Pulled by a Dream

by Kathryn Greenway

She turned to greet Vic, who was bundled up in a thick jacket. “Just now. Fran will be so happy you’re home.”

  Vic snorted. “Yeah, I sort of got that impression from the phone calls and the texts. The doc been yet?”

  Emily nodded. “Chickenpox.”

  Vic dropped his briefcase onto a chair. “Well, at least it wasn’t meningitis. You hear rash and it gets you to worrying.” He peered at her over his rimless glasses. “You’ve already had it, Fran says?”

  She nodded. “And I was just about to make tea.”

  Vic beamed. “Excellent. Brew me a mug, please, and I’ll go on up and see how His Highness is doing.”

  Emily went back to her task, smiling at Fran’s and Damon’s mingled cries of delight. Must be nice to come home to that, to someone who’s obviously happy to have you back. Not something she’d ever experienced, and there were times when she thought she never would. Relationships seemed to be for other people.

  She dropped teabags into the teapot and then poured in the boiled water. Damon was still talking animatedly above her head, so she guessed being ill hadn’t affected him all that much. From what she could recall, she’d only felt mildly unwell when she’d had chickenpox. The worst part had been trying not to scratch.

  Footsteps thudding down the stairs were followed by Fran’s heavy relieved sigh. “Thank God. He’s home.”

  Emily said nothing, but poured out a mug of tea. She placed it on the table. “There you go. That usually helps.” She reached into the fridge and pulled out the milk.

  Fran made a noise at the back of her throat. “Look at you, making me tea and you’ve barely got through the front door. Well, now Vic’s home, he can take care of Damon for a while. So you and I could go out this weekend.”

  Emily stared. “Go out? What did you have in mind?” The only thing she could think of was the Vale.

  “Well, the tea shop is still open.” Fran smiled. “You should see the place. It looks like an explosion in a Christmas grotto. Tinsel and trees everywhere.”

  “I thought it shut once the season had ended.” Tourists tended to stop coming after the end of October. Fairdown had its fair share of tourists, oo-ing and ahh-ing at the thatched roofs, the quaint shops, and the village pub and church.

  “That used to be the case, until last year. Serena, who runs it, took a poll of the villagers to find out how many would like it to stay open longer. Turns out there were quite a few, especially those people who didn’t really want to go to the pub to meet up. Serena also runs a B&B, but she has few visitors this time of year. It keeps her busy, making cakes and scones for the tea shop.”

  “Oh, taking Emily to Serena’s place?” Vic strode into the kitchen, heading for the teapot. “God, if you knew how much I needed this. Three days of insipid hotel tea and coffee is enough to drive any man insane.” He ignored the mug set out on the counter, and instead opened the cabinet to remove the biggest mug Emily had ever seen.

  “How much tea does that monster hold?”

  Vic held the mug to his chest. “Don’t you listen to the nasty lady,” he crooned, petting it. “You’re my favorite mug.” He poured what had to be at least a pint of tea into it. “There, doesn’t that feel better?”

  Emily laughed. “Has anyone ever told you how nuts you are?” Visiting Fran had been a great idea. Then she amended that thought. It was being in the village that was the best part. London was a vibrant, chaotic city, but it could be too loud, too vibrant. The familiar peace and quiet of Fairdown was exactly what she needed. Maybe it triggered memories of her childhood, of happy, carefree times, but every time she visited, the outcome was always the same.

  “So, what are your plans for the rest of today?” Vic asked.

  Emily took a sip of tea. “Well, firstly, I have to see Mr. Tremmond about the house. After that, I’ve nothing else planned.”

  “Then how’s this for an idea? When you’re done with Mr. Tremmond, text Fran, and then you two can go gossip over tea and cake. I’ll take care of Damon.”

  Fran gave him a loud kiss on the cheek. “You are the sweetest man. I thought you were going to work this afternoon.”

  Vic snorted. “They’ve just subjected me to three days of the most boring meetings on the planet. If they think I’m going to the office on a Friday afternoon when my little boy is sick, they can sod off.” He winked. “Plus, they already e-mailed me to say I had the rest of the day off.”

