Chapter 4 #2
“Look on the bright side—if you slip and knock your head someone will know and your body will be discovered within seconds.
There might even be time to resuscitate you before the ambulance arrives.”
She laughed. “That is a comfort I suppose.”
“Talking of comfort, I have a lasagne in the oven, and I picked fresh salad from the garden. I can bring it round if you want
to work. Or you can come round to mine to eat it and tell me why you’ve been looking exhausted and beaten all day.”
She’d looked exhausted and beaten?
“It was a long one, that’s all.”
He gave her a keen look. “You’re not afraid of hard work, so it’s not that. If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine,
but at least you should eat. We can sit in silence if you prefer.”
And this was just one of the reasons she loved him. He never pushed. Never overstepped. But he was always there for her.
She thought about the application she’d submitted and felt a stab of guilt. She should tell him. She really should.
But what was the point in telling him? She probably wouldn’t hear back from them, and then she would have worried her father
for nothing.
Evie’s mother had died a few days after she was born. Her father had raised her alone, although his mother—Evie’s grandmother—who
had lived next door had helped on plenty of occasions. But mostly it had been just her and her father. That was one reason
they were close, the other being that her dad was an all-around good person.
If she refused the offer of dinner he’d worry, and she didn’t want him to worry. Also, she loved his lasagne. Which was probably
why he’d made it. He wasn’t above being manipulative.
She put her wine glass down and picked up her keys.
“I can’t say no to your lasagne.”
She followed him to the house next door that had been her home for so many years of her life.
Stepping through the door gave her a feeling of warmth and comfort. There was the wonky pot she’d made for her dad when she
was eight which still had pride of place on one of his shelves, and a photo of her dad with her mother, sitting on the beach
at sunset, laughing together. It was her favourite. She had the same photo in her own cottage.
She settled herself at the table in the kitchen and glanced out of the window at the red-streaked sky.
“Amazing sunset.” She’d spent hours at this table doing her homework.
“Yes, looks as if it’s going to be another hot day tomorrow. How was your run?”
“Glorious.” She didn’t add that for once she’d been too stressed to enjoy it.
He put a large dish of lasagne in the centre of the table, golden on top and still bubbling from the oven.
“That smells good.” She served him and then herself, and then did the same with the salad. “Thank you for this.”
“Anytime.”
They ate in a companiable silence and she had second helpings, even though she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t.
“It’s delicious.”
“You can thank your mother for that. She was the one who taught me to make it, as you know.”
She did know. She had a notebook in her kitchen full of recipes that her mother had written out in her neat handwriting.
“I should make it myself, but somehow I prefer eating yours. It’s the perfect comfort food.”
“And do you need comfort?”
He always knew. He always saw. She wondered sometimes if it was because he looked harder than other people. He paid attention.
She resisted the temptation to pour out her problems. She wanted people to treat her as an adult at work and the first step
towards that was surely behaving like an adult. She couldn’t lean on her dad every time she had a problem. She needed to handle
this by herself. He couldn’t make decisions for her.
He put a coffee down in front of her but before she could take a sip her phone rang.
She had no intention of answering it because her father had a strict rule about no phones at mealtimes, but she couldn’t resist
glancing at the screen and was immediately filled with panic.
“Boston.” She snatched the phone up. “Head office.”
Her stomach quaked. Was this it? Was he about to tell her they were going to be closed down?
She sent her father a look of apology.
“Take it,” he said gruffly and carried his coffee into the living room, closing the door behind him.
She answered her phone, palms sweating, a hundred bad scenarios spinning through her head. Her heart was pounding. She was
afraid she was about to have a heart attack and end up in hospital next to Gerald.
The call lasted ten minutes and when she eventually put the phone down she felt dazed.
“Well?” Her father came back into the room. “Was it something important?”
“Oh—no, nothing major. Why do you ask?”
Her father transferred the remains of the now cool lasagne to a smaller dish and covered it. “Because that white-haired man
with eyes like a weasel who stayed at the hotel last month wasn’t enjoying a mini break. He was doing a valuation and looking
for commercial opportunities.”
She gaped at him. “You knew that?”
“Of course I knew that.” He put the lasagne in the fridge and the other dish in the sink to soak. “It’s my job to know about
the people staying in my hotel.”
She felt a rush of emotion. He’d noticed, but he hadn’t said anything to her. The fact that her father thought of it as “his”
hotel did nothing to reduce the feeling of pressure.
“You didn’t mention it. Does anyone else know?”
He shrugged. “They knew he wasn’t who he said he was, but whether they’ve drawn conclusions from that—I don’t know. I haven’t
heard any gossip, so possibly not. What’s happening? What was the phone call about?”
“They’re sending someone to help me. Someone experienced who can work in most areas of the business.” She was still absorbing
the information. Was the call a result of the memo she’d sent? When she’d had no response, she’d assumed no one had read it.
“Miranda—she’s the global head of talent or some other lofty title—said that they understand it has been difficult since Gerald
was taken ill. The executive team had a meeting about it and decided we need support. They know about the staffing problems.
