Page 113 of The Bookshop By the Loch

But Wine Woman… I still didn’t know what the story was there. Was he seeing someone?

I mulled it over. I was overthinking this. It was just a portrait. What harm would that do? I was a grown woman. I wasn’t stupid.

Stop being such a coward, I told myself. I could handle Tobias and my feelings for him. I could keep them in check. It wouldn’t be a problem.

I set my back straighter. “Yes. Fine. Sure. Thank you. That would be great. But I insist on paying you. I’m not a freeloader.”

Tobias approached me like a prowling tiger. “We’ll talk about that later.” In an instant, he flipped back to professional mode. “Right. Excellent. I’ll check my diary and come back to you.”

Then he stalked off, giving me a slow smile over his shoulder.

“When are you planning on going to visit Celeste again?” asked Tobias the next morning in the shop.

The sun was playing a game with the summer rain, washing Bracken Way in warm, dappled sun one minute, before tipping it down again.

“I thought I might go this evening,” I replied. “Are you going to give her the portrait?”

“Yes, that’s the plan.”

“Then we can go together if you like,” I suggested, before wishing I could bite my tongue off. I didn’t want Tobias to get the wrong idea. “I mean, travel up there at the same time.”

Tobias’s mouth lifted. “I guessed that was what you meant.”

Pictures of Celeste’s manuscript floated into my head. “I wanted to speak to her about her book.”

“Is it raunchy then?” grinned Tobias, with a wicked glint.

I laughed. “Not by today’s standards. It’s just it ends so abruptly, like she never bothered to finish it.”

Tobias frowned. “But I thought she had.”

“Me too. It’s a pity as it’s such a great story. I’ve suggested some revisions and sharpened it up here and there. It really is fantastic.”

“Well, let’s go up there together,” confirmed Tobias. “I’ll pick you up around seven o’clock?”

“Thanks. That’s fine by me.”

Tobias nodded. “I can’t wait to see Celeste’s face when she sees her portrait.”

Celeste stared, opened-mouthed at Tobias’s portrait of her, mounted in its thick gilt-edged frame.

He angled it this way and that in the centre of her comfy, sun-stippled room.

She turned to me and Tobias and then back at the painting, with its snowy whites, lavenders, ice pinks and the crumbly castle in the background. She kept clapping her hands together in delight. “I knew it would be wonderful, but I never imagined it would look like this.”

Maeve, who we’d contacted and asked to join us up at the home so she could see it too, struggled to maintain her composure. “Thank you so much, Tobias. It’s wonderful. You’re so talented!”

Joyful tears shimmered in Celeste’s dark gaze. “I don’t know how to thank you or what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” beamed Tobias. “I’m delighted by both your reactions. That’s more than enough for me.” Then he corrected himself. “Oh, there is one thing you could do for me, Celeste?”

“And what might that be?”

“I would very much like to display your portrait in Mirror Image, once you’ve had time to appreciate it, of course. It’s good to ring the changes with my displays and I’m very proud of this one.”

I grinned at Celeste’s startled expression. It wasn’t very often she was lost for words. “What? Me? In your gallery?”

“Why shouldn’t you be?”