Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride

by Autumn Macarthur

  “It isn’t?” He still hadn’t the foggiest what rules she meant, but surely he knew what day it was.

  “It isn’t. This invitation is for Friday. Today is Thursday.”

  He squinted at her, hoping she was serious. “Are you sure?”

  She laughed. “I’m sure. It’s Thursday. But that’s a good thing for you. You get another day to persuade her.”

  He smiled back. Another chance with Beth was exactly what he wanted.

  “No wonder my research assistant looked at me oddly when I wished him a good weekend. I’ve been so engrossed with my work I lost track of what day it was. My whole department is probably laughing at me. No change there.”

  Anita smiled, and glanced around. “Didn’t you buy a wedding present? Where is it?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Seeing Beth again had completely befuddled him. “I must seem a complete idiot. I left it downstairs, on Beth’s counter. I’ll get it.” He started for the down escalator, but she stopped him.

  “No. Leave it.” She grinned and leaned closer, like a conspirator. “Gives you a reason to come back tomorrow, doesn’t it? And I have an even better idea. The front door will be locked now. You need a staff member to let you out. I’ll tell you on the way.”

  As he followed her, he couldn’t help hoping and praying.

  Thank You Lord for sending me an ally. Now all I need is for her scheme, whatever it is, to work.

  Chapter 3

  All the way through her end-of-day tasks, Beth thought of James.

  Her refusal was all front, with no substance behind it. The second he’d turned to leave, she’d stared after his retreating back until he disappeared out of sight on the rising escalator.

  Relief warred with disappointment when he hadn’t looked back.

  He’d walked tall, shoulders broad. Something had changed in him.

  It wasn’t a swagger, far from it, but there’d been a confidence and a sureness of himself that the younger James hadn’t had. He’d even looked less diffident on leaving than when he’d first walked into her department.

  Had meeting her again done that?

  There’d been no mistaking the keen expression that brightened his vaguely unfocused eyes when he’d spotted the charm he’d given her, or the way his habitual slight stoop straightened when he recognised her. He hadn’t wanted to take no for an answer. And he’d as good as promised he’d be back.

  In fact, he certainly would be. Imogen’s present was still sitting on the counter.

  Excitement fluttered through her at the thought of seeing him again.

  She’d called herself a fool for allowing the necklace to reveal her identity, but perhaps, it was meant to be.

  There’d been a gentle whisper inside her since he stepped off the escalator and walked into her department. Whispering perhaps this was God’s will for her life, another chance with the only man who’d meant anything to her.

  All those first dates, with nice men from the store or from church, but there had never been a second date. No-one measured up to her memories of James.

  This time, it might work out differently.

  Her lips twisted along with her heart. No point kidding herself. Nothing had changed. They still couldn’t be together. The gap between them was wider than ever.

  Everything that had been true ten years ago remained true. An uneducated working class girl was no match for a man like James, genius son of a titled British mother and an American tycoon father.

  Refusing to partner him to the wedding was the right thing to do.

  For his sake, to save embarrassing him in front of his family and friends, once his mother and Imogen recognised her.

  Nothing good could come of saying ‘Yes’. There was no way anything serious or long term could happen.

  New Scientist was full of glowing reports she didn’t entirely understand about his research, and rumours of how he’d soon become one of Cambridge University’s youngest professors. A girl like her would hold him back in his career.

  Sure, her interior design ideas had gained her a reputation among customers here. Being asked to management meetings unofficially put her on the same level as the department heads. Her Pinterest decorating boards had loads of followers and repins.

  But she was nothing but a glorified shop assistant when you came down to it, made to leave school at sixteen without a single qualification. Imogen and her snooty friends would still look down their patrician noses at her.

  Her sparkle of elation fizzled like a wet firecracker.

  Far more likely that God arranged for them to meet again for her to get over him and forget him once and for all. Wishing anything different was just plain stupid.

  But that hopeful glimmer in her heart still flickered, refusing to die.

  Surely they’d been brought back together for a better reason than saying the goodbyes they hadn’t been able to say back then?

  Her aunt, James’s mother, and Imogen, they’d all made it clear there was no possibility of a future with him. When she’d fled home broken-hearted, even her own parents had told her to stay with her own kind, when they’d finished joking about how they’d spend his money.

  The problem was, they had no idea what her kind was. It wasn’t to be found in their world of beer and cigarettes and TV.

  James was her kind in so many ways. Thoughtful, considerate, a scientist who also read poetry, a man of integrity and solid faith. No-one else in her life had ever been so akin.

  Like a robot, she processed her tasks. Cleared her counter. Shut down her computer. Locked the cabinets containing the most valuable goods. Set the cash register and PDQ machine to totalling the day’s sales, and counted up the day’s meagre cash takings ready for Cara to collect.

  Her mind was all on James.

  Anita hurried from the escalator across to her department, as much as a teapot in killer heels could hurry. “Stragglers! I got stuck shooing them out the front door. Can’t wait to get my department closed down, then get out of this, into my jeans, and on our way to Pizza Pronto.”

  Beth eyed her suspiciously. Anita’s mischievous grin and air of suppressed excitement seemed all out of proportion with anticipating a pizza.

