Page 51 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

I clambered out. Whatever his reasons for helping me unearth the background to Briar’s letter, he was assisting. I ducked my head down to speak to him through the open car door. “The official opening of the shop is on the 30th at 10a.m. You’re welcome to drop by. There will be warm scones and tea, as well as all my new stock on display. Something might take your fancy.”

I realised what I’d said and cleared my throat. “I meant the crockery.”

My cheeks stung as Xander’s eyes stayed locked with mine. “I know what you meant.”

“Well, anyway…” I said, hoping I sounded breezy. “Feel free to drop in.”

He thrust on a pair of mirrored sunglasses which he leant over to retrieve from his glove compartment. “I might just do that, Ms Harkness. And let’s agree to keep each other informed of any new developments with that letter, okay? Then we can move to auction.”

He streaked off up the lane towards the main road, as I watched with renewed irritation and disappointment. Was that all that he was concerned about? Getting his commission and media space over the peacock crockery, rather than discovering the story behind it and why that woman had insisted on dumping it on me in the first place?

I fumbled about in my bag for my shop door keys, annoyed at myself for thinking that Xander might have had a shred of interest in Briar’s letter, rather than simply been preoccupied with what he would gain financially from the tea set. That was the trouble with some people, I growled to myself. They had no soul.

It was like Christmas Day.

The floor of The Cup That Cheers was piled high with treasures. Everything from funky polka-dot designs to traditional Wedgwood flowers, Aynsley China sets, Portmeirion Water Garden and European Titanium in dark gold.

I hoped I had covered all the bases, appealing to every taste and budget. As I caught glimpses of arched spouts, gilded handles and glossy saucers, my heart sang with appreciation and utter fear. Gran would have loved all this.

Ewan had delivered the shop sign a short while ago, which Dad and one of his carpentry buddies were going to put up for me that afternoon.

As I had imagined, it was beautifully hand painted, with The Cup That Cheers scrolling across it in sweeping white lettering on a deep lilac background, with a teapot and a teacup and saucer on either side. It looked so artistic and elegant; you would never know the paints were waterproof PVC inks.

The smaller version of the sign, also created with waterproof UV inks, was to be suspended from the pole just above the shop door.

After erecting the signs, Dad had offered to put up a curtain pole at the front door to the shop, so that the smaller set of tie-back curtains I’d bought could be installed. They were made from the same Cunningham Clan purple tartan, and as soon I had glimpsed them online, I’d known they would look perfect, just as they did at the bottle-glass window. It gave the interior of the shop an extra cosy feel.

The whole concept and feel of The Cup That Cheers, with its window display, assortment of crockery and air of indulgence, was now finally coming together.

Cass was buzzing with enthusiasm as she helped Mum arrange some Day-Glo teapots and matching cups on a middle shelf. “Talk about being spoilt for choice,” she said with a grin.

Mum smiled over at her. “I know. I think you girls are going to have a lot of customers struggling to decide what they want.”

“Hopefully, they will be so undecided, they will opt for more than one set,” I said, laughing, wiping my hands together and sizing up the empty window space. I had a rough idea how I wanted my first window display to look and had lined the windows with large sheets of purple canvas so as not to give anything away, and protect my artistic endeavours until Monday’s grand opening.

Good grief. I couldn’t quite believe that it was almost that time. I just hoped I hadn’t forgotten anything.

As Mum and Cass hummed along to a Carly Simon song drifting out of the radio, I peered into some of the boxes of stock beside me. Adrenalin and anticipation, combined with a deep sensation of feeling frazzled, coursed through me.

In the last few days, I’d not only been preoccupied with making final preparations for the shop, but I had also been busy reading again through the substantial notes by Saffy Clements’ great-grandfather, in the hope of discovering more about Jonathan Gray and Briar Forsyth. Could there be any other clues to what happened between them, that I might have missed?

I was convinced there must be more leads contained in those diaries and journals. It was just a case of being patient, wading through and locating them.

Xander had rung and texted on several occasions, explaining that his art-critic and assessment work had been taking up a lot of his time, but assuring me that he was still working his way through his crockery research and the journals, in the hope of unearthing something of value. As for Jake, there had been no further contact from him. I’d concluded from this that the flirting had been because I’d purchased one of his paintings. My pride had been stung a little, but oh well; I had far more important things to concentrate on.

I covered my hand with my mouth as I let out a most unladylike yawn.

Mum tapped up beside me in her boat shoes. “I hope you’re pacing yourself, young lady. These past couple of weeks in the run-up to opening, you’ve been racing here and there like a demented thing.”

I must have looked guilty, because she planted her hands on her hips and frowned. “As soon as we are done here, I want you to go home and relax in the bath. No shop business and no reading of diaries for the rest of the day. That’s an order.”

I reached for a lilac and white tea set, dusted with purple forget-me-nots, and began arranging it in the window on a matching gingham cloth I’d ordered from the fabric company that supplied the canvas for the windows. I’d bought some gorgeous and very lifelike blue roses from an on-line florists recommended by Cass, and I began to place them around the crockery. I thought that would be a nice homage to my home town … if the rose story was true after all. Good grief! I was starting to sound like Xander North.

“Mum, I will take it easy for the rest of the day,” I promised.

She gave me one of her gimlet looks. “Please make sure you do.” She nodded her appreciation of my shop-window colour scheme.

Cass wandered over, holding a stripy red and white teapot. “That will look lovely.”