Page 13 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

‘Thank you.’

‘You came up with some great promotional ideas when the business was starting out.’ When he noticed me looking curious, he smiled. ‘I used to work as a copywriter for Business First magazine. I remember us giving your shop a mention once or twice.’

I picked up the ceramic cottage, placed it in amongst the folds of paper inside the box and returned his smile. ‘Oh, that’s right. I recall us getting a mention. It has been a challenge, but I’ve loved every minute of it.’ I swallowed, fighting to maintain a professional veneer. ‘It was a labour of love working here. I’ve always been obsessed with Christmas.’

The man pushed his tanned hands into the pockets of his long tweed coat. It was pricked with speckles of rain. ‘So, when the shop closes down, what will you do?’

I concentrated on taping up the lid of the box. ‘I’m sure I’ll find something else. I’ve started looking, so…’ I allowed my words to tail off. This was excruciating. How many times would I find myself having to endure these sorts of questions over the next few weeks?

The woman offered her credit card and I processed the payment.

I expected them to thank me and leave, but they continued to hover in front of the counter, appreciating the displays in the shop and then me. ‘Was there something else?’

The man admired a quilted cloth Father Christmas and Rudolph behind him. ‘I’ve done some research on you, Ms Grant.’

‘Er, thank you?’

The man breezed towards some vintage-style lilac baubles dangling from one of the hooks. He plucked one from it and toyed with it in his fingers. ‘Your marketing and PR strategies for Christmas Crackers pushed the business to another level. I thought your Secret Santa advertising campaign with those celebrities was very clever and I loved what you did with the Tinsel-itis competition for schools.’

I continued to shoot looks from the woman to the man and back again. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

Wow. They had done their homework on me. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or a little terrified.

The gentleman studied me. ‘I read on LinkedIn that you have a degree in interior design from Glasgow School of Art?’

‘Yes. That’s right.’ I frowned. What was all this about?

The blonde woman must have sensed my slight apprehension. ‘Ms Grant,’ she said. ‘Please let us explain.’ She clutched her snowy cottage purchase in the tartan-ribboned gift bag. ‘We have moved to Craig Brae because we want to launch a new business.’

Her dapper companion took over. ‘That’s right. But let’s just say it hasn’t been plain sailing.’ He offered me an encouraging smile, that made his smoky eyes crinkle. ‘We need someone with enthusiasm and creativity – someone who isn’t afraid to use their imagination.’

I could feel my head snapping between the two of them in confusion. Why were they telling me this? ‘Okaaaay…’

The blonde woman’s long, wide mouth slid into a warm smile. ‘How would you like to come and work for us?’

Chapter Four

I realised my mouth was forming a series of ridiculous shapes.

‘Sorry?’

The man indicated to the woman. ‘Please let us explain. This is my wife Stephanie and I’m Max. Max Styles.’ He proffered his hand and I shook it, before she did the same.

My head was reeling, but I managed to say, ‘Very nice to meet you.’

‘Likewise.’ He flicked me a look. ‘This has no doubt caught you off-guard a bit.’

A bit?!

Stephanie Styles jumped in, her powder-blue eyes expectant. ‘Rather than take up any more of your time trying to explain what we’re doing, how about you come up to our place and we can show you our project?’

Max nodded. ‘That’s a great idea. We’ve moved into Rowan Moore House. Do you know it?’

Pictures of the gated, impressive house flooded my mind. It had been lying empty for a while, since the previous owner, a retired politician, had passed away last year. It was located on the outskirts of Craig Brae and was situated in sprawling grounds that cradled woodland. So, they had bought that?

Max Styles plucked a business card from his coat pocket and handed it to me across the shop counter. I was still so stunned; I stared down at the card but wasn’t processing what was printed on it.

‘Would you be able to drop by at some point today?’ he asked.