Page 29 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

Just great!

Just sodding great!

So, I had to work with Laughing Boy?! I let out a deflated sigh.

The dismissive way he’d spoken about Christmas Crackers and his superior attitude! What the hell was his problem? And what was all that passive-aggressive macho stuff about him knowing about hiking and mountaineering? Then he had the damned cheek to stand there and say I needed luck, because the cabin venture was doomed to fail?

I scowled down at the note and his sarcastic reply. So that figured. That big car belonged to him. Oh, he must have thought he was so witty, writing that response.

I folded my arms and remained standing behind the counter, seething. Saccharine?! The damned cheek of the man.

Mum and Orla reappeared, clutching my lunch and a latte.

Blake Dempster would not be involved with the cabins. He couldn’t be, I kept reassuring myself. He would be there to encourage visitors to take up his hiking tours. He had said so himself. Well, he hadn’t really said it. It had been more like a growl.

Pity he wouldn’t take a tumble in a huge great cowpat! That would knock the supercilious smirk from his face – well, what you could see of it, through that privet hedge of a beard.

I thought about Max and Stephanie. Should I ask for a discreet word with them? Perhaps I could tell them about his negative attitude – something of an understatement – towards what I was aiming to achieve and they might have a word with him.

I stuck my tongue to the inside of my cheek as I debated it all. But on the other hand, if I did that, it could cause tension and complications even before we really got going with the cabins and how conducive would that be? Blake Dempster might even think I was telling tales after school and incapable of standing up for myself.

I didn’t want them to think I was a troublemaker.

‘All quiet?’ asked Mum, handing me my lunch and then peeling off her coat.

‘Yep.’

Mum eyed me. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Then why are you doing that thing with your tongue?’

I pulled my tongue out of my cheek. ‘I wasn’t.’

‘She was,’ explained Mum to a bemused Orla. ‘Lottie has always done it ever since she was little. If something is troubling her, she stands and thinks about it with her tongue in her cheek.’

‘Well, I’m not doing it now.’

‘No awkward customers?’ asked Orla.

‘I wouldn’t say that.’ I thought about Blake Dempster pouring a bucket of freezing cold water over my cabin ideas. Fingers crossed, I never had to deal with the man again.

* * *

I didn’t sleep very well on Tuesday night, ahead of my first day working for the Styleses.

After my shower and hair wash, I got dressed and put on my candy-pink pussy-bow blouse, a matching tailored jacket and slim-fitting black trousers.

I pushed my cereal around my bowl, managing only a few mouthfuls.

On the way out the door, I pulled on my glittery pink beret, scarf, gloves and my thick maroon belted coat, which I reserved for special occasions.

I jumped in my car, a cantankerous but rather sweet second-hand VW Golf in sky blue. That was another thing I had compromised on, in order to ensure I had the money to buy Christmas Crackers. I only used my car when I was forced to, to economise on petrol and whenever I had needed to fill the tank, I would put in the minimum amount.

I tried not to grind my teeth at the thought. Move on, Lottie. Move on.

I mentally ran through everything, checking I had all my notes about the cabins with me. I had placed them all in a buff folder and popped that inside my big fringed shoulder bag on the passenger seat.