The Lavender Bay Collection. Sarah Bennett

double-checking—or more like quadruple-checking—everything was in place.

      Libby came over to join her. ‘What can I do?’

      ‘There’s a checklist over on the counter…what? Why are you laughing?’

      ‘Of course, there’s a checklist. I don’t know why I didn’t just look for it in the first place.’ Still chuckling, Libby joined Annie and Paul at the counter where they divvied up the last couple of jobs.

      Beth checked her watch. It was twenty minutes to the opening and the first of the artists should be there any moment. The bell over the door rang again, and Beth fixed her ‘I’m confident and organised smile’ in place as she headed over to greet them. She was keen to expand, using the emporium as a showcase for their work. If running the shop didn’t work out for Beth in the long run, she had it in mind to ask whether they’d be interested in taking it on in some kind of collective capacity. It might mean a shift from the current eclectic stock the place carried, but Eleanor had been the one to bring them on board in the first place so a part of her legacy would live on.

      Annie edged through the crowded shop towards Beth and handed her a glass of champagne. ‘Everyone else has got a drink so I think it’s time. If you’re ready I can start herding people outside?’

      Beth nodded. ‘Thank you.’ She touched Annie’s arm when she would have turned away. ‘It’s going okay, isn’t it? I mean, everyone’s here. The place is packed, and they’ve said lots of nice things. It’s just…’

      ‘Everything’s perfect.’ Taking care not to knock either of their glasses, Annie swept Beth into a sweet-scented hug. Chanel No.5. Beth smiled to herself as the elegant perfume wafted around them. For as long as she could remember, Annie had kept a bottle of it on her dressing table. She and Eliza had snuck in there to play dress-up and had drenched themselves in the stuff. Instead of getting mad, Annie had sat them both down and showed them the secrets of her make-up bag.

      Annie stepped back and clinked their glasses together. ‘You’ve got a huge hit on your hands, especially with the artists. I’ve already talked Paul into arranging for that lovely jeweller to make me some earrings for our anniversary next month. It’s pearl.’

      Beth grinned. ‘I get twenty percent commission on any orders placed here tonight so make sure he doesn’t scrimp.’

      ‘Good point, I’ll talk him into a matching necklace. I pushed two of his babies out of my body so that man owes me.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t look at me like that, young lady. Thirty hours of labour for the first and over eighteen for the second. He’s going to owe me for the rest of his life.’

      Paul slid his arm around her waist, the other resting on a walking stick Beth hadn’t seen him use before today. Another sign he was taking his health more seriously. ‘And I enjoy paying back the debt, my dearest heart. Come on now, lets get this lot outside before they drink all the booze.’

      Watching them go, a tingle of warmth spread through Beth easing her nerves. Most of the people there had been on their feet all day dealing with the worries and stresses of their own businesses, and yet they hadn’t hesitated to give up their evening to welcome her back into their fold. It made her sad to think her mum had never been able to see this side of life in their small town.

      Once everyone gathered on the pavement outside, Beth took her place next to the rope the joiners had attached to the tarp covering the sign above the front windows. Libby handed her a teaspoon which she tapped against her glass until the conversation died down. Staring out at her friends and neighbours, she felt the collective weight of their expectations and uttered a silent prayer she’d be up to the challenge.

      ‘Ladies and gentlemen. I want to thank you all for coming here this evening to help me celebrate the official re-opening of the emporium. I know how much Eleanor meant to you all, and she meant the absolute world to me.’ Beth had to pause for a moment and gather herself. ‘I never expected such an incredible gift and I only hope I can do her faith in me justice. Yes, I’ve made some changes, but this will always be her place.’

      She passed her glass to Libby and took the rope in both hands. Please work. Please, please, please. Beth pulled hard and the tarpaulin tumbled down. A sigh rippled around the crowd and she knew she’d made the right choice. ‘Welcome to Eleanor’s Emporium.’

      ‘Last load.’ Beth promised herself as she yanked open the dishwasher door and wafted away the steam billowing out. Her feet were killing her—the heels had been a huge mistake, even if they’d been a perfect match for her blouse and pencil skirt. First thing tomorrow, she was going online to look for some pretty flats. She scrunched her aching toes inside her fluffy slippers and sighed in relief. Now if she could only find a full-body slipper to ease the stiffness in the rest of her. ‘Last load,’ she muttered and bent to empty the glasses from the dishwasher.

      She’d just placed the last glass in the slotted box they’d come in when the bell at the back door buzzed. Grumbling about the strain in the back of her calf, she limped down the stairs. Common sense kicked in the second before she pulled open the door—she was alone in the place after all. Flipping on the exterior light, she squinted at the large shape on the other side of the frosted safety glass. She checked her watch, it was past eleven. A frisson of fear shivered through her and she took a reflexive step backwards. ‘Who is it?’

      ‘It’s me.’

      ‘Sam?’ The security chain rattled as she slipped it off and opened the door. ‘What are you doing here?’

      He held up a bottle of champagne and a polystyrene box. ‘I bought you dinner.’ Her stomach rumbled reflexively, and he smiled. ‘All those sausage rolls, and I bet you didn’t have a single mouthful all evening.’

      Her hand settled on her noisy stomach and warmth flooded her cheeks. ‘I was a bit busy. By the time I thought about it, the plates were empty.’

      He lifted the box towards her. ‘Tonight’s special was chicken curry.’ Her mouth watered at the thought of it. ‘I didn’t get around to eating either. That drop-in guest turned out to be a pain in the arse. He hated everything about his room, even down to the brand of the freebie toiletries. I ended up giving him a bottle of fancy shower gel Mum gave me for Christmas and changing out the pillows. About the only thing he didn’t complain about was the curry, so it must be good.’

      Beth laughed and held open the door to let him in. ‘You should have come to the party, I had nothing but happy customers.’

      ‘Really? That’s fantastic. We definitely need to toast that.’

      Beth locked up and followed him up the stairs and into the kitchen. ‘One more glass and I might fall over. What I missed out on with the nibbles, I more than made up for with drinks. Every time I turned around, someone was there to refill my glass.’

      He paused in the act of pulling plates out of the cabinet. ‘We can have a soft drink, it’s no big deal, I just wanted to celebrate with you.’

      Sliding her arms around his waist, she pressed against the broad, solid warmth of his back. ‘Open the champagne. If that chicken curry is as good as you claim I might just take advantage of you.’

      Sam turned in her arms. ‘That sounds like the booze and the aftermath of the adrenalin talking.’

      She pressed a row of kisses along his jaw. ‘Maybe a little, does that matter?’

      His arms dropped to press her tight against him for a moment, before he eased her gently away. ‘It matters. I wish all the way down to the ache in my groin that it didn’t, but it matters. We’re going to eat this curry, drink a pint of water each, smooch a bit on the sofa and then I’m tucking you into bed—alone.’

      ‘Do you know how annoying it is when you take charge all the time?’ She stamped her foot, immediately regretting her show of petulance when her toes began throbbing again.

      ‘You’ll thank me in the morning when you don’t have a hangover or any morning-after regrets.’

      He