Page 27 of The Little Cottage by the Cornish Sea

‘Right.’ And then he hung up. I had a feeling he was the chef. Just instinct. Which meant that Penny needed to straighten this person out. No respectable hotel should have an ogre answering the phone like that.

I managed the phones for a few minutes while Marie pulled herself together. Poor thing, she was still new, but something told me she’d be okay. She was sweet and smart. The rest, she could work on.

About half an hour later, with plenty of time to spare for my meeting, Rosie, Penny and Laura burst into Reception.

‘Marie, we heard, we’re so sorry!’ Penny called as she came round the counter desk to hug her.

Marie looked up from her Bookings screen, frazzled but not as much as before. ‘Eh?’

‘Your brother…?’ Laura prompted.

Marie’s mouth fell open. ‘My brother? What’s happened to him?’

‘Sally told me that you got a call from home…’

‘No, no, that was just me trying to gain a few minutes of peace,’ I explained.

Wow, news really did travel fast in small towns.

Even made-up news. No wonder Mrs Nankivell had the low-down on every man that had spoken to me since I’d arrived.

‘Marie was all on her own and I just happened to be here. I hope it’s okay? ’

Penny blinked at me. ‘Okay? Sophie, you’re a bloody star! Marie, I’m so sorry to have left you on your own: my mistake. I’ll make it up to you. How’s dinner for your family here tonight, on the house?’

Marie was almost in tears, though I didn’t know if was due to her boss’s generosity, or the shock of thinking that something had happened to her brother. ‘Thank you, Penny.’

‘And Sophie, you should have dinner here, too. Rosie and Dad will be there. Please say you’ll join us!’

The prospect of eating on my own tonight did not appeal to me. On the other hand, the idea of seeing some of my new friends cheered me up immensely. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Penny, thank you!’

What a lovely girl. No wonder Rosie was crazy about her. These were good people. And yet, here I was, still lying to them about who I really was. I didn’t deserve such good friends.

*

The next morning, I found Piers in my office, his back to the door, looking out onto the grounds.

‘M-morning,’ I said as I put my handbag down on the floor while keeping the one with Trixie close to my chest. Something told me that this was going to be a very short conversation.

He whirled around. ‘Morning. Sorry, I didn’t hear you coming.’

I shrugged. ‘Look, Piers, I want to apologise again—’

He raised his hands. ‘No, wait, please. I’m the one who needs to apologise, Sophie. You’ve been doing an amazing job here and I was an absolute arse with you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m really sorry. It’s my fault because I’m a privacy freak. It won’t happen again..’

‘Thank you And I’ll be more discrete.’

‘Thank you.’

‘So I still have a job?’

He grinned. ‘Your job was never at stake. You’re the best I’ve ever had.’

Better than Patsy? I wanted to ask, but that would have been pushing it.

‘So are you,’ I replied, thinking how true that was. Working for the firm and Will had never been a walk in the park at the best of times, so working for Piers and Whisper Farm here at Rosestones Manor had given me the sense of belonging I’d sorely lacked.

‘What I mean is,’ he cleared his throat, ‘I’m happy you work here. I enjoy our banter. I enjoy your company.’

Oh? I must have really been love-starved if these kind words made my skin tingle to the point that I couldn’t say anything remotely intelligible.

So he enjoyed my company? Many people enjoyed the company of others without it actually meaning anything, right?

So why was the moment so awkward? I had to say something to cut the tension.

‘S-so do I, Piers,’ was all I could muster.

And when I finally managed to look up into his face, there was a tenderness that I hardly recognised.

Was it a tenderness based on pity? He knew I was a single, soon-to-be mum who’d moved away from her home and who was desperate for a job.

Did I scream down and out that loudly? Come to think of it, almost everyone I’d met had shown me instant kindness.

And then I knew. They pitied me, maybe even because of the baby! Piers pitied me…

‘I need to get started,’ I whispered, reaching over to grab something from my bag, but he gently caught my hand.

Surprised, my eyes swung to his.

‘I just want you to know that… I’m here for you, Sophie. Whatever you need. I’m not just saying that as your employer. I’m saying it as a friend. Hopefully, a good friend?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I whispered, unable to bear the tension. It felt like he wanted to stay a little longer. Probably to make sure I was okay. God forbid he had any other kind of interest in me. ‘Thank you. I—'

‘Sophie?’ he said softly, gently squeezing my fingers. ‘Would you like to stay for dinner?’

‘Dinner…?’

‘Yeah. Just you and me again, how’s that?’

