Page 45 of Secret Paths

Her face tightens. “Do not.”

“I am joking.”

“I know. Stop.”

He lifts both hands, surrendering, but the smile does not return.

The bar carries on around us. Kelly laughs at something one of the two old men says as she collects empty glasses from a nearby table. The couple by the fire scrape the last chips from their bowl. A stool creaks as somebody shifts their weight.

At our end, nobody moves.

Peter looks at his pint. “If I do not find something local, I may have to think about the cottage.”

Alexandra goes white.

Not dramatically. She does not gasp or clutch her pearls. She simply stops being in motion.

Even Hunter says nothing.

I know what the cottage means to both of them. Everyone does. Peter and Alexandra’s father built it for their mother, back when the village was still the kind of place where a man could buy a plot, annoy the council for six months and put up half a house with help from friends and the weather gods on his side. It has uneven floors, a garden Peter complains about every summer and a front gate that has never closed unless threatened.

It is not just property.

Alexandra takes her hand away from his arm, slowly, as if she might bruise him. “You are not selling Dad’s cottage.”

Peter gives her a look that is almost gentle. “I said I'd think about it.”

“You are not thinking about it either.”

“Sadly, thoughts are harder to evict than tenants.”

“Peter.”

“I know.” He drags a hand over his beard. “I know.”

Alexandra straightens, decision already forming in her eyes. “You can do shifts here.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I need extra cover anyway.”

“You hired someone last week.”

“Tom is part-time.”

“You were thrilled about Tom.”

“I can become less thrilled.”

“Lexi.”

“What?”

“You cannot fire someone because your brother needs a job.”