CHAPTER THREE – SYLVIE
His lips curled in what I assumed was equal disgust. “You,” he replied, casting his gaze over me. “What on Earth are you doing here?”
“Buying a hot chocolate, what does it bloody well look like?” I held the cup to justify myself, not like I needed to. “I’m surprised to see you mingling with the little people.”
Thomas chuckled. “You moved away years ago, Sylvie. Don’t act like you have any idea what it’s like here anymore.”
“I don’t want to know, nor do I need to.”
“Ah, that’s right.” He stepped aside and held the door for an elderly couple to leave, then let it slowly close. “You’re only here because Hazel is getting married. You’re the maid of honour, aren’t you?”
“And the wedding planner,” I retorted sharply.
“Must be nice to do that for free.”
“I’m sure it is for those who aren’t in the business of planning weddings.”
His eyebrows quirked upwards. “Are you?”
“I have been for the last nine years, thank you. I prefer to charge for my services.”
“And you’re charging your sister?”
“I’m a businesswoman, not a charity,” I snapped. “I don’t know why I’m standing here justifying myself to you of all people.”
Those pale pink lips curved into a smirk that was almost sardonic. “Oh, how you wound me.”
“Listen to me, Tho—”
I was interrupted by the café door opening, something Thomas caught, and he held the door for the gaggle of teenage girls who left with the same giggles they’d entered with.
“Carry on,” he said when they’d passed.
God, I hated him.
“Listen to me, Thomas Castleton,” I said firmly. “I am—”
“That’s Your Grace, The Duke of Castleton these days,” he replied, and a dark shadow passed across his gaze. “If you’re going to address me so indignantly, do it properly.”
The human part of my hatred squeezed uncomfortably.
I knew what that meant.
I’d grown up with the sorry git.
If he was now the duke, it meant he’d lost his father, and I wasn’t so cruel as to ignore such an event. Nor would I dismiss it just because I thought Thomas to be a pompous, selfish, arrogant bastard who needed a good smack around the back of a head with a good old frying pan.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly after a moment.
“Don’t be. We both know you don’t mean it.”
I clenched my jaw. “I see you haven’t grown up a bit.”
“I have but seeing you takes me back twelve years. What can I say?”
“If you were this immature twelve years ago, I fear for your wife.”
“Who said I’m married?”
“Nobody, but you being single makes a hell of a lot more sense that you actually being married,” I shot back. “And if you are, my condolences to the poor woman.”
Thomas’ lips twitched. “No woman to speak of, wife or otherwise.”
“Then my congratulations to those who are smart enough not to engage in marriage with you,” I replied, taking note of my phone vibrating again.
I glanced at the screen, noting Hazel’s name.
“Sorry. I have to take this. I’ll see you…
well, hopefully I won’t,” I finished, turning on my heel and walking away from him as I moved to answer the call.
I just missed it, but it didn’t stop me from continuing and calling her right back. And I was not going to turn around and acknowledge that stupid man again.
“You called,” I said sharply when she answered.
“Whoa. Who nibbled your nipple?”
“I’d be a lot happier if someone did,” I replied. “Sorry. I just… ran into an irritant.”
My sister chuckled. “Thomas. You ran into Thomas.”
“Yes. That’s what I said.”
“You know, I was hoping that the two of you would have grown out of that by now.”
“I was hoping to not see him at all, so there we are. He’s not going to be at the wedding, is he?”
Hazel didn’t say anything.
“Hazel!”
“He’s… yes,” she said slowly, making something clink on her end of the line. “Didn’t you see his name on the guestlist?”
“I saw ‘The Duke of Castleton accompanied by The Duchess of Castleton.’ I assumed that was his parents.”
“Oh, well, this is awkward. You were technically half-right.” She coughed. “He’s coming with his mum. He and Julian are friends as their mums go way back.”
“Ugh,” I said, finally glancing over my shoulder in the direction of the café. There was no sign of Thomas there, and I huffed out another breath as I turned to the main street where all the shops were. “He’s not in the wedding party, is he?”
“No. You’d have known that much.”
