Читать книгу The Lavender Bay Collection - Sarah Bennett - Страница 22

Chapter Twelve

‘Shoulda brought the spare key.’ Sam muttered to himself as he knocked on the back door of the emporium for the third time to no answer. Having seen Eliza take a couple of bottles out of the pub fridge, he’d assumed they’d be a bit worse for wear that morning and decided to make them breakfast. Beth had left a spare key at the pub, for emergencies, and he’d briefly considered using it so he could set everything out properly, before worrying she might see it as a violation of trust.

He took a couple of steps back and looked up at the closed curtains over the windows of the flat above. Surprises always seemed great during the planning, but relied on other people to play their part—which was never guaranteed when they didn’t know they even had a part to play. Balancing the cardboard tray in his left hand, he fumbled in his pocket for his phone and scrolled through to find Beth’s number.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. ‘Ungh?’

‘Hey, Beth, you wanna come down and answer the door?’ A loud groan echoed in his ear, and he stifled a grin. ‘Beth, you okay?’

‘Beth’s dead. This is her ghost.’

Sam laughed. ‘Can ghosts open doors? I brought you guys breakfast.’

‘Ghosts don’t eat. I’m never eating, or drinking again.’ She whimpered. ‘You made me think about drinking, why did you do that? Do you hate me?’

‘No, I don’t hate you. I like you very much, that’s why I made you bacon sandwiches and a Mr Barnes’ Secret Hangover Cure shake.’

‘Chocolate?’ She sounded almost perky and Sam knew his instinct had been right.

‘Yes, chocolate for you, strawberry for Eliza, and caramel for Libs.’ There was no big secret to the milkshakes—the milk helped to hydrate and neutralise an acidic stomach, and the oats and a raw egg provided energy. He added their favourite flavouring to mask any bitterness from the soluble painkillers. The bacon in the sandwiches was grilled rather than fried because, contrary to popular opinion, greasy food was the worst thing going for a hangover.

‘What are you waiting for? Bring them up.’

Sam rested his head against the back door. ‘You need to unlock the door first.’

‘But I’m dead and a ghost so I can’t get up. Hold on…’ Sam listened to her as she woke up the others, smiling so hard it made his face ache. God, she was adorable when she was like this—funny, sleepy, with just a little dash of vulnerability.

The dull sound of footsteps on the stairs sounded from inside and he straightened up in time to catch the full force of Libby’s scowl as she yanked open the door. With her hair stuck up at all angles and the smudges of makeup under her eyes it was like being snarled at by an angry panda. Grabbing one of the tall plastic cups from the cardboard tray he thrust it at her. ‘Caramel.’

Libby snatched the drink and took a deep slurp from the straw. ‘God, that’s good. I love you.’ She sucked down another mouthful. ‘Not feed-me-amazing-things-then-kiss-my-face-off love you, I’ll leave that to Beth.’

‘Excuse me?’ He tried to ignore the heat rising on his face. What the hell had Beth been telling them?

The cheeky minx grinned at him, then clutched her head with a groan. ‘Damn, it’s hard to be smug when you’re full of Lambrini regrets.’ She pointed at the padded bag in his hand. ‘What’s that?’

‘Bacon sandwiches.’

‘Forget what I said before. I do feed-me-amazing-things-then-kiss-my-face-off love you.’ She grabbed his hand and Sam found himself being dragged up the stairs. Halfway up, Libby called out, ‘Beth, I’m stealing your boyfriend, all right?’

Beth shuffled out of the bedroom, tugging down the rumpled leg of her pyjama shorts. Her normally sleek hair straggled around her face which was so pale her dark eyes dominated her elfin features. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend, but if you’re referring to Sam, you can do what you want with him if you stop shouting.’ She held out her hand and Sam gave her the chocolate shake.

He’d never seen her grumpy before, and he had to admit he kind of liked it. ‘I’ll take these into the kitchen and plate up. Did you two break my sister?’