‘Uhm, that would be…lovely.’

He grinned at me beseechingly. ‘Yeah?’

I grinned back. ‘Yeah.’

‘Okay, then. Tonight when you’re done, come to the kitchen with me and I’ll whip you up the best dinner you ever had. ’

‘Okay,’ I said, feeling my face going red.

How I managed to stay concentrated on my work for the rest of the day, I don’t know. I had at least a dozen calls to make between orders and issues and chase ups. Even the extra hours passed in a blur: all I could do was think about dinner.

At one minute past six, I appeared in the kitchen where he directed me to a stool.

‘But I want to help,’ I said.

‘Nu-uh. You are my guest and I am your cook.’ And everything suddenly shifted.

I can’t explain how, but being alone with him again while he cooked me a meal spoke of a normal domestic life.

A life I had tried to build with Will but had never attained.

And now, an amazing man I’d mere months ago was treating me as if I was very important to him.

I just wasn’t used to all that kindness and attention. Nor being waited on.

‘So I can’t even peel or dice or…?’

He washed his hands, turning to smile at me over his shoulder. ‘Woman, I’m offering you a moment of rest. Take advantage, will you?’

I laughed. ‘Okay, then! So what are you making?’

‘Ah, but that is a surprise! ’ he said in a mock French accent.

‘I will be able to guess when I see your ingredients,’ I countered with a laugh.

‘Ah, but will you?’ he insisted.

‘I’m no cook, but yeah, I think I will!’

‘But the surprise is part of the pleasure!’

‘Oh, go on, then, surprise me,’ I said, turning around on my stool to look out the window instead.

Outside the fairy lights began to twinkle amongst the flowers and shrubs and down the winding paths.

It was a beautiful scene, but I couldn’t well watch it all evening while an even more beautiful man was right next to me preparing dinner.

‘So… talk to me,’ he said.

‘Can I turn around now? I promise I won’t even try to guess. I’m a horrible cook anyway.’

‘Well, it’s fortunate for you that I’m here now,’ he answered, not looking up from a potpourri of vegetables which I tried to not identify, but there was a lot of green and red.

Wait, what? Fortunate for me that he was here now?

What did that mean? Because it sounded as if…

I shook the thought out of my head. What a crazy idea.

And yet, Piers was a very difficult man to resist under any circumstance, let alone being alone with him in his home.

These thoughts stayed with me as he made a mock-show of dicing and kneading and flipping dough (at this stage it had become obvious that he was making pizza).

The simplicity of the meal made him all the more endearing to me.

Anyone in his position would have tried to impress a girl with, oh, I don’t know, some complicated French menu or something seen on one of Gordon Ramsay’s shows.

But no. He made wonky, individual pizzas that tasted like absolute heaven.

‘You like?’ he asked as we finally sat down and I took a huge bite out of my slice.

‘Mmph-ph...’ I assured him as I chewed in pure delight. ‘You put Mrs Watts to absolute shame.’

He laughed, watching me eat. But I didn’t mind. I was on my second slice before he even began to eat.

‘You like your Italian, don’t you?’ he teased.

‘I sure do!’ I said as I took another bite.

He threw his head back and laughed. ‘Are you going to come up for air any time soon?’

I shook my head and closed my eyes. All the freshest ingredients, the tomato sauce, the green and red peppers, the mozzarella cheese… delicious. And hand-made with love to boot. I could tell he enjoyed cooking almost as much as I enjoyed eating.

It was a lovely evening. We talked about a million things and I was surprised to see how similar we were beyond our lifestyle choices. He was a millionaire and I was a part-time worker. But besides that, we had the same taste in music, movies and books.

‘I’m a real girl at heart,’ he said. ‘Like romantic movies? I’m bawling my eyes out ten minutes in.’

‘You say it like it’s a bad thing to cry.’

He took a sip of wine. ‘You must be joking. It’s cathartic. I cry all the time.’

‘Really?’

‘Romcoms, dramas, even documentaries. Trust me to always find the sentimental side.’

In my experience, the crying finally happened when I realised I needed healing.

I wondered what he was healing from. What could he possible be missing?

He had a beautiful home, a flourishing business with staff that looked up to him and trusted him with their livelihoods. Perhaps he lacked… companionship?

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

‘Huh? Oh, nothing. Just how similar we are.’

‘We are, aren’t we?’ he agreed. ‘I’ve never met anyone who also likes grape jelly on their meatballs.’

I laughed. ‘I know, right?’