Summer on Seashell Island: Escape to an island this summer for the perfect heartwarming romance in 2020 (Riley Wolfe 1)

by Sophie Pembroke

  It was still early enough that the few people sitting at the tables in the restaurant half of the building were lingering over morning coffee, or polishing off a late breakfast before the lunch crowd came in. Juliet hovered between the two spaces, torn between the impulse to sit down and order another decaf coffee and maybe one of those pastries in the glass cloche on the counter, or head through to the deli to see if they also stocked local meats, breads and eggs.

  The decision was made for her when she heard a voice behind her. A very familiar voice.

  ‘Did you want a table, miss? Sorry, our head server has just run out on an . . .’ the words trailed away as she turned around and he saw her face. ‘Juliet.’

  ‘Hi, Rory.’

  Rory Hillier. Her best friend since reception class. And the love of her life for almost eighteen whole months at the impressionable ages of seventeen and eighteen.

  She suspected he might not remember her quite so fondly, though, after the way she left.

  ‘Back for the weekend?’ he guessed, in a neutral, almost friendly tone. ‘To welcome your parents home?’

  If she hadn’t known him so well, once, she might have believed the tone. As it was . . . she couldn’t help but notice the tightness of his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes.

  Or the fact that the eyes were the only part of him that had narrowed at all. As a teenager, he’d been slender to the point of scrawny. Now, his broad shoulders caught her attention and held it, all the way down to the narrowing of his waist, and the incredibly good fit of his jeans over his thighs . . .

  Stop it. You’re practically a mother.

  She dragged her eyes back to his face and her mind back to the conversation.

  ‘Um, actually I’m here for a little while. Mum and Dad aren’t coming home yet, so I’m running the Lighthouse while they’re away.’

  Ah, that look of shock at least was familiar. It was identical to the ones Miranda and Leo had given her at the suggestion.

  Rory at least covered it better. Schooling his expression back into polite disinterest – something that just looked wrong on a face she remembered as showing his every feeling, every thought, with those intense blue eyes under black eyebrows – he gave a small nod.

  ‘Right. In that case, you’ll be here to discuss the meat order? Come on through.’ He turned and walked through the archway, calling over to the bar to another staff member to cover walk-ins until Debbie got back.

  ‘The meat order. Yep. That’s why I’m here.’ Setting up the Lighthouse for the future. Becoming the person she needed to be for her future.

  Even if it suddenly felt like she’d walked into her past.

  MESSAGES

  Juliet (to the ’Rents group): Hi guys! Definitely think you should get a parrot for the B&B. Speaking of, I was thinking of emptying out the back two rooms to set them up as singles for guests . . . what do you think?

  Juliet (to the ’Rents group): Full disclosure, I already started sorting through the boxes. Do you realise you’ve kept every single one of our school books?

  Juliet (to the ’Rents group): And Mum, you didn’t want that bag of clothes, right? I mean, they all look like they date from the nineties. And not in the good, Friends-revival way.

  MIRANDA

  ‘Christabel didn’t mention the no cars on the island rule,’ Owain said, as Harriet’s horse and cart jolted him, his friends, and a surprising number of musical instruments up the hill to the Lighthouse. ‘Sounds a bit of a pain.’

  Miranda winced, and decided not to mention that she’d been on the committee that upheld that rule at their last meeting. ‘There are exceptions for local businesses,’ she explained instead. ‘Mostly it just affects the tourists, but a lot of them come here for the peaceful atmosphere, so it seems to work.’

  ‘And this B&B of yours never thought of investing in a shuttle bus?’ Owain’s redheaded friend, Suzi, stuck her head back into the cart from where she was sitting next to their driver. ‘Not that I’m complaining about our ride, of course,’ she added, with a flirtatious smile at Harriet, who blushed.

  Interesting.

