Chapter 4
GEORGE
W ith Hattie’s egg delivery cradled against his chest, George turned his back to the entrance of the Pebble Street Hotel.
He pushed the heavy door open with his bum before reversing into the reception.
Somehow, he didn’t think Hattie would be too pleased if he managed to inadvertently mix a giant omelette right there on the polished tiles.
‘Phew!’ he chuckled. ‘Made it with zero disasters.’
Behind him, someone let out a loud groan of pain, and George whirled around.
‘Lionel?’
The sight of his old friend slumped across the reception desk was nearly enough to make George drop the eggs in his hurry to get to him. It was a couple of seconds before he noticed that Hattie was already there, patting her uncle’s shoulder and looking faintly amused.
‘Hey George!’ she said with a bright smile.
‘What’s happened?’ he gasped, setting the box of eggs down before he dropped them, and willing his heart to calm down. Surely, if Hattie was smiling like that, there couldn’t be a real emergency going on, could there? ‘Do you need me to call someone? Is Lionel… okay?’
Hattie’s grin turned into a full-blown giggle, and George breathed out a sigh of relief. There was no way Hattie would be laughing if there really was something wrong with her beloved uncle.
‘Don’t mind this one,’ she tutted, patting Lionel again, who was still slumped forwards with his head cradled on his arms. ‘He’s just being a drama queen,’ she added in a stage whisper.
‘You’d be a drama queen too if you’d just had to deal with our new…’ Lionel paused, clearly looking for the right word. ‘Our new guest !’ he finished with a hiss that made the word sound like a curse.
‘Hush, she’s still on the stairs,’ said Hattie, still giggling.
George promptly craned his neck to take a peep. Sure enough, he could just make out someone wearing a seriously pointy pair of heels wobbling their way up the stairs, pulling a bright pink suitcase behind them.
‘Is she still there?’ muttered Lionel, looking like he’d make a break for it if there was any chance this guest might reappear.
‘Almost gone,’ said George.
This was bizarre. Lionel was one of the kindest, most easy-going people he’d ever met. Nothing was too much trouble for him when it came to looking after his guests. Which must mean that this new arrival was a?—
‘Total nightmare!’ huffed Lionel, with a gusty sigh. ‘The minute she walked through those doors, it was like she was spoiling for a fight.’
‘About what?’ said George.
‘Everything,’ tutted Lionel. ‘How hard it is to find Seabury, how difficult it is to find somewhere to park. How small and depressing it is.’
‘What?’ gasped George. ‘How could anyone think that? Seabury’s the opposite of depressing! I mean… yes, it’s small… but that means it’s charming and unspoiled and friendly… well, for the most part!’
Hattie snorted, and even Lionel managed to stop glowering long enough to crack a smile.
‘Wait,’ said George, ‘I don’t suppose she’s driving one of those great big SUV things, is she? A shiny black beast that looks like it cost more than my house?’
‘No idea,’ Lionel shrugged. ‘Whatever she’s driving, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion she’s left it somewhere daft, the way she was chuntering on about unfriendly locals.’
George raised an eyebrow. It had to be the same woman, didn’t it? He racked his brain for the description Jess had given him.
‘Was she kind of… well-groomed?’
Hattie nodded. ‘Enough hairspray there to act as a wind break for the entire town!’
‘In that case, I think we’ve already met,’ said George. ‘Or I’ve met the trail of destruction she’s left in her wake, if not the woman behind it.’
‘What trail of destruction?’ said Hattie.
‘For starters, she parked across the gates to the allotments,’ said George.
‘Oh dear, I can’t imagine Charlie’s too happy about that,’ said Lionel, sitting up at last.
‘Not particularly, no,’ said George. ‘That’s not all, though. She turned up at Hillside Farm and did her best to take out Jess’s chickens while she was there!’
‘Nooo!’ Hattie clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Are the girls okay?!’
‘Fine,’ laughed George. ‘In fact, that box there is full of their finest offerings. Jess asked me to bring them down for you.’
‘You’re an angel!’ said Hattie, beaming at him. ‘You know… why you two aren’t together is beyond me.’
‘Don’t you start!’ tutted George. ‘I get enough of that nonsense from Doris.’
‘I’m just saying,’ said Hattie, wiggling her eyebrows. ‘She’s cute and single… and you’re cute and single…’
‘Leave the poor lad alone,’ chuckled Lionel. ‘Otherwise, you’ll have to start fetching your own eggs.’
‘Good point!’ laughed Hattie. ‘Thanks for bringing them down. I’ve got cake to make and puddings to sort out for this evening, and the pressure is on. They have to be perfect, because Miss Stroppy Knickers booked herself in before flouncing off upstairs.’
‘Good luck!’ said George, as Hattie hefted the box of eggs into her arms and pottered off towards the kitchen.
‘So, how long’s your new guest staying?’ said George, noticing that Lionel was still looking rather morose.
‘I have no idea,’ said Lionel. ‘She’s a walk-in, not that you’d believe it.’
‘How’d you mean?’ said George.