They didn’t mention anyone looking around the hotel.” And that had to be good news, surely?
“So we’re getting a new team member?”
“Yes. That’s great, isn’t it?” She forced a smile. “Having someone with experience will be good. It’s not as if she’s taking
over or anything. They said she’ll be able to support me wherever she’s most needed.”
It bruised her ego of course, but she was willing to take a little punch to her self-esteem if it meant protecting everyone’s jobs.
And it was further confirmation that they weren’t thinking of closing the place down.
She’d been wrong about that. If they’d wanted to, they would have done it.
And that was good. One less thing for her to feel bad about if she managed to get herself a new job.
Her father drank his coffee and then put the cup down slowly. “So when is this person arriving and who is she?”
“It’s a woman, and she’s arriving the day after tomorrow.”
“That soon?”
“Yes. I’m to arrange accommodation. Someone called Abby I think, but they’re sending me through details later.”
“She’ll use the rooms at the Smuggler’s Inn?”
“The Lookout? I suppose so. I’d better call and warn Tristan.” The pub held one room for them for new staff members, to give
them time to find more permanent accommodation. The lack of affordable places to stay was one of the reasons they had problems
recruiting. “This will be good for everyone.”
“So you keep saying.”
“You were the one who taught me to be positive in any situation.” She stood up and loaded the plates and cups into the dishwasher.
“Dinner was delicious. Thanks, Dad. You’re a lifesaver.”
“You’re doing a good job, Evie.” He helped her finish the job. “Don’t doubt it. I’m proud of you.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “You don’t think you might be biased?”
“You’re good at what you do, and you’ve been handling a tough situation. And you’ve already had a positive impact on the place.”
“Like what?”
“For a start, you recruited Luca, and the restaurant is fully booked for what feels like most of the summer. We’re having
to turn people away. And he’s a good guy.”
She stepped back and looked at him properly. There was a twinkle in his eyes. “Did you happen to speak to Donna today by any
chance?”
“Maybe. I speak to most of the staff at one point or another, you know that.”
She did know that. Her father was always the centre of everything, which was why he was her first point of contact when she
wanted to know something.
“And did she happen to tell you that she was discussing my sex life when he walked in?”
“She might have mentioned it, although the way she told it the subject under discussion was the lack of a sex life.”
She gave him a stern look. “I hope you told her that my love life is my business.”
“This is a small village and you’ve lived here your whole life. You should know by now that your love life is everyone’s business.”
“But not yours. You’re not like that.” She felt the need to remind him. “You are a hands-off parent who always encourages
me to make my own decisions in life. You don’t believe in interfering.”
He wiped the table. “You’re my daughter. According to Marie, it’s my job to interfere and I’m falling down on it. So here
I am, stirring the pot a little. You’ve avoided romance since Martin. I know you were hurt, but you can’t let that stop you
trying again.”
“Really? This from you who never married after Mum died?”
His hand stilled for a moment and then he carried on wiping. “That’s different. And anyway, I’ve had relationships.”
“But nothing serious, and—” She paused. “Wait—Marie? You’ve been talking to Marie?”
Marie owned the ice cream shop on the quay.
“And if I have?”
“Were you buying ice cream at the time?” She planted her hands on her hips and gave him a severe look. “The doctor told you
to lower your saturated fat intake.”
“Are you nagging me? I thought you were supposed to be a hands-off daughter who always encourages me to make my own decisions in life?”
She kissed him on the cheek. “It seems our relationship has taken a new turn. Which one did you have? Don’t tell me it was
vanilla and honeycomb.”
“It was vanilla and honeycomb.”
She drooled. “How can she own an ice cream shop and stay slim? If that place was mine, I’d eat all the goods before breakfast
and be so full of ice cream I’d be attacked by seagulls the moment I stepped out of the shop. Are you and Marie close now?
Is there romance in the air as well as chocolate sprinkles?”
He sent her a look and she shrugged.
“What? If you’re going to meddle with my love life, I can meddle with yours.”
“I’m happy as I am, thank you. I’m too tied up with my parental responsibilities to have time to date.”
“Yes?” She grinned. “Is that daughter of yours causing trouble?”
“She’s a handful.”
“I can’t believe everyone is talking about my sex life. I should move to London.” She said it casually. “At least there I’d
be anonymous.”
“You’d hate London.”
Her heart thudded. This would be the perfect time to tell him she’d applied for a job. “Maybe I wouldn’t. And for the record
the only thing that interests me about Luca is his crème br?lée.”
“His crème br?lée?”
“Absolutely. And possibly his sticky duck recipe.”
“I’m not interfering. I want to see you happy, that’s all.”
“I’m happy! See this smile?” She produced one. “Have you ever seen anything bigger?”
“No. Nor anything faker.”
She switched off the smile. “I’m happy. Tired, that’s all. But that’s going to change now they’re sending help. It will be
great, won’t it? Absolutely great. Lucky me.”
She was going to treat it as a positive thing and not overthink it.
They wanted to be supportive.
And she’d be working with someone who hadn’t known her since she was a baby. That had to be a step up.