It could become a thing.
* * *
Kirsty knockedon the door to her parents’ cottage and stood back to admire the outside. Ian and Ruth would never wait until their house needed painting: they were proactive about such things. The freshly painted New England-style white boards shone even in the early evening light. Dad had offered to come and paint the shop. Kirsty had resisted so far, because even though he looked young for his age and was handy with a paintbrush, he was still in his early 70s. Plus, she wanted to be able to sort out her own life and not have to rely on her parents.
The door opened and her mum greeted her with a customary hug. “There’s my gorgeous girl who needs a haircut!” Her mum squeezed, then held Kirsty at arm’s length. “Do you need me to call Simon for an appointment?” She ushered her into the hallway.
Kirsty shook her head. “I can make my own hair appointments, thank you.”
“Okay!” Mum gave her a pointed look. “You look less tired than you did the other day, though, so that’s good.”
Visiting her parents was rarely an uplifting experience for Kirsty’s ego.
The smell of roasting meat coated the air, along with an underlying sweetness. Shortbread? Apple pie? Kirsty would find out soon enough. Her mum didn’t care it was over 70 degrees outside. She loved a roast dinner any time of the year, not giving in to summer salads easily.
Kirsty walked through to the lounge. Her dad was in his favourite armchair, doing his daily crossword puzzle. He’d recently declaredThe Guardian’s“too easy,” and had moved on toThe Times.
“How’s it going, Dad?”
He looked up, giving her a smile. “I’m stuck, so that’s good, right? But you’re just the person. One down. Californian grape derived from the same origin as primitivo. Nine letters.”
“Zinfandel.” She sat on the sofa opposite.
Dad snapped his fingers. “I knew you could help!” His eyes landed on the bottle of red she was still holding.
Kirsty put it on the floor beside her.
“Anything good?” Dad asked, as Mum sat on the sofa beside her.
“Chilean merlot. Solid.”
“Wonderful. It’ll go well with the lamb we’re having.” Mum patted Kirsty’s knee.
“Your hair looks nice, too.” Dad pointed a finger. “Shiny.”
Kirsty gave her mum a triumphant smile.
She ignored it. “Talking of wine, how are things at the shop? Has Helena been up to any mischief of late?”
Kirsty’s smile didn’t last long. “Helena is just fine.More than fine.She was in before me today. You should see her plans for the festival table.”
Her mum’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just uneasy, after what happened.”
“That was two years ago, so give her a break. She wants the business to succeed, just like I do.”
They’d been over this. Her mum’s dislike of Helena stemmed from their friendship at school, where Helena had been something of a hell-raiser. She’d done her time in London’s financial district, before coming back and investing in Wine Time when Kirsty’s ex, Anna, had taken her money out. Yes, there had been an incident two years ago where Helena had done a wine deal that sounded too good to be true. It had been, and had blown a hole in their profits, but she’d made amends since.
Kirsty put an arm around her mum. “I’m a big girl who can book her own hair appointments and look after her own business, okay? Without Helena, the shop wouldn’t have survived my divorce or the downturn. Plus, she had some good ideas today for getting new business, so give her a break, okay?”
Her mum gave her a look, but also a tacit nod of understanding.
Kirsty already needed a drink.
Her dad put down the paper. “Come through to the kitchen, and we’ll get the wine open.” Kirsty and her mum followed.
Her parents had recently had their kitchen redone, and it looked fabulous. Kirsty would be lying if she said she didn’t have kitchen envy. Her parents had an island, fancy bar stools, sleek white counter-tops and cobalt-blue units. Stepping into it was a far cry from her kitchen’s shabby-chic look.
Her dad pulled the cork on the wine with a satisfying pop, and Mum lined up some glasses. Not the posh ones. It was only Thursday, after all.
