Spring Tides at Swallowtail Bay: The perfect laugh out loud escapist romantic comedy for summer! (Swallowtail Bay, Book 1)

by Katie Ginger

  ‘Yay!’

  ‘I got us a big, gooey chocolate cake from that bakery down the other end of the high street.’

  ‘Our rivals?’ asked Lexi scornfully.

  ‘Yes. Sorry. But it wouldn’t have been a surprise if I got it from you.’

  ‘Traitor.’

  Stella enjoying the teasing. ‘And I bought some posh champagne cream too.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Lexi, ‘I forgive you.’

  ‘I’ll clear this lot,’ said Stella, thankful that the awkwardness she’d created had been forgotten. ‘And fetch some bowls. I thought you could take what’s left for the kids. There’s far too much for me to finish on my own.’

  ‘Aww, that’s really kind. I’ll help,’ Lexi said, standing up and picking up the lasagne dish. ‘That was so delicious. You’re a really good cook.’

  ‘I’m really not. There isn’t much I can cook, but I can manage a decent lasagne.’ Stella served out pudding, and they went back to the living room and curled up on the sofas with bowls of cake and lashings of cream.

  ‘What are you going to do about your ex’s wedding?’ asked Lexi who was scraping out her bowl so as not to miss anything.

  Stella sighed. She’d been trying not to think about it and had hidden the invitation in a drawer in the kitchen. ‘I’ve got to go, haven’t I? If I don’t, I’m going to look like such a cow.’

  ‘Do you think he’s invited you out of spite or to show off?’

  ‘No. He was always a really decent, honest bloke. He probably thinks it’s a nice thing to do to show that he still thinks of me as a friend and that there are no hard feelings. It wouldn’t even occur to him that if I turn up on my own I’m going to look like a lonely, sad loser.’

  ‘No, you won’t. You’ll look like a strong independent woman who just hasn’t found the right guy yet. Or who has concentrated on building up her new business before looking for love again.’

  Stella smiled and placed her bowl on the floor beside her. She’d wanted friends like this her whole life. Like the ones you see in TV programmes like Sex and the City but she’d never had them before. Having Lexi around made her feel empowered and happy. She loved her new life and had never needed a man to make her happy before. Deep down she knew that the renewed feelings of rejection the invitation had inspired were making her focus on completely the wrong things but it was hard not to think about how she’d be judged by others. ‘I really don’t want to go,’ she said with a childish whine. ‘It’ll completely suck but I know I have to. If I don’t go, he’ll think I’m still angry with him, which I am, but he doesn’t need to actually know that.’

  ‘You could always find a hot date to go with,’ said Lexi, licking her spoon. ‘Maybe someone like Jay? He is incredibly good-looking.’

  ‘Is he? I hadn’t noticed.’

  Lexi gave her a knowing look then laughed. Could Stella really pluck up the courage to invite him to the wedding? It had seemed a good idea at the pub the other night but as soon as she was home she’d worried it would be too forward. They’d need to get to know each other better first, but there was plenty of time for that, wasn’t there? She could start by calling him tomorrow to discuss the website again. With Lexi’s encouragement, a smile started to pull at her cheeks. She was definitely going to do it. She was going to invite Jay to Isaac’s wedding.

  Chapter 11

  From the window of his home office, situated at the top of the house in the converted attic, Miles had spent the week watching seemingly relentless activity at the shop. From his high viewpoint he could see into the courtyard garden at the back of Admiral’s Corner, and since the previous Sunday he’d watched Stella, dusty and dirty, with her hair scraped back into a ponytail, throwing carpet tiles down into the garden from the flats. She’d stop every once in a while and come down to load them into her car, presumably to take them to the tip. Either that or she was fly-tipping but he doubted it. He was beginning to think that she was like him: conscientious and thorough. Then once the tiles had gone, there was washing – tons and tons of washing. Every time she took a load in she’d smell the sheets and a sweet smile lifted the corners of her mouth, bringing joy to her face.

