The Summer Theatre by the Sea: The feel-good holiday romance you need to read this 2018. Tracy Corbett

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       CHAPTER ONE

      Thursday, 5 May

      With a certain amount of apprehension, Charlotte Saunders watched her boss adjust the front of his pale-pink tie, his matching silk handkerchief folded into the pocket of his pinstriped suit jacket.

      ‘He said you assaulted him.’

      Charlotte felt her indignation rise another notch. ‘I did no such thing.’ Why was she getting the third degree? It should be Dodgy Roger in here getting it in the neck, not her.

      Lawrence raised a knowing eyebrow. It was a trait she’d become familiar with. It usually preceded a right royal bollocking. Fortunately for her, she’d rarely been on the receiving end of one of his rants. She was his protégé; the grad student he’d spotted at an exhibition and taken a chance on. She couldn’t believe her luck when he’d offered her a position with his high-flying design company – a position most designers twice her age would kill for – and now it was under threat, all thanks to Dodgy Roger.

      ‘It was hardly assault, Lawrence.’ She felt her cheeks colour. ‘I tapped him on the forehead with my notebook. He was asleep on the job.’ As she’d already told him.

      Lawrence reacted with a disappointed tut. ‘He also said you called him a moron.’

      She cringed. Not exactly her finest moment.

      ‘A poor choice of words, I admit, but I was upset.’ Charlotte straightened in her chair, wishing she’d stopped off to buy painkillers on her way over. The pounding in her head was getting worse. She wasn’t sure whether it was the same headache as yesterday, or a new one.

      When it came to using CAD, SketchUp or Photoshop, she was an expert – all those late nights studying and unpaid internships had culminated in a first-class honours degree in Interior Design. But nowhere amongst space planning and selecting soft furnishings had it covered dealing with Neanderthal workmen who knew they could get away with murder because the boss was family and the young designer they’d been assigned to work with was still trying to prove herself in a highly competitive industry.

      Lawrence’s other eyebrow joined the one already raised. ‘And stupid.’

      Well, he was. Who else would paint emulsion over acrylic? ‘I may have been a little harsh, but Roger blatantly ignored my instructions. The radiator pipes weren’t sunk into the plasterboard and he failed to replace the cracked ceramic Verona basin.’

      Lawrence sighed. He got up from behind his large leather-topped desk, flicking away the tiniest smidgeon of dust from the lapel of his jacket. ‘That’s as may be, but we need to work as a team here at Quality Interiors. Power through such negativity and stop spilling each other’s beers.’