Chapter 5
Chapter Five
T he next morning – Saturday – saw a steady stream of customers, keen to avail themselves of the re-invented, former Halloween door wreaths and bouquets that Amber, Rowan, and I had been working on.
There were also a few Christmas wreath and festive table decoration enquiries.
I arrived at Flower Power just after 7am, but the Heather Moore woodland across the way looked so inviting in the rose-gold morning that I decided to delay entering the shop for a few minutes and take a meander before I got started for the day.
The bare tree branches twisted and knotted overhead like intricate, Italian Renaissance artwork and the twigs crackled under my feet.
I breathed in the fresh, zingy scent of damp grass and earth.
It was so dense and quiet, I could almost imagine King Angus racing through here and clutching his crown, as he attempted to scale one of the trees to escape his enemies.
I turned and started to make my way back when I heard the thudding of footsteps behind me.
It was that bloody journalist, Zach Stern, out for an early morning run.
He was dressed in a black-and-white tracksuit; dark trainers and his sweaty hair was falling forward.
Looking around wildly, I jumped behind a nearby, gnarly tree, pressing my back against the trunk. I held my breath. Yes, this would be fine. I’d been quick, so I was sure he hadn’t seen me….
“Ms McArthur?”
Oh shit.
I wished the tree would open up its trunk and let me crawl inside for the next ten years.
Grinding my teeth together, I hoped I looked like I always threw myself against trees early in the morning and jutted my chin out. “Oh, Mr Stern. Good morning. I didn’t see you there.”
Zach’s mouth twitched. “Too busy examining the rings?”
“Sorry?”
He pointed at the tree.
“Oh, right. Yes. Er… I mean, no.” I cleared my throat and struggled to keep eye contact with him. “Just taking a little walk before starting my day.” I spotted his broad shoulders under his tracksuit top and averted my eyes. “Anyway, better be off. Have a good day.”
Zach’s dark chocolate eyes shone back at me from under his flopping hair. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll catch you later. Stories to investigate and people to speak to.”
I struggled to deliver a polite smile. Bugger. That meant he was planning on interrogating me again.
He forced a hand through his hair as he steadied his breath. His attention stayed locked on me, like a heat-seeking missile.
I moved off, setting my shoulders.
Arrogant prick!
* * *
As soon as I unlocked the shop door, I whisked on my pink-and-white apron, so I could water the plants, administer their feed and get a head start with tweaking a couple of the birthday orders that were due to be collected. I also intended to jump in my car and head straight over to Duxbury Hall to see Ezra as soon as there was a bit of a lull in the shop. Bumping into Zach like that just now had made me even more determined to alert Ezra. He needed to know that Zach Stern and Stargazer magazine were on his tail. My indignation fired up. If that journalist thought for one second, he could breeze into Heather Moore and upend Ezra’s life – and possibly mine – he’d better think again!
Amber and Rowan were more than capable of holding the fort in my absence, but I didn’t want them to feel like I was taking advantage.
I stood behind the counter, snipping some nerine stems at an angle so the blooms would absorb more water. They also looked better with angled stems when arranged in a display as it meant they tended not to lie flat at the bottom of vases. I paused to admire their rosy lipstick shades.
As soon as it hit ten-thirty, Flower Power seemed to exhale a sigh of relief as the last couple of shoppers clattered the doorbell on their way out, armed with their burnished seasonal bouquets and berry-studded potted plants.
A couple of stray copper leaves tumbled along the pavement outside the shop door. Christmas was getting ready to land its sparkly, gorgeous, hectic self on us all.
“I’m just popping out for half an hour or so,” I announced, darting out from behind the counter with my coat and bag. “Will you both be ok? Any problems, just ring my mobile.”
Amber saluted and Rowan gave a fervent shake of her red ponytail. “We’ll be fine, Bailey.”
I hugged my quilted jacket tighter around myself and headed for my hatchback car at the rear of Flower Power. I had no contact details for Ezra, so I couldn’t ring him. If he wasn’t there, perhaps I could leave a note? All I knew was that I had to alert him about Zach Stern and his magazine.