“You’re right. I would have.” I sighed. Why had his name not been on the bloody list? Ugh. “What did you call for?”
“Beth just called me and asked if she can reschedule your meeting for tomorrow afternoon. Apparently, her kid cut his head open at school and she needs to take him to hospital. She didn’t have your number to call you directly.”
“Oh, gosh, of course.” I stopped in the middle of the street. That was my afternoon freed up. “Give her my number and have her let me know in the morning. That’s not a problem.”
“I will. That hasn’t messed up your day, has it?”
“Nope. It means I’m done and can handle emails at home instead. Do you need anything while I’m in town?”
“No, but I think Gramps was saying about there being no milk.”
“All right. I’ll swing by and grab some on my way home. Are you still there?”
“We’re meeting Julian’s parents for dinner. Was everything okay with the venue?”
I talked her through what had happened before that irritating meeting with Thomas, assured her everything measured up and Julian hadn’t messed it up when he’d done it initially.
After we went over everything, I stopped in the food store for some milk and some other things I wanted and headed back to the house.
I’d been non-stop since I’d arrived last night, and I was looking forward to lying in bed for two hours under the guise of answering emails.
I wasn’t going to do that.
I was going to eat this sharing size bag of Quavers crisps and at least half the box of Maltesers while binge-watching something ridiculous on Netflix.
Then I’d answer emails.
I didn’t get days off. Being self-employed was one of life’s greatest pleasures, but it was more full-time than a full-time job sometimes, and days like today when I was exhausted was when I remembered that little fact.
Still, I was grateful that I could set my own hours—within reason. I was also thankful that past Sylvie had thought to tell her clients that she’d have a delayed response for a few days and set up an autoresponder in her email.
Autoresponders meant I could eat my weight in Maltesers and not feel too bad about it.
If it wasn’t an emergency, I wasn’t interested.
And if it was an emergency sent via email, then it wasn’t much of an emergency at all.
Gramps’ car wasn’t in the driveway when I got home, and I was a little happy about that. I adored my grandparents more than anything, but I was looking forward to some time to myself. It wasn’t something I even had at home in Dorset thanks to the house share I lived in, so I was all about this.
I put away the few groceries I’d purchased, making sure to keep my treats purely for myself. Gramps was a sucker for Maltesers, and if I left them out, he’d eat the box I bought him and mine.
Since mine was bigger, I was hiding the bugger.
I made a hot chocolate and went up to my room with my goodies. After mindlessly scrolling Netflix for five minutes, I settled on the classic that was Friends, grabbed my laptop from the bedside table, and checked my phone.
There was an emergency voicemail from one of my June brides citing hen party drama with her mother trying to take over the plans and she needed me right now.
I sighed.
So much for that relaxing.
***
“Did you get it sorted?” Nana asked, shampooing the pig in the kitchen sink.
It was like a train wreck. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It definitely wasn’t on my Castleton bingo card, that was for sure.
“Started to,” I replied, finally dragging my attention away from the pig salon to the freshly boiled kettle so I could make tea. “Elouise comes from an upper-class family, whereas her fiancé is more mechanic than millionaire, if you get my meaning.”
“Let me guess. Her mother is a snob?”
“Something like that,” I said vaguely. “They met at university five years ago and she fit in with his friends right away. She’s aware she has more money than them, so she wanted to keep her hen party something fun and relatively cheap, so her maid of honour decided on Blackpool.”
Nana nodded sagely. “A classic.”
“Indeed. Her mum got the invite and freaked out saying it was too ‘low brow’ for her daughter. Elouise thinks Barbados is more honeymoon than hen night. They’ve spent the last week arguing over why Elouise wants Blackpool over Barbados.”
Nana looked at me. “Does anyone want Blackpool over Barbados?”
I mean, I’d rather Barbados, but it wasn’t my hen party.
I dropped two teabags into the mugs. “Well, Elouise does,” I replied.
“I believe she agreed on the condition her mother pay for the entire party of twelve to go out there, and her mum refused, so they were at a standstill. I’ve spent the entire afternoon on the phone with the maid of honour while we got the property in Blackpool locked in, and then I had to call Elouise’s mother to reason with her. ”
“I can’t imagine it’s possible to reason with anyone that insane.”