  Everything about Owain and his friends seemed interesting, actually. For starters, they were all absurdly good-looking, which had made sense when Owain had explained they were a band. ‘We’re called Birchwood,’ he’d said. She had to admit, they seemed like the kind of cool kids Christabel would be friends with.

  After she’d told him about the Lighthouse, he’d nodded, said it sounded perfect, and disappeared off to collect his mates. He’d returned with three other people, plus apparently an entire orchestra or something, as there were definitely more instrument cases than there were people.

  The other members of Birchwood, however, seemed nice enough. As well as Suzi there was Robyn, a tall and willowy blonde, and Ryan, Robyn’s twin brother, who was equally tall, if rather less willowy. They all seemed relaxed and happy to be on Seashell Island, which was just how Miranda liked her tourists, and nobody had asked too many questions about the Lighthouse B&B, barring the shuttle bus one, which was good.

  Miranda had fired off a thank-you text to Christabel while they were loading up the instruments. Her response had been an indecipherable row of emojis, but from the winking face and the aubergine emoji she got the basic sentiment. Clearly, Christabel thought she hadn’t just sent her some guests, but also an opportunity.

  And looking at Owain, Miranda almost wished she was right. But moving away from safe and familiar was one thing. Skydiving off into the new and scary was a whole different level – one way beyond her capabilities.

  ‘Do you really think this place we’re staying will be OK with us practising?’ Robyn asked, as they bumped up the hill. ‘I mean, we were really thinking of a secluded, self-catering cottage sort of place.’ She shot a glare at Owain, who shrugged. Miranda took this to mean that Owain wasn’t great at taking instructions. And that Robyn felt that she had the authority of position to give them to him. Also interesting.

  ‘Full disclosure?’ Miranda gave what she hoped was a disarming smile. ‘It’s my parents’ B&B. They’re away travelling at the moment, so my sister and I are running it. The only other people staying there are my brother and his kids, and trust me, they’re more likely to get the noise control people round than you are.’ Conscious that this wasn’t the best selling point, she hurried on. ‘There’s an old cottage on the edge of the property that you can set up as a rehearsal space, if you like? Give you some privacy?’

  It had been her private space, once. When Leo and Juliet were both preparing to leave, she’d made that cottage her own nest on the island. Close enough to home, but with some privacy and autonomy too. She’d thought about moving back into the cottage herself, now she was no longer living with Paul, but it had been easier to put up at the Lighthouse than air out the cottage, and she needed to be close in case of guests anyway. And now . . . well, if it meant they had a full house, she could give up a little privacy for a while.

  ‘That sounds perfect,’ Owain said, shooting Robyn a smug grin. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

  ‘How long were you guys planning on staying?’ Owain had mentioned a week or so, but she suspected that Robyn might have more concrete plans.

  But Robyn just sighed. So did Suzi, and even the taciturn Ryan.

  ‘Until the album is finished,’ Owain said firmly. ‘Which could be a week—’

  ‘Or could be all summer,’ Ryan finished, in a dull voice.

  ‘Yep!’ Owain, for one, didn’t seem too disappointed at the prospect. His slow, lazy smile was aimed directly at Miranda, and she couldn’t help but smile back. ‘And can you think of anywhere better to spend the summer?’

  Suzi flashed Harriet another of those meaningful looks. ‘I certainly can’t.’

  Harriet, to her credit, kept her eyes on the road, but even from her seat in the cart
Miranda could make out the small smile on her face and the pinkness in her cheeks.

  ‘What sort of music do you all play?’ Miranda asked, already wondering how she could delay album making. Keeping the band there all summer would certainly solve their Lighthouse occupation problems.

  ‘Sort of folk, sort of rock,’ Owain said, with a shrug. ‘Sort of whatever we fancy at the time.’

  ‘Sounds . . . interesting.’

  ‘You’ll have to come listen to us rehearse,’ Suzi said, turning around from the front seat again. ‘Or come along to one of our gigs on the mainland later in the summer. We always love a good groupie.’