  Fran whacked him on the arm. “And there was I, thinking you were making a stand, you sneaky swine.”

  Vic dodged her second blow. “I think I’ll just go and see what Damon’s up to.” Emily could hear him chuckling all the way up the stairs.

  “Men,” Fran groused, but she was smiling as she said it. “You’re the sensible one, staying single.”

  “And we both know you wouldn’t change one single thing about your life.” Emily knew besotted when she saw it.

  Fran put down her mug and hugged Emily. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Well, make the most of it. Once the house has gone through probate, been done up and then sold, you won’t see so much of me. Because by then, I’ll be starting up a new business.”

  Fran cocked her head to one side. “Any ideas what this big new venture is going to be yet?”

  Emily shrugged. “Not yet, but I’m not worried. I can afford to take a few months off while I figure it out. I’m just waiting for inspiration to strike.”

  Fran lifted her mug. “Then here’s to inspiration.”

  Emily clinked her mug against Fran’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

  She couldn’t help but feel excited. Something was out there, just waiting for her, she felt sure of it.

  Chapter Nine

  Emily felt as though she’d stepped back in time. The tea shop was exactly as she remembered it from her visits there with Jane and Clare. “How is this possible?” she murmured as she followed Fran to a table in the window. Everywhere were the crisp white tablecloths, dainty china cake stands, and even daintier china cups painted with old fashioned roses that she recalled from childhood. The bright red tinsel draped along the mantelpiece over the fireplace and all along the window sill was definitely incongruous, but beneath the glitter and the Christmas pop songs playing in the background, it was still the same place. She could almost see Jane at the same table, pouring tea from a teapot that matched the cups, while Clare placed tiny sandwiches and cakes onto a plate for Emily.

  The memory was so sharp, Emily’s throat tightened.

  Fran’s warm hand on hers brought her back into the present. “You all right?”

  She swallowed, although it was an effort. “I’m fine, just….” She couldn’t get out the words.

  Fran’s eyes were kind. “It’s okay. I get it. Do you want to leave?”

  “God, no.” Emily pulled herself together. “Come on. I’m dying to see if the cakes are as good as I remember.”

  Fran laughed. “Now that would be amazing. It was Mrs. Foster back then who ran the tea shop, wasn’t it?”

  Emily widened her eyes, seeing instantly in her mind the rather rotund lady who bustled around the shop, always with a smile and a kind word. “Yes. She must be getting on in years.” When Fran’s face tightened, she sighed. “Ah. I see.”

  “Heart attack, about ten years ago. Mr. Foster still lives in the village. Now there’s a sad story.”

  “Good afternoon, ladies. What would you like today?” The speaker was a woman with neatly styled hair that did nothing to soften her rather sharp features. Emily estimated her to be roughly the same age as herself.

  Fran chuckled. “Ladies. My, how posh, Serena. There’s only us in here, so there’s no need to be so formal.”

  Serena peered down her nose at Fran. “Maybe I was addressing your guest?” There was a hint of a smirk that didn’t endear her to Emily. Then Serena favored Emily with a bright smile. “You must be Jane’s niece, Emily. I’m Serena Marwood.”

  Emily shook Serena’s hand. “Let me
guess. She used to talk about me.”

  Serena’s lips narrowed slightly. “Well, not to me. Jane and Clare weren’t regulars here. But I heard Jane left you the house.”

  Emily stared in surprise, and next to her Fran snickered. “What do I always say? It’s a very small village. Word gets around fast.” She addressed Serena. “A pot of tea, please, and a couple of slices of whatever cake you’ve got going. Chocolate would be especially welcome.”

  Serena arched her eyebrows. “Well, I’ll see what I can come up with.” She gave Emily a tight smile before heading toward the rear of the shop, where a curtain made up of beads rattled when she passed through it.

  Fran sat at the table, her gaze trained on the curtain. “Yeah, and I know precisely why Jane and Clare didn’t set foot in this place once she took it over,” she muttered.

  Emily sat in the chair facing her. “Oh?”

  Fran leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “Serena is a bigwig on the PCC.” When Emily frowned, she sighed. “The Parish Church Council. And whereas the vicar is a perfectly lovely man who doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, Serena there didn’t approve of the aunts.”

