Praise for
holly hepburn
‘The Star and Sixpence sparkles with fun, romance, mystery and a hunky blacksmith. It’s a real delight’
JULIE COHEN
‘Warm, witty and laced with intriguing secrets! I want to pull up a bar stool, order a large G&T and soak up all the gossip at the Star and Sixpence’
CATHY BRAMLEY
‘You’ll fall in love with this fantastic new series from a new star of women’s fiction. Filled to the brim with captivating characters and fantastic storylines in a gorgeous setting . . . I want to hear more!’
MIRANDA DICKINSON
‘A fresh new voice, brings wit and warmth to this charming tale of two sisters’
ROWAN COLEMAN
‘Like the dream pub landlady who always knows exactly what you want, Holly Hepburn has created the most delightful welcome to what promises to be a brilliant series’
KATE HARRISON
‘Warm, witty and utterly charming . . . It left me with the most wonderful happy glow’
CALLY TAYLOR
‘A super sparkling star of a story’
ALEXANDRA BROWN
To Emma Capron.
I miss your comments in the margins.
PART ONE
New Beginnings at the Star and Sixpence
Chapter One
A TASTE OF AUTUMN
at the
Star and Sixpence
The leaves are turning gold and there’s a chill in the air, so why not join our new chef, Gabe Santiago,
for an evening of smoky flavours and zinging cocktails as he introduces his new brand-new menu.
Booking essential.
Thursday 25th October
It was a crisp mid-September morning, the kind that began with dewy grass but promised warmth as the sun rose higher in the sky. Nessie Chapman leaned back against the wrought-iron bench in the garden of Snowdrop Cottage and let her eyes drift shut. Soon, she’d have to walk over to the neighbouring Star and Sixpence and help her sister, Sam, welcome their new chef on his first day. But not right this second. She could steal a moment or two to appreciate the chirp of birdsong and gentle buzz of a nearby bee; Sam wouldn’t begrudge her that. In fact, knowing Sam, she might even prefer to be alone to greet the undeniably gorgeous Gabriel Santiago, although she’d insisted after they’d agreed he was the right person for the job that she was only interested in his prowess in the kitchen.
The truth was, Sam didn’t begrudge Nessie much. She’d cheered to the rafters when Nessie had finally got together with Owen Rhys, the blacksmith who lived next door to the Star and Sixpence, and she’d continued to cheer even when her own love affair with cellarman Joss ended in another tumultuous break-up. And she hadn’t objected a few months later when Nessie tentatively mentioned that Owen had asked her to move in with him, even though it meant Sam would be living in the pub on her own. She’d simply beamed in delight and declared that she couldn’t wait to have the place to herself.
There was a faint creak behind Nessie, alerting her that the back door of the cottage had opened.
‘A penny for your thoughts,’ a deep, Welsh-accented voice said.
Nessie smiled and opened her eyes. ‘If I had a penny for every time you’ve said that . . .’
Owen smiled back, his dark eyes crinkling beneath his coal-black brows and unruly curls. ‘You’d have around twenty pence, I expect. I should up my rates.’
He dipped his head to brush her lips with his and she felt the same familiar rush of delight mixed with incredulity that she still got every time Owen kissed her. Would it ever get old? she wondered, gazing up at him. It was hard to imagine at the moment, when every kiss still felt like their first.
‘So,’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Do I have to guess what you were daydreaming about?’
Nessie laughed. ‘You won’t be surprised to hear I was thinking about the pub. Sam wants to make sure everything is gleaming for the new chef’s arrival.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Owen said wryly. ‘The much-anticipated Señor Santiago. I popped into the bakery yesterday and Martha was like a cat on hot bricks. I hope he’s ready to become Little Monkham’s new heart-throb.’
Nessie pictured the brooding Spanish chef and pulled a wry face. ‘Something tells me he’s already used to that kind of attention.’
‘I can imagine,’ Owen replied. ‘How does Sam feel about him?’
The question was innocent enough, but Nessie felt herself bristle slightly at the implication behind the words; Sam had been at the centre of village gossip on more than one occasion in the past. Or at least her love life had. Then Nessie reminded herself that this was Owen, who didn’t have a gossipy bone in his body, and she forced herself to relax. ‘She’s looking forward to it, I think,’ she said cautiously. ‘We both are. He’ll be a breath of fresh air.’
