Spring at Lavender Bay: A delightfully uplifting holiday romance for 2018!. Sarah Bennett
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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.
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