, naming me as the prime victim—I mean, recipient.”

  “A good deed?”

  “Yes. He decided that the act of charity will be advising me on how to run Gage Farm and shadowing me on a daily basis to see where improvements can be made. In short, he’ll be glued to my side until his heartbreak heals.”

  “Okay. Wow. Yikes.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Sorry to hear that, babe. Not only because you’ll be stuck with him but also because it sounds like he disapproves of how you’re running Gage Farm. I mean, unless you really like him, his advice, and his company?”

  Laura’s full lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ve tried to like Uncle Maximillian my entire life. I’m ashamed to say I can’t.”

  Kit almost reeled. “Have you got a fever or something? You always find the good in everyone.”

  “Yes, and there is good in him as well.” She waved her hand in the air as if searching for examples. “He’s interesting, well-meaning, and, um, well, he’s harmless at least. He’s also, as I said, eccentric. He can be selfish and highly strung, too,” she admitted, looking pained to do so. “For example, if his heart is broken and he sees a happy relationship, he’s likely to become disagreeable and impossible to be around.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After his wife died, whenever a family member or friend would display joy over being in love, he would give speeches about the injustice of the world and not stop until his throat got too sore to carry on.” Laura looked heavenward. “He’d also sit and sigh loudly whenever there was a love song on the radio or someone mentioned romance or relationships.”

  “Well, I mean the guy was grieving, right?”

  Laura gave her a weary glance. “This behaviour carried on for sixteen years after my aunt passed away. It’s continued on, but on a smaller scale, ever since.”

  “Whoa. Okay.” Kit ran a hand through her sweat-soaked hair and was grateful the night air wasn’t cold. “Now, he’s heartbroken again.”

  “Yes.”

  “And he’s coming to stay with you?”

  “Yes,” Laura whispered this time.

  Kit groaned. “Let me guess, you’re going to do the sweet and dutiful thing and take him in even though you don’t want to.” She groaned even louder. “What’s more, you’re going to ask me if we can keep our relationship on the down-low for a while to stop him from making your life a misery every time we kiss each other.”

  Laura seemed to deflate with relief. “Exactly! I’m so glad I didn’t have to explain all that. Kit, I know that’ll be making you pay for the fact that I feel like I have a duty to the people around me, and I’m terribly sorry for that. I swear I will make it up to you. I just… I can’t refuse him.”

  Kit sighed. “Fine. I won’t have the argument about your sacrifices for others again. I’ll play along until the old git feels better. I will, however, put my foot down if you tell me that I can’t see you at all during the time he stays with you!”

  “Oh, gosh no, I’ll still see you,” Laura quickly reassured her. “We’ll only shelve the kissing and romancing for a while. I can’t imagine not seeing you.”

  Kit tugged at a fistful of her sopping hair, as if this whole situation was to be blamed on it. Honestly, though, what could a mop of sweaty, short, black hair do against an irrational uncle and a girlfriend who always stepped up and helped?

  Kit’s mind went back to Christmas. It had been their first holiday season together, but several work emergencies at Gage Farm—as well as Greengage’s events committee, which Laura chaired—had kept them apart for most of December.1 That incident had taught Kit how to deal both with being away from Laura and with coping with her overly generous nature. Well. Sort of.

  Kit accepted her fate and smiled at her girlfriend. “Well, we’ve been together for more than a year. I suppose we can do with some time apart—and some sneaking around—without joining your uncle in the lonely hearts club.”

  “I think so, too. Besides…” Laura’s gaze flicked down and then up again so that she was watching Kit from under the veil of her long, blackened eyelashes. “It might be fun to sneak around, stealing kisses and touches. We’ll be like teenagers. Or forbidden lovers.”

  Just like that, Kit’s heart began to pulse its appreciation for the doe-eyed seductress in front of her, a pulsing which soon echoed faintly between her thighs. “You’re right, babe. As usual. Just don’t let this go on for too long or let him take advantage of you, okay?”

  Laura smiled. “I promise. I also promise that I’ll make it up to you. How does a romantic holiday sound? And maybe some new lingerie?”

  “For you to wear or me?”

  “Whichever you prefer, dearest,” Laura said, low and tempting.

  “Then I’d like for you to wear it. Can it be mainly made of lace and quick to take off, please?”

  Laura’s sculpted brows shot up her forehead. “Well, I’m not going to say no to that.” She paused. “Obviously, I’m never really comfortable with my body. However, I am very comfortable with how you react to it. Especially when it’s in nice underwear. Besides, I quite like the idea of clothes being easy to get off.”

  There were so many naughty jokes about “getting off” and “being easy.” However, Kit decided to keep away from more sex talk for the moment. She didn’t want Laura to think that her only worry about them shelving their relationship for a while would be the lack of sex.

  Instead, she smiled and said, “That’s that sorted then. Was there anything else you wanted to chat about?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Alrighty then.” Kit put her hands on her hips. “Are you going to join me for the rest of my run?”