Zach’s reference to a “scandal” kept flitting through my head.
I got in and shut the door. The interior smelled like the perfumery counter of a department store and a spare pair of scissors, gardening gloves, and a few packets of flower food were sticking out of the glove compartment.
The November sky was a churning gun-metal grey, promising an imminent downpour.
I set off, driving away from the cluster of shops, which were now sporting festive window displays, and past the moody patchwork fields towards the country lanes that would take me to Duxbury Hall.
I tried not to dwell on Zach’s presence in Heather Moore. I hoped Moira had kept him so occupied with her own lurid tales that he wouldn’t feel much like doing more investigating. Something told me, however, that I was being a little too optimistic on that front.
The sooner Zach Stern took himself back to Stargazer ’s offices in Glasgow, the better.
I negotiated my way past a field of curious cows huddled together for warmth by a wooden fence and turned down a side lane, banks of grass rising up on either side.
I pulled my car to a halt and murmured, “Wow,” at the sight that greeted me.
Duxbury Hall now carried just faint echoes of what it used to look like before.
Imposing black and gold gates were now in situ, together with security cameras, at the bottom of the private tree-lined drive.
Ezra had converted Duxbury Hall into a gleaming white turreted affair, with two Grecian-style pillars at the grand entrance.
The gardens had also been transformed, and where there had been rampant weeds and daisies roaming everywhere, there was now a swathe of manicured lawns, together with cultivated flower beds running down either side and freshly planted trees. I could just imagine the fluttering blooms that would erupt out of the earth in the coming spring.
There was even a tinkling Grecian-style water feature further down the garden.
I got out of the car at the gates and pressed a buzzer. There was the faint smell of putty and cement in the air, intermingled with the zing of damp moss. Towards the other side of the house, there was a stillness in the spiky bare branches of the woodland.
A brisk male voice asked me who I was and once they were satisfied, the gates swished open to allow me entry.
I drew up at the entrance and parked. Jackson was there waiting for me on the grand steps. A sliver of gold light shone out behind him.
Part of me expected Zach Stern to stride out, brandishing his notebook, after tailing me here.
I gave my head a mental wobble. Bloody hell. I hoped not!
“Bailey,” beamed Ezra’s distinguished expression, appearing behind Jackson.
“Ezra. Hi. I’m sorry to disturb you.”
He beckoned me in with one generous sweep of his hand. “No apology needed. I was just on the phone to my manager.” He grinned at me. “It’s a pleasure to see you. Please do come in.”
I stepped into the tiled hallway to find myself confronted by an ornate pearlized staircase which surely even Cinderella would have envied, a floor-to-ceiling mirror edged with gold leaf to my left, and a polished chequered floor in champagne and white tiles under my feet.
An appreciative smile enveloped my face. “I know this is going to sound like a cliché, but I really do love what you’ve done with the place.”
Jackson smiled. “Not too shabby, is it?” Then he evaporated.
Ezra stood with his hands clasped together behind his back. “I wish I could take the credit, my dear, but that belongs to my interior designer, Gaston, and a squad of talented builders and interior design people.”
He gestured to the left. “Would you like a coffee or tea? Mrs Watson, my housekeeper, has rustled up one of my favourites – pecan shortbread.”
“Thank you, but I’d better not. At any other time, I would, but I’ve left Amber and Rowan manning the fort back at Flower Power and as it’s Saturday, I don’t want to leave them alone too long.”
“That’s all right. I understand. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked. “Have you come round to discuss your design ideas?” He offered me a delighted grin. “I hope so, because I also wanted to speak to you about my plans to throw a little, private soirée. I was thinking about having it on New Year’s Eve.”
“Oh?”
“I wondered if you’d be interested in providing the floral arrangements for that too?”
I let out a delighted gasp. “That would be wonderful. I’m… I’m honoured. Thank you.” My face split into a grateful grin. “I’m more than happy to chat things over with you while I’m here.” Then I remembered the real reason for my visit and my smile faltered. I flicked him an awkward look. “In all honesty, I wish flowers were the main reason why I’ve come to see you.” I paused. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Ezra angled his head to one side. “What is it?” He performed a small smile as he eyed me. “I thought you seemed rather preoccupied, if you don’t mind me saying.”
