The Little Bakery of Hopes and Dreams. Kellie Hailes

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ private life seemed wrong. A crossing of the boundaries between employer and employee, especially with him not being here to defend himself, doubly especially when the woman talking to her was a complete stranger.

      ‘I see I’ve put you in an awkward spot.’ Margo touched Josie’s forearm. ‘I apologise. I care deeply for Callan and Mia, and I did for Abigail, too. My family left years ago and they’re not ones for visiting, so I began to see those three as my adopted family.’

      Shame tugged at Josie’s heart. Margo’s family had done to her what Josie had done to her father. Not visited. Kept away.

      Though why Margo’s children stayed away, Josie had no idea. From where she stood, Margo was the opposite of her emotionally distant father. She seemed kind, caring. A person who put others first, who wanted to help. Who wanted to live life, without waiting by windows, staring longingly at the front door, hoping for the past to return, while ignoring the person who was right in front of you, begging you to see them. To love them.

      ‘Oh, look at me feeling all sorry for myself.’ Margo waved her hand and let out an exasperated sigh. ‘It’s not like they hate me. It’s my own fault really. I raised two wonderful, successful children. My eldest, Sebastian, lives in Australia and works in IT. He flies over when he can, but he works all hours, and I’m terrified of flying so couldn’t even contemplate the flight over that kind of distance. They’d have to give me an elephant-sized amount of sedation.’ Margo rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and gave a small, mock-despairing shake of her head.

      ‘And your youngest?’ Josie prompted. ‘Where are they?’

      ‘Oh, you probably won’t believe this to look at me, but Megan’s a model. Constantly on the move. New York, Milan, Paris. Wherever her agency sends her. She gets her looks from her father. He was tall, handsome, a good man too. I don’t know what I did to deserve him.’ Margo’s smile disappeared as sadness flashed through her blue eyes for a millisecond before being covered up with a brighter smile, that didn’t quite hit her eyes.

      ‘I take it your husband’s no longer with us?’ It was Josie’s turn to comfort, and she did so tentatively, allowing her fingers to lie feather-light on the back of Margo’s hand.

      Margo’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. ‘No. He passed just over a decade ago. I miss him every day. I miss them all. No wonder I keep trying to insert myself in Callan’s life. He must think me a nosey old busybody.’

      ‘He wouldn’t. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to think badly of anyone.’ Josie straightened up and put her hands on her hips. ‘And don’t you for a second say your daughter didn’t get her looks from you. Women much younger would kill for those cheekbones and eyes of yours. I hope she calls you every single day to thank you for those wonderful attributes you passed on to her.’

      Margo let out a light, fragile laugh. ‘Maybe not every day, but we aim for a good catch-up phone call or a video chat once a week. She’s a good girl is my Megan. As is Sebastian. They may be hundreds of miles away but they’re always close.’ She tapped her heart.

      The shame that had begun to abate returned full force, not just twisting Josie’s heart but turning her gut to rock. Her father wasn’t that far away. Not compared to Margo’s children. Maybe she needed to make more of an effort. To call more. Try harder to connect. But how could you connect with a man who never called first, who kept conversations short, and ended phone calls after two minutes? Who always sounded vaguely surprised to hear from her, like he’d forgotten she even existed?

      ‘So how long are you planning to stay in Sunnycombe?’

      Margo, rummaging about in the black leather handbag she had tucked under her arm, missed the flicker of guilt that Josie was sure would’ve been visible on her face.

      ‘Oh, you know, as long as Callan needs me. I’m not looking to go anywhere anytime soon and the village seems so sweet. The people I’ve met so far are really nice.’

      ‘And how many people have you met?’ Margo looked up and arched an elegant eyebrow.

      ‘I’ve served a fair few today, but who have I properly met? Just you. Callan. Mia. The owner of the pub where I’m staying.’ Josie held up four fingers. ‘You’re all giving the village an excellent reputation.’

      ‘Well, I’m sure it’ll stay that way. The people here are good people. We care for each other. Look out for each other. Even when those we’re looking out for don’t want us to.’

      Josie didn’t have to ask to know Margo was referring to Callan and his resolute independence.

      ‘Now, enough of this chin wagging. When will the delicious-smelling cake be ready for pick-up?’

      Josie smoothed down her apron, relieved the conversation had returned to work. ‘I’ll pull it out of the oven in a few minutes, then it’ll need to cool down. This afternoon would be fine – although I won’t be serving if you plan to pop in around three, I’ve an appointment …’

      Margo flapped her hand dismissively. ‘Don’t worry about the appointment. The cottage is yours. Treat her with the same care you show your cooking.’

      Josie felt her mouth open, then shut. Then open again. ‘You’re …?’

      ‘The landlady. And this chat of ours has given me all the confidence I need that you won’t up and leave me without warning. You’ve got a good way about you, Josie. And I suspect that good way isn’t surface-deep.’

      Josie nodded. Not trusting herself to speak, lest her voice cracked and she showed Margo who she really was.

      A satisfied smile appeared on Margo’s lips as she turned and made her way to the door. ‘I’ll drop the keys in when I pick up the cake. Oh, and Josie?’ Margo twisted round and fixed her with serious eyes. ‘You won’t know this yet. And Callan certainly will refuse to entertain the idea. But he does need you, more than he knows. You’ll be good for him.’ Margo’s gaze roamed around the walls of the bakery. ‘You’ll be good for this place.’

      The door swung shut with a soft thunk.

      Callan needed her? Josie hoped not. She could cook. She could teach Callan the art of baking, if he let her. But she didn’t want anyone to need her. Nothing good could come of that. She’d seen the proof in that pudding for herself.

       Chapter 3

      A rustle of bags and the skittering of excited feet greeted Josie as she beat butter, eggs and sugar together, watching the bright orange of the egg yolks morph with the butter into a rich, creamy colour that would lighten until it was the perfect shade of pale pastel yellow and ready for the dry ingredients to be sifted into, then folded through.

      ‘Josie! Josie!’ Mia half-ran, half-danced into the kitchen, spinning and skipping, sending the little red bags she was holding flying in all directions. ‘Oopsie,’ she giggled as she crashed into Josie’s legs. ‘Sorry, Josie. You should see what we got. We got everything. We got the whole shop. And we’re going to decorate the whole shop and upstairs and Daddy bought another tree so we’d have two trees and it’s going to be the best.’

      Josie grinned at Mia’s enthusiasm. Sure, Josie was about to descend into what sounded like her idea of hell, but she wasn’t going to let her dislike СКАЧАТЬ