‘I – wow. This is a bit of a shock,’ she admitted, glancing at him.
‘Just think about it,’ he urged her, squeezing her listless fingers. ‘Don’t answer now.’
Sadie did her best to smile, but inside she already knew what her answer was going to be. The question was, how would Daniel take it?
Chapter Two
‘Is this your work?’
A newspaper was slapped onto the glass-topped Smart Cookies counter, causing Cat to look up. Greg Valois stood glaring down at her, his bald head red and quivering with barely suppressed fury.
‘Good afternoon to you too,’ she said drily, straightening up. ‘What can I help you with today?’
He jabbed a meaty finger at the paper. ‘This hatchet job of a review of La Clé d’Argent, supposedly written by the Observer’s food critic. I assume I have you to thank?’
Cat blinked. It just so happened that Mariette Noble was a good friend of hers but she’d had no idea the restaurant critic had been in Chester. She would have arranged to meet up for cocktails if she’d known.
‘How have you reached that conclusion?’ she asked Greg, trying not to glance down at the review. ‘And do be careful with your answer. I’d hate for you to slander anyone.’
Greg turned even redder, telling Cat her jibe had hit the mark. Greg had accused her of slander not long after Smart Cookies had opened, an allegation that had forced her to trek to Paris to defend herself. The whole sorry mess had been shut down by the father of her previous employer, Robert de Beauvoir, and Greg had kept a low profile ever since. Cat had assumed he’d been concentrating on running his bistro, but clearly he’d been biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
‘Don’t try to deny it,’ he blustered. ‘I know you and Mariette are thick as thieves. Tell me, did she even eat at my restaurant or did you make it all up yourself?’
Cat couldn’t resist it any longer. She waved a hand at the folded newspaper. ‘May I?’
She didn’t wait for him to reply. Instead, she began to skim the article. Almost immediately, she could see why he was spitting feathers: the review was scathing. Mariette did not have a good word to say about anything, from the tired decor to the disengaged staff and uninspired menu options. But her worst criticism was reserved for the food. The snails, she claimed, were so springy that she feared they might leap off the table and dance a jig. The sea trout looked embarrassed to be on her plate and tasted as though it had been through the dishwasher, and the pastry chef appeared to have confused her order for a passion fruit soufflé with one for a crêpe; she’d certainly seen more air in a pancake. The wine, Mariette conceded, was tolerable but it was difficult to ruin a good Chablis. All in all, it was the kind of write-up that would have had Cat reaching for her coat or some gin, and quite possibly both.
She looked up at Greg. ‘I understand why you’re upset—’
‘Upset?’ he roared, spit flecking his lips. ‘I am more than upset. I – I am furieux.’
‘I promise you this has nothing to do with me.’
Greg’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t believe you.’ He reached across to prod Cat’s shoulder. ‘And let me make a promise of my own. This is war, Mademoiselle Garcia.’
‘What’s going on?’
Cat could have cried with relief to see Jaren standing in the shop doorway, his black eyebrows drawn together in a forbidding frown. She straightened up and gave Greg an imperious look. ‘Nothing. Monsieur Valois was just leaving.’
The seething bistro owner snatched the review from her hands. ‘You haven’t heard the last of this,’ he snarled. ‘I’ll find a way to prove you’re behind it.’
He spun around and barged past the Dutchman, who watched him go with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. ‘I think he’s been watching too many pantomimes,’ Jaren said, with a shake of his black curls. ‘What was that all about?’
‘He thinks I wrote a terrible review of his restaurant,’ Cat said, trying her hardest to sound light-hearted. ‘Or he thinks I asked a friend to do it instead. He’s not sure which.’
‘Ah, right,’ Jaren said, heading towards her. ‘Because no one could eat at his bistro and actually think it was terrible, am I right?’
Cat laughed but she knew it was a weak effort. Now that Greg was gone, her hands had begun to shake. Hiding them beneath the counter, she gazed at Jaren. ‘Forget him. What can I do for you?’
He pulled out a familiar-looking envelope. ‘I need help,’ he said, sliding the invitation out and placing it onto the counter. ‘What do you get for the men who have everything?’
