‘In business!’ she laughs, her eyes full of kindness. ‘I’m Flynn’s boss. I told him that if the book train project was a success that I’d recommend him for the promotion he’s been wanting for years. I’ve been inParis watching his progress. I told him yesterday morning that the next two days were make or break.’
‘Oh,’ I wince. The memory of Flynn in the library bar kissing Georgia on the cheek then leaving purposefully suddenly has a very different meaning. ‘So you and he have never . . .’
She shakes her head with a grimace, and flashes me an engagement ring. ‘Happily taken,’ she confirms.
‘Is his promotion in Edinburgh?’
‘London. Director ofUKEvents. It’s a big deal.’
‘Good for him.’ I smile, my head happy for him, my heart not quite up to speed.
‘I hope so . . .’
‘You’re not certain?’
‘Flynn is everything you could want in a director, and he’s worked really hard for a decade to climb the ranks, but . . . I don’t know, I don’t want to speak out of turn.’
I say nothing, keeping my eyes on hers.
‘It’s just there’s something about him,’ she continues. ‘Something different from all the other guys I’ve seen come up and move into senior positions. He’s . . .’
She trails off and again I wait, wanting to hear what she has to say.
‘He’s quieter, more considered than the others. I know he’s capable, a brilliant networker and promotor, I’m just not convinced it’s where his heart is.’
She holds my gaze for a moment before standing, wishing me well and walking away. I’m left watchingthe water, wondering how I’d got things so wrong, and what Georgia meant by where Flynn’s heart is.
‘Welcome back,’ cries Grant, ushering Mum and me back on board the Scotsman. ‘And welcome to you,’ he says to Dad, beaming his best cheery grin.
‘It feels good to be back,’ I say, slumping into one of the lounge chairs in the observation carriage. The surroundings that felt opulent and luxurious on the outward journey now feel comfortable and familiar, and designed specifically to take the strain of this city-weary traveller.
‘It certainly does,’ says Mum, sitting beside Dad on the couch opposite and reaching for his hand.
‘I can’t believe you left Edinburgh without a book deal and are returning with a four-book offer,’ I say, accepting a rosehip aperitif from a waitress.
‘About that,’ says Mum. She squeezes Dad’s hand, and they exchange a knowing look.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask.
Mum takes a mouthful of her drink. ‘The advance Ginny is offering is generous.’
‘That’s fantastic news,’ I say, noticing another hand squeeze.
‘Enough for us to take some time off and cover some refurbishment costs around the house.’
‘Amazing,’ I say, happy for them both but wondering what it is that Mum still seems to be withholding.
‘We think there would also be enough for some bookshop improvements too,’ Dad says ruefully, which really grabs my attention.
‘What kind of improvements?’
‘Décor, shelving, new stock.’ He breaks into a wide smile. ‘Enough for a marketing budget too.’
I pause, my heart pumping a little faster, certain I know what they’re about to say but not wanting to jump the gun. I breathe out.
‘And we were wondering . . .’ says Mum, my anticipation building. She looks to Dad before they say in unison, ‘If you’d still like to take over the running of it.’
‘Oh my God,’ I say, my jaw nearly on the floor, my hands tingling with excitement. I put down my glass for fear of dropping it. ‘Are you serious?’
