Chapter Sixteen

      It had been the right thing to do. Sam attempted to console himself the next morning when he climbed out of his lonely bed and hit the shower. Beth had been buzzed, and not just on the champagne. Once he got her talking about the party she couldn’t stop, her eyes shining with excitement as she recalled anecdote after anecdote about things that had happened, comments and compliments she’d received. When he heard about the reaction to the new sign, as well as what she’d chosen to call the place, he got a lump in his throat the size of a boiled egg. Speaking of which…he was on breakfast duty for their guests this morning so there had been a shred of practicality to his decision not to stay over as well.

      Dragging on a clean T-shirt and jeans, he made his way to the small upstairs dining room where he’d set up three of the tables for breakfast the previous evening. One of the tables was already occupied, and he paused on the threshold to swallow a sigh when he recognised the awkward guest who’d arrived the previous day. ‘Good morning, Mr Coburn. You’re an early bird. Did you sleep well?’

      ‘Once all the racket next door quietened down I had a reasonable night, thanks.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Your literature implied breakfast started at 7 a.m.’ The timepiece on his wrist looked as expensive as the discreet logo above the breast pocket on his immaculately ironed shirt. The neck lay open, showing a thin gold chain with a St Christopher medal hanging from it. He’d seemed older when he’d arrived the night before in a smart pinstripe suit, but in the early morning sunlight, Sam judged him to be near-enough the same age as him.