She hung up in time to see Abby and Mia burst into the kitchen. ‘Is Lucy here today?’ Abby asked, breathlessly.
Miranda inclined her head towards the window. ‘She is. And it looks like she might be staying. You guys can go give her the good news.’
With twin whoops of excitement, the girls raced out the back door to pet the devil llama. Leo, she noticed, was nowhere to be seen. And neither was Juliet, for that matter. She frowned and set about getting the breakfast things out before the band came down – only to find Owain helping her to reach the top bowls moments later.
‘You’re up early,’ she said, as they set the table together.
He shrugged. ‘Couldn’t sleep last night, so I went down to the cottage to work on some new songs. Looked up and it was morning, so I thought I’d come grab some breakfast before I get some sleep.’
‘The erratic creative life, huh?’ It wouldn’t suit her. She liked routines and order and checklists.
But then, she’d never really tried staying up all night . . . and watching Owain’s hands as he laid out cutlery she could think of some circumstances in which she might be willing to give it a go. Especially if those long, clever, guitarist’s fingers were involved . . .
‘So, I hear from the very excited girls outside that you’ve acquired a llama,’ Owain said, oblivious to the direction her thoughts had wandered in. ‘Guess that means our morning strolls across the fields are over.’
‘You sound almost disappointed,’ Miranda replied, a thrill of something new and exciting blossoming in her chest.
‘I am, a little.’ Owain’s smile was soft and warm and just for her. ‘I’d got used to spending time with you first thing in the morning.’
I can think of other ways to make that happen.
But that was too forward, even for New Miranda. So instead, she smiled back and said, ‘Well, if you’re looking for ways for us to spend time together, I could definitely still use your help getting the Lighthouse Festival together, if you’re up for it?’
‘Absolutely.’
She wasn’t sure if he saw it for the excuse it clearly was, but it didn’t matter. He’d said yes, and that meant she could move on to the next stage.
‘In that case, how about we try spending time together in the evening, instead? Go out for dinner, maybe. Once you’ve got some sleep, of course.’
This time, his smile was blinding, lighting up his hazel eyes and his whole face under his dirty-blond hair. ‘I’d like that very much indeed.’
‘Then I’ll call the Flying Fish and see if I can get us a table for tonight. And get out my planning notebook.’
Just like that, Miranda Waters was the sort of woman who asked a guy out, and even made reservations. At a restaurant where the whole island could see her.
And she didn’t even care.
LEO
‘What do you mean you can’t open the file? Hang on, I’ll send it again.’ Balancing his phone between his shoulder and his ear, Leo lifted his laptop to the one spot in the office that got a consistent Wi-Fi signal, pressed send, and hoped to God the file reached Tom in a reasonable state this time.
This was getting ridiculous.
For all Dad’s office was technically set up to run the business, it wasn’t fit for purpose for what he needed. He needed to be back in London, visiting clients, doing his actual job, not flying kites, battling to be heard over weird stringed instruments, and praying for Wi-Fi.
Although the kite-flying had been pretty cool. Apart from Mia throwing up, anyway.
‘OK, got it,’ Tom said. ‘Right, I can deal with this now. Or on Monday, when I get to the office, because it’s Saturday, in case you haven’t looked at a calendar recently. The weekend. A time to relax. You should go and build a sandcastle, or whatever.’
‘What? No. We need to talk through our approach. If you’re going to present this to the client you need to understand—’
‘Leo, I do understand,’ Tom said, with what was clearly mounting impatience. ‘We’ve been through it. I get it. You know . . . you hired me because you believed I could do this job. At some point you’re going to have to let me actually do it.’
‘What do you think I’ve been doing all summer?’ Did Tom really not know how much it was killing him to be away from the office? From the one place where he knew what he was doing?
Tom sighed, a burst of air down the phone line. ‘OK. What do you want to go through?’
