Spring at Lavender Bay: A delightfully uplifting holiday romance for 2018!. Sarah Bennett

Chapter Twenty-Two

       Acknowledgements

       Excerpt

       Endpages

       About the Publisher

Chapter One

      ‘Sort this for me, Beth.’ A green project folder thumped down on the side of Beth Reynold’s desk, sending her mouse arrow skittering across the screen and scattering the calculation in her head. Startled, she glanced up to see a wide expanse of pink-shirted back already retreating from her corner desk pod. Darren Green was her team leader, and the laziest person to grace the twelfth floor of Buckland Sheridan in the three years she’d been working there. She eyed the folder with a growing sense of trepidation. Whatever he’d dumped on her—she glanced at the clock—at quarter to four on a Friday afternoon was unlikely to be good news. Well, it would just have to wait. Sick and tired of Darren expecting her to drop everything, she ground her teeth and forced herself to ignore the file and focus on the spreadsheet in front of her.

      Fifteen minutes later, with the workbook updated, saved and an extract emailed to the client, Beth straightened up from her screen. Her right ankle ached from where she’d hooked her foot behind one of the chair legs and there was a distinct grumble from the base of her spine. Shuffling her bottom back from where she’d perched on the edge of the cushioned seat, she gave herself a mental telling off. There was no point in the company spending money on a half-decent orthopaedic chair when she managed to contort herself into the worst possible sitting positions.

      Her eyes strayed to the left where the file lurked like a malevolent toad. If she turned just so, she could accidentally catch it with her elbow and knock it into the wastepaper basket sitting beside her desk. Brushing off the tempting idea, she grabbed her mug and stood up. Her eyes met Ravi’s over the ugly blue partition dividing their desks and she waggled her cup at him. ‘Fancy a brew?’

      He glanced at his watch, then laughed, showing a set of gorgeous white teeth. ‘Why am I even checking the time; it’s not like I’m going to refuse a coffee, is it?’

      Everything about Ravi was gorgeous, she mused on the way to the kitchenette which served their half of the huge open-plan office. From his thick black hair and matching dark eyes, to the hint of muscle beneath his close-fitting white shirt—the only thing more gorgeous than Ravi was his boyfriend, Callum.

      Though she’d never admit it to anyone other than Eliza and Libby, she had a huge crush on her co-worker. Not that she would, or could, ever do anything about it, but that wasn’t the point. Ravi being unobtainable and entirely uninterested in her as anything other than a friend and co-worker made him perfectly safe. And it gave her a good excuse for not being interested in anyone else. An excuse to avoid dipping her badly-scorched toes back into the dating pool. Once had been more than enough.

      Until she recovered from the unrequited attraction, there wasn’t room in her heart for anyone else. She could marvel at the length of the black lashes framing his eyes and go home alone, entirely content to do so. He was the best non-boyfriend she’d had since Mr Lassiter, her Year Ten history teacher. He also provided a foil on those rare occasions she spoke to her mother these days. Lying to her didn’t sit well with Beth, but it was better than the alternative—being nagged to ‘get back on the horse’, to ‘put herself out there’, to ‘settle down’.

      Eliza and Libby knew all about both the hopeless crush and her using a fake relationship with Ravi as a shield against her mother’s interference. And if they didn’t entirely support the white lie, they at least understood the reasons behind it. Just like they’d known everything about her since the first day they’d started at primary school together. They knew what her mum was like, and they understood why Beth preferred the harmless pretence of an unrequited crush. She’d never been one for boyfriends growing up, and the more her mum had pushed her, the more she’d dug her heels in.

      Beth had been eight years old when her dad had walked out with not so much as a backward glance. Her mum had spent the rest of Beth’s formative years obsessed with finding a replacement for him—only one who could provide the financial security she craved. Before he’d left, there’d been too many times her mum had gone to pay a bill only to find the meagre contents of their account missing. If Allan Reynolds hadn’t frittered it away in the bookies, he’d blown it on his next get-rich-quick scheme. Given the uncertainty of those early years, she had some sympathy for her mum’s position. If only she’d been less mercenary about it. A flush of embarrassed heat caught Beth off guard as she remembered the not-so whispered comments about Linda Reynolds’ shameless campaign to catch the eye—and the wallet—of newly-widowed Reg Walters, her now husband.

      Determined not to emulate Linda, Beth had clung fiercely to the idea of true love. She had even thought she’d found it for a while, only to have her heart broken in the most clinical fashion the previous summer. Trying to talk to her mother about it had been an exercise in futility. Linda had no time for broken hearts. Move on, there’s plenty more fish in the sea. She’d even gone so far as to encourage Beth to flirt with her useless lump of a boss for God’s sake. Beth shuddered at the very idea. In the end, she’d resorted to making up a romance with Ravi just to keep Linda off her back.

      Beth clattered the teaspoon hard against Ravi’s coffee cup, scattering her wandering thoughts. Balancing the tea and coffee mugs in hand, she returned to her coveted corner of the office. People had offered her bribes for her spot, but she’d always refused, even if sitting under the air-conditioning tract meant she spent half the summer in a thick cardigan. Her cubicle with a view over the grimy rooftops of London was worth its weight in gold. When her work threatened to overwhelm her, she needed only to swivel on her chair and glance out at the world beyond to remind herself how much she’d achieved. The ant-sized people on the pavement scurried around, travelling through the arteries and veins of the city, pumping lifeblood into the heart of the capital.

      Moving to London had been another sop to Linda. Based on her mother’s opinion, a stranger would believe Lavender Bay, the place where Beth had been born and raised, was akin to hell on earth. A shabby little seaside town where nothing happened. She’d moved there after marrying Beth’s father and being stuck on the edge of the country had chafed her raw, leaving her feeling like the world was passing her by. When her new husband, Reg, had whisked her off to an apartment in Florida, weeks before Beth’s fourteenth birthday, all of Linda’s dreams had come true. She’d never stopped to consider her daughter’s dreams in the process.

      Though she’d never been foolish enough to offer a contradictory opinion, Beth had always loved Lavender Bay. The fresh scent of the sea blowing in through her bedroom window; the sweeter, stickier smells of candy floss and popcorn during high season. Running free on the beach, or exploring the woods and rolling fields which provided a backdrop to their little town. And, of course, there was Eleanor.

      The older woman had taken Beth under her wing and given her a Saturday morning job at the quirky seaside emporium she owned. The emporium had always been a place of wonder to Beth, with new secrets to be discovered on the crowded shelves. Hiding out in there had also given her a haven from Linda’s never-ending parade of boyfriends. Beth suspected she’d been offered the few hours work more to provide Eleanor with some companionship than any real requirement for help.

      When it had looked like Beth would have to quit school because of Linda and Reg’s relocation plans, Eleanor had intervened and offered to take her in. Linda had bitten her hand off, not wanting the third-wheel of an awkward teenage daughter to interrupt her plans. It hadn’t mattered a jot that a single woman nearing seventy might not be the ideal person to raise a shy fourteen-year-old. Thankfully, Eleanor had been young at heart and delighted to have Beth live with her. She’d treated her as the daughter she’d never had, and Beth had soaked up the love she offered like a sponge.

      Under