  She looked meaningfully at Owain as she said the word ‘groupie’ and Robyn rolled her eyes again, and Miranda started re-evaluating everything she’d assumed about the group’s relationships.

  Finally, the whitewashed walls of the Lighthouse came into view, along with the tower of the old lighthouse itself. Suzi jumped up in her seat, making Harriet grab her hand to pull her back down – then let go in a hurry, blushing again. Miranda smiled. She’d never seen so much emotion from the usually reserved Harriet as she had in this trip.

  ‘This place looks amazing!’ Suzi announced, from a seated position. ‘Can you go up the old lighthouse tower?’

  ‘We only open it once a year,’ Miranda explained. ‘For the end-of-summer festival. If you’re still here, I’ll get my dad to take you up after they light it.’

  If they’re back by then.

  No. She wasn’t thinking about that. She was thinking only about the next week. Once she’d got through that she’d worry about the one after, and the one after.

  And the rest of my life, since all my plans for that have apparently gone up in smoke too.

  Just this week. This day. This hour, even.

  Harriet tugged on the reins and brought old Smokey the carthorse to a halt. Miranda jumped down and helped the band unload their instruments, then went to get the door open – surprised to find it locked.

  ‘Everyone must be out,’ she explained, fishing for her keys. Except Juliet was supposed to be here getting the rooms ready. She’d tried to call to warn her about the impending arrivals, but Juliet hadn’t answered, so she’d left messages on the B&B voicemail and Juliet’s mobile. Surely she’d picked at least one of those up by now?

  She’d taken all the details she needed from Owain on the way from the office, so Miranda went straight into the tour as they all traipsed in after her.

  ‘So, this is the hallway, obviously. Through here . . .’ She opened the large, bleached wood door on her left. ‘This is the main lounge and bar; feel free to use it. There are games, books, plus a stocked bar. We run an honesty box on the top if no one is available to serve.’

  She saw Robyn and Ryan exchange an incredulous grin at the idea of an alcohol honesty box, but it had worked for her mum and dad for years, and Miranda had no reason to believe it wouldn’t work now. From the serious nod Owain gave her, she had a feeling he’d make sure the box balanced by the end of their visit, even if no one else did.

  ‘The family spaces are back there,’ she said, motioning further down the hallway. ‘And the kitchen is in here. We’re fairly relaxed, so if you need anything, help yourself.’ She led them into the bright and airy farmhouse kitchen, and showed them where the coffee machine was, since that always seemed to be the first thing guests needed to know.

  Then she spotted the new addition to the fridge.

  Juliet had made them a chore chart. A rota, like the one they’d had as kids. Apparently, she really was on a nostalgia kick this week – but it showed more organisational skill than she’d expected from her sister, so that was something.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Owain asked, as the others fiddled with the coffee machine.

  She turned back to him with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘Absolutely. Come on, I’ll show you the bedrooms.’

  She didn’t like to presume about who would be sharing with whom, so she just showed them all the rooms the Lighthouse had to offer that were not currently occupied by her own family and let them pick their own. Suzi grabbed a room with a sea view on the first floor, Robyn and Ryan took the two single rooms the next floor up. Owain, she noticed, waited until all the others were settled, then took the next room they saw, the small double by the stairs to the attic rooms where the family slept.

  He dumped his bag on the bed, then turned to Miranda. ‘While the others are getting settled – and probably acquainted with your honesty box – how about you show me this cottage we can use for practice space.’

  Miranda nodded and smiled, wondering so many things. Like where Juliet was. Like what the relationship between Owain and Robyn was. What Christabel had been thinking sending him here. What she’d told him about her, and if it explained the looks he kept giving her. The ones that made her feel warm and as if something exciting might happen any moment . . .

  And also, how he managed to make ‘honesty box’ sound as dirty as he did.

  She led him back down the stairs to the front door, still wondering about all those things. Until she opened the door to find Paul standing outside it with a box of what she recognised immediately as her own belongings.

