Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
T hrough the shop ceiling the next morning, I could hear the faint creak of the floorboards, signalling that Marcus was out of bed.
Mornings seemed to be the toughest part of the day for my big brother at the moment. I guessed it was waking up and realising that he and Jacob were no more. I sympathised. The first few mornings after Declan had deserted me were tough for me, too. I’d got through it by sleeping in and remaining in my dream world for as long as possible – until I’d decided to end the pity party and made plans for a new life, that is.
I’d caught Marcus a few times reaching for his left hand and blinking down at his empty ring finger, as though he couldn’t quite believe it.
I hadn’t told him the truth yet about my sudden visit to Glasgow, or that I planned to confront Mum. But if Declan did try and disgrace or implicate my family in some way, then at least they’d be prepared.
I waited about an hour or so before slipping upstairs to the flat to see how Marcus was. I was relieved to see that he was hard at work on a Zoom call with a client. Reassured that he wasn’t moping, I glanced at my phone. It was Thursday. If I was going to go to Bannock House, it had to be this weekend. Mum was returning from her pre-Christmas trip to New York on Saturday and would either be full of good cheer, or be jet-lagged, shopped out, and grumpy.
I could feel an incubation of butterflies exploding in my stomach at the prospect of re-entering Bannock House. It carried such dark memories of the weeks after Declan had left me. As doubt started to sneak in about what I was planning to do, I made myself think of Marcus. He’d stood by me ever since we were kids, when we were teased by some of the jealous school kids about being Lady Anastasia and Lord Marcus. He’d supported my decision to marry Declan (even though he’d later confessed he’d harboured some reservations about him at the time). It was the least I could do to try and help him, to try and get to the root of why Jacob had called time on their engagement so that Marcus might be able to move on.
To quash my increasing trepidation over returning to Tweed Muir after more than a year, I concentrated on the customers flooding through the door, asking to place more orders for Christmas wreaths and table arrangements or purchasing the new russet, amber, and white carnation festive bouquets I’d started selling. I’d also made a note to chat to the girls about putting a couple of finishing touches to our Ice Kingdom festive window display.
When there was a lull mid-morning, I snatched the opportunity to leave Amber and Rowan at the helm and dart up to the flat.
Marcus had showered and dressed and was setting up his laptop on the kitchen table. There was a half-empty cup of tea and toast crumbs on a plate at his elbow. At least he’d eaten some breakfast. The lilac smudges of disturbed sleep under his eyes were still very much in evidence though.
I adopted a cheery demeanour. “The forecast isn’t as bad today. Fancy a walk a bit later?”
“Sounds good.”
He hesitated, staring at his laptop screen as it fired up. “I just took a call from Jacob.”
“What did he want?”
“Nothing. It was just to say that he’s moving the rest of his things out of our flat this morning.”
“Where’s he staying?”
“Well, he was crashing at Gareth’s, but he’s secured a rented place now.” Marcus dragged a frazzled hand down his face. “Look, Anastasia, you’ve been amazing, but I can’t keep imposing on you like this.”
“You’re not imposing.”
He glanced back at his laptop screen as it shimmered into life. “I can’t hide away. I’m going to have to return to Edinburgh and get on with things. Paul has been fantastic, but I can’t stay away from the office forever.”
Right. Come on. Tell him about your trip to Glasgow and the reason for it.
Marcus began to talk about when he should head back, but I cut him off. “I didn’t go to Glasgow yesterday to a flower market. I went to try and find Declan.”
Marcus’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. They stilled. “You did what?!”
“I went to the pub that he played some of his gigs in with his band when I first met him. You heard him talk about Bernie McKew, right?”
Marcus shook his head in consternation. “Yes. Vaguely.” His eyes widened. “I thought your story about suddenly taking off to some flower market sounded suspicious.”
I gave him a sheepish look.
“I knew you were hiding something. Jesus, A!” He rolled his eyes.
I let my hands flail. “You’ve no idea what it’s like, jumping every time that shop door opens. I keep wondering if he’s going to show up.”