‘Well, most people who want somewhere to stay at the last minute are usually pretty grateful if we manage to find them a room.’
‘And she wasn’t?’
‘Are you kidding me?’ he chuckled, clearly starting to see the funny side of the situation.
‘She demanded our biggest room. She wanted a sea view but nothing directly over the kitchen because she “didn’t want to put up with the smell of burning fat all night.” As if that happens in any of our rooms! ’
‘Wow. She sounds… demanding,’ said George.
‘That’s one way of putting it!’ said Lionel. ‘Anyway, I told her she was lucky because I had just the thing, and she turned around and told me that she’d be the judge of that! When you came in, she’d just stropped off because there wasn’t anyone “suitable” to carry her bag to her room.’
‘What, that tiny pink thing she was pulling?’ said George.
‘Yes, that! I offered to take it up for her, but she told me she didn’t have the time to wait for some doddery old idiot to do it.’
George realised that he was standing there with his mouth hanging open and quickly shut it. ‘Wow, erm… well… at this rate, it sounds like the entire town will breathe a sigh of relief when she clears off!’
‘Hmm,’ said Lionel, tilting his head. ‘If anyone needs a little bit of Seabury magic in their life, it’s someone like her.’
‘Maybe she’ll chill out a bit when she’s had the chance to explore?’ said George, though he had a feeling it might be asking too much. People like that usually held onto their misery like a shield.
‘I don’t think so,’ sighed Lionel. ‘Not the way she’s going. I’m afraid she’s upsetting too many people for her stay in town to be much fun.’
‘I’m sure Charlie will let her off the hook the minute she shifts her tank out of his way,’ said George. ‘You know that he’s practically incapable of holding a grudge!’
‘Oh, it’s not just Charlie and Jess she’s upset so far,’ said Lionel. ‘From what I gathered when she was checking in, she visited The Sardine before coming here. Sounds like she’s managed to put Kate’s nose well and truly out of joint, too.’
‘How on earth…?’ George shook his head. ‘I didn’t know it was actually possible to make Kate angry, unless you happen to be her ex-husband!’
‘Well, looks like this one’s managed it,’ said Lionel. ‘From all the muttering she was doing under her breath while I was checking her in, it sounded like it had something to do with pumpkins.’
‘Pumpkins?’ George raised an eyebrow.
Lionel shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me!’
‘Well, I’ve got a bundle of mail to take over to The Sardine,’ said George. ‘I’ll check Kate’s okay and find out what happened while I’m at it. Want me to report back?’
Lionel nodded. ‘That’d be good. Forewarned is forearmed! I could do with knowing what we’re going to be dealing with while she’s staying here.’
‘What’s this woman called, anyway?’ said George curiously. ‘Maybe she’s here visiting family or something.’
‘Claudia… something or other,’ said Lionel, wiggling the mouse of the hotel’s ancient computer in an attempt to wake it up.
‘I knew a Claudia once,’ said George with a soft smile. ‘She was… wonderful.’
Lionel shot him a sharp look, and George grinned sheepishly.
‘The one that got away?’ said Lionel, lifting one seriously bushy eyebrow.
‘Something like that,’ said George, as a little pang hit him in the chest. It was the same pang he got every time he thought about Claudia.
George had only been in love once in his life, and it had been with her.
They’d both been very young—mere babies of eighteen and nineteen—and everyone had insisted that it would never last and that what he was feeling wasn’t real.
They’d been right about the first bit, of course—it hadn’t lasted. But it had definitely been real.
His Claudia had been a free spirit—something that was even more pronounced because it was set against the backdrop of a mother who had conservative ideals as well as ambitious plans for both her daughters.
After a perfect year together, his beautiful, wild girl had danced off into the sunset.
She’d claimed she still loved him but had to be free to explore what else was out there.
George wasn’t in the least bit ambitious—even back then.
He’d valued the small things, but Claudia had craved adventure and drama.
He didn’t blame her then, and he still didn’t blame her now…
but sometimes he wondered what life would have been like if they’d found a way to make it work.
‘Well, I guess it’s not likely to be the same Claudia,’ chuckled Lionel, still fiddling with the computer. ‘I can’t imagine anyone describing our newly arrived battle-axe as “wonderful.” Ah ha, here we are. Claudia Weatherly-Harcus.’
‘Definitely not my Claudia then,’ said George with a little sigh. ‘And I don’t know any Weatherlies or Harcuses around here. Do you?’
Lionel shook his head.
‘Well,’ said George with a shrug, ‘no doubt we’ll find out what she’s in town for sooner or later.’
‘Either that, or the occupant of room thirteen will just disappear tomorrow morning, never to darken our doors again,’ said Lionel, looking hopeful.
‘Bit of a shame if she disappears before she feels a bit better, don’t you think?’ said George. ‘Like you said, Seabury’s a pretty special place. Mind you, I guess it might take a bit more than a single night for it to work its magic!’
Lionel shrugged. ‘Can’t save ‘em all, Georgie boy… can’t save ‘em all.’