Page 46 of Slow Burn Summer

“It’s like a movie set,” she typed, almost sending the image to Liv and then changing her mind and sending it to Charlie instead. Liv didn’t need to see what she was missing in all its beautiful, ivory-shuttered glory.

The cottage-core interior more than held its own against the outside: whitewashed stone walls, a low, inviting linen sofa, natural sheepskin rugs, a splash of color from a jug of fresh wildflowers on the kitchen table. Steep wooden stairs led to the bathroom and only bedroom, where she found a huge carved wooden bedstead with billowing white linen and a vintage rose-velvet throw. Flinging the shutters open, Kate stood in the sun-drenched room and sighed with pure joy. It was as if someone had studied the mood board in her head and built this magical cottage especially for her. Her commuter-belt new house with Richard had been show-home worthy, but it had always been his dream rather than hers. This tiny, aged cottage with its uneven wooden floors and simple, unfussy décor made her feel as if her lungs had actually expanded in her chest. She could breathe more deeply; her bones felt at ease inside her body. It took awhile to identify the sensations washing over her as she watched the industryof the harbor. Peace. Freedom. No one to please but herself. No one to feed, no one to put first, just an overwhelm of serenity, a moment of full stop. She watched the fishing boats come and go for a while, then lay down on the bed and slept.

—

She woke early the nextmorning in what was officially the world’s most comfortable bed, basking in the already light-filled bedroom. The cottage had worked its magic on her the night before: a simple dinner from the supplies left for her in the fridge, a glass of wine as she’d read the festival itinerary Rachel had sent across. A table had been reserved for Kate Darrowby, stocks of the book would be available for sale, and she just needed to greet readers, chat, and sign copies of the book. Totally doable.

Nerves had kicked in when she poured a second glass of wine and googled the event. It was larger scale than she’d anticipated, the online buzz among romance readers through the roof. Charlie had messaged last thing to make sure she had everything she needed, and she’d cracked and confided she had everything except her sister.

And now it was Saturday morning. She’d gone with a striped sundress shot through with metallic thread to elevate it beyond the beach, and light makeup that wasn’t likely to melt down her face in the heat of the festival tent.

Reaching for her phone, she found her social media jumping with reader messages, people making their way down to the festival, others wishing they could be there. She’d gotten into the habit of spending the first couple of hours of the day replying to reader messages and posting candid pictures of her adventures in publishing, striking up conversations and friendships with people who’d read the book and were helping to spread the word far and wide.She’d never had a big circle of female friends and the book world sisterhood was a revelation.

The brown-paper-wrapped box Liv had given her as she left the shop sat on the kitchen work surface. Kate had been planning to save it for after the signing, but she was ready early and yearned for the boost of her sister’s company. Reaching for it, she carried it through to the table by the window and sat down, taking her time. Liv had tacked a note to the lid of the box.

I was going to wait for your birthday because this was a SHIT TON of work, but I wanted to give you something special to celebrate the book coming out.

L xxx

Easing the lid off and carefully folding back layers of blush-peach tissue paper, Kate peeped inside, then she started to laugh and swallow tears at the same time. Reaching into the box, she removed the crocheted mouse orchestra one piece at a time. They were wonky, and one had three legs, and another was half-purple. And there were violins and trumpets and tambourines. An intricate twelve-piece mouse orchestra, each individually styled, including a conductor with his arms flung wide and the most theatrical whiskers of them all.

“I bloody love you, Liv,” she whispered, arranging the orchestra on the table.

Reaching for her mobile, she took a photo.

You’re the most iconic sister on the entire planet

she typed, and pressed “send.” And then added

and the most talented x

Liv replied instantly.

You forgot best-looking. Break a leg, Katie xxx

Bang on time, the same cab driver as the day before rolled to a halt outside Pink Cottage, where Kate stood nervously jiggling from foot to foot.

“Me again,” he grumped, arm resting on his open window.

“Me again,” she grinned and clambered into the back, noticing a copy of her book waiting on the seat beside her.

“The wife wants you to sign that,” he said, catching her eye in the mirror.

She looked at the book, and then at him, as she pulled one of her signing pens from her bag and opened the book flat on her knees. “Is it really for you?”

“June. Her name’s June. J U N E.” He spelled it out, testy. “Like the month.”

“Pretty,” she said as she clicked the end of the pen. “Anything special you’d like me to write?”

“Yes.Dear June, get your head out the clouds and read something more useful instead.”

She held his glare in the mirror.

“This is the first time I’ve ever signed a book for someone in person,” she said, writing June a much less offensive message. “Thanks for making it so memorable.”

She earned herself a twitched gray eyebrow in response.

“The women’s books festival at the showground, then,” he muttered, flinging the car into gear and juddering down the hill.

---