I let out a sigh and plucked my mobile out of my bag, which was dangling from my shoulder. “Have you heard of Stargazer magazine?” The house smelled of warm vanilla potpourri and the scent wrapped itself around me.
One of Ezra’s thick salt-and-pepper brows arched. “Yes, I have. Something tells me I’m not going to like this.”
He beckoned me to turn and follow him into his sitting room, which was just past the staircase.
It was very grand, as I thought it might be, with an eclectic mix of polished maple furniture, two sumptuous sofas in bitter-chocolate leather scattered with lemon-yellow cushions, and silky, Chinese print drapes in pale gold pooling down the patio doors at the rear of the room. They led out onto the lawns that seemed to stretch on forever, taking the eye right down to another bank of thick trees.
Ezra sat down on one sofa, I seated myself on the other one opposite him. His swathes of thick white carpet made me nervous. Thank goodness I’d declined a cup of tea. I also prayed I didn’t have mud on my boots.
I pulled up the Stargazer magazine website on my phone and scrolled down to Zach’s bio. His handsome, angular features shone out of his photo. I thrust the phone towards Ezra.
He gave me a wary look and stared down at my phone.
“This reporter, Zach Stern, turned up at Flower Power last night, just as I was closing up,” I said. “He was asking about you, Ezra.”
Ezra’s looked up abruptly from examining Zach’s photograph. “Me?”
“Yes. Apparently, two women travelling through Heather Moore thought they saw you in your car and decided to tip off the magazine Zach works for.”
Ezra’s breath sounded like a balloon deflating. His shoulders sank under his navy jumper. “Oh dear. Maybe I shouldn’t have ventured out like I did.”
“It’s ridiculous that you feel you can’t go out,” I protested.
He cast Zach’s bio another cool glance and handed my phone back to me.
I readied myself. “I also bumped into the journalist, Zach, this morning in Heather Moore woods. He was out running and made some comment about hoping to catch up with me again later.” I buried images of Zach’s muscular legs. “And there’s something else.”
“What, my dear?”
“Last night, he said something about a scandal.”
Ezra’s expression paled.
“He didn’t elaborate…”
Ezra tried to push out a disinterested smile. “Oh, poppycock!” he rushed. “Probably some made-up nonsense. Happens all the time, unfortunately.”
He fell quiet for a few moments.
I couldn’t ask him anything else about it. How could I? I’d only known the man five minutes. “I didn’t tell this Zach Stern anything. I denied you’d been in Flower Power, let alone that I’d met you or spoken to you.”
“And did he believe you?”
I shrugged my shoulders under my quilted jacket. “I’m not sure. I just wanted him out of my shop, to be honest.” I hesitated. “He’s staying at a local hotel. From what I’ve read about him online, he’s the sort of character that once he gets the bit between his teeth about a story, he doesn’t give up.”
Ezra sank his head back against his oversized lemon-yellow cushions. “So much for me enjoying a life of tranquillity in the Scottish Highlands.” Frustration gripped his face.
Resentment about Ezra’s situation piled up inside of me.
Who the hell did this Zach Stern think he was turning up in Heather Moore in order to make Ezra’s new life implode, just so he could get a column out of it? And his sheer presence around here was making me nervous, too. If he was as dogged as his reputation suggested, my new life here could be under threat as well. Was it only a matter of time before he worked out who I was?
My stomach lurched. I thought of how happy Flower Power had made me, and the fresh start I was trying to build here.
Why should Ezra and I have to worry so much about our future here? How was it fair that people trying to get away from media attention were constantly hounded?
Well, I wasn’t about to give up my new life here without a fight! Zach would have a battle on his hands if he thought he could dismantle my new life and everything I’d worked so hard for. “We need to think of something to throw him off the scent,” I suggested, shuffling forward on Ezra’s sofa. “Something to get rid of him.”