Slumping lower in his father’s office chair, Leo pulled out the file for the client presentation in question. It was a big one; a client who’d brought them in for a very small tester project and had been impressed enough that they now wanted their input on a major, city-wide marketing campaign.
‘Right. Let’s start at the beginning.’
They’d barely even made inroads on the presentation itself when the office door banged open.
‘Dad! Dad! Auntie Miranda’s keeping Lucy here at the Lighthouse for good!’ Abby’s fluffy blonde hair bobbed in excitement as she threw herself into his lap. Mia, only a little more reserved, followed behind, beaming.
Leo, trying to drag himself mentally back from London to Seashell Island, frowned. ‘The llama? This is about the llama?’
They want to know you care about what they care about. Christabel’s advice echoed in his mind. The only problem was, he didn’t care. Not about the llama.
He cared about landing this commission, about making sure Tom didn’t screw up in the meeting. That was what he cared about right now.
Abby nodded, squirming in his lap. ‘She’s going to live here and we can help look after her and feed her and take her for walks – do llamas go for walks?’
Leo screwed his eyes up and tried not to scream.
‘I think llamas mostly graze,’ Tom suggested, on the other end of the phone, sounding far more amused than Leo liked.
Didn’t anyone take his business, his work, seriously?
‘Tom, stop thinking about llamas and start thinking about this presentation. Girls, I’m doing something that actually matters right now, and that stupid llama keeps spitting at me anyway. Why don’t you go tell Auntie Juliet?’
Abby stopped squirming. Mia’s expression turned solemn, her brows low over her dark eyes as she reached out to take her little sister’s hand. ‘Come on, Abby. Dad doesn’t care about Lucy.’
They were halfway through the door, and Leo was about to sigh with relief, when he heard her add, almost a whisper, ‘Or us.’
The sigh caught in his chest, choking him, and he struggled to catch his breath as the door swung shut behind the girls.
I’m doing this all wrong. And I still don’t know how to fix it.
‘Leo?’ Tom’s voice echoed down the phone line, filling the suddenly empty study. ‘You still there?’
Leo swallowed hard, trying to find his voice again. ‘I’m here. But, uh, you’re right. It’s Saturday. You should go build a sandcastle.’
‘That was more a suggestion for you,’ Tom said, drily.
‘Whatever. Just— I’ll call you on Monday. OK?’
‘Fine by me! See ya.’ Tom hung up promptly, and Leo let his phone slide down from his shoulder to his lap.
I need to fix this. Before Emily and Mark get back.
I need my daughters to know they matter to me.
But I need to do my job too.
Were the two mutually exclusive? Emily seemed to manage it well enough. But how?
He considered phoning his ex-wife and asking, but since she was on her honeymoon he didn’t imagine it would go down well. Besides, wasn’t this one of the reasons she’d divorced him in the first place? If she’d been able to fix it, she would have. Emily could fix anything. Except him.
He needed help from someone else. Someone who could think outside the box, and find a way for him to have e
verything that mattered to him.
Someone who’d seen the problem long before he had.
Someone who’d had the same problem and fixed it herself.
Someone who had only laughed a little bit when Mia threw up all over him because he’d thought Emily’s rules about her sugar intake were more guidelines than actual necessity.
He needed to go and find Christabel.
And this time, he needed to listen to her.
By the time Leo made it downstairs, the girls were already distracted by the llama, and were feeding her with Miranda. He caught his sister’s eye and beckoned her over.
‘I need to pop out for a bit. Do you think you could look after the girls for a couple of hours?’
Miranda raised an eyebrow. ‘They already told me you’re too busy working to help them with Lucy today.’
Leo winced. ‘I know. I . . . screwed up. Am screwing up. Will probably continue to screw up. But I’m trying to fix it.’
‘You could start by playing with them, like you did with the kites at the festival.’ Miranda sounded slightly more sympathetic at his confession. ‘I mean, once Mia got cleaned up and less nauseous, they both seemed to really enjoy that.’
