Page 58 of Play On

I send her an email with my request and the dates I’d like for her to work, along with the hours, even though I’m sure she knows those by heart by now, as she started working with us in the spring.

I make a final inspection of the shop, which is just as perfect as I thought it was upon first sight, and then I go back to the computer. I pop onto the internet, gather my breath for courage, and begin to look for opportunities.

Let’s see. An early-years art teacher—but I don’t have a childcare qualification. Costume cutter. Considering I cannot even thread a needle correctly, that would be a no. Ooh! Gallery assistant! I quickly read the description, then quit when I see they want previous gallery experience, which is something I don’t have.

Hmm. Maybe I need to start small before I can make a bigger step. I go back and read the qualifications they are looking for. They want an art history degree—and for some of these I’m overqualified, as I have a master’s degree in art history—but they also want experience in setting up exhibitions, putting together inventory lists, helping set gallery events …

I did my internship at an auction house in London, but I was focused on communications rather than auction operations, which was what I really wanted to do. But at least I have that.

Then I’ve been at Wintersmith Hall the past two years. My knack for picking preserves that sell well probably won’t be very impressive on my CV.

I keep thinking about my situation and how I can rectify it. Nothing comes to mind, then suddenly an idea hits me. What if I create my own internship experience here, this summer?

My brain begins to buzz with excitement, as it often does whenever I have a new idea. Dad won’t let me do anything major with the art in the house, but what about arranging a small exhibition of art to display in the gardens or something? Featuring students or local talent? Oh, it could be garden sculptures! That would be cool. Or perhaps a pop-up art market, with art from local artists or art that features Dorset?

I could also update the old listing of all the paintings for Wintersmith Hall, perhaps combining it into a new catalogue that I could also show to a potential employer as another skill I’ve cultivated whilst living in Dorset.

“Hi, Violet!”

I blink. I’ve been so wrapped up in my ideas that I didn’t even notice Amelia had walked into the shop. I see her pause and slip out of her raincoat, hanging it next to mine, and then she makes her way over to where I’m standing at the till.

“Good morning,” I say cheerfully, minimising the screen with the job search results on it.

“I thought I’d pop by and see you before Nicholas and I started our projects for the day,” she says brightly.

“Ooh, today will be a good day for the leak log,” I tell her.

Leaks are always exposed on rainy days, and there’s an endless supply of them in a house built in 1642. Nicholas keeps a record of them so we can try to get them fixed.

Amelia nods. “Yes, it is. I’m sure that’s what we will focus on as soon as the rain breaks. There’s supposed to be thunderstorms in the next hour or two.”

I study her carefully for a moment. She’s smiling and her green eyes are bright, and she looks happy. I remember whenshe first came here, brimming with ideas to open a bridal salon here at Wintersmith Hall.

But a funny thing happened. As she learnt estate management with Nicholas, Amelia discovered that was her true calling. Managing and working on a historic estate. After our plant sale, she and Nicholas talked about their goals and what they wanted, and the result is they are going to split their working time between our estate and hers. Here, they’ll do the small routine things Dad allows them to do.

But at Swallowhedge? They’ve been given permission to learn at the hand of their estate manager. Nicholas will get to dig into projects with Amelia, and I couldn’t be happier for both of them.

“I’m so glad you discovered your passion for estate management,” I say, smiling at her. “You look so happy whenever you’re working.”

Amelia’s face turns to one of complete joy.

“I’m enjoying it so much, and I never dreamt I would. It’s funny what can happen when you take a chance. All of this—being here, being with Nicholas, now working alongside him—wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t approached you with my idea. I owe you so much, Violet.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” I say, surprised she thinks I had something to do with her new path in life. “Nicholas is the one who gave you the green light to work here.”

Amelia shakes her head, her glossy black locks swaying from side to side. “No, I had to have you on my side first. And I also know, if Nicholas had said no, you would have fought for me and got him to say yes.”

I smile. That’s true. I liked Amelia’s conviction in her ideas—it’s something I wish I had myself. So I would have fought for her if Nicholas had said no.

“Anyway, I had another motive for stopping by this morning,” she says, a playful smile coming to her lips.

I lift a brow. “Oh? Do you need another jar of redcurrant and vanilla preserves?”

Amelia grins. She grabbed a jar of that last week, declaring it was one of the best preserves she had ever had.

“Believe it or not, I have not ploughed through that entire jar yet,” she says. “I wanted to know how things went in London.”

I smile as Noah comes to the forefront of my mind. “It went better than I ever could have expected. First, the event with Bella went well. The kids loved the art project I came up with, and that was very satisfying.”

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