Chapter 6
SIX
Florrie was adding more books to the display of the latest novel by local romance author, Jenna Johnstone, You Had Me at Chocolate Cake.
It had pride of place at the front of the bookshop; a stopping place for their customers before they lost themselves down the neat rows of bookshelves.
The display was comprised of not only the paperbacks with their bright pink covers, but also a deep faux chocolate cake, complete with generously proportioned slices and fake crumbs scattered around, courtesy of Ed and his creative talents.
The books had been flying out of the shop at such a pace that morning, it was the second time Florrie had restocked the table, not that she was complaining.
She’d be sure to tell Jenna when she popped in with Jack later that morning to discuss the joint author reading they had planned for next week.
‘Care to join me in the kitchen for a mug of tea and warm croissant freshly purchased from the bakery?’
Florrie looked up to see Ed heading towards her. Her eyes flicked to the clock above the counter to see it was five past eleven.
‘Wow! Is that the time?’ She’d wondered where he was going when he’d popped out ten minutes or so ago, but she’d been busy serving a customer. It was probably why she hadn’t spotted him when he’d returned with a bakery bag in his hand.
‘It is, and I thought since we barely had time to manage much breakfast, you might be feeling a bit peckish; I know I am.’ He patted his stomach and flashed her the smile that was guaranteed to make her heart skip a beat.
‘Thought you might need a bit of fortification before our eleven thirty meeting with Jack and Jenna. It’ll no doubt spill over into your lunchbreak, so a cheeky little croissant will help stave off your hunger. ’
Florrie had to admit, she was tempted. She glanced over at the counter to see Leah, the bookshop’s young assistant, chatting away to a customer in her usual friendly manner, her glossy chestnut ponytail swishing as she nodded her head.
Leah had opted to take a later lunch so she could meet up with her boyfriend, Marty, who was a trainee solicitor at Cuthbert, Asquith go and enjoy that croissant while it’s nice and warm, especially if you didn’t manage much breakfast. I’ll finish the display here. ’
Like all of the bookshop’s staff, Jean was wearing the navy-blue Happy Hartes hoodie with its red font, teaming hers with a pair of smart dark blue slacks and dusky pink desert boots she’d just bought during a recent shopping trip with Jenna, and thought rather daring.
With her neatly trimmed salt and pepper bob, rosy complexion and youthful outlook, you’d never guess she was approaching her eighties, and was regularly told she looked a decade younger which always had her beaming bashfully.
And since she and her son, local author and poet, Jack Playforth, had invested in the bookshop, it seemed to have added an extra spring to her step.
Talk of food appeared to have prodded Florrie’s appetite awake and her stomach growled loudly, making both her and Jean laugh.
The meeting would no doubt mean she’d have to skip lunch and wolf something down later.
‘After hearing that, I think I should take your advice, Jean. Mind, be sure to holler if you get a rush on.’
‘Will do, petal. Now go on, off you trot, the pair of you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Florrie smiling. She’d caught Jean observing her and Ed that morning and suspected the older woman had sensed an air of discomfort between them and would be keen for them to put it right.
Nothing much got by Jean, and she’d know it would have something to do with Ed’s mother’s arrival at the bookshop yesterday afternoon.
And though Jean rarely said a bad word about anyone, there was one person she really didn’t like, and that was Dawn Harte.
Make that two – her dislike of Peter Harte was equally intense.
In the kitchen, which was tucked away at the back of the shop, Ed pulled out a chair at the small table.
‘Madame,’ he said, adopting a faux serious tone as, with a flourish, he gestured for Florrie to sit down.
She did so, giggling as he made a performance of laying a paper napkin on her lap.
His serious face broke into a smile before he took her face in his hands and delivered a warm kiss to her lips, making her heart tumble around in her chest.
‘What’s all this about?’ she asked when he finally pulled away. She took in the neatly set arrangement, a small vase of flowers in the centre, wondering why he hadn’t suggested popping up to the teashop.
She watched as he pulled out the chair opposite and sat down.
‘I was conscious of things feeling a bit awkward when we were talking earlier and I wanted to grab the chance for us to have a chat, make sure you were okay. Plus, like I said before, I thought you might be feeling a bit hungry.’ He reached for the teapot and set about pouring them each a mug of tea.
‘I thought you’d prefer to talk somewhere a bit more private than the teashop, where there’s a chance a customer could overhear our conversation. ’
Since it had opened in the bookshop’s converted living quarters last year, the teashop had become a great success, with both Florrie and Ed pleasantly surprised – and relieved – at how popular and well received it had been by locals.
Bookshop customers were tempted upstairs by the clinking of china, not to mention the mouth-watering aroma of food that occasionally sneaked down and mingled with the smell of books.
The tearoom had quickly become a place where friends regularly met before heading down to the bookshop and having a leisurely wander along the aisles of books.
Florrie would go so far as to say, it had become an attraction in its own right, tempting those who declared not to be keen on books or reading.