‘I could. But then I’d be worrying about work, and I’d stay up too late trying to fix this presentation, then snap at them in the morning because I haven’t slept enough and—’
‘OK, OK. So you’re saying the problem’s a little deeper than not caring about Lucy the Llama.’
‘Yeah.’ Looking over at his daughters, Leo let out a deep sigh. ‘I don’t know how to be their dad any more, Miri. I mean, clearly I wasn’t doing a great job when I was still married, or Emily wouldn’t have left me. But now . . . I don’t even know where to start. Christabel was talking about being the kind of dad they can come to when they need someone to listen, someone they trust to help not shout when they’re in trouble . . .’ And he’d just let her take over playing with the girls whenever she showed up because it meant he could get some more work done. Probably not what she’d intended.
‘Christabel’s really made an impact on you, huh?’ Miranda’s smile was a little smug. ‘I said she’d be perfect for you.’
‘It’s not like that,’ he said, although it kind of was. In his head, Christabel was mixed up with everything he wanted. Someone who knew how to work hard but also how to stop. Someone who could dance when the music played. She made him want to dance with her – and he never danced – and to dance with his girls, too.
She showed him another way. And while he wasn’t about to go careening about the countryside in a converted ambulance anytime soon, he had to admit that some things about the life she advocated did appeal to him.
‘From the moony look in your eye I’d say it’s exactly like that,’ Miranda crowed. ‘And thank God. Have you even been on a date since Emily left you? Leo, life is bigger than just your job. You have to make room for the other stuff, too.’
‘I know, and I’ve tried. I just . . . can’t seem to make it work. I’m hoping that Christabel can help me with that. I mean, she seems to have it all together. Which for a person who lives in an ambulance and fixes bikes for a living seems kind of absurd, if I think about it,’ Leo admitted. ‘But she does. Like, she knows what really matters in life. And I think . . . I think I need some reminding.’
‘So you want to go and find her now and ask her how to fix your life?’
‘Basically.’
Folding her arms across her chest, Miranda turned to him with the ‘I’m your big sister, and that means I’m the boss’ look he remembered so well from their childhood. ‘Promise me this isn’t just an excuse to go and find a better Wi-Fi connection, and I’ll watch the kids for a while. But you need to be back by four. I have a . . . planning meeting tonight. For the Lighthouse Festival.’
Something in the way she said it raised his suspicions. ‘A planning meeting? With who?’
Miranda’s cheeks turned pink. ‘Owain.’
Leo bit back a grin. ‘I see. So not just me looking a little moony, then? How do you think Paul will feel about this?’ If Miranda’s ex-fiancé even noticed, now he’d decided to up and leave. It seemed to Leo that Paul hadn’t really noticed Miranda since they were about twenty. Longer, if he didn’t know her well enough to know how much this island meant to her.
‘It’s none of Paul’s business any more, is it?’
‘Are you sure? I mean, you guys were together a long time, and not that I like to give in to island gossip, but Albert Tuna is running a book down at the docks that you two will be back together before Halloween.’ Plus, Leo knew his sister. She liked things the same as always, predictable and routine. And it was hard to think of anyone in the world more predictable and routine than Paul – at least until now.
But apparently Miranda felt differently. ‘I’m sure. Paul’s made his decision and I can’t see him changing it. And I can’t see me changing mine either.’
‘OK then.’
Lucy snaffled the last of the food Mia and Abby had taken out for her, and they both laughed in delight as she licked their hands looking for more. Then Mia looked up, spotted Leo, and settled her face into a glare that looked so much like her mother’s Leo shivered.
‘Yeah, you’d better go,’ Miranda said, catching the look. ‘But be back before four, OK? I need to get ready for my—’
‘Planning meeting,’ Leo finished with a grin. ‘Will do.’
MESSAGES
Juliet (to Tanya): Do you reckon you could pack up some of my clothes for me and post them to me here?