Ezra’s serious, long mouth flickered at the edges. “I hope you aren’t suggesting we have him assassinated? Having said that, I do know of a couple of shady but influential London gentlemen who possess certain connections.”
I let out a snort. “No, tempting though that is, Ezra. Nothing illegal.” I let my hands rise and fall again into my lap. “We need to let him think that there’s no story up here. We have to convince Zach Stern he’s been sent on a wild goose chase. Then he’ll bugger off back to Glasgow. Fingers crossed.”
Ezra twitched his sharp nose. “How? I mean, how are we going to get shot of him?”
I could feel my shoulders sinking again. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought of anything yet.”
“Then try not to worry about it just now. I’m not.”
I offered Ezra a small smile of support. I could see his eyes had tensed, though. He was trying to reassure himself. He may well be an accomplished actor, but he wasn’t fooling me.
Ezra clapped his hands together. “Now, seeing as you’re here, why don’t I give you a tour of the rest of the house? It might give you some more ideas for the floral displays.” He stood up and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. “I’m very much a fan of Christmas, so I’m more than open to any festive themes you may have up your sleeve.”
“That sounds like a plan. Thank you.”
I followed him out of the sitting room.
Ezra guided me through to his study across the hall. It looked out onto another section of the garden and a set of wavy hills in the distance.
A semi-circular oak desk was facing the window, dotted with various acting awards and papers. “I have to decide where I’m going to put these,” he grimaced, patting one gleaming gold award.
“A nice problem to have.”
Ezra grinned.
As we made our way past his desk, I noticed a copy of his recently released autobiography, King of the World . The book cover consisted of swirly gold type, with his name running underneath the title and a colour portrait photograph of him leaning nonchalantly with one hand placed on top of a world globe. He was wearing a sharp, black suit, bright blue shirt, and dark tie.
Ezra noticed me appreciating it. “I worried that the world globe idea might look a bit odd, but it actually works rather well.”
“It does,” I agreed. “And you look very dashing.”
Ezra’s cheeks hinted at a blush. “I suppose I don’t scrub up too badly. I remember the time Meryl Streep told me I was every bit as good-looking as George Clooney.”
I tried to hide a smile.
He scrutinised himself on the cover again. “No doubt you’ve heard the contents of my book have caused somewhat of a rumpus?”
I stepped back out into the hallway, taking in the shades of cream and gold. “I did read something about that in the papers.”
Following behind me, Ezra dragged a hand through his thick hair. “And I’m sure that won’t be the end of it.” He fell silent for a few moments, looking pensive.
I decided to change the subject for a few moments. I didn’t like to see Ezra so preoccupied. Bloody Zach Stern!
“How would you feel about using gold in the floral displays?” I pointed to his gold-leaf mirror and the soft hues on the walls. “At this time of year, it’d be warm and comforting as well as stunning.”
Ezra folded his arms. “That sounds lovely. What did you have in mind?”
I grabbed my phone back out of my bag and pulled up some images. “I was thinking of having rustic colours down here, inspired by the surrounding forestry. It’d also compliment your interior.” I pointed to the images on my phone. “I was going to suggest preserved eucalyptus, baby’s breath and ferns, as well as pinecones, golden ears of wheat and dried flowers.”
Ezra studied the pictures I was showing him. “Sounds perfect.”
“I’m glad you think so. We could have tatarica, lagurus and setaria, with oats and hill flowers.” I gestured to my phone again. “The whole effect would be a sumptuous, wintery display featuring golds, silvers, bronzes, and crisp white.”
I glanced up at Ezra’s dramatic staircase. The banister would look stunning wreathed in a festive garland of holly and ivy for Christmas. There were also a couple of eye-catching abstract paintings of what looked like pastel-blue cubes balanced on an upended triangle.
Ezra spotted me studying them. “They’re by a young French artist. Please don’t ask me what they’re supposed to represent, but I spotted them in Paris last year and I loved the colours.”