  Emily shook her head. “And there was I, thinking everyone around here loved them.”

  “Trust me, Serena is in a minority all of her own.”

  A thought occurred to her. “And how does she feel about the local GP batting for the other side?”

  Fran huffed. “She goes to a clinic in Bath.”

  “Seriously? How does someone who is plainly homophobic get to be on the church council?” Emily had no time for bigots. Which made things particularly difficult when she stayed with her parents. She knew why her mother had reacted to Fran calling Jane and Clare, the aunts. She hadn’t approved of her sister’s lifestyle either, though Emily suspected it was more a case of not approving of Jane asking for a divorce.

  Fran snorted, still leaning forward. “You should see her in church sometimes. The picture of piety. And while I do realize that talking about her like this isn’t exactly Christian either, it’s nothing compared to how she talked about Jane. And if it wasn’t the only teashop in the village, I wouldn’t bring her my business.” Then she sighed. “That’s not quite true. I loved this place when I was growing up. Too many good memories to walk away and let her steal them from me.” She straightened suddenly, and the sound of the beads jangling together alerted Emily to Serena’s return.

  “Here you go. One pot of tea, and I’ve brought milk and lemon. There’s also a little pot of honey. I didn’t know if you’d prefer that to sugar. And there’s one slice of chocolate fudge cake, and another of coffee and walnut.” Serena placed the tray on the table. “Now, is there anything else you need?”

  Before Fran could reply, Emily gave Serena a polite smile. “This looks wonderful. Thank you.”

  Serena nodded and walked to the rear of the shop.

  Fran picked up the teapot and began to pour. “So, everything sorted with Mr. Tremmond? Not that I’m asking because I’m a beneficiary, you understand.”

  Emily made herself useful, cutting the fat slices of cake into two. “I didn’t think that for a second. And yes, all the legal stuff is now done. It’s just a matter of waiting for probate to clear.”

  Fran nodded with a thoughtful air. “Because I’ve been thinking….”

  “Oh dear. Should I be worried?” When Fran didn’t appear to register Emily’s humorous tone, the hairs on the back of Emily’s neck prickled. “Fran?”

  Fran darted a glance to the rear of the shop before shifting her chair around the table to be closer to Emily’s. “You know, Jane and Clare had ideas about the house.” Her nonchalant tone belied her manner.

  “What do you mean, ideas?”

  “Well…” Fran stretched out the syllable. “They talked more than once about running a bed and breakfast.” Her steady gaze met Emily’s.

  “Where—at the house?” Emily was stunned.

  Fran nodded. “Jane used to joke about not being too old to wield a paintbrush, and that all the place needed was a lick of paint.”

  “Was she being serious? And when was this? Because she never mentioned it to me.” Emily felt sure if they’d really intended such a venture, they would have said something.

  “They first started talking about it a couple of years before Clare died. I’m not sure if they were serious back then, or if it began as a joke, but then they brought it up again. Except not long after that, Clare died, and I guess a huge part of Jane died with her.”

  Emily knew that to be true. Jane had become a shadow of her former self after Clare’s passing.

  “But you could do it,” Fran blurted out.

  Emily blinked. “Do what?” For a second there she was lost.

  “Do up the house. Turn it into a B&B.” Fran was sitting up straight, her gaze riveted on Emily’s face.

  Emily didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. “Oh my God, you’re serious. Can you really see me running a bed and breakfast?”

  “Well, you said you needed a change of pace,” Fran said airily.

  “So you’d like me to go from running my own company, with employees, designers, project managers… to a guest house?” She sighed. “Sorry, Fran, but… I just can’t see it.”

  Fran lifted her eyebrows. “Think of it as a new challenge.”

  “What’s challenging about a guest house?” Emily genuinely wanted to know. “You prepare rooms, you make breakfasts, you clean up rooms…”

  “Okay, when you put it like that…” Fran scrunched up her forehead. “It might be a business that you get started, then hire someone else to deal with the day-to-day running of it, while you work on another challenge. But for right this moment, it’s just what you need.” She paused. “Think about the house. Its age. Its period.”