Owen smiled. ‘He’ll certainly cause a lot of sighing, if his photo is anything to go by. Luke is hoping you’ll be able to sneak some puddings home.’
An image of Owen’s nine-year-old son popped into Nessie’s head; blond-haired and blue-eyed, he was the opposite of Owen’s dark Welsh looks, but they shared the same appetite. In fact, Luke didn’t so much eat food as inhale it and Nessie could just imagine him licking his lips at the thought of the kind of desserts that might be going begging at the end of the night in the Star and Sixpence kitchen. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she promised.
‘And now I suppose we’d both better get to work,’ Owen said, casting a rueful glance towards the pub. ‘You know where I am if your wonder chef decides to whip up an impossibly fancy lunch, although a decent steak sandwich would be just as welcome.’
Nessie laughed. ‘We’ll let him unpack before we start demanding meals, shall we?’
Owen accepted the teasing rebuke with a cheerful nod. ‘I suppose you’ve got a point. See you later, then.’
Dropping another kiss onto her forehead, he crossed the yard and disappeared into the forge.
Nessie sat for a moment longer, then roused herself with an inward sigh; Owen was right, she’d better get moving. Sam might not begrudge her sister’s happiness, but she definitely wouldn’t appreciate cleaning the pub on her own.
*
Nessie wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Sam as anxious as she was right before Gabriel Santiago was due to arrive. She paced the floor in front of the gleaming bar, casting fretful glances back towards the door that led to the newly fitted kitchens.
‘You did steam-clean the floor, didn’t you?’ she asked Nessie, running a hand through her usually sleek blonde bob. ‘After you’d done the oven and swept up the dust?’
Nessie summoned up her most soothing voice. ‘You were there when I did it, Sam. And I’ve double-checked the spare room, before you ask – everything is ready. All we need is the man himself.’
Sam checked the time. ‘He said he’d get here around ten o’clock, depending on traffic.’ She took a deep breath and glanced towards the spotlit bottles that lined the back of the bar. ‘God, this is stressful. Is it too early for gin?’
‘Relax, Sam,’ Nessie said, frowning a little. ‘Would it help to think of him as just another new employee?’
Now it was Sam’s turn to frown. ‘An employee who just happens to be an internationally respected Michelin-starred chef – one we’ve been boasting about for weeks. There’s a lot riding on making sure he settles in fast and sticks around.’
‘He’s also a professional,’ Nessie reminded her. ‘And he’s already inspected the kitchen, before he agreed to work with us. A speck or two of dust won’t scare him off.’
For a moment, Nessie thought her sister would argue, but then s
he sighed. ‘You’re right. I don’t know why I’m so worried.’
Nessie thought she knew: Sam had been different since her relationship with Joss had fallen apart. It had been a difficult break-up – neither had wanted to accept that the bad times had begun to far outweigh the good – and Nessie suspected her sister had been considerably more hurt than she’d ever admit when Joss had made the decision to leave Little Monkham ‘for both their sakes’. He’d been Sam’s first serious love affair and the ensuing fallout had dampened her usual optimism, making her more wary of everything. Including, it seemed, their new business venture.
‘I thought I was supposed to be the worrier,’ Nessie said, her tone gently teasing. ‘Connor and Tilly will be here soon – they’ll get everything ready for opening. Why don’t we go upstairs and grab a cuppa?’
Connor was the burly ex-fireman who looked after the pub’s cellars, and Tilly was their nineteen-year-old barmaid; both were stalwart members of the Star and Sixpence team. And Nessie wouldn’t be surprised if Tilly’s mother, Martha, abandoned the village bakery to catch an early glimpse of the pub’s new chef – he’d been all she had talked about for weeks.
Sam puffed out a long breath. ‘Okay, deal.’