“I can understand why they caught your eye.” More ideas trotted through my head. “How about using an electric-blue in the upstairs floral arrangements? I could tweak the downstairs suggestions and incorporate sea holly in blue, together with witch hazel, thistles, and forsythia for the upper part of the house.” I could feel my face beaming with enthusiasm. “Witch hazel looks like fireworks exploding and forsythia has a gorgeous, spicy scent.”
I showed more images of the flowers on my phone to Ezra, who nodded. “That sounds wonderful and very seasonal. Perfect.”
“And if you did want something extra special in the run-up to Christmas, I can add some bright blue ribbon for an extra splash of colour and also create a matching wreath in the same rustic colours to put at the entrance. I could interweave that one with streams of gold satin ribbon?”
I knew my endless stream of ideas was beginning to run away with me but I couldn’t help it.
Ezra however, didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looked very impressed. “Ideal. Thank you, Bailey.”
It was great to be able to distract myself with something other than nosy magazine journalists. A creak from somewhere towards the kitchen made me jerk my head up.
I turned around to see a tall, wiry man, not dissimilar to Ezra in stature and hair colour, loping towards us.
Ezra encouraged the older man over, who introduced himself as Joshua McColl, Ezra’s new gardener.
We exchanged pleasantries and handshakes.
“I was just speaking to Bailey about the floral heaven she’s going to create for me every couple of weeks,” explained Ezra, then put his hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “And Joshua can turn a weed into a flower just by looking at it.”
Joshua rolled his dark hooded eyes. “I think you’re exaggerating a bit there, sir.”
“Oh, stop with the sir nonsense,” insisted Ezra. “I’ve told you before.”
I took in Joshua’s features again. “You could be related,” I joked to Joshua, smiling over at him. “Like brothers––”
My words vanished as an idea screamed inside my head. No. We couldn’t do that. What if it didn’t work? We could end up looking total idiots.
Nonetheless, I studied Joshua’s profile, so similar in its hawkish way to Ezra’s. No, it was a crazy idea. Use a decoy? Dupe Zach Stern and make him think the sighting of Ezra had been a case of mistaken identity? That the two women hadn’t seen Ezra King in his car after all but Joshua instead?
I’m sure my mouth was hanging open as I mulled over the idea. Was I losing my mind? It was mad. But then, desperate times do call for desperate measures.
“Bailey?” asked Ezra. “Is everything all right?” He and Joshua were looking at me, bemused.
‘Fine, thank you,’ I said, the cogs in my brain still turning. It could work. Well, it might work. There was still this mysterious scandal thing that Zach had mentioned and which Ezra had speedily brushed off, but we couldn’t just let Zach Stern blow up our lives and plans.
Surely, it was worth a try?
Colour illuminated my cheeks. We had to do something. Zach Stern was already sniffing around the area in search of Ezra and I could be next. I recalled him staring at me in my office and commenting that I seemed familiar. The situation was becoming too risky. A journalist like Zach Stern wasn’t just going to shrug his shoulders and vanish. If I could throw him off Ezra’s scent, then maybe I could be as resourceful when it came to protecting my own identity. I’d already had one man ruin my life and I wasn’t about to let a second one do the same. Zach Stern had to leave. There was too much at stake, for Ezra and for me.
I took my phone back out of my bag and rang Flower Power, telling Amber that I’d be half an hour late coming back. Then I turned to Ezra and gave him what I hoped was my most winning smile. He and Joshua looked unnerved and exchanged puzzled glances.
“I don’t suppose I could change my mind about that cup of tea, could I?”
* * *
Over a cup of tea for me and two cups of tar-like Brazilian coffee for them, together with Mrs Watson’s mouthwatering pecan shortbread, the two men looked at me like I’d sprouted another head.
“But Joshua doesn’t look like me at close quarters,” spluttered Ezra.
“Maybe, but from a few feet away he does,” I said. “I had to do a double-take when I saw him. And from the back you’re identical,” I insisted. “You both have similar hair colour and hairstyles. Joshua’s tall, too, and slim … distinguished.”
Joshua cradled his cup in his hands. “Och, flattery will get you everywhere, lass.”
I smiled.