  “Yuck. Dearest, you know very well I only run if I’m being chased. Or someone’s selling waffles with Häagen-Dazs on. With greengage jam. From Gage Farm, of course.”

  Kit rolled her eyes but knew from experience that Laura wasn’t joking about happily sprinting for her favourite dessert. “Yeah, yeah, fine. So, I’ll carry on running, and you…” She trailed off. “Hang on. Can we get back to what the hell a teddy bear repair technician is now?”

  Laura rubbed one of those perfectly plucked eyebrows. “I believe it’s someone who repairs damaged teddy bears. I don’t know if she’s employed by a toyshop chain or if she works only for serious teddy bear collectors and connoisseurs? You’ll have to ask Uncle Maximillian.”

  “Ah, so I can meet him, then?”

  “You’ll have to if you’re going to hang out at Howard Hall and have lunches with me and such. I think I’ll introduce you as my best friend.”

  “Only for now, though, right? I’ve been out of the closet since I was a teenager and I don’t fancy going back into it,” she said, unable to keep from sounding as stern as she felt.


  “Oh, dearest! No one is expecting you to go back into the closet. That’s not why we’re pretending to be just friends.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you? Because I need you to know without a doubt that I’d never hide the fact that I’m bisexual. Or that you’re a lesbian.” She took Kit’s hand. “And I despise having to hide that I have the best girlfriend in the world. It’s only to protect my uncle’s broken heart.”

  Kit gave a reluctant smirk. “And your sanity while he lives with you.”

  “Yes, that, too,” Laura said, shame making her slump. She stood right back up to add, “I’ll tell Uncle Maximillian everything about us soon. I’ll even explain why I felt the need to disguise our relationship and how badly that reflects on him.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Absolutely! I’ll tell him the moment he is either recovered from his heartbreak or at least ready to move out.”

  Kit stretched her left calf. Her legs were tightening up, and she needed to get moving again soon. “I just don’t get how he can have missed what happened with Dylan, Sybil, and us. It was the talk of the island for months!”2

  “He’s a hermit, remember? He knows little of what’s happening on Greengage. Or in the rest of the world for that matter. What’s more, he doesn’t care. Unlike Aunt Sybil, he has no concern for gossip about the Howards or for maintaining the family name.”

  Kit shrugged. “I guess that’s why, then. Well, I should keep running before my legs seize up and my pulse drops too much.”

  Laura grabbed her waist with a possessive fervour and pulled her into a kiss, a long, intense one that made her toes curl.

  When they broke apart, Laura whispered, “Or you can come home with me for a hot, steamy shower, so we can make the most of the time we have before my uncle moves in.”

  Kit hummed with pleasure. “Sounds like one hell of a great way to make sure my pulse doesn’t drop. Lead the way to your car, love.”

  Chapter Four

  A Hotpot and Rachel in Hot Water

  Kit finished locking up the library by fiddling with the alarm system that must have been installed before fire was discovered. Or possibly a few years earlier.

  When she was finally done, she called Laura.

  “Laura Howard speaking,” answered that sweet, warm voice which still made Kit tingle all over.

  “Hey, babe.”

  “Dearest! Oh, wait a moment, my assistant is waving something under my nose.” There were muffled words like, “I’m afraid I can’t sign that. Why? Because they’ve put in exclamation marks instead of full stops in every sentence. It, well, with the risk of sounding horrible, it looks like an excited Labrador drew the contract up.” The assistant mumbled something which sounded like agreement and then Laura’s voice was clear on the line again. “Sorry, Kit. We’ve got a new client, and they’re… rather unprofessional. I secretly suspect they’re all twelve.”

  Kit laughed. “Whoa there, grandma. You’re only thirty-one. You can’t be judging people for being too young.”

  “I can if they write professional documents filled with exclamation marks in which they have used ‘there,’ ‘they’re,’ and ‘their’ incorrectly at every chance.”

  Kit bit her lip around a smile. “Fair enough. Anyway, I wanted to check if you’d mind having dinner at Pub 42 tonight? I’ve got to talk to Rachel.”

  Laura hummed pensively. “I think Imelda would boil me for tomorrow’s dinner if I don’t eat the Lancashire hotpot she prepared for tonight.”

  Howard Hall no longer had servants. Laura had done away with all that when she took it over from her aunt Sybil. The cook, the capable Mrs Imelda Smith, had however refused to leave. Instead, she’d gone from being “Howard Hall’s cook” to being “private chef to Laura Howard.” Even though she now only came in to cook up dinner, she still refused to scale down, creating feasts better suited for when the manor was filled with people as opposed to now when it was just Laura and occasionally her obnoxious brother, Tom. Well, and Kit, whenever she finished up early enough to make it to the banquet. The leftovers always ended up being the next day’s lunch at Gage Farm’s office or at the library. Usually both.

  “All right. I’ll pop over for some Lancashire hotpot, too, then, if that’s all right? After that we can walk down to Pub 42 for a drink.”

  “Walk?” Laura whinged. Kit could imagine how the idea of exercise was making Laura’s normally upturned nose scrunch up even further.