The first-floor rooms were a far cry from the gloom and woodchip wallpaper that had dominated when Nessie and Sam had first moved into the Star and Sixpence. The bedrooms hadn’t needed much; a lick of paint on the wood-beamed ceilings and plush new carpets to take some of the chill out of the early winter mornings. The kitchen had been another story – Sam hadn’t wasted any time in stripping out the boxy wall units and replacing them with something sleek and tasteful. The outdated appliances had gone too, including a fridge that was so vintage it had almost come back into style. In the living room, there were now two matching teal sofas that went beautifully with the oak coffee table and bookshelf, plus a flat-screen TV that Sam and Nessie had rarely found the time to watch. The rooms were still recognisably part of an old building but updated and modernised, in the same way that the pub downstairs was a fresher, more inviting version of the sixteenth-century inn it had been.
‘It’ll be weird having a flatmate again,’ Sam said, as they sat around the small table in the kitchen, sipping tea. ‘And even weirder that it won’t be you.’
‘I’m sure it will just be a temporary arrangement,’ Nessie said. ‘I imagine Gabe will want his own space too, once he’s settled in a bit.’
Sam gazed at her over the top of her mug, her expression pensive. ‘We are doing the right thing, aren’t we, Ness? Expanding the business, I mean.’
Once again, Nessie was struck by the reversal in their roles. Sam had always been impetuous and confident, while Nessie was more thoughtful and reticent. But those differences had grown less marked over the last year and not all of it was due to Sam’s broken heart; Nessie felt more settled in her role as the official landlady of the pub, in her place among the Little Monkham community too. Being with Owen had helped – his placid strength gave her something to lean on and the future no longer looked dark and unknowable. She could see the years stretching ahead, comfortable and safe, and the thought gave her more peace than she’d ever known.
‘Of course we are,’ she told Sam, with a smile of encouragement. ‘We need to keep growing if we’re going to bring home that National Pub of the Year award.’
Sam nodded slowly. ‘I know. But are we being too ambitious? We could have gone for a lower-profile chef.’
‘We could,’ Nessie agreed. ‘But when have we ever taken the easy path? More importantly, when have you?’
Sam said nothing.
‘We chose Gabe because he’s a rising star – fresh and exciting and not afraid to take a few risks,’ Nessie went on. ‘Anyone can do good pub grub. We want more than that.’
‘Go hard or go home,’ Sam said, a wry smile tugging at her mouth. ‘Okay, you’ve convinced me all over again.’
The thud of feet on the stairs made them both glance towards the kitchen door. ‘Good,’ Nessie said. ‘Because it sounds like he might be here.’
Tilly appeared in the doorway, her cheeks unusually pink. ‘There’s a man at the door asking for you,’ she said, sounding flustered. ‘It’s . . . He’s . . .’
Nessie took pity on her. ‘Gabe Santiago, I presume?’
The barmaid nodded.
‘Thanks, Tilly, we’ll be right down,’ Nessie said. She glanced at Sam. ‘Ready?’
Her sister lowered her cup and squared her shoulders. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
Chapter Two
Sam let Nessie lead the way, thankful her sister hadn’t worked out the real reason she was second-guessing their decision to appoint Gabe. Deep down, Sam knew they’d absolutely made the right choice in striking a deal with an up-and-coming, talented chef; as Nessie had rightly pointed out, they wanted to innovate, not follow. In fact, the problem wasn’t so much with Gabe Santiago as Sam herself; she’d felt a treacherous burst of attraction from the very first moment they’d met, and the appeal hadn’t lessened with successive meetings, no matter how hard Sam had tried to crush it. And now they’d be practically living in each other’s pockets, seeing each other every day . . . Sam had no idea whether the attraction was mutual, or even whether Gabe was single, but she’d made the mistake of mixing business with pleasure once before and she was determined not to do it again. No matter how gorgeous their new employee was.
All her good intentions evaporated when she saw Gabe standing beside the bar, however. She’d forgotten how tall he was – well over six feet – and his dark hair was tousled, as though he’d just rolled out of bed. A layer of stubble covered his jaw; along with the messy hair, it should have made him look unkempt, but somehow he pulled it off. His forehead was furrowed as he studied the cocktail menu, like he was mentally pairing each drink up with one of his recipes. He had no right to look that good after a four-hour drive, Sam thought irritably as she stepped out from behind the bar. Especially not when she absolutely shouldn’t be noticing.
‘Sam, Nessie,’ he said, an easy smile lighting up his tanned face. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
Nessie beamed in return. ‘Welcome back, Gabe. I hope you had a good journey?’
