The Lavender Bay Collection: including Spring at Lavender Bay, Summer at Lavender Bay and Snowflakes at Lavender Bay. Sarah Bennett
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sure you’ve got your hands full running things next door.’ Beth drew her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘I was so sorry about your dad. I didn’t get much of a chance to speak to him when I was down, how is he?’
Sam set his hands on his hips as he scrubbed the toe of his trainer through the thin layer of dust coating the wooden floor of the shop. ‘Miserable. Keeps trying to do too much which only sets him back.’ It was his turn to bite his lip. ‘I’m not sure it’s going to work out me trying to run things when he won’t give me any breathing space.’ He cut himself off with a sharp gesture. ‘Jesus, you don’t need to listen to me whining, you’ve got enough on your plate.’ If he started talking about all the doubts churning inside him, he might not stop. And he meant what he’d said, she had enough to deal with.
Beth looked like she wanted to protest, but to his relief she let it drop. Her eyes dropped to his trainers, then back up. ‘Have you been out for a run? Bit brave of you in this cold wind.’
It was a lame attempt at changing the subject, but he grabbed at it with both hands. ‘Yeah, I have a regular route around the town I do every day. I try and get out into the countryside a couple of times a month—Dad opens up on a Saturday morning which gives me some extra time. There’s some great routes out beyond Gilbert’s farm, you should come out with me.’
She planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head. ‘Is that your idea of asking me on a date, Samuel Barnes?’
‘You must be joking!’ She’d mentioned the boyfriend was out of the scene, but she’d never shown any interest in him that way. Well, other than that one time… When she didn’t respond, he feared he’d insulted her. ‘Not that any man wouldn’t be thrilled to go out with you, Beth. Not me, of course, that would just be weird. But other men…’ Sam forced his jaw shut with a snap, though there was nothing to be done about the heat rising on his cheeks.
Gales of laughter met his blundering words, and he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or just a touch insulted. ‘Oh, God, the look on your face!’ Beth waved her hands helplessly as another paroxysm of giggles wracked her.
Abandoning any thought of salvaging his ego, Sam let the infectious bubbles of her laughter raise his own smile. The glimpse of the girl he knew was too good to resist, as was the chance to continue the conversation about them dating. Best to clear the air, make it clear they were both on the same page and all that. ‘Come on now, Beth. You know a date with me would be a much classier affair than a run around the block. At the very least I’d shout you a saveloy and chips, maybe even an ice cream to follow.’
Clutching her clasped hands to her breast, she fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘You sure know how to spoil a girl.’ She heaved a sigh and he was pleased to see the tension seep from her frame. ‘And you always manage to make me feel better. Thank you.’
Sam sketched a bow, which no doubt looked ridiculous in a tracksuit. ‘That’s what I’m here for.’ Her smile faltered a little, so he hurriedly changed the subject. ‘So, has the place changed much since the last time you were working behind the counter?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really. When I walked in and caught that first hint of Penhaligon’s Bluebell perfume it was like I’d never left home.’ Glancing over her shoulder, she looked towards the stock room behind the shop. ‘I keep expecting Eleanor to step out from the back.’
‘As soon as the clock hits five-thirty, I find myself reaching for the sherry,’ he confessed, and she turned back to him with a laugh.
‘For medicinal purposes only,’ they said together, and he shook his head. Eleanor’s death had left a huge hole in so many lives—his own included.
It was quiet now, but the Easter holidays were less than two months away and families would be piling onto the beach and strolling the promenade. The emporium was such a fixture of the town, he couldn’t imagine it without the doors wide open, revolving stands of postcards and trinkets standing out front, and inflatables dangling from strings hooked over the ceiling beams. The children loved to jump up and try and head the balls, animals and bright rubber rings—it was a rite of passage for locals and visitors alike and no one had cheered louder than Eleanor when one of them leapt high enough to touch one.
If Beth decided running the place was too much to deal with, he hoped someone else would take it on. ‘Do you know anything about the potential buyer you mentioned? Do they intend to keep the place as it is?’
Beth shook her head. ‘Mr Symonds said they had a standing request for any kind of property that might come up.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘A developer, I think he said. If they didn’t keep it as a shop, what do you think they might do?’
A heavy weight settled in his gut. A developer would be interested in only one thing when it came to a prime seafront location. ‘Flats would be my guess.’ There was a real demand for high-end apartments in seaside towns like Lavender Bay. He’d noticed on his return last year how things had already begun to change.
The collection of shops he remembered from his youth had been altered irretrievably. At least three of the traditional buildings along the prom had been converted into glass and steel monstrosities with oversized balconies. The traders’ association had discussed lobbying the council to fight any future developers’ plans, but investment was desperately needed so they walked a tightrope between wanting to preserve the special atmosphere of the seafront and the depressing sight of empty, boarded up buildings.
City folk with too much money and a desire for an ocean view were pushing the prices through the roof, making it increasingly difficult for the younger locals to get a foot on the property ladder. At twenty-eight, living with his mum and dad was not Sam’s idea of a good time, but he had no other option. Dad needed assistance sometimes at night, and he couldn’t in good conscious waste money on rent when there was a perfectly good room for him at the pub. He knew from a conversation they’d had before Christmas that Libby felt the same kind of frustration sharing the flat above the chip shop with her dad, and they weren’t alone. At least Beth would have the luxury of privacy in the apartment above the emporium—not that she’d see it that way under the terrible circumstances.
A look of dismay crossed Beth’s face. ‘Oh, that would be awful. The place just wouldn’t be the same without the emporium. I can’t possibly sell it, if they’re going to knock the place about.’
‘Why don’t you run it?’ Yes, he’d told her to take her time before making any decisions, but the idea of having Beth on his doorstep once more was growing more appealing by the minute. She knew the town, knew how the shop ran and it wouldn’t take her long to get back into the swing of things.
‘Me?’
He nodded. ‘Why not? There’s nothing holding you to London any more, is there?’
‘Only a dingy bedsit.’ Her eyes glanced upwards. ‘It might need a bit of redecorating, but living upstairs would be a palace compared to my current digs.’ He could see the idea begin to take root in her imagination, all she needed was a little bit of encouragement.
‘It’d be worth a try, at least. And if you did decide to sell it, then showing it as a going concern would make it all that more attractive to potential purchasers.’ He nudged her shoulder. ‘Besides, if you’re living here at least I can keep an eye on you, make sure you’re not getting into any trouble.’
Beth laughed. ‘Don’t start that big brother rubbish, again. If you’re going to be sticking your nose in, I’ll sell the place to the next person who walks in the door!’ The sweet smile she gave him took any sting out of the words, and Sam laughed as he held his hands up in mock surrender.
‘All right, all right, I’ll leave you to it.’ He crossed back towards the door, and she followed on his heels. Once outside, he turned to face her. ‘Come next door for your lunch, yeah? Mum will be chuffed to see you, and I’m going to talk her into making some steak and kidney puddings for lunch.’
She pulled a face. ‘God, I hate kidney. I’ll pass.’
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