Page 9 of Spring Dreams at the Cornish Bakery

‘Go on then. Go have coffee with the cutie.’ Diane nodded her head towards him.

Taking a deep breath, Lynsey weaved her way around the counter and through the throng of customers before standing next to Zac’s table. ‘Hi.’

Looking her up and down, Zac lowered his mug slowly to the table. ‘Not you.’

‘Ha, yes.’ Lynsey pursed her lips. There was no point calling him out on his behaviour yesterday, even if the anger at him simply walking away was quickly rising again.

Zac rubbed his hand across his face.

‘Don’t worry. I know you’re not about to quote me for the work or anything. It was lovely of Ian to recommend you, but I don’t want to waste your time.’ Lynsey spun on the spot, ready to walk away before she felt his hand on her arm. Turning back around, she looked at him. ‘What?’

Taking his hand away, he indicated the chair opposite him. ‘Please.’

Slipping into the chair, Lynsey automatically picked up a serviette from the centre of the table and folded it in half. What was the point in her sitting here and wasting both of theirtime when she could be doing what she’d come to the bakery to do and be helping out behind the counter serving customer? ‘What’s the problem?’

Downing the last of his coffee, he lowered his mug again, the ceramic clicking against the surface of the table. With one hand still wrapped around his mug, he looked across at her. ‘The problem is, I owe Ian a favour, and he’s asked me to take a look at this cottage of yours.’

‘You’ve already seen it. Just tell Ian you don’t want the work.’ She folded the serviette again, running the pad of her forefinger along the creased edges. ‘Not that I can begin to understand why you don’t want the work. I mean, Ian said you’re new to the area and looking to build business, and yet you wouldn’t even give me a quote.’

‘I...’ He leaned forward, his elbows on the table.

Cutting him off, she narrowed her eyes. ‘Unless, of course, you’re just not capable of the job. Yes, that must be it. You’d rather take on small, manageable jobs than something like my cottage.’

Frowning, Zac shook his head before throwing his arms in the air. ‘You’re accusing me of not being able to do the work? You? The person who got me to go and offer a quote on the pretence that there was only a couple of days’ work to do? A week at the most? You’re all the same. You think you can reel me in, make me give you a lower quote because... what? I feel sorry for you? Or you’re simply trying to deceive me, take advantage of my good nature. Expect me to do this and that for free or else you’ll kick up a fuss and make out that I’m not capable of finishing a job? ‘

Taking a quick breath in, Lynsey tried to speak, ‘That’s...’

‘That’s no better than stealing. No, it damn well is stealing. And I’ve been stung before and won’t be taken advantage of again.’ He slammed his fist on the table.

Lynsey felt the knot in her stomach tighten, the knot in her stomach which had formed the day Ross had accused her of stealing from the business. The same knot which had grown when her usually kind and thoughtful second employer of the patisserie had regretfully had to let her go. The knot in her stomach which even after months of having her name cleared, even after moving hundreds of miles away from the town where people still whispered behind their hands at her, still hadn’t disappeared. She could feel her hands begin to shake, could feel the familiar dread rising inside her. The doubters were still out there, and he was one of them. Even him, even Zac, who she’d never met before. Even he could somehow tell what her insecurities were. Pushing her chair back, she stood up and forced her jellylike legs to move. She needed to get away from him. From here. She needed to go. To go anywhere.

‘Don’t leave on my account.’ Zac’s voice barely penetrated the noise in her mind, the memories fighting their way into her consciousness again.

Pulling the door open, Lynsey stepped outside. Nora had been right. It was a warm, lovely day. A lovely day for bee silk headscarves, but not a lovely day for her. As she made her way across the cobbles, her pace quickened until she was running in the direction of her new cottage. The place that was supposed to be her sanctuary and now the place which had caused all these feelings to rise again.

Chapter Ten

Pulling the front door open, Lynsey stepped inside. The cottage was just as she remembered, plaster strewn across the floorboards, the bare floorboards of the upstairs visible. As she walked to the centre of the room, she sneezed from the disturbed dust.

She came to a stop in front of the fireplace, a large brick recess, slate tiles sitting on the floorboards in front with a thick oak mantelpiece hovering above. That hadn’t been ruined, at least. It was still there, probably still working. She could get it checked, get the chimney swept.

Sinking to the floor, she was oblivious to the pieces of plaster she was sitting on and instead crossed her legs, resting her hands on her knees as she drew in deep breaths just as she’d learned from the meditation sessions she’d watched on the TV. Breath after breath, she breathed until she felt more in control, until she could force those thoughts back into the recesses of her mind, until she could limit the tremors she felt in her limbs.

He couldn’t have known. She didn’t walk around with ‘accused thief’ written in permanent marker across her forehead. Her old employers wouldn’t have rung Elsie and told her. She hadn’t needed references to volunteer here. Nobody knew. Zac didn’t know. It must just have been by an unlucky chance that he’d brought up the very idea of stealing. It must have been.

But he had called her a thief and she couldn’t explain that. All she’d done was ask him for a quote. She hadn’t meant to deceive him. She hadn’t known the cottage needed more work than she’d ask him to quote her for. And why would that have mattered,anyway? Surely it’s every contractor’s dream - to discover they can get more money out of a job?

Reaching forward, she wiped at a mark on the bricks of the fireplace and looked at the dried soot on the pad of her finger before wiping it across the leg of her jeans.

‘That’ll stain, you know.’

Frowning, Lynsey looked towards the door. And yes, just as she’d guessed, the voice belonged to Zac Hunter, the same guy who had moments earlier accused her of trying to steal from him. Laying her palms on the floor, she pushed herself to standing and glared at him. How dare he follow her and invade her supposedly safe space? ‘Does it matter?’

Shrugging, Zac crossed his arms and nodded towards her. ‘Maybe not. Not if Elsie is happy with you serving food in a downright dirty apron, that is.’

Looking down, she sighed as she realised he was right. A line of soot made its way from the middle of her brilliant white apron to the hem. She must have absentmindedly wiped her hands on the apron rather than her jeans. If that wouldn’t come out in the wash, she’d owe Elsie an apron for sure. Meeting his gaze, she rolled her shoulders back, standing tall. ‘Why are you here?’

‘To give you a quote.’ He shrugged, as if the reason was obvious.

---