It had increased the bookshop’s footfall and given sales a healthy boost on a scale neither Florrie nor Ed had expected.
‘Oh, right, okay.’ Florrie picked up the knife he’d set by her plate and sliced off a piece of croissant, concern prickling over her skin.
Had he been speaking to his mum since they’d arrived at the bookshop?
And, if so, did he have something to say that he’d rather wasn’t overheard?
She braced herself for what he was about to tell her.
‘I just want to make sure you know that I haven’t forgotten how difficult my parents have been with you, not to mention how badly they treated my grandparents; keeping their existence a secret from me for so many years is unforgivable.’ His expression suddenly darkened.
Florrie put her piece of croissant back on the plate and reached across the table, resting her hand on his. Much as she wholeheartedly agreed with his assessment of his parents, she felt it best to remain quiet on that score. Instead, she pushed her mouth into an appreciative smile.
‘I hope you understand that you come first to me, Florrie. In everything. Before I met you, I had no anchor, my life was meaningless. Empty. I just seemed to drift from place to place, feeling restless and unfulfilled. I was lonely, even though I hadn’t realised that at the time.
And then, fate intervened and brought me to Micklewick Bay, and to you.
’ He squeezed her hand and treated her to another one of his heart-melting smiles.
‘Oh, Ed.’ Florrie felt a lump form in her throat and swallowed it down. ‘Mind, I’m not so sure it was fate, I reckon it was more like Mr H getting up to mischief and playing cupid; doing a spot of meddling from beyond the grave.’ They both laughed at that.
‘Aye, come to think of it, you do have a point. It was a crafty move on Grandad’s part all right, naming us as the benefactors of the bookshop and throwing us together whether we liked it or not.’ He popped a piece of croissant into his mouth and chewed, looking thoughtful.
‘It so was.’ Florrie smiled as an image of Mr H bloomed in her mind, a surge of love warming her heart.
Ed swallowed his mouthful. ‘Anyroad, getting back to what I was saying. I want you to know that I’m not buying my mother’s reason for her sudden arrival.
Saying she’s here to help with the wedding is so out of character it’s ridiculous; she’s fooling no one, especially when she’s been so dead set against us getting married from the start.
’ He pushed another chunk of croissant into his mouth.
Florrie let his words settle. If anyone else had held such an opinion on their forthcoming nuptials, she would’ve been devastated, but it was par for the course with Dawn Harte, which she knew was why Ed had said it so casually, and why she hadn’t taken offence.
She looked on, taking in his earnest expression.
Much as Florrie agreed with him, she was unsure of how to reply – if it even warranted a reply – and was glad when Ed continued.
‘I want to reassure you that, though I can’t stop them from coming to Micklewick Bay, I won’t let her or my father interfere with our wedding plans, or our life together.
I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and I’m not about to let them change that.
There’s no way I want to lose you, Florrie.
No way at all.’ He leant across the small table and reached a hand around the back of her head, pulling her to him.
His kiss that followed left her in no doubt he meant his words.
As he sat back in his seat, Florrie’s eyes met his and she was touched by the sincerity she saw there.
Her heart squeezed with love for him. She knew, despite the dysfunctional relationship he had with them, it wouldn’t be easy for him to speak about his parents in this way.
He had a good heart and decent values. Not for the first time did he remind her of his grandfather.
‘Thank you, Ed. And will you promise that if you have any worries about anything at all, you’ll come to me rather than keep them to yourself and start stewing on them? I know it’s an old cliché, but a problem shared and all that.’
‘I promise. I’m learning it’s better to talk.’ He flashed a lopsided grin as he took her hand.
Relief swept through her, her smile matching his. ‘It’s definitely better to talk; work through our problems together, especially if they’re caused by other people.’
‘I can see that now. I’m sorry it’s taken me a while to grasp that fact. Having spent so long keeping my worries to myself, it’s been a hard habit to break.’
‘I get that.’
Growing up with cold and distant parents meant Ed had learnt to be emotionally self-sufficient.
His childhood had been the polar opposite of Florrie’s which had been loving and warm.
Both were only children, and where Ed was treated as something of an inconvenience by his parents, Florrie had been the apple of her parents’ eye.
It broke Florrie’s heart to think about how Ed had grown up, especially when he was such a warm, loving person.
‘I want us to just focus on looking forward to our wedding.’ He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. ‘I love you, Florrie, and I’m not going to let anything get in the way of us getting married, or our enjoyment of preparing for it.’
‘And I love you, too, Ed.’ A smile crept over her face, her eyes looking onto his pools of navy blue.
She pushed herself up and leant across the table.
This time it was her turn to press her lips against Ed’s, delighting in their soft warmth.
He reached up and cupped her face in his hand, their kiss deepening, releasing a host of butterflies in her stomach. Oh my days!
‘Ey up, I was under the impression there was a meeting going on in here,’ came a familiar gravelly voice, making them jump apart.