Cat puffed out her cheeks. ‘I have absolutely no idea,’ she confessed. ‘We’re providing their wedding favours so I don’t think we need to buy a gift and I’m incredibly grateful for that.’
Jaren sighed. ‘You’re so lucky. I asked Earl what they wanted – he just smiled and said, “Your beautiful face among the crowd.” ’
This time, Cat’s laugh wasn’t forced. ‘That does sound like him. Why don’t we both have a think and then compare notes? I’m sure we can come up with something between us.’
‘Okay,’ Jaren said. His long fingers toyed with the invitation. ‘Have you thought about who you might take?’
‘No,’ Cat replied. ‘Have you?’
‘No,’ he said, and hesitated. ‘I did think—’
‘I don’t know what’s in this, Cat, but it weighs a ton,’ Delilah said, bustling up to the counter with a large brown-paper parcel in her arms. She placed it on the glass top and pushed her grey hair back from her face. ‘Hello, Jaren. What are you two plotting – his ’n’ hers wedding outfits?’
Cat’s cheeks exploded into heat. She patted the parcel in an effort to change the subject. ‘Thanks for going to collect this,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry it was so heavy – I’d have gone myself if I’d realised.’
Delilah shrugged off the apology. ‘The exercise did me good. What’s inside?’
‘New colouring gels, amongst other things,’ Cat said. ‘Recreating Castle Court in biscuit form is going to take a lot of trial and error.’
Jaren looked delighted. ‘Is that what you’re doing for the wedding favours?’
‘Don’t tell anyone,’ Cat warned. ‘It’s supposed to be a surprise.’
Jaren smiled. ‘I won’t breathe a word. As long as you help me find a gift of my own.’
Cat nodded. ‘I’ll get my thinking hat on.’
‘And if Greg tries give you any more trouble, you send him over to me,’ Jaren said, collecting his wedding invitation and making for the door. ‘Maybe it’s time someone told him a few home truths about his precious bistro.’
Delilah didn’t try to prevent her sigh of admiration as the Dutchman left the shop. ‘He’s so handsome. Oh, if only I was forty years younger.’
‘Mmm,’ Cat said, suddenly busying herself at the till.
‘It’s a crime that someone so good-looking is single,’ she went on, and Cat could almost feel Delilah’s eyes boring into her. ‘He’s clever too, and successful. In fact, he’s quite the catch. If I were you, I’d—’
‘Haven’t you got some biscuits to bake, Delilah?’ Cat said, glancing at her assistant with an exasperated but not unkind expression.
The older woman was entirely unruffled as she made for the stairs that led to the basement kitchen. ‘I do. But don’t dither about too long. He might decide you’re not interested and invite someone else to the wedding.’
Cat opened her mouth to say that it was perfectly fine if he did, but the words died in her throat. Because it wasn’t. If Jaren brought someone else to the wedding, Cat would mind very much. And she didn’t know quite what she was going to do about that.
*
How are your honey supplies looking?
Sadie rewrote the message to Adam three times on Wednesday morning before she hit send. There was something about the word honey that seemed to give the wrong impression.
I need your honey.
C
an I come round for some honey?
Have you got some honey for me?
It wasn’t that she thought Adam would get the wrong idea – after he’d spilled the beans about Seb and Elin, they’d begun to build up a tentative friendship again but they both knew that was all it could ever be. No, it was more that Sadie burned with embarrassment at the mere thought of sending Adam a suggestive message. Even if that wasn’t what she meant at all.
She leaned against her kitchen counter, waiting for his reply. Cat wanted to increase production in preparation for the wedding order and the honey from Adam’s bee hives was a vital ingredient. A few minutes later, Sadie’s phone buzzed and lit up:
Pretty good! Want me to drop some in to the shop?
Only if you’re heading into town. Or I could collect? When are you around?
She popped her mug into the dishwasher and wiped a few crumbs from the counter while she waited. Adam only lived a few minutes’ drive away; it made sense to call in on her way into the shop if he was home.
Now?
