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“But we are fond of cheesecake. And gin. Especially the gin.”
So she wanted me to bring gin, then.
“I’ll make sure to remember that.” I tucked the invitation back into the envelope and put it on top of the cake box. “Thank you for this. It’s unnecessary but appreciated nonetheless.”
Esme beamed. “Did my grandson introduce himself yet?”
“I saw him this morning,” I said slowly. “And he did, yes.”
She nodded. “Good. I hope he was nicer than he was yesterday.”
I wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that. Or what I’d nicknamed him inside my head.
“He… introduced himself,” I settled on after a long moment.
“Well, I suppose that is nicer than he was yesterday,” Esme agreed. “You’ll notice I left the goat at home today.”
I glanced around her. “Yes. I assumed you’d had enough of him eating your plants.”
“Mm. He’s a greedy little shit. Fantastic to have around when the shrubs need pruning, though.”
I fought back a smile. “I’d imagine he is.”
Esme nodded. “Right, then. I’ll leave you to your day. I did promise Max I wouldn’t bug you for too long.”
“It’s very rude of him to assume you’re bugging me.”
“That’s what I said. Alas, he disagrees.”
“Do you think he ever tires of being wrong?”
Her eyes twinkled. “Every day, my dear. You’d think he’d learn by now, wouldn’t you?”
I grinned.
“I must say, I am glad that you’re just as amusing in real life as you are in your books.” She paused. “Although perhaps that’s a sentiment I should reserve for romance authors and not so much the mystery ones.”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, I have to agree with you there.”
“Probably for the best. What was I doing? Oh, yes, I was leaving. Dearie me.” She stepped back away from the door. “I shall see you soon, Ellie, dear.”
“See you soon. And thank you for the cake.”
“Don’t forget to bring that box back to me. They’re annoyingly expensive for what they are.”
“I’ll bring it to the book club at the latest,” I assured her.
“Excellent. Well, then, I’ll be off.” She navigated the stones that lined the flowerbed and swiftly disappeared around a thick tree trunk.
Esme really was a ride—and a wild one at that.
•••
The way the sun rose behind Greygarth Lodge was the thing of dreams. Lazy rays of sun cast a hazy golden sheen over the furthest edges of the lake, and even though it was cold in the shade, it didn’t stop me curling up on a bench with a blanket around my shoulders and a cup of tea to experience it.
Living in a city centre didn’t offer much in the way of experiences like this. The only sunrise I was used to seeing was one that glinted off windows of high-rise buildings and cast tall shadows across the ground.
I wasn’t even sure why I lived in London. Perhaps it was the ease of things for meetings with my agent and my publisher. Maybe it was because it was what was expected of a successful writer, despite all the ideas that authors lived in huge country houses and danced around with bluebirds like a freaking Disney princess.