  In between the washing and the tip runs there were car journeys out, coming back with a myriad of paint cans. At one point he actually found himself standing up and peering over his desk to see exactly what was happening. What Miles couldn’t figure out was why he was interested in the first place. Over the week he’d even made excuses to Kiera that he had jobs to do so he could come up and see Stella working through the lighter evenings, going to and fro with mops and buckets and dusters. By the end of the week she looked exhausted but not unhappy or daunted. In fact, when he’d passed the shop to get his lunch one day, he’d noticed her eyes were bright and shining with happiness.

  Miles stretched his arms up, determined to focus, and turned his attention to his laptop but the memory of seeing Stella that morning with an enormous wicker basket wrapped in cellophane and bursting with treats popped into his brain. A big box of chocolates sat at a jaunty angle between a bottle of wine and a candle. She had obviously prepared a welcome basket for her first guests. The light from the opposite window reflected off his screen and he went to pull the blinds a little. Before he did, he took a moment to admire the view. From this side of the house he could see between the roofs out towards the sea. It was a bright sunny day with just a slight chill to the light breeze and for a second he studied the waves cresting and crashing together. He wished he could be here all the time, but he’d be away again soon. At least it was Friday, even if he had some work to finish before the weekend.

  Moving back to his desk, he began to answer an email from his boss and yet again couldn’t stop himself from checking the window to see if there had been any further activity at old Herbert’s place.

  As he was alone, without Kiera popping in and out, he should definitely be concentrating on the task in hand. She was in London searching for wedding dresses with her friend, but as he thought of her an unsettling feeling began to ripple through him. She’d turned down yet another job to be able to go shopping, and most worrying of all was the way she’d talked about the potential client. She’d actually laughed about them, said that they were wasting their money, that they were beyond help. Kiera had been polite in her email response, but as she’d written it she’d said such unkind things Miles had been too shocked to reply. He was sure she’d never done that before. He’d have remembered.

  Now that Stella was working on the holiday apartments, Miles began to wonder what they looked like. When he’d seen them he’d imagined they needed extensive work: new furniture and lighting; changing fittings and fixtures; and adding fancy modern conveniences like a top-notch coffee machine and sound system. Something to really set the mood of a classy retreat but with a funky, modern edge. Stella mustn’t have thought it necessary, and that made him even more curious. He really needed to concentrate. He had another sales meeting in a few days and had figures to prepare. Miles picked up his phone to double-check the meeting was still going ahead as voices below caught his attention.

  Down in the street, a young couple pulled up at the side of the shop, giggling at one another. Just as they were making their way around to the front Stella came out to meet them. She had a great big, welcoming smile on her face and her cheeks were flushed. He thought of Kiera and the smiles she gave him. It was only since they’d set the date for the wedding that she smiled at him like that again. At the beginning of their relationship all her smiles had been like Stella’s. Prior to the wedding announcement he couldn’t remember seeing it for a long time. Miles shook the thought away and looked again out of the window. Stella shook hands with the guests and they chatted for a few moments though he couldn’t make out what they said. They must have been talking about the building as the man looked up and Stella followed his gaze, pointing at something on the side wall. Then she led them away out of sight.

  A sharp pain stabbed
in his chest. He told himself it was indigestion but deep down he knew it was jealousy. He had imagined himself in that role, meeting and greeting guests, making their stays special, and it had filled him with a passion he hadn’t felt before. Stella was being incredibly professional. It was a shame their first meeting hadn’t gone how he’d planned. Miles knew he’d over-reacted and come across as a complete idiot. The second with Kiera hadn’t gone much better. And then the other day, Stella had caught him having a sneaky look in and in his embarrassment he hadn’t known quite what to do, so he just shuffled off into the café. All he’d wanted was to see if she had any new stock in yet. She’d been doing so well in clearing all Herbert’s old junk he’d hoped to see some new items and wondered what they might be. In the interests of neighbourliness, Miles decided, he should probably try again.

