of hope and worry. ‘What if they said no?’
Coming home to help run the pub after their father fell ill had meant a lot of sacrifices for Sam. The Grand Diplôme from the Cordon Bleu he’d worked so hard towards should have been his ticket to a dazzling future, but life got in the way. His plans for Subterranean offered the perfect solution to achieving his dreams.
She lifted the envelope, feeling the thick wad of paper inside as though she could somehow fathom its secrets. It wasn’t just a single sheet, so that had to be a good thing, right? ‘If you don’t open it, you’ll never know.’
Sam laughed as he approached to pluck the envelope from her hand. ‘Thanks for the deep and meaningful advice, Yoda.’
‘You could always take it next door and open it with Beth.’
To her surprise, her brother shook his head. ‘No. If it’s bad news, I’m going to need some time to think about it before I talk to her.’ He tossed the envelope back on the bar. ‘Christ, just when it seems like everything is falling into place.’ Tucking his hands on his hips, he blew out a breath.
Her heart ached for the dilemma he might be facing. Give up his dream career, or give up his new-found love. Beth might have been ambivalent about taking over the emporium at first, but it had become obvious to Eliza in the past weeks since her own return to the bay that her friend was here to stay. And if Sam didn’t get the approval for his restaurant, she couldn’t see him sticking around for the long term.
God, she was as bad as Sam, borrowing troubles when there might be no reason for it! The idea for the restaurant was a sound one, and surely the council would be keen on something that provided a new attraction for visitors to the bay. Picking up the envelope, she thrust it at her brother. ‘Open it, so we can start celebrating.’
‘When did you get so pushy?’ He was smiling though as he eased open the self-adhesive flap.
Eliza flipped back the curls hanging over one shoulder and stuck her nose in the air with a sniff. ‘It’s the all-new assertive me, do you like it?’
He chuckled. ‘I kinda do, but don’t go changing too much, I’m very fond of my sweet little sister.’ He sucked in a breath. ‘Okay, here goes.’
Impatience gnawed at Eliza as she watched his eyes flicker back and forth as he scanned the top page of the stack of documents. A frown creased his brow, and she had to force herself not to wince. Damn, she’d been so sure it would be good news. Reaching for him, she forced a smile. ‘It’s only the first attempt, we can try again. If they don’t want you to use the pub, we can look for an alternative venue.’
Blinking, Sam looked up from the papers. ‘What? Oh no, it’s good news. They have a couple of alterations they’d like me to make, but I have approval subject to those conditions.’
‘You do? Oh my God, that’s amazing!’ Eliza clapped her hands together, relief flooding through her. It was about damn time their family had some good news.
‘It is, isn’t it?’ Sam grinned brighter than the sunshine flooding through the front window. ‘I’ve only bloody done it!’
Laughing, Eliza flung herself into his arms. ‘You bloody did it!’ They danced around in a circle, almost falling over each other’s feet in the small space behind the bar.
‘What’s all the noise?’
Eliza turned at their mother’s question, and it was on the tip of her tongue to blurt out the good news. She stopped herself just in time and nudged Sam in the ribs. ‘Tell her.’
‘Subterranean got the go ahead from the council.’ He held out the letter to Annie.
‘You did? Oh, Sam, that’s wonderful! Your dad will be so thrilled.’ There was no mistaking the relief in their mum’s voice as she joined them in a group hug. Her cheeks were streaked with tears when she pulled back to regard them both. ‘Looks like you’re here to stay then, Sam.’ When he nodded, Annie turned her full attention to Eliza. ‘And what about you?’
Knowing it was time to bite the bullet, Eliza took a deep breath. ‘I’m not going anywhere for the foreseeable future.’
Jack chugged along the ruts on either side of yet another row of lavender, muttering curses over the sweltering weather. Even with the side windows fully open, the glass windscreen of the tractor magnified the heat of the mid-afternoon sun leaving him drenched in sweat. Since the first night after he’d transferred the new plants to the field, there’d been not a drop of rain and the forecast for the week showed little sign of any materialising. After chatting it through with his mum, they’d decided to water manually—well, mechanically. Reaching the end of the field, he turned the tractor and the water bowser attached to the towing hitch, lined up over the next row, then parked up and turned off the engine. The sudden silence came as a relief. Noah had suffered another terrible nightmare and another sleepless night combined with worry over his nephew had left Jack with a banging headache.
After clambering from the cab, he rummaged inside the rucksack beneath his seat and pulled out a bottle of water. He placed the bottle against his aching forehead. Sighing in relief as the chilly surface eased a little of the tension, Jack opened the bottle and drank. The cold liquid soothed his parched throat and he drained half the bottle before capping it again. The cloth he’d tied around his neck to protect it from the glare of the sun was soaked. He tugged it off to wring it out, using a bit of water from the bottle to rinse the worst of the sweat from it, then draped it over the bonnet of the tractor. The combined heat from the engine and the sun would dry it out in no time.
His shirt was in a similar state, and he tugged it away from the base of his back in the hopes of allowing the faint breeze to cool his skin. It did little to ease his discomfort, so he quickly unbuttoned the soft denim and shrugged out of it, shuddering a little as the clammy material stuck to his skin. He tied the sleeves in a loop around the side mirror on the tractor to hang in the sunshine, then took another long draft from the water bottle.
Squatting on his heels, he sighed as the body of the tractor offered a respite from the heat and studied the nearest lavender plant. Strong pale green stalks radiated out from the base, forming a dome with the first hints of the spears which would soon be laden with tiny purple flowers showing. A few more days, a week—maybe two—and the whole farm would be transformed into delicate blankets of every shade from palest lilac to deep imperial purple. There was plenty of work to be done between now and then.
With a soft groan, he stood and stretched his arms over his head to loosen the kinks in his spine. Another couple of hours bouncing around in the tractor’s seat would leave his body vibrating from scalp to toes, but it had to be done. Gritting his teeth at the state his head would be in by the end of the day, he reached for his shirt, intent on untying the sleeves when a soft, feminine voice hailed him. ‘Hello! Mr Gilbert?’
Jack spun on his heel, catching his elbow on the jutting out mirror in the process. ‘Shit!’ He rubbed the sharp pain and studied the small figure waving at him from the other side of the field. Shrouded beneath a huge floppy straw hat and swathed in layers of white linen, it was hard to distinguish much about her, other than her diminutive size.
Shading his eyes with one hand, Jack cast a glance down the sloping path she must have followed. Plenty of locals—and tourists—liked to stroll along the public footpath which led them out of the bay, along the edges of the farm and back towards the cliffs that tumbled into the surf marking the far end of town. His unexpected visitor had strayed far from that route though, ignoring plenty of ‘Private Property – Keep Out’ signs in the process.
Striding along the top of the field, he closed the gap between them. ‘Are you lost? The public footpath is back that way.’ He gestured impatiently hoping she’d take the hint.
The wide brim of the hat tilted up, revealing a pair