Page 71 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
He offered her a wry smile. “I hope she hasn’t upset you.”
She swallowed a sudden lump. She wasn’t used to men—apart from her father—noticing if she might be upset. “I’m a big girl.”
“Well, I’m not the only one who has been busy.” He gestured to a basket on a table she and George had scrubbed the other day.
“What’s all this?” She sifted through the contents. Lavender pouches, glass pots of honey, handmade cards, knitted teddy bears, crocheted doilies.
“This, my friend, is a sample of what we could stock.” George beamed. “Along with your postcards and bookmarks and things. If you wanted.”
She lifted a yellow teddy bear, complete with black-stitched eyelashes. “How wonderful!”
“Some of the ladies from church do handicrafts like these, and they told me they have more available. It’s a start at least.”
Her eyes filled. “Th–thank you. I don’t know what to say.”
“Aww. Come here.”
George wrapped her in a hug. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I know.”
“Allof it will be okay,” she murmured. “Okay?”
Did by “all” George mean the silliness with Camilla? “I’m just tired.”
“You’ve been working like a Trojan. That’s a historical-enough analogy for you, isn’t it?”
She nodded, wiping her eyes, as her mind flashed to another woman who liked Trojan wars. Or at least the movies. A hysterical giggle bubbled up and over.
“I think you need a day off,” George said. “Tomorrow is a designated day of rest. Okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed meekly.
“No, I mean it. You can’t sit at home working on the website or whatever it is you’re doing.”
“But if I don’t, then it will just pile up for the following day.”
“Oh my goodness. You sound just like Liam. He’s just as bad as you at taking time off. And in my expert medical opinion—”
“You’re not qualified yet, Georgina,” Liam objected.
“I don’t care. Anyone can tell the two of you need some time away from here so you can just relax and stop worrying about things.”
Did George mean to sound like she was setting Liv up on a date? She glanced at Liam, who seemed equally nonplussed. “Um, George, I really think—”
“No, you’ve done enough thinking lately. You need to do some relaxing. Hey, Liam, where’s a good place to go for a picnic around here?”
“When it’s raining?” he asked, eyebrow aloft.
“Fine. Take her to a cosy restaurant somewhere. I don’t mind.”
“George!”
“No, Liv, don’t look at me like that. You two both need to talk, and I’m prepared to sacrifice my Sunday afternoon to babysit the mole—”
“You shouldn’t talk like that,” Liam reproved.
“How do you know Camilla isn’t a plant by her daddy?”
