Page 38 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

‘Yes,’ he forced, his eyes not reflecting what he was saying.

‘Are you sure?’

A rush of frustrated sounding air came out of his chest. ‘Actually, no.’

‘What is it?’

His attention moved from me to his phone screen and then back again. I noticed that Max’s cheeks were smudged with pink. ‘This is all a bit awkward.’

‘What?’

‘Blake has just sent me an email.’

‘About what?’

Max’s cheeks deepened with colour. ‘About the makeover of the cabins.’

I adjusted the strap of my shoulder bag and folded my arms across my chest. ‘Oh, yes?’ My trouble-detecting radar was going into overdrive.

Max blinked down at his mobile phone. ‘Oh, just forget it,’ he rushed. ‘It’s not important.’

It clearly was.

‘Max, what’s up? What has Blake said? Please tell me.’

He looked pained, as though someone had just kicked him hard in the shins. He didn’t answer.

‘Look, we all need to pull together as a team. You said so yourself. If we keep things from one another, it’s not going to work.’

Max clicked his tongue and waggled his phone. He almost smiled. ‘It’s very annoying when someone points out something sensible that you’ve said.’

‘Sorry.’

He smiled briefly, before handing over his phone for me to take a look. I scanned through the email.

Hi Max.

Apologies I was unable to attend the meeting this morning. I had a prior appointment.

I hope you don’t think I’m being too presumptuous, but I have been thinking long and hard about the cabins and in my opinion, you should reflect again on going down the frivolous route favoured by some of the team.

I suggest you consider a Western frontier theme for all of them. This would be a much better option and keep continuity.

As you of course know, I have stayed in a wide variety of accommodation during my mountaineering and hiking tours and I have to say that introducing these sorts of glitzy, sentimental ideas are at odds with what I had envisaged the cabins to look like.

I stopped reading and jerked my head up to look at Max. Frivolous? Glitzy? Sentimental? Damned bloody cheek! He was trying to undermine me! How dare he do that! I was the one who had been tasked with the cabins, not him. How would he like it if I interfered with his sodding rock climbing and tried to advise him on climbing Ben Nevis? And to write all this down in an email, instead of trying to speak to me about it?

I opened and closed my mouth, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

‘Of all the—’

I swallowed a ball of temper and forced myself to read the rest of the email.

I have a friend who can lay his hands on unique wooden furniture, reflecting that period. Instead of the themes Ms Grant has suggested, I believe we should go down the more rustic route, which would appeal to our clientele.

I have no doubt at all that Ms Grant’s vision for the cabins would be appreciated and indeed suitable in another setting, but I feel it would be a mistake to introduce them for your venture.

I had to stop reading for a few moments. My eyes felt like they were scorching. That bloody man! Who the hell did he think he was?