  LEO

  Leo leaned back against the ambulance and watched as Christabel expertly removed the wheel from his bike and set about seeing if it was possible to make it wheel-shaped again. Apparently, he’d hit the ambulance with some force; the fact that it barely showed a scratch while his entire body hurt said more than he’d like about their relative levels of sturdiness.

  Sipping the tea she’d made him, he listened to Abby and Mia playing in the sand dunes nearby, just about within sight, and smiled. OK, so the day hadn’t gone exactly how he’d planned, but he had to be racking up Super Dad points, right? He’d brought them out for an adventure, met a very interesting woman, and let them play on the beach.

  Surreptitiously, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and winced at the cracked screen. He’d have to call his phone insurance people and get a new one sent out. It wasn’t like Seashell Island had phone shops, and he wasn’t living with a spiderweb of a screen for the rest of the summer.

  ‘So, Miranda mentioned that you’re on the island for the summer?’ Christabel said, reaching for another tool Leo couldn’t identify.

  ‘Yeah. We came to stay with my parents, except they’re not here.’ He shrugged, hoping it wasn’t immediately obvious how much that had derailed his plans. It had been a long time since Leo had enjoyed a flirty conversation with a beautiful woman – one he couldn’t quite believe was Miranda’s friend – but he was fairly sure that letting on that he’d come running home to his mum and dad when life got difficult wasn’t exactly a good first impression.

  ‘I heard about that. I say, good on Josie and Iestyn! More people should take the chance to follow their dreams and explore when they get the chance.’

  Leo raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you sure you’re a friend of Miranda’s?’

  Christabel laughed. ‘I’m trying to corrupt her.’

  ‘She needs it,’ Leo replied. ‘Do you realise she’s not left this island in years? Not even to go to the mainland?’

  ‘I’m working on it,’ Christabel said, airily, as she tightened something or another on the bike. ‘I have a bit of a reputation around here, you know.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  She swatted him with a spanner. ‘Hey!’

  ‘Oh God! I didn’t mean like that!’ Leo put up his hands, horrified. ‘I just meant . . . you’re not like the normal boring folks on Seashell Island. You’re more . . . interesting. Fun. That’s the sort of thing that usually gets people around here talking.’

  Christabel looked vaguely mollified at his explanation, which was all he could really hope for. Emily was right. He was hopeless with people, outside a business context. Small talk was de
finitely not his forte.

  ‘What I was saying was, I have a reputation for helping people find their path. To help them see what they really want from life and go after it. Miranda is just proving . . . more of a challenge than most.’

  ‘So you’re some sort of life coach, as well as a bike mechanic?’

  Christabel shrugged. ‘I don’t really use labels any more. I had enough of that in my past life.’

  He raised his eyebrows, unsure whether she meant she used to be Cleopatra before being reincarnated, or something else.

  ‘I used to be a hedge-fund manager,’ she clarified.

  ‘Really?’ Leo wasn’t sure that was any less surprising than Cleopatra would have been.

  ‘Really.’ She hung the spanner back up and reached for a pump for the new tyre she’d added to his bike. ‘For years, I did nothing but work, make money, and talk to people who could help me make more money.’

  ‘What changed?’ he asked, curious.

  She didn’t look up. ‘I did.’

  Huh.

  ‘So, the girls were telling me that their mum is away on honeymoon this summer.’ She shot him a sideways look. ‘How do you feel about that?’

  How do you feel? Who asked that kind of question? Even his mum had only asked ‘Are you OK?’ Not ‘How do you feel?’ Nobody had expected him to articulate the strange muddle of feelings in the pit of his stomach over his wife’s remarriage. Everyone just accepted that it wasn’t something that could be put into words. They just wanted to know that he was still functioning, still coping, and that was enough.

  But not for Christabel, apparently. Because she was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. Did she want to fix him too? Well, she’d be disappointed. He didn’t need fixing, or refocusing. He already knew what mattered to him.