A matter of days had transformed Atholl Fergusson in Beatrice’s opinion from the grumpy, standoffish inn manager she’d first formed unfavourable ideas about to the gentle, caring bear of a man she now adored. Five months of growing steadily closer had sealed her resolve to stay here with him forever.
Beatrice couldn’t stop the little flip in her stomach at the sight of him working now. She’d have had no problem putting the board up by herself but she’d miss the view of him rolling up his plaid sleeves, the cinch of his waist, and the breadth of his shoulders opening out as he hefted the frame into place. Plus, she wasn’t feeling all that great for a second day running. Or was it the third? Having a busy inn full of guests arriving and departing was great apart from the coughs and colds they brought with them.
‘You’d better tell me where you want this then,’ Atholl was saying.
‘And then we’ll head back to bed?’
Over his shoulder Atholl fixed his gaze upon her. ‘Aye, and then we’ll head back to bed.’
As the alarm clocks buzzed and holidaymakers blinked and stretched their bodies all through the inn, Atholl drove the nails into the wall by the fireplace and securely mounted Beatrice’s low-tech lonely hearts board for all to see.
Beatrice watched on, pressing her palms together and bouncing on her heels at the thought of all of the possibilities for finding love that the board represented. Who knows, she thought, which of the singles looking for love around the village or amongst the inn’s holidaymakers and workers would benefit from just a little bit of encouragement and become the next pair to find love in Port Willow?
She revelled in the sense of promise. The inn managers never knew what kind of guest was about to arrive in the village, but what Beatrice did know from her own experience was that nothing could prepare newcomers for the magic they’d encounter in their little corner of the Highlands. Somewhere out there, entirely unsuspecting, is somebody missing something – or someone – that they don’t yet know is waiting for them here in Port Willow.
The thought of it sent her nerves fizzing with anticipation, making her forget the initial troubles she and Atholl had to overcome at the start of their relationship. Beatrice told herself that love had come so easily to them, surely the inn’s next love story would be just as sweet.
Chapter Two
New York, 20thDecember
Nina Miller had almost made it. Two more hours and the Christmas break would be here. Sure, there’d be brand engagement figures to keep an eye on over the holiday and her cranky expat boss, the company president, Seamus Ryan, would still expect her to pick up the phone as usual when he got his PA, Mitch, to call her at any hour of the day or night, but in one hundred and twenty minutes she’d be walking out of the Microtrends Brand Development and Lifestyle Forecasting offices and heading back to the apartment where, if things were going according to plan, the holiday staging coordinator would be trimming the ten-foot-tall Christmas tree Nina had ordered and making everything perfectly festive and cosy ahead of Luke’s return from business in Tokyo tonight.
‘Can’t you come home, just for one Christmas? We’re dying to meet Luke,’ her mother had lamented when she’d broken the news she wouldn’t be flying across the pond to her family’s home in Hove for the family festivities.
‘We’re taking a social detox,’ she’d retorted, making her mother tut, but Nina wouldn’t be put off. She’d planned this Christmas break down to the last Lanvin bauble and Tiffany & Co.silver bell. It was going to be perfect. A whole week with no work commitments for the first time ever, just her and Luke.
She had wrangled with her high-flying boyfriend to get his PA to clear his calendar, which he’d reluctantly agreed to, and she’d declined every invitation that had arrived for them at his West End Avenue art deco apartment which she shared with him.
He’d protested, ‘It isn’t smart to turn down the hospitality of my friends and clients, Nina, especially during the holiday season when everyone’s out to impress.’
She knew that, of course. It was risky and not at all usual, but after the last two relentless holiday seasons spent hopping with Luke from festive launch event to client cocktail party to corporate dinner, she was sure they had earned one perfect, romantic Christmas alone together. Evenings, weekends, birthdays; she’d surrendered them all to work and hadn’t really minded, but Christmas still felt like it should be special somehow.
‘They’ll still be around come New Year’s,’ she’d reassured him, dreaming of the luxury catered Christmas she had in store for the two of them.
Luke’s social circle was like no other, and falling for Luke had meant she’d inadvertently been handed an access-all-areas pass to a new world of billion-dollar brand management, lifestyle gurus, creative geniuses and their many, many painfully cool collaborators. These people were the visionaries. These weren’t the ones following trends; they were setting them.
Luke was a glamorous insider, born into riches, travelling the globe and bringing brands to life with his golden touch. His networks consisted of people who prized rarity, exclusivity and, above all else, money.
Being within their reach meant Nina had skyrocketed from her position as entry-level employee almost three years ago straight into Mr Ryan’s good books at work.
She found, as Luke had increasingly let her take the reins with the smaller accounts, she was able to discreetly namedrop exactly the right celebrity endorser at sessions in the glass room reserved for spitballing (that’s what Mr Ryan called it, and she never failed to feel queasy at the term) and she’d say that she might be able to ‘put in a call’ or ‘pull in a favour’ and, lo and behold, she’d help secure Microtrends Brand Development and Lifestyle Forecasting another priceless connection, making Mr Ryan a lot of money and helping her climb to the next rung on her career ladder.
It helped that she was smart and efficient, tireless and always available. She’d earned this Christmas break, she told herself as she hit ‘send’ and submitted her final brand engagement report of the year to her boss.
It was her job to help foster relationships with the company’s newest or smallest brands. She was years away from reaching Luke’s level – overseeing the luxe brand accounts, directing their development into new product lines and bigger markets – but that’s where she had her sights firmly set.
The view from the (third from the) top floor of the glittering high-rise office block with the wintry Hudson below was especially beautiful today, but she had no time to admire the scenery. It was already growing dark outside. Luke’s flight would be circling JFK right about now and the holidays were so nearly within reach she could practically taste the Pierre Hermé gingerbread cookies and Louis Roederer champagne.
The clack of smart shoes across marble and the sound of Mitch’s voice reached her before he’d even swung his head around her office doorframe. ‘Nina? Nina. Mr Ryan wants to see you.’
Her boss’s PA didn’t wait for her to reply before turning on his heel, expecting her to follow, which she did. He took her back through the lounge that led to the elevator doors which led to the modern-art-lined corridor which then led to Seamus Ryan’s penthouse office – all glass and air, leather and sunlight – a room that never failed to make Nina want to gawp in wonder and barely concealed hungry ambition.
As she reached the lift, she was surprised to see Fournival, Luke’s PA, stepping out and coming to an awkward stop by the potted giant monstera plants.
For a second her heart swelled. ‘Is Luke with you?’
‘No, ma’am, he,uh, asked me to retrieve your keys… please.’