“But he doesn’t sound like me,” pointed out Ezra. “I’m a classically trained actor, darling. I can do accents. He can’t.”
“But that’s irrelevant. The point is, it will explain how those two women mistook a random stranger for somebody famous as they drove by. They wouldn’t have heard you speak or seen you close up.” Warming to the idea, I took a sip of my tea and carried on. “If Zach Stern persists in his search for you, Ezra, we give him Joshua.”
Joshua’s brow creased in worry at the thought of being handed over to Zach, so I clarified. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.” My enthusiasm ramped up a notch. “Zach Stern will feel like such a prat for following such a flimsy so-called sighting.”
I hoped my crazy suggestion might be infectious, but Ezra and Joshua didn’t appear convinced. They both bore concerned glances over the top of their coffee cups.
“Och, I’m not an actor, Bailey,” blushed Joshua, shuffling around on Ezra’s leather sofa in his grass-stained rugby shirt and combats. “I’m at my happiest when I’m knee-high in my breeches in earth and heather.”
I moved to speak again, in the hope of encouraging Joshua to change his mind, but Ezra clanked down his coffee cup on its saucer. “We’ll think about it,” he said without much enthusiasm. “I do appreciate you trying to help, Bailey. Really, I do.”
I nodded my understanding. “Well, like I say, hopefully some other juicy story will draw Zach Stern’s attention and he’ll forget about trying to locate you.”
Deep down, I doubted that very much, but I felt like I needed to be positive.
* * *
Amber was serving an elderly lady in a crocheted beige bonnet, who was armed with a pot of skimmia japonica, fringed with shiny berries.
I held the shop door open for her and she nodded her head, clamped her hat down tighter and disappeared up the pavement.
A sudden burst of rain made its presence felt on the windows, the raindrops chasing each other down the panes.
“Everything been ok?” I asked, shrugging off my quilted coat and hanging it up on a peg in the corner. “Sorry I was a bit longer than I expected to be.”
“No worries,” replied Amber, clattering some spare change in the till. “It’s been a bit busier than we thought, but nothing we couldn’t cope with. We’ve taken a few more orders for Christmas wreaths.”
“Good. Thank you, girls. I appreciate it.”
Amber flicked me a curious look from out of her hazel eyes, winged today with green eyeliner. “Everything ok?”
I thought again about Ezra’s house, with its regal pillars and shiny, pearly staircase.
I chewed my lip, deep in thought. Judging by the distinct lack of enthusiasm shown by Ezra and Joshua, I was thinking it less and less likely they’d agree to it. But what were we supposed to do?
I was open to suggestions.
Rowan finished watering some of the herbs and offered to make the three of us a brew, while interrogating Amber about a pair of long, high-heeled, velvet boots she’d spotted online. “How easy do you reckon they are to walk in? How are you supposed to keep them clean?”
I smiled to myself and decided to stick with my jewelled pumps and ankle boots for comfort. Being on your feet all day demanded comfortable shoes.
Rowan handed out steaming mugs of tea to Amber and me and then cradled hers in her hands. “I was thinking about getting a pair of those lace-up suede boots for winter that Taylor Swift was wearing on TV the other night.”
Our conversation was interrupted, however, by the shop door clattering open, sending the bell into a frenzy. It was Zach Stern.
My cheeks fizzed. Oh, no.
The collar of his black tweed coat was up and there was a knotted, charcoal scarf around his neck.
He gave his black floppy hair a shake, trying to dislodge the rain that drizzled through it. He reminded me of a big bad wolf.
Amber and Rowan did a double-take at the tall, dark stranger.
He shifted his dark gaze around, before resting it on me. “Good morning, Ms McArthur. Long time no see,” he said with a glitter in his eyes. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare moment?”
I wanted to apologise and say I was too busy, but the shop was currently experiencing a brief lull in customers. Amber and Rowan swapped looks. “We can manage, Bailey,” insisted Rowan, drinking Zach in.
Oh great. Sure, you can.
I flicked on a smile. “Ok. Thanks girls.” I turned to Zach. “Let’s go into the office.”
