A Bride Worth Waiting For. Caroline Anderson

hugged Ruth, pressing her eyes firmly shut to hold back the unexpected prickle of tears. ‘Ruth, that’s fantastic!’ she said, her voice choked. ‘When did he ask you? I take it we’re talking about your gorgeous policeman, since you spent the weekend with him?’

      Ruth sniffed and sat back, her cheeks pink. ‘Of course it’s Tim. And he’s asked me over and over again. I said yes this morning. I’m going to move in with him.’

      ‘Well, of course you will.’ She listened to herself in dismay. Did she really sound so bereft? How silly. She injected a little enthusiasm and interest into her voice. ‘Will you be far away? Where does he live?’

      ‘Not far. Only three miles. He’s been asking me endlessly to move in with him, dropping hints for ages before he began proposing—and I’ve finally decided to do it.’

      ‘Oh, Ruth, I’m so pleased for you! I wondered what was going on—you’ve been looking so much happier since you met him.’

      ‘I have been. I am.’

      ‘It shows.’ Annie smiled wistfully. ‘Lucky old you. You know, I did wonder at one point, when there didn’t seem to be a man in your life at all, if you’d got some kind of thing going on with Michael—’

      ‘Michael? Good grief, no!’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘Hardly.’

      ‘Is he so bad?’

      Ruth chuckled. ‘No, he’s not bad at all. Far from it. I suppose if he was your type, you’d think he was very sexy in a rather brooding sort of way. I don’t know. You can judge for yourself on Monday.’

      ‘Monday?’

      ‘Mmm. He’s coming over then—I’m moving out at the weekend, and he’s going to start tearing the place apart. He’s jumped at the chance to get in there. He wants to refurbish the whole building, in fact; says it’s long overdue, which it is.’

      Annie blinked in surprise. ‘Does he have time?’

      Ruth nodded. ‘He’s going to have a break from writing, and he’s told me to take a holiday, so I am. I think he’s planning a little physical work to free up his thoughts and, let’s face it, the place could do with a hefty dose of TLC. I think he’s looking forward to pushing his sleeves up and getting stuck in.’

      Her heart thudded unexpectedly. ‘Wow. So I get to meet the great man at last.’

      She chewed her lip absently. She’d never met her landlord, not in the seven years since he’d bought the Ancient House. Ruth had been the go-between, working for him as his researcher and living here in the flat that occupied the whole of the top floor, but curiously Michael himself had never darkened her door, so she knew little about him except that he was a writer—a hugely successful one, if the best seller lists were to be believed.

      That was probably why she’d never met him. Too busy and important to trouble himself with some trifling investment property—or so she’d thought. He certainly didn’t need her contribution to his income if the rumours of his advances were true.

      Roger had loved his books—he’d even met him once, but she’d been out when he called and so she’d missed him, to her disappointment. But he hadn’t described him as broodingly sexy—

      ‘I wonder if he’ll use the refurb as an excuse to put my rent up?’ she murmured, dragging herself back to practical matters and the here and now.

      Ruth shrugged. ‘Dunno. I doubt it. You’ll have to ask him.’ She pulled a face. ‘It’ll be odd not living here after so long.’

      ‘Seven years. It’ll be weird without you. I’ll miss you.’ Unaccountably she felt herself tearing up again and looked away crossly. ‘Sorry, I’m being an idiot. I’m delighted for you, I really am. It’s just—’

      ‘You’ll miss me. I know. I’ll miss you, too.’ Ruth patted her arm awkwardly. ‘You’ll be fine. You’ve got my mobile number—perhaps we could go out for a drink one evening, if Stephen’s with a friend or something?’

      ‘That would be lovely,’ she said, knowing quite well it was unlikely to happen but grateful to Ruth for suggesting it. ‘Thank you for all you’ve done for me in the past few years, especially since Roger died. You’ve been a star.’

      ‘My pleasure. You’ve been a good friend to me, too, Annie. There were times when I couldn’t have got through without you.’

      That unexpected frankness was nearly her undoing. Annie swallowed and gave a little shrug. ‘What are friends for? I’m glad you’ve found someone. You deserve to be happy.’

      Ruth nodded and turned her attention to her coffee, looking at it rather than at Annie, stirring it with meticulous care. ‘I just wish you could be as happy,’ she said quietly after a moment. ‘I know you and Roger were very fond of each other, but you weren’t exactly soul mates, were you? You’ve never really told me about Stephen’s father, but I get the feeling you’re still a little in love with him. Is there any chance—?’

      Annie felt her smile slip. ‘No. He’s dead—years ago, before I started running this place. The way I felt—well, it was a one-off, crazy thing. I don’t know if it was the real thing, but it certainly felt like it at the time. He was French, and such a charmer—I just fell for that broken English and gorgeous, sexy accent hook, line and sinker. I adored him, but you can’t base a marriage on it. At least we didn’t have time to get bored with each other. I don’t know. It might have worked given time, who knows, but I doubt it. We just didn’t get the chance to find out.’

      ‘But maybe now—if the right man came along—?’

      She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t need any more heart-ache, and nor does Stephen. He’s lost two fathers, although he only ever knew Roger. I think that’s enough for anyone.’

      Ruth was quiet for a moment, then she looked up and searched Annie’s face. ‘Do you think Stephen’s suffered for not knowing his real father?’

      Annie shook her head slowly. ‘No—not really. I know we had an unconventional marriage, but Roger was a good father to all the children. Stephen adored him, and I would have been horribly lost without him—even if I could never compete with his first wife.’

      ‘Ah, yes. The amazing Liz. Ghosts are always the hardest. She was a bit of a legend, by all accounts. They still talk about her, you know.’

      Annie nodded. ‘She was certainly loved in the village. Her death was an awful shock to everyone. I couldn’t believe it. She’d been my college lecturer, you know—taught me everything I knew about catering, but she was more than that, even then. She was a friend, a real friend, and I was lost when she died, but at least we’d set this place up by then, so she saw her dream become reality. Still. Time moves on, and they’re together again now. And you’ve got your Tim. I really, really hope you’re happy together.’

      ‘We will be. Do keep in touch. Can I come and have coffee still?’

      Annie laughed. ‘Of course. I run a coffee shop—what else would you do?’

      ‘But you’re busy.’

      ‘Never too busy for a friend. Please come. Don’t be a stranger. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.’

      ‘You won’t lose me—promise.’

      Ruth hugged her again, and then went out, running up the stairs to the flat above to start her packing, and Annie scrubbed the kitchen until it sparkled, determined not to let the stupid tears fall. It wasn’t as if Ruth was a bosom buddy, but as busy as she was, Ruth was probably one of her closest friends. Bringing up the children and working the hours she did didn’t leave a lot of time for socialising.

      She straightened up, threw the tea towel she’d used for polishing the worktops into a bag to take home, and looked round, checking to make sure she was ready for the morning.

      What would her