Page 3 of The Boathouse By the Loch

‘But I am not taking your money for the full six-night stay.’

‘But—’

‘No buts,’ she said, sternly folding her arms.

Jake lowered his eyes. He understood. He’d paid for two nights, and had left after only one night, telling her to keep the money. It was the wrong thing to say to someone like Gayle. He’d offended her. She knew he was made of money. He was a Ross, after all. When he and Eleanor had married, they’d agreed she’d take his name and keep the Ross name too. And Jake had been soinextricably linked with the Rosses since childhood that he’d had no qualms about joining their surnames into a double-barrelled married name.

Now, he wished he hadn’t. Everywhere he went, the name Ross, and what had happened to William Ross’s daughter, followed in his wake. And yet he knew he couldn’t drop his married name. It would upset William and Marcus.

But what would happen if I were to remarry?he wondered. That thought had never crossed his mind before.

‘You don’t agree,’ said Gayle flatly, keeping hold of the door key to the vacant attic bedroom.

‘Oh, er. Of course, of course. I’ll … um … pay when I leave then?’

‘Yes, that’s what I would prefer.’

‘All right.’

‘Good. That’s settled then.’ Gayle smiled as she handed him the key to the room with the view of The Lake House. He remembered the faux pas Gayle had committed when she’d mentioned the attic rooms at the start of his previous stay. She’d said that there were lovely views from those rooms of the Cairngorms, the famous mountain range in Scotland. Of course, that was where they’d had the ski accident. But worse still, she’d added,you’ll get a glimpse of the Rosses’ holiday home too.

Jake remembered that Gayle had been mortified, apologising profusely. Jake had just waved the comment away, realising she’d said it on autopilot because that was what she said to all her guests. She’d even admitted as much. The Rosses, with their global construction empire, were one of the wealthiest families in the country. It stood to reason that people might be interested to catch a glimpse of the family in the flesh; they’d only normally see themif they popped up on the news. Unfortunately, after the accident at Christmas, and the news stories about the tragedy, Jake imagined that bookings at the guesthouse – especially for the attic rooms overlooking the Rosses’ holiday home – had increased.

If Gayle had told any of her guests that a member of the Ross family was actually staying there, they probably wouldn’t believe it. ‘Can we stick to being on a first-name basis?’ Jake suddenly blurted.

Perhaps it was just as well he would be staying up in the attic, away from prying eyes – although he knew Gayle would not be telling all and sundry just who he was.

Gayle offered him an understanding nod. ‘Of course we can.’

Even so, he had it on the tip of his tongue to ask to swap rooms if there was a guest in one of the single rooms on the lower floor, and let them have an upgrade at his expense, but he decided against it. Gayle had told him she did not accept charity, and he imagined she wasn’t expecting her guests to either. Besides, it suddenly occurred to him that they might want to know which one of the guests was being so generous as to pay for their upgrade. That was a surefire way of getting noticed by the other guests.

Instead, he asked, ‘Where’s Olive?’ He looked down the stairs, expecting her to bound up to greet him at any moment, wagging her shaggy tail. He looked at Gayle. ‘You shut her in the kitchen this time, didn’t you?’ Jake smiled knowingly. When they’d arrived the previous day, the huge dog had come belting towards them, scaring Marcus, who’d clung to the banister for dear life.

Jake had been more than happy to give the exuberant puppy dog, an Old English Sheepdog called Olive, a fuss. He’d thought she was adorable. But, seeing Marcus’s reaction, Gayle had promptly taken her to the kitchen and shut the door.

‘Oh, she’s not in the kitchen.’

Jake imagined that Nick had taken her out for a walk. She was his dog, after all – not Gayle’s.

Meeting Olive had reminded Jake that Natty had been on at him about getting a puppy. Of course, he couldn’t buy her one without Faye’s say-so. After all, who was going to look after it? Natty had begged, and pleaded, saying that she would take care of it. But she was only nine. Jake knew, without even asking, that her mum did not have the time or resources to take on a puppy. But Jake did.

He had thought that he could buy a puppy for Natty, and just have it at his house for when she visited. But that plan had gone straight out of the window when Faye had found, in his house, all the toys he’d been buying Natty for when she stayed over. He hadn’t realised what a fool he’d been. Faye shouldn’t have had to tell him that he should not be giving Natty the idea that she could have whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. It wasn’t the way Faye was bringing her up. And besides, she just didn’t have the money to spoil her like that, even if she’d wanted to.

‘Everything all right?’

Jake looked at Gayle.

She said, ‘Oh, you asked me about Olive. She’s at the shop.’

‘The shop?’

‘Mr Gillespie’s General Store.’

Jake frowned. ‘What’s she doing there?’ Then a thought suddenly occurred to him. ‘Oh, god – she’s not for sale, is she?’ If so, Jake was ready to drive on over to town and buy her.

Gayle burst out laughing. ‘Oh, goodness me! What a thought. Mr Gillespie selling puppies down aisle number three! Although I’m sure, knowing his fastidiousness, he’d be sure to put the puppies down the dog food aisle.’

Jake smiled. ‘Ah, you mean he is looking after Olive.’

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