Chapter Ten
Lydia stood at her kitchen island, staring at the translucent container as if it were a piece of forensic evidence.
She’d washed it twice — not because it was dirty, but because cleaning something was the fastest way she knew to steady herself.
Normally she was unflappable, the sort of woman who could chair a meeting or host a dinner without breaking stride. But this… this had undone her.
“Brilliant, Lydia,” she muttered, tying her hair back with the brisk efficiency she applied to everything. “Truly award-winning.”
She had not just assumed William had a wife; she had invited a dead woman to a housewarming. The memory made her skin prickle with heat. She had spent the last four days replaying William’s face — that flinty, controlled expression that had not been anger, but something far more impenetrable.
The doorbell rang.
She smoothed her jeans, lifted her chin, and opened the door — the small rituals of a woman who refused to be undone twice in one week.
William stood on the step. He was not in uniform; he wore a dark jumper and a waxed jacket, looking less like a firefighter and more like a man simply trying to get through a Friday evening.
“I believe you have the other half of this,” he said, pulling the blue lid from his pocket.
Relief rushed through Lydia so fast it made her lightheaded. “The lid. Yes. I… realised about three miles down the road that I was still holding the box. I felt like a thief. A very incompetent one.”
“And I felt like I was returning a half-finished puzzle,” William replied.
A shadow of a smile touched his mouth — so brief she almost missed it.
Lydia darted to the kitchen, grabbed the box, and returned to the doorway. She performed the small, domestic ritual of snapping the plastic back into place. The click-click-click of the corners felt like a series of tiny reconciliations.
“William, about…,” she began. “I am so incredibly sorry. I’ve been mortified. I didn’t mean to—”
“Lydia,” he interrupted, his tone remarkably soft. “Stop. You were being a neighbour. You didn’t know, and I didn’t tell you. Forget it.”
Lydia let out a long breath, her shoulders dropping. “Thank you. I think I’ve spent the last ninety-six hours mentally packing my bags to move to a different county.”
William glanced past her into the hallway, where the faint scent of fresh paint still lingered. “Don’t do that. The village needs people who can actually make millionaire’s shortbread. Miller ate four pieces before we even left the kitchen.”
A genuine laugh escaped her — the first sound that felt like herself again. “Then it was worth the trauma.”
William shifted his weight, his hands sliding into the pockets of his waxed jacket.
“About the party next Saturday… if the invitation still stands, I’d like to bring the children. There are five of them.”
Lydia’s eyebrows lifted. “Five?”
“Five,” William said, the corner of his mouth twitching at her reaction. “Ethan is thirteen — he’ll be fourteen next week. Mia is eleven, Ollie is nine, Sophie is six, and Jake is four.”
“Wow,” Lydia murmured, a warm smile touching her lips. “That’s a lot of shoes by the front door.”
“It’s a battlefield,” William agreed softly. “They’re loud, and Ollie treats furniture like an obstacle course. But I wanted to give you fair warning. Five children tend to alter the physics of a quiet housewarming.”
“The invitation definitely stands,” Lydia said without hesitation.
“And honestly, after being trapped in my own attic, I think my house can handle a bit of chaos. It’s going to have much more chaos in the coming weeks as the builders get it ready for my B&B opening, hopefully in time for the summer holidays. ”
William nodded once, a look of quiet gratitude passing over his features. “Right then. Saturday week. We’ll be there.”
He stepped back off the threshold, turning toward the gravel path. “Have a good evening, Lydia.”
“You too, William,” she called after him.
She watched him walk down the drive, his stride steady in the fading light. As she closed the door and heard the lock click into place, the house behind her felt less like an empty shell and more like a place waiting for the noise to begin.