I strode past the plants and flowers, wafts of their heady perfume in a travelling cloud around me. Keep your cool, Bailey. Tell him nothing. Everything will be ok.
I tried to ignore the rippling nerves in my stomach as I closed my office door with a decisive click. I gestured to the other chair, but Zach didn’t sit down. One of his black brows rocketed up to his hairline as he stood on the other side of my desk. His generous mouth was in a tight line. “I meant to say to you this morning, but you dashed off. Thank you so much for suggesting I speak to Moira Telford last night. I spent half the evening attempting to ignore her flirting and the other half bored to tears about the affairs and jealousies raging behind the scenes of the local drama group.”
Relief swam through me. I fought the urge to smile. Good old Moira. “What do you mean? She knows everyone, and I thought she might be able to help you.”
Zach’s irritated stare bore into me. “Oh, come on, you knew I wouldn’t get any information from Moira last night, only a severe case of earache.”
I jammed my lips together to stop myself from laughing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr Stern.”
Zach continued to glower down at me. “I’m glad you find this so amusing. But I believe Ezra King has moved to the area.”
He straightened his broad shoulders under his heavy coat. “You lot round here might stick together like two coats of paint, but I didn’t get where I am by giving up on a story.”
You lot?!
I jumped to my feet, indignant. Heather Moore had been good to me. As children, Marcus and I had spent many happy holidays here, rooting around in the woods, tumbling through the grass and nagging Mum and Dad to treat us to Mr Conte’s moreish clotted cream ice cream cones.
Mum hadn’t been quite so enthusiastic about us holidaying in the area. She was far happier floating around in one of her kaftans under baking hot Mediterranean sunshine, but she and Dad compromised with the promise of a trip to Venice each autumn.
Living here and running Flower Power, I was finding myself becoming more and more attached to the place. I was seeing it through fresh, adult eyes. The locals were spending their hard-earned cash on my flowers and I was striking out on my own, carving a future which a year ago, I never would have thought possible.
I experienced a burning sense of irritation at Zach Stern’s condescending tone. How dare he sweep in here, intent on destroying the life of someone like Ezra King, who just wanted to escape from the microscopic world of London’s oppressive media attention?
I flashed Zach an icy stare, the words fighting to get out of my mouth. “Well, seeing as you’re flinging insults around! If you’re the pinnacle of modern, serious journalism, why the hell are you working for a gossip magazine?”
Zach’s square jaw tightened. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve won a ton of awards and yet you’re reporting on such pressing issues as what sort of avocados Madonna buys during her weekly shop and why Robbie Williams has decided to sport a fringe. Are these things really so very important to you?”
Zach’s mouth flatlined. He looked discomfited all of a sudden. “My career choices are none of your business.”
“And neither is it any of your business who may or who may not be living here!” I tried to rein in my emotions, but they were in free-fall. “What gives you the right to rock up here and try to lob a grenade into people’s lives?”
A chilly atmosphere descended.
Zach reached for the handle of the office door and yanked it open.
“Don’t you have any scruples?”
An odd look washed across his face. He straightened his back. “You’d be surprised.” He pushed out his chin. “But I should warn you I don’t give up easily, Ms McArthur. That’s why I’m so good at what I do.”
He pinned me with his unwavering gaze. “You’re not telling me everything. I know it.”
My stomach lurched. “Psychic now, are we?”
He ignored my barbed comment. “I find in my line of work that the truth always surfaces in the end.”
“The truth? About celebrity gossip? Very noble of you.”
He angled his head at me as he was about to leave my office. His eyes narrowed. “Nothing like making wild assumptions about people.”
I shifted uncomfortably.
“You know, I’m sure I do recognise you from somewhere.”
A sickening dread pooled inside me. I pushed my chin out and fought to keep my voice calm. “I thought you were leaving. Don’t let me stop you,” I said. Then, unable to resist it, I added, “Oh, and be careful where you’re running. There’s lots of rabbit and fox holes in the woods.”
He shot me a hot gaze, before whirling away in his coat and out of my shop.