“And what were you planning to do if you did come across him?”
I felt my cheeks redden. “Try to reason with him; alert the police.” I let out a sudden, deep sigh. “Which I did as soon as I got back in the van. Ring the police, I mean.” I rubbed at my forehead with feeling of desperation. “I need closure on this, Marcus. I’m trying to move on. How can I, when I think he’s still capable of ruining my new life?”
My brother considered what I’d just revealed to him. “What did the police say?”
“Not a great deal. They took a note of it, but as I haven’t actually seen him and nobody else has reported sighting him, they don’t have much else to go on at the moment.”
I was about to speak again, but was interrupted by a knock on the front door. I stepped out into the hall. I could see Amber’s distorted features through the frosted glass.
She was apologetic as I opened the door. “Sorry to interrupt but you have a visitor in the shop.” She offered me a knowing look. “It’s that Zach Stern.”
My stomach fluttered like a cage of wild birds. Why was I reacting like that? The man was a total knob and he was threatening my future. “Did he say what it’s about?”
“Just that he needed to speak to you.”
“Ok, thanks, I’ll be down in a minute.” Shutting the door, I strode back into the kitchen. Marcus must have overheard our conversation, because his mouth had formed into a flat line. “Do you want me to come with you? What if Declan has been shouting his mouth off again?”
I folded my arms. “Do you think you could say that a bit louder, please? They won’t have heard you in Shetland.”
Marcus pulled a sarcastic face.
“No, I’ll be fine, thanks. I promise I’ll shout for reinforcements if I need to.” I raised one hand and made a flicking motion, as though to dismiss everything. Inside though, my stomach was performing cartwheels of an Olympic standard. Had Declan really rung Zach or his editor? What if he’d given them a lot more –false – information about me?
Fighting to control my worry, I gave Marcus a quick hug and went downstairs to Flower Power, where aside from Amber in her red tartan skirt and Doc Marten boots, I saw Zach standing with his broad back to me.
When he turned around, my heart raced up to my throat.
He was wearing a three-piece suit in navy pinstripe which made him look like he’d just stepped from the pages of a glossy advert in one of those high-end men’s fashion magazines.
The man was an arrogant sod who could upend my life. So why was I admiring him? God, he was gorgeous, though. I managed a cool smile. “You’re looking very dapper for a Thursday morning.”
His eyes crinkled up at the corners. “I’ve just finished interviewing the new director of that renovated theatre in town.”
“The Albany?”
“That’s the one.”
“I hear it’s beautiful inside now and they’ve managed to restore a lot of the Victorian architecture.”
Zach studied me for a few moments. “Yes, they have. It’s spectacular.”
Amber sidled back up to the counter, awarding me loaded looks which I ignored.
“Anyway,” announced Zach. “I’ve got some news.”
Before I knew what was happening, he was in front of me and his hand was steering me by the elbow towards the rear of the shop. His long, tapered fingers against my skin triggered exploding bubbles of excitement inside me. I had to get a grip . It’s just because he scrubs up well , I assured myself. I ordered myself to concentrate. “What is it? What are you doing?”
Rowan came past, then, armed with boxes of white snowflake decorations for our window display from the store room. I saw her share a conspiratorial grin with Amber.
“Please, come in to the office,” I told Zach, smiling as normally as I could at my colleagues. Closing the door behind us, I struggled not to register how irresistible Zach looked in that suit. “What’s going on?”
I stopped myself from asking if Declan had been in touch with him, that would just look weird.
Zach smiled, while I retained a fake smile as my heart pumped furiously.
“I was thinking,” he said, seriously.
“Oh, dangerous.” I laughed a little too loudly.
Zach gave me a withering look. “Moira tells me that back in the day there was an aristocratic family who used to holiday here in Heather Moore. At least, that was the rumour.”
A horrified shiver raced down my back, as though someone had just rammed several ice cubes down there. Bloody Moira Telford and her big mouth. Perhaps this was karma, because I’d sent Zach in her man-eating direction. I feigned casual interest. “Really? Did she tell you who they were? The aristo family, I mean?”