  He sat for a moment and jiggled his legs up and down in anticipation then grabbing his phone he headed downstairs.

  The little bell tinkled as Miles walked into the shop and Stella looked up from behind the counter. The dog was, as usual, asleep at her feet. Miles cursed himself as Stella smiled down at the really quite sweet King Charles spaniel. Miles remembered now he quite liked dogs. Kiera had never wanted a pet but he’d always secretly loved the idea of having a little dog like that to take for spring walks along the beach, wrapped up in coats and hats, cheeks pink from the cold.

  ‘Hello, Miles,’ Stella said cheerfully. The light shone through the large shop windows onto her light brown hair and her lips were a pale pink. Under her gaze he stumbled for something to say. He should have thought ahead and prepared something. Normally, Miles was good at networking. No, he was great at networking – you kind of had to be in a sales role – so why did he struggle so much around Stella? Unable to think of a good opening line, he plastered on what he hoped was a confident grin and said, ‘Hi. How’s it going?’ If he’d said that at a work event he’d be made to leave. It was the most unoriginal start to a conversation in the history of the world. Ever. Inside, he cursed. He wasn’t going to begin changing her opinion of him that way, was he?

  ‘Good. Thanks,’ Stella replied but she seemed a little guarded as she glanced at him.

  Miles gave a half nod and Stella stared for a moment then looked away to her paper and pen. He wondered what she was writing. He awkwardly rocked on his heels and then wandered around pausing at some of the new stock she had brought in, pleased to see that things were going well. He checked the price on the bottom of a gorgeous glass paperweight. It was made of clear glass except for a bright green streak that ran through the middle. Miles raised his eyebrows. The price was really quite reasonable.

  ‘Can I help you with anything?’ Stella asked. There was an edge to her voice and he wondered what he’d done now to offend her. All he was doing was seeing how much it cost. He’d imagined it being a lot more expensive.

  ‘No, thanks. I was just browsing.’ He opened his mouth to say something about the price but then closed it again as she watched him. He didn’t want it to come out the wrong way. She gave him another almost wary glance.

  The dog came out from behind the counter, his lead at full stretch as he sat down near Miles, expecting a fuss. Miles slowly reached out a hand but the dog pulled back and, embarrassed, he did the same.

  ‘Don’t worry about Frank,’ Stella said, gently retracting his lead and moving Frank away. Her tone was a little more conciliatory than it had been earlier. ‘He can get quite nervous around men sometimes.’

  ‘At least he didn’t try to bite me this time.’ He’d meant it as a joke but as soon as he saw Stella’s reaction he knew he shouldn’t have said it. Whenever he was here, every time he opened his mouth both feet went flying in. She dropped her head and a flush came to her cheeks.

  ‘I’m sure if he wanted to bite you he would have. He just wanted to warn you off trying to grab his collar.’ Her tone grew sharp and it caught him off guard. He didn’t want to go over old territory but for some reason, he needed her to understand that at the time he’d been trying to help.

  ‘I really was only trying to stop him running into the road and killing himself.’

  This time, Stella didn’t say anything in reply and Miles turned his attention to another glass objet d’art. It didn’t seem to have any practical purpose, being a sort of oblong shape with weird corners, but was pretty and had a matching green streak to the paperweight. He checked the price at the bottom and felt his eyebrows lift. Considering how unique it was, and that it was probably hand-made, the price was amazing. He was considering buying one for his office when Stella, who had misjudged his expression of surprise spoke.

  ‘I think you’ll find they’re very reasonably priced. They’re made by a local artist and each one is unique.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ he replied, putting it back. This time he made sure his eyebrows stayed still.

  ‘They’re actually very popular.’ Again, her tone was cold and Miles had no idea why. He hadn’t criticised them. He’d even made sure his eyebrows hadn’t implied anything, so why she was being so defensive? It’s not like he’d said something rude. He began to feel the pressure of the heavy, loaded atmosphere but again didn’t know what to ask. Worried that if he asked a personal question she’d think he was prying, he pointed to a painting and said, ‘Have you thought about selling some more of those?’