Tanya: You’re never coming back, are you?
Juliet: Of course I am! I’ve just eaten far too many ice-cream sundaes. I need my fat jeans. And some more dresses.
Tanya: Date-type dresses . . . ?
Juliet: Just dresses. Whatever sort you think.
Tanya: Knowing you? Date dresses.
JULIET
Rory had been avoiding her for almost a week.
Juliet knew that, realistically, there was no reason why they should have seen each other – but on an island the size of Seashell Island, it wasn’t hard to know when you were being actively avoided. And Rory was actively avoiding her.
She’d been to the Flying Fish twice since their encounter at the Farmers’ Market, and each time as she opened the door she’d seen him ducking into the back room as Debbie came forward to take her order. Yesterday, he’d even crossed the street to talk to Gwendolyn Stone, Paul’s mother, rather than bump into her.
And she got it, she did. She’d treated him horribly all those years ago, and hadn’t really done much better since she got back. He was totally right to avoid her. And she’d let him do it, would actually stay out of his way, if it wasn’t for two small things.
One, the Flying Fish served the best Welsh rarebit in the world, and it was the only thing she seemed to want to eat these days. Often with plum chutney. So she couldn’t stop visiting his restaurant or she’d starve.
Two, Rory had been her best friend since childhood, long before he’d been her boyfriend. This morning, she really needed a friend – and he was the only person on the island who still held the title.
Juliet looked down at her body – at the boobs that seemed to have ballooned over the last few weeks, and most of all, at the stomach she suddenly couldn’t fasten her jeans over. Surely this was too soon? All the apps said she shouldn’t be showing until at least three or four months along – and she was only nine weeks. She’d thought she had time – to make the booking appointment with the midwife that she apparently needed before her twelve week scan, to tell her family, and definitely to go clothes shopping. But here she was with no fitting jeans and bras that cut into her breasts.
She needed to talk to someone about this. Needed to tell someone.
Juliet sank down on the bed, pushing her hands thr
ough her hair and thinking it through.
Miranda was the obvious choice, or Leo perhaps. Except that telling her family made it too real, too soon. She needed to talk through all the angles before she confessed to her brother and sister.
If her parents had been there it would have been different. They might have struggled with the news, but they had never judged her, had always supported her unquestioningly.
Miranda, she knew, would have questions.
And Juliet needed to work out the answers before she asked them.
Growing up, whenever she’d had to talk through problems or possibilities, she’d talked to Rory. He’d listened to her frustrations with her family, her dreams of escape, her ambitions, everything she’d hidden in her heart. For ten years, most of that stuff had just had to stay inside her, without a Rory to listen. Maybe it had been too much, or too long, because now it was all fighting to get out.
And now, back on Seashell Island, despite everything, he was still the only person she wanted to talk to about what was happening to her.
Plus, if she went to the Flying Fish to find him, she could have some Welsh rarebit for lunch.
So, switching to a looser dress she hoped didn’t highlight the bloating in her belly, she checked on the rota – Miranda had been on breakfast again, since it was the weekend – and the llama in the garden, who was apparently now a permanent fixture, and headed out down the path towards town.
As she approached the Flying Fish she could see Rory behind the counter of the deli half through the front windows. He hadn’t spotted her yet, or he’d have run, so she took advantage of the moment to take him in all over again.
He wasn’t the boy she’d known as a toddler, child and teenager, she knew that. But in so many ways, he still was exactly that. Still the one she’d spilled her heart to, over and over. Whose heart she’d broken.
He looked up, those wary eyes in that older face, and she knew the second he saw her because his shoulders tensed. Then he turned back to the customer he was serving, and Juliet took a deep breath and entered, hoping he wouldn’t run away this time.
Summer on Seashell Island: Escape to an island this summer for the perfect heartwarming romance in 2020 (Riley Wolfe 1) Page 18
