Page 32 of The Little Shop on Silver Linings Street
He held her look for a moment before, to her amazement, coming forward and kissing her cheek. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You’re very kind.’
She stared at the empty doorway as he left, her cheeks on fire and her heart thudding in her chest.
‘Right,’ she said under her breath. ‘Well, that was… unexpected…’ Her eyes rolled up towards the ceiling. Could this day get any worse?
She stared at the mugs of tea, huffing a little and, for a moment, quite unable to do a thing. Then she cleared her throat, ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. Hastily finishing making the drinks, she carried them straight back out onto the shop floor where their customer was just pulling open the door to leave.
‘Phew, what a day,’ she said to Kit brightly. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m ready for this.’ She handed him a mug and carried hers back to the counter on the other side of the room.
Kit stared at her. ‘Not a red roses kind of girl?’ he said. His tone was light enough, but there was no mistaking the challenge in his voice.
A sudden heat bloomed within her. ‘Bertie just popped in to say thank you for yesterday. And for your information the flowers weren’t for me.’ Her voice sounded stiff and pompous but she willed it to stay steady.
‘Oh, Daisy…’ Kit’s voice was gentle. ‘I’m really sorry. Bertie is, well, he’s…’
But the look in Kit’s eyes had caught her completely off-guard. ‘What for?’ she demanded, flustered. ‘That the flowers weren’t mine? Or insinuating that there was something going on between Bertie and me?’
He bowed his head, his contrition clear. ‘For jumping to conclusions when I had no right to.’ He held her look for a second before his face crumpled. ‘Tell me honestly though,’ he blurted out. ‘Have you handed it to Bertie on a plate? Because it’s driving me mad not knowing. I mean, I’d understand if you have… Bertie is suave, good-looking, and flash with the cash. I think if I were in your position I’d do the same, but…’
He trailed off as she turned and stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. ‘Christopher Buchanan, do you know how incredibly insulting that comment is?’
He winced at the use of his full name. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, ‘I wasn’t thinking, I…’
She glared at him, but he looked so sheepish her anger melted away and she softened her expression. ‘Fortunately for you, however, I’m not insulted because I know that you don’t mean I would ever stoop so low as to hand things to Bertie on a plate, as you put it. Because that would make me dishonest, disloyal and not a nice person at all.’
He closed his eyes and groaned.
‘Plus I can see how, knowing him as you do, there’s a very real possibility that he might have sought an unfair advantage and that, flattered by his winning smile and wily ways, I acquiesced… But I didn’t, nor will I, and don’t you ever suggest anything like that again. For goodness’ sake you’re—’
‘Behaving like a child. Yes, I know.’ He looked up at her through his lashes. ‘Do you know what I hate most about all of this? It’s the fact that I’ve spent most of my life trying to dodge all the bullets that my brothers fired at each other, and me, if I was around, and now I feel as if I’m back in the nursery. I have never wanted to throw my toys out of the pram so much as I do now.’
She was taken aback by the stark honesty of his words and faltered for a moment, unsure what to make of his statement.
‘You know, I do understand how you’re feeling, Kit, but you have to trust me, otherwise the next few weeks are going to be unbearable. And in the meantime would it help you to know that Bertie still has no more advantage over the rest of you? We had a nice day, we talked about stuff and, if Bertie is shrewd, he may have deduced certain aspects of my character which may help him with his final design…’
She broke off, giving Kit a telling look. ‘What we didn’t do is directly discuss what my favourite piece of jewellery is now, or, if I had five grand knocking about, what I’d like it to be. And if it helps I’ll remind you of that fact the day after I go out with Lawrence,’ she said. ‘We’ll probably be having a similar conversation.’
Kit nodded, thinking about her words. ‘Yes,’ he replied ruefully, acknowledging his shortcomings. ‘We probably will…’ He bent his head to take a sip of his tea and then stopped, looking back across at her with a soft smile on his face. ‘And for the record, Daisy, I do trust you. And Bertie’s an idiot, he should have bought you the flowers.’
* * *
Now that she was home, Daisy took out the wreath she had made and scrutinised it carefully in an effort to take her mind off things. She had already fired the silver clay leaves and berries and rubbed the residue away, leaving gleaming metal in its place. Polished repeatedly, it now shone as part of the wintry decoration. Set amid the hydrangea heads, eucalyptus and trails of ivy, Daisy thought it was inspired. The colours and textures complimented one another beautifully and, with some clever wiring, she had managed to make two pieces that were removable. One was formed from entwining leaves so that it could be worn as a necklace and the other as a brooch. She only hoped that Grace would like it. How did you even begin to work out what someone would like when jewellery was so personal?
She stopped, staring unseeing at the wall opposite. It had never occurred to her until now how similar her situation was to that of the Buchanan brothers. Each of them needed to design something for someone they barely knew and she was in exactly the same position, except that her future wasn’t resting on the outcome of the competition. She looked down at the wreath in her hands – then again, perhaps it was…
She swallowed. Oh God, now she was really nervous. A glance at the clock showed she still had over half an hour before she needed to leave for Grace and Amos’s house; what she needed was another distraction. She pulled her laptop towards her.
She had intended to have a little browse of some of her favourite creative sites, either to source materials or look at design inspirations, but, as soon as she logged on, she saw that she had received a message alert from her Instagram account. She had checked last night when she had got home and been a little disappointed to find that there had been no response to her last message, but now here he was, contacting her again.
Underneath where she had typed ‘What did you have in mind?’ was now a row of dots, followed by his reply:
NickCarr1: That’s a tough one, I don’t really know. Sorry to be so useless! I guess the trouble is that I want something a bit different, not like anything you can find in the shops, but something that is really individual to her. So now I’m stuck… how do we do this?
God, he really was serious about this. She had thought she would never hear from him again. Daisy thought for a minute and then typed.
Where are you based? Could you come and see me?
She sat back and stared at the screen. That might not have been the wisest thing, but it would make life an awful lot simpler. And in any case they could always meet somewhere public. He’d better get a move on though, Christmas was only just over two weeks away. She was just about to close her laptop again when a reply came pinging back.
