Page 50 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘What do you think?’ he asked.
‘I think that ofcourseit’s not as good, but that you’ll be incredibly polite about it, anyway.’
Max laughed. ‘It’s almostas good. I am begrudgingly impressed with the coffee here – but then I am with everything in this hotel. What did you think of the yoga?’
Ollie sighed. ‘I think it’s a stealth exercise. It presents itself as this calming, easy discipline, where you can gain flexibility, strength and mindfulness without almost dying, then it sneaks in things like the crow.’
‘You can’t take that as a failure,’ Max said. ‘I know you’ll frame it that way, that you’re critical of yourself, always trying to do better, but you broke your shoulder, Ollie.’
‘How do you know I’m thinking of it like that?’
‘Because I know you,’ he said simply.
Ollie tried not to read too much into it. ‘OK. I won’t see it as a failure.’
‘See it as an adjustment, instead. You’ve had to adapt your plans due to the circumstances. So often things are out of our control. Think of your Marcus Belrose event.’
She put her head in her hands and groaned. ‘Iwasin control of that, though. And I almost set Thea’s bookshop on fire.’
There was a polite cough, and she sat up to let the waiter put their coffees and biscuits on the table. They reached out to take a Florentine at the same time, their fingers brushing. The chocolate and nut discs glistened under the soft lights, their tops adorned with syrup and cranberries.
‘One burned paper towel isn’t a building fire,’ Max said. ‘It didn’t go well, but Thea’s sensible: she’s not going to hold one misstep against you. The book club and the ghost walk were successful. Those were spontaneous; you adapted to the circumstances and made the most of them.’
‘I suppose so. But I need to be doingmore.’
‘And I bet you’ve already thought of a hundred new ideas.’ He gave her a gentle smile. ‘Though I hope one of them’s not to buy all the customers hot chocolate on aregular basis, like you did the other day, because you’ll bankrupt yourself before the end of the year.’ He bit into a Florentine.
‘That isnotmy plan,’ Ollie said. ‘Besides, we have our own drinks machine now. It has a hot chocolate setting, and we’ve put the powder in. Customers can press one button – two, if they want fancy syrup – and make their own hot chocolates.’
Max shook his head sadly, and she laughed.
‘You were the one who helped me get the best machine! Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I want to get everyone involved, and Christmas is the ideal time to do it. A bookshop doesn’t only have to focus on books, does it? As long as we’re holding events – and as long as it’s not bloodycooking –people are bound to buy something.’
‘So what’s next? Other than me asking Beryan to add Florentines to her list of treats for Sea Brew. These are delicious.’
Ollie nodded while she nibbled on one. They were amazing. ‘Paper chains,’ she said. ‘Paper chains and Sophia Forsythe-Hartley.’
‘You’re going for opposite ends of the spectrum?’
‘And everything in between. I have to make A New Chapter the most talked-about place in Port Karadow – for all the rightreasons. To do that, I need to cater for everyone.’
Chapter Twenty
The following Tuesday, Ollie found herself knocking on Max’s front door at seven o’clock in the morning, trying not to think about what he looked like in pyjamas, or whether, in fact, he wore any.
When he answered, however, he was fully dressed, already doing up his coat and wrapping his stripy scarf around his neck. ‘Morning,’ he said, and Ollie’s reply got stuck in her throat. He was too gorgeous for words.
‘Hey,’ she said eventually.
‘Hi. Hi.’ He directed this second greeting to Henry, who was almost vibrating with excitement, his tail wagging madly. Max crouched and gave him a vigorous stroke, and Henry buried his nose in Max’s neck, licking him with abandon. ‘OK,’ Max laughed. ‘I get the picture. I’m looking forward to this, too.’
‘It’s suitably frettish today,’ Ollie said, holding up the little grey book of legends. They’d made the plan to explore one of the legends as they were munching Florentines inCrystal Waters’ opulent snug, and the weather forecast had turned out to be right, for once.
‘That’s important, is it?’ Max asked as she led them down his road and then right, away from the centre of town and towards the coast.
‘Yup. The sea fret is a crucial part of today’s local legend.’ She’d seen the thick mist coming in off the sea a few times since she’d been in Cornwall, but was still surprised by how suddenly it could roll in, how it could make the landscape, even her dog, sometimes, disappear.
‘I haven’t been this intrigued since a red-haired woman and a chocolate Lab walked into Sea Brew a little over a month ago.’
