Page 19 of A Scottish Country Escape

Chapter Eleven

I stood, bewildered, in front of Dexter Grayling and my grandmother. Both sets of eyes pinned me like lasers to the shop floor.

Gran had never mentioned anything about Mrs Carlucci, so why the sudden interest now? But as soon as the literary world’s answer to Ian Somerhalder had burst in and dialled up the pleading charm, she’d experienced some sort of personality bypass. And then there was that odd moment when I’d thought she was going to faint. Was she ill? Was there something she was reluctant to tell me?

Her voice disrupted my skittering thoughts. ‘You’re always talking about the importance of community spirit and how we’re so inclusive here in Fir Haven, Elle.’

‘Yes, I know, but…’

This wasn’t like her at all. What the hell was going on here?

I pushed my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. I would speak to her again later, when we were on our own. Confusion flitted across my features. For some reason, this seemed to mean a great deal to her. What if she was harbouring some serious illness after all and didn’t know how to tell me? Perhaps this was her way of trying to come to terms with things in her own mind?

Random questions leapt into my head. This was ridiculous. Surely she knew she could confide in me about anything? But she looked so pleading now; so intense. She had always been there for me.

I felt like I had no option. And the way Dexter Grayling was appraising me was unnerving. Frustration, worry for my Gran, and irritation battled away inside of me. ‘Yes, all right,’ I snapped, after a protracted pause. ‘I’ll see if I can help, but this place comes first, OK?’

‘Of course. Thank you, sweetheart.’

Dexter Grayling murmured something which I think might have been an attempt at a thank-you, although it could also have been a hiccup. He placed his business card on top of the counter. Like him, it was on the ostentatious side.

I examined the white card with its gold lettering. It bore his name and his email and mobile number. ‘Give me a call once you’ve had a chance to think about how we should proceed with this, OK? But I would appreciate it if we can get going on finding this woman as soon as possible.’

I fired a stony look at him. Who did he think I was? His PA?

I scribbled down my contact details on a piece of old envelope at the bottom of my bag and thrust it at him.

He vanished back out of the door and into the rain-slicked street.

As soon as the shop door clicked closed behind him, I turned to my gran. ‘What on earth is this all about? Have I stepped into some alternate universe?’

She remained seated and dashed some imaginary dust from the top of the pristine counter.

‘You believe him, don’t you? You really do think there’s something in what he says about Mrs Carlucci.’

I folded my arms across my chest and sank back down into my chair opposite her. ‘Why are you so keen for me to help him, Gran?’

She didn’t make eye contact with me.

‘What is it? What’s going on?’

She didn’t reply.

‘Gran? I’m totally confused by all this. You actually believe what Dexter Grayling said about Mrs Carlucci?’

‘We need more investment in Fir Haven,’ she insisted. ‘Dexter Grayling is wealthy. He can inject some much-needed cash into the town and raise our profile.’

I examined her. ‘And that’s why you insisted I help him?’

‘Yes.’

‘No other reason?’

Gran shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Like what?’

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I don’t know.’

I watched her rise to her feet, eager to kill off this particular conversation. ‘I’ll brew a fresh pot of tea and then we can make a start on pulling together ideas for your grand opening!’