The bathroom door opened. ‘I’m alive…I think.’ Eliza pushed her wild curls off her forehead and frowned at him. ‘I’m not talking to you.’ She made to push past him, then stopped to grab the final milkshake from the holder. ‘Traitor.’ She stomped towards the kitchen.

Sam followed hot on her heels. ‘What? What the hell did I do?’

His sister spun around to raise a shaky finger in his face. ‘You kissed her!’ She hissed through her teeth. ‘She’s my best friend, Sam, and she’s been through a lot in the past few months. The last thing she needs is you fooling around with her. What were you thinking?’

Dodging the finger she was jabbing at his face, Sam crowded close to his sister. ‘Woah! Back up there a little, missy.’ He glanced over his shoulder to check they were alone, then lowered his voice. ‘I’m not fooling around with Beth. It was something and nothing, it happened on the spur of the moment and we’ve both agreed to forget about it. Get your facts straight before you start throwing accusations around.’ So why had she told them?

Clutching her head, Eliza slumped into the chair he’d hung his jacket on. ‘Shh. I’m sorry, all right? I’m just worried about you, that’s all.’

Sam abandoned his search for the plates and took the chair next to her. Looking past the pale face, the messy hair and smudged remains of her makeup, he could see the concern in her eyes. ‘Hey, kiddo, what’s got your knickers in a twist?’

‘Don’t tease me, this is serious.’ Her hand closed over his forearm. ‘I don’t want her getting hurt.’

‘No one’s getting hurt. We’re friends. Nothing more.’ He paused, then frowned. ‘Why aren’t you worried about me getting hurt?’

Eliza made a rude noise. ‘You’re my brother, and I love you, but you’re a bit of a player. When was the last time you were involved with any woman for more than a couple of dates?’ Without giving him a chance, she answered her own question. ‘I’ll tell you when—never. Beth’s not like that, she’s had one serious boyfriend and he broke her heart.’

Damn. Eliza might look all sweetness and light, but she knew how to strike a low blow. Sure, he’d played the field, but it had never been malicious on his part, he’d just never found someone he felt truly comfortable around. There were women who he was friends with, and women he dated, but he’d never found anyone who managed to meet both criteria. Until now. The realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks. Mouth dry, Sam cast a quick glance at his sister, relieved to see she was rubbing her hands over her face in an attempt to wake herself up.

He dropped a quick kiss on head, then pushed himself to his feet. ‘No one’s getting their heart broken, least of all Beth. I promise you.’

The warming bag had done its job in keeping the bacon at a palatable temperature, so Sam made himself busy slicing the fresh rolls he’d brought with him and layering them with crispy rashers of meat. While his fingers carried out the task almost by rote, his mind whirled. Before Beth had returned to the bay, he’d been restless and miserable, his relationship with his father under threat. Talking to her about everything had been easy, partly he supposed because she knew him so well already.

The attraction he felt for her was understandable. Sam had always had an affinity for leggy brunettes with eyes like melted chocolate; anyone looking at his previous girlfriends could have worked that out. Oh. Oh. He wanted to smack himself in the head for being so blind. He wasn’t attracted to Beth because she resembled the kind of woman he liked. She was the original. The one he’d imprinted upon that blustery night on the promenade.

Voices sounded in the hallway, and he turned his back to busy himself with breakfast as Libby and Beth wandered in to join his sister at the table. The three of them were busy alternating between bemoaning their hangovers and slurping their milkshakes and didn’t seem to notice his sudden silence.

They fell on the rolls like a pack of ravenous wolves the moment he placed them on the table. Sam braced his palms on the kitchen counter and took a deep breath. If he didn’t pull himself together, they’d realise something was wrong. He’d grilled enough bacon for his own roll so claimed the last chair and looked back and forth between them. Nice and casual, easy does it. ‘Just how much did you drink last night?’