  “I’m listening.” There was something in Fran’s manner that was compelling.

  “Well, if it was your everyday, run of the mill B&B, then I agree, that’s not for you. But what if… what if you could do up the house, keeping it in the same period, but with all new modern conveniences? You must have come across stuff like that all the time within your business, you know, like radiators and taps that look old fashioned but are actually bang up to date.” She tilted her head to one side. “Still with me?”

  “So far, yes.”

  “And then when it’s all finished, promote it as an upmarket B&B, sort of… elite. What’s that swanky place where your parents stayed after the funeral? That hotel in Bath? Well, this would be of the same standard, just on a smaller scale.”

  “You really have thought about this.”

  Fran nodded. “Look, you weren’t happy running that business. You had no life. I’m suggesting a business where you wouldn’t always be running just to stand still. No companies trying to steal your business. No one denigrating what you do because you’re not a guy. A slower pace of life, yes, but you would actually have a life. Surely that’s worth considering?”

  When she put it like that… But Fran wasn’t done.

  “And last, but by no means least… You’d be doing something that Jane and Clare really wanted. They couldn’t have their dream, but you could make it a reality. You could do it for them.”

  The teashop was suddenly a little blurry. Emily wiped her eyes and sniffed. “You had to put in that last part, didn’t you?”

  Fran shrugged. “I kept my best card till the end, what can I say?” She grinned. “Did it work?”

  Emily had to laugh. “In principle, yes.”

  “In which case? I have another idea.” Fran took a slurp of tea before continuing. “Why don’t we finish up here, and then go to see Mr. Tremmond?”

  “What for? I’ve already seen him.”

  Fran shook her head. “This is different. I’d like him to accompany us to the house. Yes, I said us. I want you to see what it could be like, but through my eyes. I want you to see the potential. I’m going to show you how fabulous it could be.” Her eyes
gleamed. “Well? What do you think?”

  Emily sighed and withdrew her phone from the pocket of her jacket. She scrolled through and dialed. “Mr. Tremmond? I have a favor to ask you. Will you still be in your office in about half an hour’s time?”

  “I should think so.”

  “Then you’ll need those wellington boots you borrowed from the house.”

  There was a pause. “I think I’m going to give up being a solicitor and act as a tour guide. I take it we’re going to the house?”

  “We are, and we also includes Fran. She has a business proposition she wants me to consider.”

  “A business? That concerns the house? Now you have piqued my interest. Yes, indeed, I shall be here.”

  “We’ll be there shortly.” Emily disconnected the call and gave Fran a hard stare. “And you can stop that right this second. Half of that chocolate cake is supposed to be mine, remember?”

  Fran blinked, but didn’t say a word, mainly because her mouth was full. Emily decided that two could play at that game, and began to eat most of the coffee cake too. Inside she was buzzing.

  It was a crazy idea.

  A B&B? An elite B&B?

  Yes. Definitely crazy.

  Mr. Tremmond chuckled as they stepped into the hallway. He shook his head. “You’ve come prepared, I see.”

  Fran smiled, her notepad and pen in her hands. “I’m going to take notes, because I’m pretty sure Emily will have lots of ideas as we’re walking through, and I don’t want her to forget any of them.” She grinned. “Not that I won’t have ideas too. In fact….”

  Emily groaned. “Already? We just walked in.” Secretly she didn’t mind in the least.

  “Yes, but I was thinking about the double garage out there. I mean, do you need it? Will guests be able to use it? Or… could you turn it into another room?”

  “That’s a possibility,” she admitted. In front of them was the dining room, through two arches. “I think this should stay as it is, as the breakfast room.”

  “Good thinking.” Fran inclined her head to the right. “Especially with the kitchen so close. But what I wanted you to think about was the far sitting room.” She led them into the main sitting room and pointed to the beams that separated it from the smaller room. “If you made that a solid wall, then this room could be for the guests to sit in during the evening, and you could turn that room and the sunroom off it into a downstairs bedroom. You’ll need to have at least one room that can be accessed by someone with mobility issues or who’s in a wheelchair.”