Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Aunt Ally and Uncle Jared had started off with building glamping pods to rent out. Those had become so successful that they’d expanded the business into holiday lodges. And then instead of selling off some more of their extensive land to a housing developer, they’d decided to develop the plot themselves. On top of their businesses, Allegra was a successful artist and ran an art gallery in the village called Skies Over Caledonia.
When I was younger, I envied Aunt Ally so much. She’d claimed Ardnoch as her own and made a home here with the love of her life. I thought I’d follow in her footsteps, and we’d maybe even raise children together. But Lewis had left, and Aunt Ally and Uncle Jared had decided to enjoy a few years of just each other before starting a family. She fell pregnant as I departed for Paris and as her sister, Aunt Aria, and her husband North adopted a wee boy called Maddox who was three at the time, now six years old. And Aunt Ally had a two-year-old called Collum. I was his pseudo aunt, and he barely knew me. But I intended to change that.
“You’re off in dreamland.”
I turned from staring out of Fyfe’s floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking nothing but rolling fields and trees to meet Carianne’s eyes.
Carianne and I had stayed in touch after I left for Paris, and we always caught up whenever I visited home. She worked as a stylist in a hair salon in Thurso and lived in a small upstairs flat a few streets behind Castle Street. When we were younger, she’d wanted to get out of Ardnoch but had no money. So she’d stayed and trained at the salon. After Fyfe invited me over to breakfast this morning, I’d discovered Carianne here and that she and Fyfe had struck up a friendship again when he’d returned to Ardnoch. They’d only dated for a year when we were kids, and it had ended amiably, so we’d all remained friends.
Her pretty blue eyes held mine. We shared a similar coloring with dark blond hair, blue eyes, and olive skin, but that was where the similarities ended. She had delicate features, whereas I had big eyes and full lips. I was also outgoing and laid-back about most things. Carianne used to be a huffy child. She’d wanted everyone to be her best friend but no one to be anyone else’s best friend. She easily felt neglected even when you were giving her your full attention, and if something happened—anything—her first thought was always for herself.
However, after her first thought, she’d take some time to process and then she was sympathetic and loyal and caring. She was one of the first to call if you were sick or sad or if something had gone wrong in your day. Her gifts were always considerate, and she was a good listener when a person needed her to be. No one was perfect. I certainly wasn’t. And so I’d put up with the annoying huffy side of Carianne so I could still have all the other lovely qualities she brought to a friendship.
We hadn’t spent much time together in the last three years, but I wanted that to change and to see all the ways she’d grown up in my absence.
“It’s strange to be back here with you and Fyfe,” I finally answered. “In a good way.”
“How can we compete with Paris and French lovers, though?” Carianne teased, throwing her arm around me to give me a squeeze.
“Let’s not talk about French lovers,” Fyfe said from the kitchen where he was making breakfast.
“Look at him.” Carianne nodded to Fyfe as he cooked. “All grown up and cooking breaky in his swanky house. Wee Fyfe Moray has come a long way.”
Fyfe rolled his eyes at her comment.
“He has. And we couldn’t be prouder.”
“Bursting with it,” Carianne assured.
“Stop it,” Fyfe grumbled, “or you’ll make my head swell. Just get over here and eat up.”
We sat down at the midcentury-style dining table as Fyfe served us fluffy homemade pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs.
“This looks delicious.” My belly grumbled. “Marry me, Fyfe.”
Fyfe raised an eyebrow as his doorbell rang. “I think that might piss off the person at my door.”
“What?” Carianne and I asked in confusion.
Instead of answering, Fyfe strode from the room and down the steps that led to his front entrance.
“Is there someone else coming?” I asked Carianne.
She shrugged. “Not that I was aware of.”
A male voice met Fyfe’s and I stiffened in my chair. My pulse sped up as realization hit.
After Lewis showed up outside the bakery yesterday afternoon to announce his return, I’d fled.
Aye. Like a coward, I’d hurried back into the bakery and refused to leave until I was certain he was gone. Fyfe had called me last night to apologize for not warning me of Lewis’s return and to invite me to breakfast to make up for it.