Perfect! See you in five x
It wasn’t until after she’d pressed the send button that she noticed the kiss.
*
‘Sorry about the kiss,’ Sadie blurted out, the moment Adam opened the door of his cottage.
His eyebrows shot up so far they almost mingled with his untidy brown fringe. ‘Pardon?’
Sadie took a deep breath and started again. ‘I added a kiss to the bottom of my last message. Sorry.’
A look of enlightenment crossed his freckled face. ‘Ah, did you? I can’t say I noticed.’ He smiled and held the door wide. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t hold you to it.’
Of course he hadn’t noticed it, Sadie told herself, burning with mortification as she followed him across the low-ceilinged living room. Adam wasn’t the type to spend hours staring at his phone, especially at this time of year. He’d be too busy tending to his organic fruit and vegetable patches, or checking on his bees.
‘How are things at the shop?’ he asked once they’d reached the kitchen. ‘How’s Cat?’
‘Things are pretty crazy, as usual,’ she told him, glancing around as she spoke. Was it her imagination or had he tidied up? The kitchen was gleaming and she knew from many previous conversations that he wasn’t normally so house-proud. ‘Cat’s fine – stressed, but fine.’
‘That’s because she thrives on stress,’ Adam said, waving a teabag in Sadie’s direction.
She nodded. ‘I suppose so. You can’t run a double-Michelin-starred restaurant without enjoying life on the edge.’
‘Exactly,’ Adam said. ‘But I meant how’s she feeling – you know, about the whole Seb and Elin thing.’
Sadie smiled. He’d been so reluctant to be the bearer of bad news when he’d told her about Seb’s infidelity, and he never missed an opportunity to ask after Cat’s well-being. ‘Better. And I have high hopes for Andrew and Earl’s wedding – there’s nothing like “I do” to make people wonder what they might be missing.’
He flashed her a thoughtful look and for one awful moment, she thought he’d misunderstood. But he went back to stirring the tea. ‘You’re right. Somehow it makes people see what’s been right under their nose all along.’
Sadie cleared her throat. ‘So, how many jars of honey can you spare?’
Adam spread his hands. ‘As many as you need. The bees have been working hard and there’s a great supply of borage in the fields. The honeysuckle is in bloom and it’s been a good year for foxgloves – honey bees love both.’
Sadie followed his gaze out of the kitchen window, to where the enormous walled garden was basking in the morning sun, neatly set out in rows and beds. She could see what he meant – the honeysuckle was running riot over one wall, and there was a forest of tall foxgloves nodding underneath. It would make a great watercolour, she thought, and her hands twitched at the thought. Maybe she’d pop back some time, with her paints and brushes.
‘Are those your hives?’ she asked, nodding at a cluster of peaked boxes tucked almost out of sight towards the back of the garden.
‘They are,’ he said, before pausing to give her a speculative look. ‘Do you fancy meeting the neighbours?’
Sadie felt a sudden surge of anticipation. She’d heard him talk so much about his bees that she practically felt as though she knew them. And Lissy would be thrilled to hear what the hives were like on the inside; she’d been fascinated by the thought of bee houses ever since Adam had first explained where honey came from.
‘Can I?’ Sadie asked, feeling a flutter of excitement mingled with nervousness at the thought of getting close to so many bees.
‘Of course,’ he said, smiling. ‘Let me finish my tea and I’ll take you out to say hello.’
She’d guessed there’d be some protective clothing to wear but Sadie still wasn’t prepared for the outfit Adam presented her with fifteen minutes later. The jumpsuit looked like a cross between a hazmat suit and something a scenes of crime officer would wear. And the hat made her feel every inch the Edwardian lady once the wide-brimmed, heavily veiled construction was resting on her head.
‘Wellies?’ she said, gazing down at the scuffed khaki boots Adam was holding out. ‘Is it muddy?’
‘No, but the trick is to make it very hard for a bee to sting you.’ He peered through her veil. ‘I probably should have asked this earlier, but you’re not allergic to bee venom, are you?’
Sadie shook her head carefully. ‘No. Are they likely to try to sting me?’