This was coming from the woman who was currently rinsing shampoo off a pig with a gravy boat in the kitchen sink.
I supposed she was rather the authority on ‘insane.’
“It did take a while,” I agreed. “Eventually, I pointed out that her refusal to listen to her daughter will cause problems longer-term and that Elouise could potentially see it as a refusal to accept her husband because of his social class.”
“Very smart.”
“Thank you. I then pointed out that Elouise had already compromised on the venue at her insistence, forgoing the place she really wanted to keep the peace, and had even agreed to delay their honeymoon because her mother’s birthday is one week after the wedding.”
Nana pulled the Beatrix Trotter from the sink and wrapped her in a towel. “Is it a big birthday?”
“Nope, not even a milestone one.”
“The audacity. What did she say to you?”
“She hung up on me, actually.” I laughed, squeezing the teabags and dropping them on the saucer we used to collect them. “She called me back thirty minutes later, apologised, and agreed that she was perhaps being slightly unreasonable.”
“That’s an understatement,” Nana replied. “At least she apologised.”
“Indeed. We finished with her saying that she’s going to pay for their honeymoon to Barbados as their Christmas gift, and she’s going to insist they leave two days after the wedding instead.”
“She’s somewhat redeeming herself. I thought brides were supposed to be the nightmares, not the mothers.”
“You’d be surprised how many nightmare mothers and in-laws I deal with compared to brides.
I’d rather deal with the bridezillas, honestly.
At least they usually have people to tell them they’re being unreasonable, whereas people are much less likely to confront their parents about ridiculous behaviour. ”
“You’re right. After all, ignoring her is how I dealt with my mother-in-law for twenty-five years,” Nana drawled, putting Beatrix down on the floor.
Beatrix ran across the tiles to the ceramic bowls by the radiator, then stuck her snout in the water bowl.
“Does she just live inside?” I asked, handing Nana her cup of tea.
“Yes. Where else is she supposed to live?”
“The—the barn,” I said slowly. “Like most other farm animals.”
She shook her head. “It’s far too cold out there for her. I’m almost done with her Christmas jumper.”
“You’re knitting the pig a Christmas jumper?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Look at her. She’s clearly cold.” She tilted her head to the side. “I just wish I knew where her antlers went.”
“Antlers?” I blinked. “Oh, they’re on the front seat of my car.”
“Why are they in your car?”
“I saw her on my way here. Her antlers snagged on the hedgerow when she got out of the road, so I grabbed them. I meant to ask you if you knew who the pig belonged to and, well, you made beef, so I forgot.”
Nana stared at me. “She keeps going on her jollies. I wonder if you can microchip a pig.”
“Perhaps we need to adopt you a cat for Christmas,” I said slowly. “That might be more your speed, you know.”
She sipped her tea. “Only if the cat and Beatrix will get along. I’m not abandoning my pig.”
The front door opened and closed, and Gramps appeared with a big shiver. “It’s bloody freezing out there!”
“I’ll make another tea,” I said, going back to the kettle. The water was still hot, so I quickly made a third cup and took it through to the living room where he was grumbling about almost being out of coal for the fire. “I’ll pick some up tomorrow,” I reassured him. “Is it still the same place?”
He shook his head. “Thomas’ father bought them out before he died. He moved the coal yard to the tree farm lot.”
I grimaced.
Not Thomas.
Nana caught my eye, and her lips twitched. “Are you still not over your childhood feud?”
I sniffed, taking a seat on the sofa. “I will never be over that.”
Gramps shook his head. “I don’t think he is, either. I heard you ran into each other earlier.”
This time, I made a weird noise that was somewhere between a grunt of amusement and annoyance. “Unfortunately.”
His chuckle was raspy, but that didn’t detract from the twinkle in his eye. “You know he’s single now.”
“And I’m done here.” I got up and walked out of the room, leaving my grandparents laughing behind me.
I wasn’t going to entertain that line of conversation from him.
But what did he mean by ‘now?’