  Even a Pizza Pronto pizza.

  Cutting across to kitchenware, her friend didn’t quite meet her eyes. No forgetting that wink as Anita abandoned her with James. On their way to the restaurant, they’d be having a chat about that.

  But while the PDQ machine crawled through its print out, ‘what ifs’ sent tremors butterflying through her.

  What if she’d said that one little ‘Yes’? Agreed to go to the wedding instead?

  Even if nothing was meant to happen between her and James, it was way past time to stand up to the bullies and stop being such a pushover.

  Her hands formed fists.

  She’d won a scholarship, then allowed bullies to make her life miserable at the private school, instead of fighting back.

  She’d taken the job at Tetherton Hall for the summer, then let her aunt hustle her away from Imogen’s false accusations of theft, instead of standing up to her.

  She’d fallen for James, then listened to Imogen’s story that they were as good as engaged, instead of insisting on an opportunity to hear what he had to say about that.

  Ms Doormat personified.

  They needed to hear each other’s sides of the story. Have the talk they’d been cheated of then. That wouldn’t happen unless they saw each other again.

  On a purely business level, the wedding might have been a good opportunity to mix socially with the very people most important to attract as customers, too.

  Too late now. That chance was gone.

  But James had to come back tomorrow to collect the gift box. The knowledge glowed inside her like a colony of fireflies.

  Busying herself leafing through the latest catalogues from her suppliers didn’t help. Even the beautiful things available to order for her department couldn’t distract her from think
ing of him.

  At last Cara arrived. Despite her Ms Scrooge reputation, the assistant deputy manager, usually managed a few friendly words. Today, her dark brows twitched together and she loosed a sigh at the figures on the print-outs.

  “I’m sorry,” Beth said. “Sales weren’t anywhere near what I’d want them to be. So few customers came down here. I’m dressed as a corpse, and the place felt like a morgue.”

  Or it had, until James arrived.

  Saying that out loud was a no no, Cara’s businesslike politeness didn’t invite confidences.

  “The costumes didn’t help at all.” Cara flicked the full skirt of her sparkly Tinkerbelle costume, incongruous with her serious accountant’s face. “Unfortunately, the magic wand that came with this malfunctioned. Sales were down right across the store. But Mrs Pettett must be obeyed.”

  Beth nodded, but rolled her eyes. The store ran on autocratic lines, and the elderly owner’s word was law, like it or not. Mrs Pettett’s schemes were legendary among the staff. Flops, almost every time.

  A rare smile lightened Cara’s expression. “The Bridal Registry is still one of our best departments. One area where tradition helps us. Mothers want to bring their daughters back, to set up their lists where they had theirs. You’re doing a good job. Go out tonight and forget Pettett and Mayfield’s. There’s got to be more to life than selling things. Anyway, by next week, Mrs Pettett will have a new plan to boost sales.”

  No doubt she would. Maybe one day, a scheme might even work.

  Just like their eccentric boss, Beth wanted to help the store thrive rather than dwindle away. Her house buying fund was a three legged horse in the race against rising property prices. Doomed to being permanently single, every penny of commission her sales earned was earmarked for buying a home.

  That pushed her to think up her own schemes, hopefully ones with a better chance of working than Mrs Pettett’s.

  “I’ll do my best to increase our sales,” she said. “I’m thinking I should approach London Brides magazine. I missed out on the Christmas issue, unfortunately. The deadline’s already passed. But I’m going to push for inclusion in their Valentine Weddings feature.”

  Cara nodded. “That would be wonderful. Thanks for your hard work.”

  Beth wasn’t about to say that she needed the commissions. Someone on a management salary like Cara wouldn’t understand that.

  Cara signed off the takings receipt and handed it back. “Enjoy your evening.”

  Beth nodded, then spoke on impulse. “Would you like to join us?”

  Cara seemed so isolated. Only in her twenties, yet behaving like a middle-aged woman, with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Or the weight of Pettett and Mayfield’s, anyway.

  They’d never thought to ask her to the weekly pizza nights.

  Cara shook her head and smiled, though there was a hint of sorrow and something more behind it. “It’s sweet of you to ask. But you’ll all want to unwind after work. Having management there won’t help with that. Thanks anyway.”

  Placing the takings and paperwork in their precise positions in her trolley, she walked away, looking more alone than ever.

  Beth prayed that God would comfort Cara. There was a wound there, every bit as deep as the one that James not getting in touch had cut into her.

  And there they were, thoughts of James yet again. No escaping them.

  She waved at Anita, still closing up, and headed for the staff locker rooms. It would take a good ten minutes of scrubbing and brushing to get clean from the corpse makeup and streaks of grey hairspray. Then she’d help Anita struggle out of her teapot. And work out how to wash the costume dress to wear it again tomorrow, without it falling apart.

  Half an hour later, the usual suspects clustered around a table in Pizza Pronto. Figuring out who wanted mushrooms and who wanted anchovies. Debating the merits of doughballs versus garlic flatbread versus French style garlic bread.

  Beth hadn’t forgotten James, not one bit. At least he’d faded to a background refrain in her mind.