It was Libby who answered. ‘Only three bottles, and one of those was Lambrini.’ She shook her head sadly, then clutched it with a whimper. ‘When did we become such lightweights?’

Stifling a smile, Sam patted her hand. ‘It’s your age, Libs.’ He stood up, crossed to the window and rolled up the blind. Shrieks greeted the bright steam of sunlight, and he shook his head. ‘You guys are kind of pathetic, you know that, right?’

Feeling a bit steadier, Sam decided to stick with his original plan. He grabbed the kettle, filled it and flipped it on. ‘Okay, I’ll give you ten more minutes to feel sorry for yourselves and then you need to get dressed because we’re going for a walk on the beach.’

A chorus of groans greeted him, then Beth muttered, ‘You’re not the boss of me.’

The little bite of sassiness was something new. She’d been a lot shier when she’d been a little girl. He liked this new side to her, it spoke of a growing confidence he wanted to encourage and nurture in her, and that meant giving her something to push back against. He turned to rest against the counter and folded his hands over his chest. ‘Do you, or do you not want to get that bedroom decorated this weekend?’

She scowled and mumbled something. He cupped a hand to his ear, knowing he was being an annoying ass, but it didn’t matter because she thought they were just friends and friends teased each other. ‘What was that?’

Beth raised her hand to her face, pretending to scratch the side of her nose whilst giving him the finger and he laughed, utterly charmed. ‘Nine minutes. Get dressed and I’ll make some tea.’ He dug inside the bag and produced four insulated mugs. ‘Eight and a half minutes.’

For all their grumbling, the fresh air seemed to do the trick and Beth and the others began to look better. He watched as the wind blew his sister’s unruly curls across her face for the third time in less than a minute and she dragged them free again before digging in her pockets. ‘Damn, I’m sure I had an elastic band somewhere.’

‘Here.’ Sam yanked a black knit hat from his own coat pocket and tugged it down over her head. He smoothed the stray ends of hair behind her ears then tweaked her little snub nose the way he used to do when she was just this little bit tagging at his heels. ‘Better?’

She nodded, then hooked her arm through his when he would have turned away. ‘Hold up a minute, I want to talk to you.’

Until he’d worked out what he was going to do about him and Beth, he wanted to maintain the façade of indifference. ‘Let it go, already. Beth and I kissed a couple of times, it’s no big deal.’ He tried to shake her off, but she clamped on, dragging him around until he faced her.

‘I believe you, okay? That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.’

Sam tipped up her chin. The dark circles beneath her eyes were from more than one too many glasses of wine. His grip on her face softened. ‘What’s the matter, Sis?’

To his horror, tears pooled in her eyes. ‘I’m so worried about Daddy.’

‘Hey, hey, it’s okay.’ Sam gathered her into his arms and hugged her tight. ‘Dad’s a tough old sod, he’s not finished yet.’

‘I heard him coughing yesterday, it sounds so painful. I…I thought it would be better by now, but it sounds just as bad as ever.’ Her voice sounded muffled against his thick jacket, but there was no mistaking the hitch in it.

Sam eased back so he could meet her eyes. ‘I had a long talk with him, because I didn’t really understand what was going on with him. His condition is chronic, I don’t think I fully grasped what that meant until I’d seen him struggling every day.’

Eliza sniffed, then nodded. ‘He’s not going to get better, is he?’

‘No.’ The admission cut his soul to the quick. Their big vital father would never be the same again. Using his thumb, he wiped a tear off her cheek. ‘But, with proper management and care, he won’t get any worse and there’s some room for improvement. He’s promised me he’ll follow the doc’s guidance more closely, and as the weather warms up a bit that’ll help him as well.’ He had to believe that. He had to believe there was still hope.

Her hand came up to cover his. ‘You would tell me if there was a problem?’