  “Well, yeah, I don’t drive, and I expect you’ll want your usual gin and tonic?”

  Laura gave an almost obscene moan. “Ahh, I could kill for some Sipsmith gin right now. Preferably straight into the veins.”

  Kit flung her rucksack over her shoulder and began her saunter through town. “You can afford a more expensive brand of booze, you know.”

  “Why? I love this one.”

  She slowly shook her head. “Never mind. Just thinking you should treat yourself, since you can afford it.”

  “Don’t start this ‘you’re rich’ business again. My ancestors were rich. I’m up to my ears in the costs of running a fruit farm and distillery in this modern age and economy.” Laura’s voice sounded strained with stress. “Not to mention the upkeep of the Hall.”

  Kit bit her tongue to keep herself from saying, “Sell the place.” She knew Howard Hall was all Laura had left of the parents who died when she was little.

  “I know, I know. Okay, honey, I won’t get involved in what booze you drink. I’m just planning to ply you with some while I discuss the bookshelf mystery with Rach.”

  “With Rachel? Oh yes, you said you needed to talk to her. What about? Why her?”

  “Is that jealousy I hear?” Kit teased.

  “No, you plum! It’s confusion. What does Rachel have to do with all of this?”

  Kit filled her in on what Rajesh had said.

  “Gosh,” Laura replied. “Right, I see why you need to talk to her. She might have seen something.”

  Kit crossed the street, heading for the hill which would lead her out of the busy part of the island and up towards Howard Hall. “That’s what I’m thinking, too. Rajesh thinks she should go on the suspect list, though.”

  “Rajesh is cynical and suspects everyone of everything. Rachel would never steal or meddle with Mrs Caine’s books.”

  Kit pushed her glasses up her nose. “Alice. She told us to call her Alice.”

  “I know,” Laura said, “but when you grow up curtsying to a lady and calling her Mrs Caine, it’s hard to knock that habit on the head when you’re an adult.”

  Kit was about to reply when she heard someone in the background scream something about the printer leaking ink over tax forms.

  “Ah, blast it! I have to go,” Laura said, her voice back in boss mode. “Bit of an emergency here, I’m afraid.”

  “No problem. Go take care of that. I’ll meet you at Howard Hall when you’ve finished up.”

  “Smashing. Fancy a movie after we’ve been to the pub? I’d like to cuddle up with you and watch something diverting tonight,” Laura said quickly. There was still wailing and cursing in the background. Kit wasn’t sure, but she thought someone said that the ink was leaking through their trousers and into their knickers? That sounded worse than the ruined tax forms.

  “Sure,” Kit said. “As long as I get to hold you, I’m happy to watch anything.”

  “Great. Got to go! Love you.”

  With that Laura hung up. Kit put the phone in her pocket and rolled some work stress out of her shoulders.

  The beauty of the scented, thick-aired summer evening kept Kit smiling during the remaining walk up to Howard Hall. Or perhaps it was the promise of the Lancashire hotpot and a certain set of freckles almost covered by expensive make-up on full cheeks. She shivered with pleasure as she thought of those freckles. Her Laura. She was going to hold her so damn close tonight.

  Kit picked up the pace, nearly tripping over a rhododendron branch extending away from its m
other plant. It was pretty and all that, but Kit wasn’t having any of it tonight. It could never be as pretty as Laura.

  “Petals off the Converse, purple pest. I’ve got places to be,” Kit admonished it and continued her daydream-fuelled march up the hill.

  After dinner, Kit and Laura took that walk back to town and into Pub 42. Kit stepped inside and took her first lungful of the pub’s particular scent of food, alcohol, and their usual air freshener, which lay above the other smells like a sandalwood-scented blanket.

  It was so packed tonight that Shannon barely had time to nod to them as they entered, being too busy serving up plates of burgers, fish and chips, and the pub’s claim to fame, quesadillas, a dish which to Kit’s shock was exotic for Greengage.

  “Kit! Curly! Popped in for a cheeky drink, huh? Brill,” Rachel shouted from behind the bar. Laura rolled her eyes at the nickname that Rachel only used when she wanted to mess with her old friend but didn’t comment. While they made their way through the small pub’s few tables, Rachel added, “So glad you guys are here! I was literally about text you, Laura.”

  “Really? What about?” Laura asked.

  Rachel pulled her into a hug, strands of her long, ginger hair falling forward and mixing with Laura’s auburn curls like they were trying to make a colour chart of reds.

  “I need your help,” she whispered in Laura’s ear, just loud enough that Kit could hear it, too. Next it was Kit’s turn for an emphatic hello hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Actually, Kit, maybe I should’ve texted you, considering you’re the one who sorts out people’s problems and tricky situations around here.”

  “Okay,” Kit said, stepping out of the hug. “Do you have a problem or tricky situation, then?”

  “Shh. Keep your voice down,” Rachel hissed. “It’s Shannon. She’s livid with me, and I’ve got no idea why.”

  Kit pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose in her usual tic. “That sounds more like something the two of you should talk about and sort out on your own, doesn’t it?”