‘Very smooth,’ he replied. ‘Hardly any traffic at all.’
His accent was every bit as sexy as Sam remembered, something else that irked her. Squashing the irrational annoyance as much as she could, she summoned up a clipped tone. ‘Hi.’
His intense, dark-eyed gaze became cool as he tipped his head at her, every bit as professional as she had been. ‘Hi.’
‘Let me introduce you to Connor, our cellarman, and Tilly, who works the bar,’ Nessie said.
Gabe turned his attention to the rest of the Star and Sixpence team and the breath Sam hadn’t even realised she’d been holding escaped in a barely concealed sigh. Luckily, no one was paying her the least bit of attention; Connor was busy shaking Gabe’s hand and Tilly had blushed a deep rosy red before smiling shyly. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Once the introductions were done, Nessie cleared her throat. ‘You’ve already had the grand tour, Gabe, but we’d be delighted to show you round again once you’ve settled in. Wouldn’t we, Sam?’
If only you knew, Sam thought grimly, wishing she’d had the presence of mind to arrange an unavoidable appointment that would allow her to flee. ‘Of course. I’ve got some urgent paperwork to do, but I’m sure you can do the honours, Nessie.’
Her sister opened and closed her mouth. ‘I think the paperwork can wait until this afternoon,’ she said, firing a half-frown Sam’s way. ‘There are bound to be questions I can’t answer. But, before that, you must be tired after your long journey, Gabe – what can we get you to drink?’
He held up his hands. ‘Don’t let me get in your way. Point me towards the kettle and I’ll make my own drink.’
Sam’s unfounded irritation grew; once again, she hid behind professionalism. ‘Whatever you’d prefer. Connor, would y
ou be able to help Gabe get his things upstairs?’ She glanced at the chef. ‘As I’m sure you’ll remember, there’s a kitchen on the first floor, just along from your room. There’s tea, Nespresso and milk – help yourself.’
Was it Sam’s imagination or did Gabe raise an eyebrow before he and Connor headed towards the pub entrance.
The moment their backs were turned, Nessie grabbed Sam’s arm. ‘What the hell was that about? You were almost rude.’
Sam met her gaze. ‘I’m starting as I mean to go on. And I wasn’t rude – just businesslike.’
Understanding dawned in Nessie’s eyes. She lowered her voice. ‘Lightning doesn’t strike twice.’
‘It does,’ Sam said with a grim shake of her head. ‘But it’s not going to strike between Gabe and me. You can count on that.’
*
The pub was busy for a Wednesday evening. Business had been brisk all day, with a greater number of villagers than usual popping in, either for a lingering coffee or with a tenuous excuse to chat to one of the bar staff. At first, Sam had been amused at the way their gazes travelled around the room, clearly hoping for a glimpse of the newest member of staff, but by the early evening the sensation of only having half of anyone’s attention was wearing thin.
‘I hope this level of interest isn’t going to be permanent,’ she grumbled, leaning against the glass-fronted fridges as Martha let out a loudly self-conscious laugh from her seat at the bar. ‘The air of anticipation in here is getting on my nerves.’
Nessie threw her an amused look and continued to stack the cups beside the coffee machine. ‘You can hardly blame them,’ she said mildly. ‘Gabe’s reputation has definitely preceded him and you know how much they love a celebrity. Remember how they were when Nick came to visit?’
Nick Borrowdale was the star of Sunday night’s flagship TV show, Smuggler’s Inn, and one of Sam’s best friends. He’d been a regular at the pub the year before, happy to lend his support to Sam and Nessie’s efforts to restore the Star and Sixpence to glory. He had fought Sam’s corner when she’d been hounded by the press over a one-night stand with a high-profile government advisor and had been steadfast in his loyalty. It was no surprise to anyone when he and Sam eventually got together, and Sam sometimes caught herself wondering what might have happened if she’d chosen Nick instead of Joss – would she still be single now? There was no way of knowing; Nick was currently in the US, filming a new thriller, and his career was going stratospheric. Besides, it had felt like the right thing to do at the time . . . she cared deeply for Nick but she’d loved Joss. And then he’d broken her heart.
Last Orders at the Star and Sixpence Page 1