‘I swear.’ He crossed his heart, just like he’d done when she was little and made him promise something. Her warm laughter eased the knot in his chest. Slinging an arm around her shoulders, he steered her towards the ebbing tide to where Beth and Libby were strolling arm-in-arm just out of reach of the foam rolling over the wet sand.

Bending to pick up a stone, he skipped it out across the water, groaning when it sank into the waves after only three jumps. Eliza gave him a playful shove, then found her own stone. ‘That was rubbish, watch the expert at work.’ She twisted her body ninety degrees, flicked her wrist and sent the small projectile flying over the surf.

‘Five?’ Sam held his hands up in disbelief. ‘You cheated.’

Eliza blew on her fingernails. ‘Face it, Sammy, I’ve got skills.’

Laughing, he tugged her hat down over her eyes. ‘You’ve got something all right.’ The familiar pattern of their teasing warmed him through. He studied her, as she tugged the hat off with an exasperated sigh, then re-settled it on her hair. A flush of colour painted her pale cheeks, and her green eyes sparkled with laughter. She looked good, better than when he’d first seen her that morning. ‘The fresh air suits you.’

His sister spread her arms wide as she turned in a slow circle. ‘I love it here. I never feel quite myself anywhere else.’ There was a wistfulness to her voice.

‘Why don’t you come back? Martin must be able to find a decent job within a reasonable commuting distance. Heck, these days the kind of stuff he does can be done remotely.’

Her nose wrinkled in a little frown. ‘He’s doing really well at work, I don’t think he’d be keen to leave. Especially not when he’s being considered for a promotion.’

She didn’t look thrilled about the prospect, and he wondered why. A promotion would normally mean a pay rise… Before he could ask her about it, she spoke again. ‘Besides, what would I do here? There’s nothing for me locally.’

‘You could help me with the pub.’ It had been an instinctive response—The Siren was a part of her heritage as much as it was his. And she’d always loved the place. He could still recall her pride the first time their dad had let her work behind the bar. With her warm and welcoming personality, she’d be a huge asset to the place. It would also free him up to concentrate more on the restaurant. He’d been to see a local architect and plans were being drawn up ready for submission to the local council. Planning permission would take time, and he’d need it before he could approach potential investors for support.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ Eliza’s incredulous tone dragged him back from his daydreams.

‘Nope. I’m deadly serious.’ He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m not suggesting you drop everything and move back tomorrow, all I’m saying is that there are options here for you if you want them.’ She tucked her head against his shoulder and they began walking again. ‘I’ve been talking to Mum and Dad about converting the old skittle alley into a restaurant.’

Eliza stopped in her tracks to stare up at him, eyes wide with wonder. ‘Oh, Sam! Your own place at last?’

He nodded, knowing she understood what it meant to him.

‘What made you think of the skittle alley?’

‘It was Beth’s idea, actually. So, what do you reckon?’

Eliza’s face was wreathed in smiles. ‘I think it’s perfect. The best of both worlds. Will you show me?’

‘Show you what?’ They’d been so busy talking, Sam hadn’t noticed Beth and Libby approaching.

‘Sam was just telling me about the restaurant he’s going to open right here in the bay!’ Eliza clapped her hands together.

Libby’s brows rose in surprise. ‘Here? Where?’

‘In the skittle alley beneath the pub.’ It was Beth who chipped in this time. ‘Isn’t it exciting?’

‘Can we see it? When are you planning on opening?’

Their enthusiasm was gratifying, if a little overwhelming. ‘Hold on a second! I haven’t even submitted the plans to the council yet.’

‘You have plans?’ Beth grabbed his arm. ‘Show us!’

Sam laughed. ‘All right, all right! I have some draft plans, there’s still some stuff to be finalised, but they should give you an idea.’ He herded the chattering trio towards the pub, the smile on his face growing by the moment. There was no hesitation from any of them that the restaurant would happen, and it strengthen his own belief.

His own place. There was still a long way to go, but he could do it. He would do it.