  When footsteps sounded, then stopped next to her, she assumed it was the waiter.

  “We’re not ready to...” The words died in her throat and her breathing choked.

  Not a waiter.

  James, his hands on the back of the empty chair beside her, stooped forward a little and peering at her with painful anxiety. He’d changed from his Halloween costume, too, wearing jeans with a nice shirt that brought out the green in his hazel eyes and showed how wide his shoulders were.

  Not that she should be noticing that. But some things a girl just couldn’t help noticing.

  “May I sit here?” he asked, voice cautious and tentative.

  No wonder Anita engineered it so no-one else sat next to her. She should be angry at her for meddling.

  But it was hard to be angry when inside her a fluttering songbird sang thanksgiving.

  Thank You Lord for giving me another chance with him.

  Her breath let go with a whoosh. She nodded, her mouth stretching in a smile of Julia Roberts proportions.

  James straightened, and the happiness that shone in his face warmed her more than a bonfire would.

  Anita grinned at her, then looked around the table at the others. “This is James, an old friend of Beth’s. He thought he had a wedding to go to this evening but got his days mixed up. It’s not till tomorrow. So I told him to join us tonight. I hope that’s okay.”

  Her slightly pugnacious expression dared anyone, especially Beth, to say no.

  Beth couldn’t say no.

  Didn’t want to say no.

  As James sat next to her, there wasn’t anywhere in the world better to be.

  In the end, it made no difference what pizzas they ordered. Impossible to eat a mouthful.

  The most she managed was fiddling with her knife and fork, pushing a slice of pizza around her plate, and sipping water to wet her parched mouth.

  James’s appetite didn’t seem to be affected. “I missed lunch,” he explained, cheerfully demolishing her share of the food as well as his own.

  Maybe he didn’t feel anything for her, after all. Though he kept darting glances at her, making her stomach somersault.

  He fit in surprisingly well, laughing and joking with her friends.

  When they’d known each other before, they’d always been alone. Walking in the grounds. Sitting by the river. Or reading in the library, where he’d found her the day they’d first met, sitting in a chair a housemaid had no right to sit in, turning the pages of a book a housemaid had no right to do more than dust.

  His mother, The Honorable Portia Tetherton, had been just as horrified as Beth’s Aunt Alice, the housekeeper, when their friendship was discovered. Both had considered it totally unsuitable.

  And it still was.

  She knew an uneducated shopgirl like her was all wrong for him. She knew her feelings for him were far more than friendship. She knew nothing had changed.

  But if he asked her once more to go to Imogen’s wedding, her answer this time would be ‘Yes’.

  One more evening with him.

  The chance to explain.

  The chance to say the proper goodbye they’d been cheated of last time.

  Surely that wasn’t too much to hope for.

  While the others argued football, he moved closer, ducking his head toward her. His nearness made her dizzy, blood pounding in her temples.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, low voiced. “I met Anita as I was leaving the store. When I showed her the invitation and she pointed out the wedding wasn’t till tomorrow, I hoped you’d give me another opportunity.”

  His smile dazzled her like a thousand watt spotlight. Between that and her dry lips, a reply was impossible.

  “I know I could ask you again when I came to collect Immy’s present, but I wanted to see you again tonight. I didn’t want to chance you not being at work tomorrow.”

  “I… I reconsidered. I will go to the weddin
g with you. If you still want me to.”

  His glowing eyes and wide smile were all the answer needed, though it was hard to believe he’d want to risk his friends and family seeing them together.

  “I still want you to,” he said. “Are you at the store tomorrow? If not, I can collect you from your place.”

  Shame flooded her, heating her cheeks even more than his nearness had. “No!”

  The word came out far louder than intended. Everyone stopped talking to stare.

  Her flush intensified until her whole body flamed.

  James mustn’t be allowed to see her parents’ house. The ugliness and meanness of the neighbourhood fried her spirits every day. Mum and Dad were kind to let her still live with them to save money, and she loved them, of course. But having anyone visit was not an option.

  Especially James.

  “I’m working tomorrow.” Her tone stayed far quieter this time. “Meet me there instead. I have to wear the Halloween outfit all day, anyway.” She risked a glance at him, to find his eyes steady on her, filled with warmth and concern. “It is still costume?”

  He grinned. “I may have got the date wrong, but I’m not wrong about that. Definitely Halloween clothing.”

  David from Menswear commented on awfulness of the outfits they’d had to wear, and they both got involved in the conversation.

  Beth made sure they didn’t have any time alone or private conversation after that. Now that partnering him to Imogen’s wedding was a reality, fear started to bite.

  That didn’t mean she’d back down.

  James was right. God’s unexpected gift of one last evening together couldn’t be refused, no matter how much it terrified her.

  Chapter 4

  Forget butterflies. Whole squadrons of crows patrolled Beth’s tummy.

  They pecked doubt all day long, making her wonder if the impulsive decision to accompany James to the wedding – Imogen’s wedding – was totally insane, or merely a little unwise.

  No way to know. Silently praying between customers, the words that kept coming back to her were ‘Trust in Me’.