  Stella dropped her pen onto her notepad and her eyes flashed. ‘I will be getting some more artwork, but it won’t be the same. I want to have some variety.’

  ‘But if it sells well, why wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I’m likely to have the same customers coming back week after week so I need to have more variety in the art. People aren’t going to keep buying the same type of painting. And I like exploring other artists.’

  ‘So you’re not going to stock any of the same artists as last time?’ It was a genuine question but her lips tightened into a line. She seemed to be taking offence to everything he said.

  Stella stood up and came to join him looking at the paintings on the wall. ‘I didn’t say that. I might keep one or two if I feel they really have something special but no one wants to buy exactly the same painting as someone else. I’m asking a lot of money so each piece needs to be unique.’

  ‘I disagree,’ Miles said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, glad that they were beginning to have an actual conversation. ‘People buy prints of famous artists all the time.’

  She pushed her hair back from her face and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘But that’s famous artists. It’s not the same when it’s local artists and I’m asking anywhere from one hundred pounds up. People want something of their very own that no one else in the town has. They don’t want to visit their neighbour’s house and see the same picture that they’ve got on the wall. And I can’t base all my purchasing decisions on tourists because they make up such a small percentage of my customer base and don’t generally buy big objects like paintings.’

  ‘So you’re trading on the whole “keeping up with the Joneses” mentality?’ Wow, Stella really had done her homework, thought Miles. He’d come to the same conclusion when he was preparing his business plan and was impressed, but she was looking at him like she wanted to slap him. Colour flooded her cheeks and her pale skin tinged with pink.

  ‘You have to understand your customers and local people are mine. While tourists will make up a huge part of my trade in the summer, I can’t rely on the sales made in those few months. I need stock that will speak to my customers through the rest of the year. The ones who come in week in, week out for presents or homeware.’

  ‘Speak to your customers?’ He wasn’t taking the piss, it was just a strange turn of phrase he hadn’t heard before but again she seemed to be getting huffy with him.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, indignantly.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just a funny phrase.’

  She took another deep breath and as her chest rose and fell something happened to his insides. ‘No it’
s not. It’s true.’

  ‘It is a bit funny,’ he said trying to lighten the mood, but Stella was having none of it.

  Marching back to the counter she said, ‘Look, if you’re not going to actually buy anything, perhaps you should leave.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Miles, shocked at her reply and trying again to bring it back to how well it had been going earlier. ‘You have to admit that was a bit of a funny thing to say?’

  ‘Funny?’ Her voice echoed around the empty shop and Miles felt a mild panic rise within him. Oh no, he really shouldn’t have said that. Why did he keep doing this to himself? It was a wonder he could speak at all with his massive boot lodged so firmly in his throat. Her features immediately changed, becoming hard and cold. ‘How bloody dare you!’

  Miles tried to remain calm but panic was surging through him. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you. I was only trying to have a bit of a joke.’

  ‘You come in to my shop smirking at the stock or making faces at the prices and then you criticise my choice of artwork and my reason for stocking it. You don’t actually own this place, Miles. Technically this is none of your business.’

  ‘I thought we were having a conversation. I was just offering my opinion—’

  ‘I don’t need your opinion.’

  A horrible sinking feeling swamped Miles. He’d gone in trying to be neighbourly and smooth over their previous meeting and it had all gone wrong. For some reason Stella seemed to deliberately misunderstand everything he said or the words came out all wrong. ‘Look, all I was saying was—’

  ‘Perhaps you should leave.’

  Seeing her normally plump lips in a tight, angry line, Miles sighed to himself. This really hadn’t gone according to plan and he just couldn’t figure out why or why he cared so much. ‘Yes, I think I probably should,’ he replied and with a strangely heavy heart marched away, unable to look back.