Page 39 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

I forced myself to read to the end.

I can provide you with costings of the Western frontier theme and have taken the liberty of attaching a few images of the type of thing I had in mind. I know that with a change in direction, the cabins would appeal to a wider mass market than the current themes Ms Grant is implementing.

I have no doubt that Ms Grant is very competent, but I feel this is the wrong direction to take.

Let me know what you and Stephanie think.

Best,

Blake.

I have taken the liberty? Very competent?! Yes, he sure as hell had taken the liberty!

Struggling not to let rip with a frantic stream of expletives, I clicked on each of the attachments Blake had included with his email. Images of cast-iron frying pans, copper-bottom pots, hurricane gas lamps and simple cotton tablecloths and curtains flashed before my eyes. There were no pastel painted walls in sight. No plump cushions or woven rugs. Instead, there were pictures of thick wooden panelling. Dear Lord. It all reminded me of props from a Clint Eastwood movie.

I thrust Max’s mobile back at him.

‘Don’t worry,’ insisted Max, catching my furious gaze. ‘We won’t be considering Blake’s suggested route. We know what our vision for the business is and have done from the outset and we share that same vision with you.’ He brandished his phone at me again. ‘No doubt he thought he was being helpful. I will reply with a polite decline.’

Being helpful?! Being an interfering tosser, more like! I was the one with the interior design degree here!

I stood there, frothing with fury. What did he think he was playing at? Going behind my back like that to Max? What was he hoping to achieve? No, that was a silly question. I already knew the answer to that one.

Blake had made it plain from the start that he thought my ideas for the cabins were a waste of time. He’d clearly been giving it a great deal of thought, going by the images of pots, pans and panels he had included. The sly, underhand cretin!

Max stared down at me. ‘Lottie? Are you all right?’

‘No,’ I ground out. ‘Not really.’

Max ran a frustrated hand over the top of his hair, as a robin fluttered in and out of a nearby hedgerow. ‘I shouldn’t have told you. I should have just replied to him and said thank you for the suggestions, but no.’

‘No, I’m glad you did tell me, Max.’ At least now I knew what I was up against.

Max examined me. ‘Just forget all about this, Lottie. As I say, Blake must have thought he was helping in some way by making alternative suggestions, but he hasn’t gone the right way about it.’

My mouth pinched. Blake Dempster being helpful was about as likely as pink rainwater. I pushed out a tight smile. I didn’t want to come across as awkward and combative, even if Blake Dempster did. I was new to the job and I wanted to make a good impression. ‘Yes. Something like that.’

Max shoved his phone back into his trouser pocket. ‘Don’t give it any more thought. He’s been clumsy and thoughtless in the way he’s done this, but I’m sure it was well-intentioned on his part.’ He clapped his hands together in an embarrassed action. ‘I’ll give him a quick call and explain. I’ll also tell him I don’t approve of how he’s handled this. He should have discussed it with you.’

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’

I didn’t say to Max that I was also intending on having a discreet word with our bearded mountaineering professional. If he thought he could act like this, he was much mistaken. He might be able to conquer snow-capped peaks in a pair of flip-flops, but that didn’t give him the right to treat people like they didn’t matter.

Max brandished his mobile. ‘Right, I’d better get on. You go up and take a look at the cabins before you leave. They really are coming on a treat.’

I waited until Max’s tall, distinguished frame retreated into Rowan Moore House. Then my frozen smile collapsed. I had no intention of going to visit the log cabins. At least not at the moment. That could wait until another day. The more I thought about Blake Dempster and the whole situation, the more frustrated and resentful I was becoming.

Even if Blake had approached me first with his idea, I still would have been irritated but I wouldn’t have felt so stupid. Why hadn’t he mentioned all this to me? Did he think I was insignificant? Inconsequential?

I gritted my teeth under the milky, wintry sky. I couldn’t let this go. It would be gnawing at me all day.

I made a decision. I would drive straight back to Craig Brae and have a chat with Mr Dempster. Right now.

Chapter Eleven

I switched off my car engine and sat there, staring out at the plush new glass and pine wood office of Rock-Solid Ramblings, which had once been our local community centre.

It was situated on the outskirts of Craig Brae and atop a small hill, with the shores of Loch Strathe resting like a ghostly mirror in the distance.