‘Hopefully not,’ Adam said, gesturing at the wellingtons. ‘But you never know what mood they’ll be in, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.’
Swallowing an apprehensive sigh, Sadie slid her feet inside the boots and allowed Adam to pull the legs of her suit over the rubber. What must I look like? she wondered, almost embarrassed. Then she remembered this was Adam’s job; in a few minutes, he’d be wearing an outfit very much like hers.
‘Have you been stung much?’ she asked, once they were both ready.
He held open the kitchen door. ‘A few times,’ he admitted. ‘But only when I haven’t been giving the bees my full attention or the proper respect. And I do have a secret weapon – it’s over here.’
Adam led her over to a dark-green storage cupboard and reached inside to pull out the weirdest-looking contraption Sadie had ever seen. It looked like a silver jug inside a wire cage, with a round, pointed nozzle covering the top and what looked a lot like a tiny set of bellows on the side.
‘Any idea what this is?’ Adam asked, holding it up.
Sadie studied it, observing the blackened tip of the nozzle. It looked as though it had been burned, but surely fire and bees were a bad combination? ‘None at all,’ she admitted. ‘What does it do?’
He reached into the shed once more and pulled out a sheet of newspaper. ‘We’re technically going to be breaking and entering in a minute and the bees won’t like it. Don’t ask why, but smoke makes them hungry, which in turn makes them sleepy and less likely to object when we disturb their homes.’
‘So you use that to create smoke,’ Sadie said, watching as he flipped the nozzle off the jug to reveal a blackened empty cylinder inside. He held a lighter underneath the ball of newspaper and stuffed it inside. ‘Won’t paper burn too fast?’
Adam nodded and reached into the cupboard again. ‘I use dried grass to create the smoke but there are loads of other things you can use. Some beekeepers swear by woodchips, others buy specialist fuel.’ He pushed a handful of yellow-green grass on top of the burning paper. ‘What you want is plenty of smoke without any flame.’
His fingers gave the bellows a careful squeeze and a grey cloud poured from the jug. ‘The secret is to pack plenty of fuel into the smoker – that way you get embers that last a long time so that you don’t have to break off to refuel.’
He added more grass, pushing it into the cylinder until he was evidently satisfied, and replaced the nozzle. ‘Here,’ he said, passing it to
Sadie. ‘Give it a squeeze.’
She did as he suggested and a puff of smoke filled the air.
‘So that’s our secret weapon,’ he said, smiling through his veil. ‘Ready to meet the bees now?’
Sadie wrinkled her nose. ‘I think so.’
As they got nearer to the hives, she could see the bees buzzing up to the wooden houses and disappearing into a slender gap between the slats at the bottom. Adam held out an arm to stop her. ‘This is the motorway,’ he said, gesturing to the area in front of the hives. ‘We’ll use the back road.’
He circled around to the rear of the wooden boxes. Sadie followed. The buzzing was louder now, a constant low-pitched hum that she found oddly soothing. She felt some of the tension in her shoulders lessen and allowed herself a wry smile. No wonder Adam was one of the most chilled-out people she knew – being up close with bees was unexpectedly calming.
She felt slightly differently when Adam lifted the top off the hive, however. The tone of the buzzing changed immediately as the inhabitants realised something had changed. Several veered upwards towards Adam’s head. Sadie took an involuntary step back but he seemed unconcerned by the bees flying suspiciously around his veil. ‘These are called frames,’ he explained, beckoning her close and pointing at the vertical slats that were sticky with a mixture of wax and golden-yellow honeycomb. ‘If you hand me the smoker, I’ll pull one out for a closer look.’
Directing the nozzle between the frames, he sent a lazy stream of smoke curling into the hive. The change in the bees was remarkable; instantly, they began to crawl to where the honey was. Adam gave another puff and waited, observing the tiny winged creatures. Finally, he seemed satisfied and handed the smoker to Sadie.
‘Now we’ll see how busy you’ve been,’ he murmured, sliding one of the honeycomb-laden frames up in a slow, methodical manner so that she could see it.
Starry Skies at Castle Court Page 2
