Page 69 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
After she’d hung up, Ollie stared at her phone.
‘Everything OK?’ Max asked. ‘Who wanted to know about risk assessments?’
‘Arabella, Sophia’s editor. I’m sure it’s fine – they just want to check everything’s in place before the event later this month.’
‘Whatever questions they throw at you, you’re more than up to the task.’ He leaned over and kissed the spot he’d been drawing on, and Ollie happily surrendered to his touch. After a whole weekend together, she didn’t think she’d ever tire of being this close to him. Everything, she decided, was wonderful. Arabella’s call wasn’t anything to worry about, and if she worked hard enough, she could get herself in Becky’s good books. After all, she’d never shied away from a challenge, and she wanted life in the bookshop to be as harmonious as her home life was starting to become. Being here in Port Karadow, she decided, as Max trailed his lips lower down her body, was nothing short of blissful.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Thirteen days of Max, Ollie thought, as people filed into A New Chapter, the smell of cinnamon lingering in the air from the mini wreaths that dotted the space, joining the excited chatter of people who were anticipating a fun evening, but weren’t quite sure what they were getting. Thirteen days since she’d given into her feelings for him, and he’d shown her that he was as committed, as besotted, as she was. And, she realised, it was only nine days until the Christmas pageant, and their big event with Sophia Forsythe-Hartley.
‘Are you trying to pull apart the decorations?’ Becky had an amused look on her face, but her tone had an edge which, by now, Ollie was very familiar with.
‘Oh!’ She let go of the mini wreath that, during her absent-minded musings, she had started to dismantle. ‘Shitballs.’
Becky smiled. ‘Just don’t start pulling pages out of the books, and we should be fine.’
Ollie returned her smile, but couldn’t help the slight sinking feeling in her stomach.
The wreath-making had been their second, more ambitious crafting event, and it had attracted a lot of attention after word of the paper chain workshop got out. They’d put a booking form on the website, and had filled the spaces in a day. Ollie had checked and double-checked that the parents who said they were staying really meant it – had probably made a few of them worry that she was losing her marbles – and had ticked everyone off on her list as they arrived.
Since then, Becky had been noticeably warmer with her, and she didn’t want to do anything to upset that, because the better they worked together, the more the bookshop would benefit. Unfortunately, some of it might be out of her hands.
Arabella had been in touch several more times since she’d asked about the bookshop risk assessments. Ollie had sent her the information without telling Thea, mostly because she didn’t want to worry her boss that, after their successful Zoom meeting, Sophia’s editor was suddenly beginning to question things. And she’d been right to not tell her, she decided, because the challenges werestillcoming. Only that morning she’d had a phone call from Arabella, asking about the proposed rail enhancements on the west coast line in the week before Christmas.
‘It says there’s a possibility of thirty-minute delays on all journeys to Cornwall,’ Arabella had said. Ollie had hurried into the stockroom, glad that Thea and Becky were busy with customers.
‘I’ll look, hang on.’ She had searched for the information while the little green lozenge at the top of her screen toldher the phone call was still active. ‘It says it’s only until the twentieth,’ she’d said. ‘Our event is on the twenty-third.’
‘You know how these things can drag on,’ Arabella had replied.
‘Isn’t Sophia due to arrive at lunchtime? I expect you’ve got her a flexible ticket, and if she gets an earlier train, that should give her some extra leeway in case there’s a hold-up.’
There had been an uncomfortable pause, then Arabella had said, ‘I’ll see what we can do. She’s leaving London frighteningly early as it is.’
‘Let me know if I can help from this end,’ Ollie had said brightly, though she didn’t think asking Great Western Railway to change their entire schedule of track repairs was within her control.
Now, as customers arrived for the first Book Wars clash, she couldn’t help the nagging feeling that Arabella was trying to find fault with their event; reasons that it wasn’t the perfect launch venue for her author after all. If that happened, Ollie honestly didn’t know what she’d do.
‘Mum, Mum!’ An eager voice broke through her reverie, and Ollie looked up to see Dylan, and then someone who made her forget all her author-related worries in an instant. Max returned her smile, his green eyes keeping her captive.
‘What is it, sweetheart?’ Becky asked.
‘Max said he’d let me work in the café with him after Christmas.’
Max held his hands up. ‘That’s notquitewhat I said. I’m not advocating child labour.’
‘He said I could come and see how it all works, that he’d show me how to make a cappuccino and how he does orders and stuff.’
‘If he’s interested,’ Max said to Becky. ‘He can hang out with me for an hour or two. Though he said he wants to open a restaurant, so I wonder if Marcus would be a better fit.’
Becky stroked her son’s hair. ‘You’re very young for work experience, but if it’s just a couple of hours, I can’t see the harm.’
‘Max is the coolest,’ Dylan said, then glanced at him, his cheeks reddening. ‘I’d rather find out from him than that Marcus guy.’
‘Only if it’s OK with you,’ Max said to Becky. ‘And I thought it would be better in January, after the Christmas rush is over.’
‘Thank you,’ Becky said. ‘That’s very kind of you. Come on, Dylan, let’s get you a drink.’ She led her son towards the stairs.
