Page 76 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
“I had a friend pick them up in London, and then we met halfway. We wanted to get them in time for tomorrow,” George explained.
“What about express delivery?”
“Too costly,” Liv said. “We need to keep our budget as lean as possible, especially when we’re starting out. So everyone here is volunteering their time, including whatever printing is required.” She hoped Patricia got the message. Perhaps she’d be better off explaining things more explicitly. “That means, Patricia, for those new signs and map printing you’d like to do, we would appreciate it if you could consider that a donation of materials.”
“Yes, yes.” Patricia waved a hand. “But it seems a lot of effort for only two types of postcards.”
Liv bit back a sigh. Hadn’t she just mentioned their budget woes? “We have licensed these photos exclusively for use at the Hall, so again it’s a budget decision.”
“Hmm.”
“Anyway, don’t they look amazing?” Liv determined to keep the focus on the main thing. “I think George deserves a huge round of applause for getting these ready for tomorrow.” She joined the others in clapping.
George shrugged modestly. “I’m making the most of the time I have available, and it was nice to see Ewen again.”
Liv’s eyebrows rose, and she glanced at Liam, who seemed equally bemused. Clearly a conversation was needed about the identity of Ewen.
Tobias cleared his throat. “I really do need to go. But I can’t help but see God’s hand in this too.” He faced Liv. “I know you were disappointed in last weekend’s weather affecting the numbers, but perhaps God knew you’d need some more time to get things in place. We can always trust Him with the timing. With everything.”
What a good reminder. Her gaze slipped to Liam, and then she jerked it back again. God could be trusted with opening the right doors and closing the wrong ones. In everything.
She asked Tobias to pray for them, and he did, praying that God would lead them to people who they could both be blessed by and be of benefit to. Then he, Marge, and Patricia departed.
Liv helped Gran to her feet. “I hope you weren’t offended by Patricia offering to redo the information signs.”
“No. I suppose they are looking a little old. But you might want to make sure she doesn’t try to take control in too many things. Student enrolments have been falling, and rumours suggest it’s not just about the lack of families in the area.”
“Oh.”
George shrugged. “Patricia can be a little too assertive sometimes.”
“And a little negative too,” Gran said.
Was that sour grapes? “Should I not have invited her to come?”
George’s gaze veered to Liam. He glanced at Gran, then back at Liv. “Just keep an eye on her. You’re the one with the vision. Don’t let her spoil things.”
She chewed her lip. “She seemed willing to help, which makes a real change from those who criticize without anything constructive to offer.”
“Just be aware. Committees where everyone works well together are rare.”
“She doesn’t have to come again.”
Another exchange of glances. “I think you’ll find it hard to keep her away now,” he said gently.
Oh. Her spirits sank. She dragged on a smile. “Well, we’ll have to pray that she’s an asset. As much as blue skies tomorrow would be too, please, God.”
Liv’s prayers for blue skies eventuated on Friday, their next Hall open day, and the tourists came. A slow trickle at first, which then increased as the day went on. Liam was staying busy in the walled garden, sowing lettuce and Chinese cabbage seeds that might be ready to harvest in autumn. Call him captivated, but Liv’s proclivity for moneymaking ideas seemed to be stirring his own as well. Marge was still waiting on the council sign-off, so the café opening would take a while longer. In the meantime the estate could sell vegetables, seeing they wouldn’t be used in the café. Then there was the apple orchard, filled with heritage apples that had once been used in the old cider press, the stone remnants he’d found last year in a field. Maybe they could host an apple-picking day for families for a small fee.
Even the seedlings and plants in the propagation greenhouses could be raised to sell, like a plant nursery. Once a man started looking, there were things that could be done, provided he worked hard. He patted down the ground and moved on to the next section of dirt.
He’d always known his sister was a hard worker; one didn’t get into medical studies by being lazy. But he could appreciate George anew by seeing just how much work she’d done in the gift shop. She’d been busy this week painting the walls a warm cream then rearranging the shelves with the produce that had come in from various local makers. Doily-like cards now lined tables, ready for sale, along with pots of honey and fresh and dried lavender and the postcards she and Liv were so proud of. He hoped they sold well, and showed Patricia they’d been right to go to so much trouble to collect them. George even had a little display in one corner with a couple of movie posters lining the walls that she’d sourced from eBay. This, along with a few donated editions of Austen novels marked NOT FORSALE, helped give more of that connection to the movie that Liv was always going on about. He smiled. She loved that film.
“Excuse me!”
He glanced up to see an older man. He straightened, one hand on the hoe, and pulled his hat lower.
“Can you tell me what kinds of vegetables you have growing here?”
