This wasn’t exactly the subtle, low-key arrival that Lachlan had hoped for. The plan – as much as he’d had one – had been to quietly arrive at the party, unobtrusively track down Alyssa, then have a quick, but quiet chat with her and be out and on the way to the airport ten minutes after he’d arrived.
Instead, he’d walked into the small Scottish village equivalent of Mardi Gras. A couple of guests at the door had pointed him in the direction of the kitchen, and he’d very politely worked his way through the room, dodging tables, swerving round people singing at the top of their voices, then skirting past a crowd that were doing some kind of synchronised dance. All of a sudden, he’d made a wrong move, and his path had been inadvertently blocked by a crowd of older women, one with a blonde bob, who’d somehow – and until the end of time, he would refuse to replay the memory of this – coerced him into staying on the dance floor until the end of the song. Thankfully, it was mercifully short, and when the music had stopped, he’d spotted the door behind the counter, taken a few steps towards it, when thelights had gone down and the whole room had erupted into a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’.
At this point, his will to live had deserted him, and he’d had to stand there, reluctantly joining in, while Alyssa brought out a cake and did a whole birthday candle-blow out thing. Then the lady who was having the party burst into tears, gave a sobbing speech of thanks and everyone clapped.
Everyone, that is, except Alyssa, who was staring at him with unmistakable fury, while holding a cake in the shape of a hairdryer. And now, as the applause subsided, he was questioning both his choice to come here and his sanity.
With a subtle nod to the side, Alyssa gestured to the door behind the counter, her meaning clear. As the music started up again, and the party resumed, he followed her and she led him into a room at the back that was obviously the kitchen and prep area.
Alyssa had just put the cake down when her sister stormed in, saying, ‘Lyss, I could swear I just saw that prick from earlier and…’ She spotted him and went with an admirably direct, ‘Yup, he’s here.’
He decided that brevity was the route to take. ‘Hi.’
Alyssa looked so much wearier than the fired-up version he’d met earlier, but still she took the lead. ‘Are you here to tell me that you’ve had a change of heart and I can keep my café?’
‘No. Sorry. I’m?—’
She cut him dead. ‘Then please don’t take this the wrong way, but piss off. Truly. I have about a hundred guests out there, a party to run, a cake to cut, I’ve had the shittiest day of my life and I don’t have the energy for you.’
He hadn’t come all this way to give up without trying to do something positive for her though, even if it was just giving her allthe facts. ‘I understand. I swear I do. But I just need ten minutes of your time to explain a few things. And I’d come back when you’re less busy, but I’m flying home in a couple of hours, so I need to get to the airport. And trust me when I say I don’t intend to return for a very long time. Like, when hell freezes over.’
Something in his voice – probably sad desperation – must have struck a chord with them because he caught the glance that went between the sisters, and they seemed to reach some kind of silent agreement.
‘Okay, have a seat,’ the younger one said, as they pulled out chairs on the other side of the table and sat down. He searched the memory of this crap day for her name. Ginny. That was it. She reminded him of Margaux. Funny. Quick. Quirky. Bold in all the good ways. Especially – going by the hostility her gaze was throwing in his direction – when defending the people she loved.
‘Ten minutes,’ Alyssa said. ‘And I need to cut this cake while we’re speaking or there’ll be a mutiny out there.’
‘That’s all I need,’ he promised, pulling out a chair opposite them. ‘First, I want to apologise for earlier. You caught me off guard, and I handled it really badly.’
‘You did,’ Ginny agreed.
‘So I wanted to explain why I couldn’t help, and I’ll just give you the important details – if there’s anything else you want to know, just stop me.’
Neither of them spoke so he carried on.
‘I flew up here this morning for the reading of my dad’s will. There are three beneficiaries to my dad’s estate: his second wife, my brother, Jason, and me.’
He thought he saw a flicker of recognition in Alyssa’s face when he said Jason’s name, so perhaps she’d done some research.
‘The majority of the estate was left to my dad’s wife…’
‘Your stepmother,’ Ginny corrected him.
‘Yeah, I guess. I’ve never thought of her that way – probably because I’m thirty-four and she’s only a year older. Dad only married her a few years ago, and they lived abroad, so I’ve only met her a couple of times.’
He paused for questions but there were none, so he carried on.
‘Anyway, we only found out this morning that this building was left to my brother and me. Like I said, I had no idea my dad owned it. I can’t remember if I told you this earlier, but apparently, he bought this place as a gift for my mum on her fortieth birthday because it had such sentimental value for her.’
‘That is so romantic,’ Ginny conceded. ‘Better than bed socks and a box of Quality Street.’ Something in her tone told him that one came from experience.
‘Yes, I guess it was. When my mum died, everything she had was left to Dad, and now he has passed this place on to us, with instructions to sell it and split the proceeds between us. I’m pretty sure my dad made that clear in case my brother and I disagreed on what to do with it. My brother wants it sold immediately and, for his own reasons, won’t delay under any circumstances, won’t negotiate and won’t consider any other options. I promise I tried. I even went to his house tonight to ask him to cancel or postpone the sale, but he wouldn’t budge.’
‘Even though his own brother was asking him?’ Alyssa had sliced half the cake while he’d been speaking.
‘My brother and I… we don’t have a good relationship. Or any relationship for that matter.’ He was trying to be as discreet as possible on that one because talking about his personal issues made him squirm.
‘Why?’ Ginny asked, clearly not sharing his boundaries. He couldn’t tell them. Wouldn’t. Shouldn’t. But…
