31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
W ith her hands on her hips, Rosa looked sternly at Willow, her Mediterranean temper simmering beneath her usual calm, bubbly exterior.
‘Just go! Stop making excuses.’
Willow’s desire to go to York for the day faded as the time to leave crept close and she regretted texting Rosa with her plans when the impulse grabbed her in the night. If anyone could hold Willow accountable, it was her employee and friend. Poor Alejo had no chance of getting away with chores. One glance made you comply with her wishes.
‘You haven’t been out of this town since last year. It’ll do you good. I’ll keep an eye on Vince, and Amber will be in later. And you can pick up some of those delicious brownies from the market.’
It was true, her ability to leave the Emporium was back, but she needed to push her boundaries of security. Now was the perfect time to go to the city, and it was only for a few hours. Mrs Marley fussed as Willow dressed, insisting she wore a summer dress instead of jeans, and urged her to be more daring with her make-up. Neither woman would let her back out of this trip.
A while later, Willow conceded both Mrs Marley and Rosa were right. The journey through the dramatic Moors relaxed her even when Mavis groaned at the steep inclines and twisty roads, and despite the struggle to find a parking space, being out was just what she needed. York’s unique energy lifted her mood, as did window shopping. The products the shops sold changed over time, but the history of those who went before lingered, no more evident than in the cobbled narrow street of the Shambles. It was a step back in time with ghosts mingling in with the crowds, ignored by many, but their presence accepted as part of the fabric of the ancient city.
The bells rang from the Minster as she wandered to one of her favourite places, the unique Tudor-built Mulberry Hall that housed her favourite store, K?the Wohlfahrt. She lost herself in the dazzling intricate Christmas display behind their warped-glass window. Forever Christmas, the shop was a deep contrast to the blistering sun heating her bare shoulders. Her mum would have loved it. Like the Enchanted Emporium, this building oozed its own special magic, luring customers in, and she wasn’t immune. Before she crossed over the threshold, an icy patch crept down her back. Shuddering, she backtracked. Someone was watching. She weaved through the crowd gathered round to gaze at the decorations.
‘You’re not thinking of going in, are you? It’s only June.’
‘Nate?’ Her heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be. Dressed in a suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and frame was the man she desired. He nodded and stepped across the narrow road in a couple of strides; the sea of tourists divided without hesitation to let him pass. Standing next to him, she resisted the temptation to reach out to touch him, to make sure he was real.
‘Willow.’ He gave a nervous smile that revitalised the dormant butterflies in her stomach. ‘I never expected to see you here, never mind drooling over Christmas baubles in the summer heat.’
‘I wasn’t drooling.’ At least not then. She broke his gaze. His eyes were drawing her in. Six months since she saw him, but her body remembered every caress and wanted more. Time hadn’t dampened her feelings for him. She needed to walk away. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here, either.’
‘Business trip, but the meeting finished early. Do you have time for a tea?’
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’ Alarm bells rang. She needed to walk away now.
‘Come on, Wills. Tea. York. How can you resist? Didn’t you say at Christmas I needed to try a Fat Rascal at Bettys? Now is a perfect time to do it and I’d prefer to go with company.’ His hand grazed her arm, sending a familiar flood of electricity through her.
‘I’ve got to go.’
Nate stepped back but strode beside her as she walked towards the Minster.
‘Come on, live dangerously. Who’s at the shop?’
It was the living dangerously she was worried about. When apart, it was easy to ignore her feelings, her wants, but being close to him made it impossible. All she wanted to do was wrap her arms round him, draw him close, and never let him go. Being in touching distance from him, catching the faint scent of his aftershave, and being able to look into his deep chocolate eyes, her resistance crumbled; the cracks in her self-built protective wall spread until she couldn’t refuse. It is just tea. I’m allowed a cup of tea , she decided as she murmured, ‘Rosa and Amber.’
‘They’ll be fine. Their boss sings their praises often enough and I’m sure they would agree you deserve a cup of tea. You could take them back some goodies.’
***
Light streamed through the long windows in the art deco room and, with the grand piano playing in the background, Willow easily imagined slipping back in time. The walnut-panelled walls and intricate marquetry oozed an opulence she was unaccustomed to. A waiter in his white shirt, black waistcoat, and white apron covering his black trousers served their order.
A mobile phone vibrated on the table beside the teacups and saucers.
Nate caught her critical gaze and swooped it up to place in his pocket. ‘Sorry. That ruined the illusion, didn’t it? I keep expecting to see men in suits and ties and women in 1940s dress walking by down below, but it’s all jeans and shorts.’
Willow knew what he meant. They sat overlooking the hustle and bustle of a modern York street, including the snaking queue to get into Bettys itself. The queue she usually joined to get cakes to go. Sitting in was beyond her expectation. How much money and influence did Nate have to gain a table in the Belmont Room on a whim without booking in advance? There were so many things they had not discussed. He remained a stranger despite the closeness she felt.
‘You look different in a summer dress. It suits you.’
