The Little Gift Shop on the Loch: A delightfully uplifting read for 2019!. Maggie Conway
sighed. ‘It’s just all a bit of an inconvenience, that’s all.’
‘An inconvenience?’
She cringed inwardly at how that sounded. ‘I—’
‘Perhaps if you’d come earlier it wouldn’t be an issue,’ he interrupted dryly.
Lily frowned. ‘I just meant my flat in Edinburgh isn’t really suitable for a cat. But I’m sure I’ll find somewhere for her before I leave.’
‘You’re not hanging around then?’
‘Here?’ She didn’t mean to sound quite so horrified by the idea. ‘I’ve got work to get back to.’ At least she would have, once she’d got a few interviews lined up. ‘So I’ll be selling the shop as soon as possible.’
His mouth tugged down at the corners. ‘Good for you. I’m sure you’ll get a good price for it.’
‘What? It’s not about the money—’
‘If you say so.’ He shrugged.
‘I do say so,’ she said, exasperated. God, he was infuriating.
He turned his head on hearing someone call him and waved to acknowledge them. ‘Looks like I’ve got to go. See you.’
Lily stood agog as he sauntered off, smiling briefly at two women as he passed them, much to their obvious pleasure.
Oh please. Lily rolled her eyes. He might not have moved on with his life but she certainly had. She shook her head, wondering how in the two times she’d met Jack Armstrong, both times he’d succeeding in getting under her skin quite so much.
She turned to leave, furiously scratching at her arm again, not understanding why she was so upset. She couldn’t believe he thought she was just here for the money. She didn’t need to explain or defend herself to him and why should she care what he thought? What did he know, anyway? Tinkering about with boats all day.
She reached the main street, her eyes scanning the shops. Up ahead she could see the sign for a general store and made a beeline for it.
The smart interior was a far cry from the sad-looking shop she vaguely remembered. The shelves were well-stocked and attractively presented and Lily stalked up and down the aisles half-listening to the conversation taking place at the till which seemed to revolve around the weather. She was surprised to see the shelves laden with fresh produce and grabbed a few things to keep her going over the next few days – milk, soup, free-range eggs, organic bread and tomatoes. Finally she added some more midge repellent and spotting some cat biscuits on offer, popped them in too.
She felt a stab of annoyance as she approached the counter, the interminable conversation about the weather still ongoing. A knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach and she tried to ignore the feeling of having to be somewhere or do something. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to relax. She wasn’t in a hurry, was she?
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