Zach glanced around my office. “No. She doesn’t know. They kept themselves to themselves, apparently.”
My past zipped in front of my eyes. Marcus and me as kids, tumbling down Heather Moore’s grassy hills and splashing about in our wellington boots. Dad channelling his inner cave man with a barbecue and Mum floating around, her dark hair streaming down her back.
I prayed that Zach couldn’t sense the tidal waves of discomfort swallowing me up. This situation was becoming too precarious. “Right.”
His melting brown eyes became more animated. “But I was thinking… If Moira remembers this family, then there must be other locals who might be persuaded to tell me more.”
“They’re a loyal bunch around here,” I countered, through sharp prickles of worry.
Zach barked a laugh and brandished his phone. “Bailey, I think you’ll find that money talks.”
Any glimmers of optimism that Zach might be wasting his time evaporated. The world I had lived in meant I knew very well how some people, especially if they were struggling for cash, dispensed with their principles if a wodge of money was dangled in front of them.
“I believe in following a hunch,” he went on. “After all, my instincts rarely let me down. It’s what’s got me this far in my career.”
I made myself refocus on Zach across the desk from me. “Really?” I blurted sarcastically. “Didn’t you used to work for some of the well-regarded newspapers?”
Zach jerked his handsome face away from his phone screen. His shutters clanged down. “Your point is?”
Through the closed office door, I could hear Amber and Rowan deliberating over a string of bright white versus electric-blue fairy lights.
“Well,” I said. “It just seems a bit strange that a journalist of your calibre, who’s known for investigating hard-news stories, should end up chasing tabloid rubbish like this for a gossip magazine.”
Zach’s shoulders tensed before I saw a hint of a smile in those hot eyes as they locked with mine. “You know, you’d make a good reporter yourself, Bailey. I think you’ve the nose for it.” He eyed me. “And something tells me you might have one or two secrets of your own.”
“Is that so?” I stalled for time. He was using diversion tactics, not answering my questions but instead turning them round on me. I pushed out my chin. I hoped I could retain a poker face. “I could say the same about you, Zach.”
“Meaning?”
“You’re good at asking the questions, but not so keen on answering any.”
“Huh.” The light disappeared from his eyes and his face hardened as he stashed his phone back in his coat pocket, his gaze hardening. “My job is to investigate and ask questions, not talk about myself.” He stepped closer. “And I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”
I rolled my eyes as though he was ridiculous. “Sure, Zach,” I said dryly, then decided to change the subject. “Any luck on Ezra’s daughters or this rumoured scandal circling him?”
Zach’s lips twitched. “You enjoy seeing me squirm, don’t you?”
“Not at all. I’m merely making small talk.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Not much progress yet, but I’ll get there. Anyway, I do have other stories to investigate.”
“So, why keep dropping in to speak to me?”
He rose to his feet. His eyes blazed down at me. “Just thought I’d keep you in the loop. I know you’re interested in the goings-on in Heather Moore as a concerned member of the community.”
A lame answer, that emboldened me.
“And no other reason?” I asked, way more calmly than I felt.
There was a charged silence, in which I realised I didn’t want to pursue this line of conversation after all. I now wanted to put as much space as I could between us. I shot out my hand and fumbled with the door handle. It was stuck.
I jerked the handle up and down, aware that Zach was watching me.
“Here. Let me.”
“It’s ok, thanks. I can do it.”
Our hands brushed against one another. I let out a short, sharp gasp as my heart performed a somersault.
It was as if my office was holding its breath.
Zach’s dark-rimmed pupils grew. He studied me for what seemed like forever before he reached for the handle and gently manoeuvred it open. “There we are.” His voice was softer.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He gestured to the handle. “A squirt of WD40 should help.”
My mind was scattering thoughts like confetti right now.
“Oh. Yes. Thanks.”
I watched him stride towards the shop doorway, turn around and offer me a pensive glance.
Then he was gone.