Willow blushed and the heat radiating up her body intensified when he placed his hand on hers. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away to pour the tea.
‘What, more than my pjs or your shirt?’ It was his turn to be at unease.
‘Well, this is very civilised and not how I expected my afternoon to be. How are you going to eat all that?’ Nate pointed at the three-tiered cake stand full of confectionery delights, cakes, sandwiches, and scones. A feast designed for one.
‘I’ll manage, I’m sure,’ she said, selecting a tiny chequered Battenburg cake. ‘Besides, that’s what doggy bags are for. As you say, Rosa and Amber will be happy.’
Silence grew between them and she was relieved the ritual of tea making distracted her from the fear he would mention her lack of response to his text. To be on the safe side, she whispered a calming spell while she stirred the pot. They would have tea, enjoy each other’s company, then leave for their separate lives.
‘How are Amber and Glenn? She hasn’t discovered black magic and is planning to destroy the universe with that ferret of hers?’ Nate asked, taking a sip of his drink. His large hands emphasised the delicate china cup he held.
Willow shook her head. ‘Not that I am aware of. Though I’ve seen little of her recently. First revision took priority, and now it seems enjoying the freedom from study is more important than learning magic. Tourist season is always manic in the Emporium, so her shifts are mainly on the shop floor.’
‘You miss her.’
His statement hit home. She missed the teaching and companionship of the young witch more than she’d expected. Her love for her was as it was for Louise. She was family. If only they could rewind time, she’d make sure this year would be different.
‘I do.’
‘It surprises me. I thought the Emporium was her second home and magic was her true love and nothing, not even exams, would interfere with that.’
‘No, her first love is art. It always has been.’
‘No way. I disagree. I may not know her like you do, but on Christmas morning when she opened that box you gave her—her eyes sparkled much more than with any of the art materials she received. Even those she claimed she had always wanted. Given the choice between art and magic, it’d be magic every time.’
‘You’re forgetting the raging teenage hormones and sense of adventure. It changes everything. So, how about you? Still forcing your employees to make cups of tea for you?’
‘I’ve learnt my lesson. I’m pleased to report I make them myself. Have you been to Twinings in the Strand? It is an amazing place.’
‘I have years ago, but should visit again.’
‘You should. We could explore together. There are many places I could show you, including a tea emporium you would love. Different to yours in many ways, but it’s always good to look at the competition.’ She listened to him ramble, entangled in his vision of an itinerary of places he’d love to show her. His hand grasped hers.
‘A tea emporium? What happened to the man who would only drink coffee?’
She was determined not to be sucked into his fantasies, but it was hard as his touch sent tingles of desire up her arm.
‘I’m a changed man—in many respects. You’ll see my collection of teas when you come down.’
‘Or you could send me a photo.’ Willow needed to pull her hand away. They were treading in dangerous waters, but her body refused to move. Resigned, she allowed herself the contact she craved. ‘How else have you changed?’
‘I’ve stepped back from the business. One reason I’m here is to tie up loose ends before my brother takes over.’
‘Your globetrotting influencer brother is coming into the family business?’ A quick internet search had produced many hits on the Jamie’s Travel blog. The carefree tanned version of Nate didn’t look like a person to thrive on making deals wearing a suit.
‘No way. Jamie has just signed up with a new sponsor and—’ Nate paused, a deep frown formed on his brow, and he restirred his tea lost in thought before he continued. ‘He is very much doing his own thing. It’s the middle one, Henry.’
‘So, what are you going to do? Apart from bake bread and drink tea.’
‘I don’t know. Travel, I guess, that’s what you do at a crossroads, isn’t it? Since I’ve got into this baking lark, I’d like to visit different places, the Mediterranean obviously but also further afield. When I’ve travelled for work, there’s been little time to explore outside hotels and the boardroom. Never mind try authentic recipes and experience the surrounding culture rather than those in generic cookbooks, but beyond that.’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows?’
‘You’ll be joining Jamie with a baking travel vlog next. I can see you now chatting about food in the Andes while he does skydiving in the background,’ Willow joked. She’d missed this easy chat and listening to his future plans, even if they were without her.
‘Don’t you start. Jamie has already floated the idea, talking about sponsors he could get and collaborations.’
‘Are you tempted? The two Reynolds brothers taking over social media.’
‘No. I don’t want my face out there for everyone to see. I’ve seen the reaction he gets out and about. I’d rather do it just for me, though as insane as it sounds for a novice, I’d love to own a bakery.’
Listening to his enthusiasm for his newfound passion lulled Willow into relaxing and enjoying his company and his idle touch of her hand. Their conversation progressed to Glenn’s disastrous dates, George’s shocked face with the teapot’s arrival at the office, and Vincent’s antics. The world and time slipped away as they laughed until they heard the returning waiter’s cough. They had overstayed their welcome and, looking at the time on her phone, so had she. By the time she got home, Rosa would have locked up.
‘Please, Willow. Don’t go.’