Page 12 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

‘And you?’

I flapped one gloved hand. ‘I’ll get myself sorted with something else. I applied for a local job last night.’

She offered a supportive smile from out of her creamy, freckled face. ‘Here. This is on me. Put your money away, love.’

She bustled about, fetching me a takeaway latte, before scooping up one of the chocolate brownies from inside the polished glass cake cabinet.

‘No, really, Mrs Crill.’

‘Och, away with you. You enjoy.’

I blinked back a grateful tear. People were being so sweet and that was making the whole horrible situation even worse. ‘Thank you.’ I started to head towards the bakery door.

I would have to get used to this.

* * *

I followed my usual routine in the shop, moving from shelf to shelf, switching on the looping fairy lights, lighting a couple of festive scented candles – this morning, I chose cranberry and orange – before selecting more Christmas songs to play.

Nine o’clock was fast approaching, so I savoured what was left of my latte and took a couple of bites of the delicious chocolate brownie. I would save the rest of it to have with my lunch.

I looked out of the bottle-glass shop window. Fine droplets of rain were slithering over the cobbles, sending a gauzy sheen over everything. I hoped that wouldn’t deter the locals or any hardy tourists from coming in to treat themselves to some Christmas decorations!

Mum and Orla were due in later, so it was just me manning the fort for now.

I hurried into the office, fired up the PC and rattled off some discount notices to attach to the shelves. The printer whirred into life.

I heard the dainty tinkle of the shop doorbell. ‘Just coming!’ I called, snatching up the printed pages. ‘Good morning. How can I help you? Oh, hello again, madam.’

It was the willowy middle-aged blonde woman from earlier in the week. She was accompanied this time by a well-dressed man, who looked about the same age as her. He had well-cut salt and pepper hair and quizzical brows.

‘Good morning,’ she smiled. Then her face became serious. ‘We were just reading your notice outside. Dear me. We’re so sorry.’

‘Thank you. Yes, it has all been rather a big shock.’

The air hung with unanswered questions. For something to do, I clapped my hands together and then wished I hadn’t. I must have looked like a performing seal. ‘The landlords wouldn’t renew our lease.’

I thought I was being very circumspect about the whole thing. It was far more than the wretched lot of them deserved.

They nodded and murmured their sympathies and apologies.

‘So how can I help you? Here to treat yourself to a couple more trinkets before you leave and head home?’

‘Oh, we’re not tourists,’ clarified her companion beside her. ‘We moved here a few months ago.’

‘We’ve been very busy,’ interjected the woman. She gave the man a charged look. ‘With limited success.’

‘You can say that again,’ he agreed.

There was another pause.

‘Sorry,’ said the woman, refocusing. ‘I was interested in buying one of your snow-covered ceramic cottages that are in the window.’

‘Of course.’ I led her over to the display. ‘Have you seen one in particular that you like?’

Her gaze trailed over the cluster of roofs, surrounded by puffs of cotton wool I’d dotted around them. ‘That one is gorgeous,’ she said, pointing to the thatched one with a red door and sprigs of ivy attached to the roof. ‘I’ll take it.’

I carried it over to the counter and fetched a small cardboard box to pack it up in. As I padded it out with old newspaper and a couple of sheets of tissue paper, I became aware of the man examining me. ‘You’ve done a brilliant job, promoting the Christmas Crackers brand.’