Chapter Four

The aromas from the kitchen took Evie back to the old spice market of Marrakesh where towers of colourful spices sat like shelves of pointed hats and the air was filled with such a variety of smells her nose twitched as she breathed them in. Three months earlier, her, now ex, boyfriend Nigel took her to Morocco for the weekend as a birthday treat. Having discovered he’d taken another ‘girlfriend’ to stay at the same riad just a few weeks later, Evie told him she never wanted to see him again, and tipped the contents of the pepper pot over him. It seemed like a good way to make her point. Spices extracted a mixed reaction from her now. But those associated with Christmas – ginger, mace, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, myrrh and star anise, still warmed her heart and filled her soul with happiness. She forgot the hurt and humiliation Nigel’s cheating had caused. She even forgot about the embarrassing conversation with Zachary Thorn until she walked into the kitchen and saw the look on her gran’s face.

‘Before you say a word,’ Jessie said, from her armchair beside the Aga the moment Evie entered the kitchen. ‘Yes, I do have Zachary Thorn’s number and never you mind why or how. You wanted him to come here. He’s coming. At least I hope he is. John tells me you had an odd conversation with the boy a few minutes ago. I gave him your number to speed up the process, not for you to put him off visiting.’

‘Well, thank you for telling me, Gran. Why didn’t you mention that when you told us you’d heard he was going to be in Michaelmas Bay? And who told you he was coming? We’ve watched his show umpteen times and you’ve never once said you know him, let alone have his personal phone number.’

‘We all have our little secrets. I know the lad’s grandpa, that’s all you need to know. You said if you could get him here, it would help the inn. While you were off formulating your plans, I got to work to make it happen. You should be thanking me, not hauling me over the coals and interrogating me like someone from the Spanish Inquisition. Now pour me a glass of sherry, there’s a dear and tell me about the conversation. Word for word, mind. Don’t go leaving anything out.’

‘I’ll pour the sherry,’ John said.

For the second time, Evie repeated her conversation with Zachary. Jessie chuckled. John tutted. Molly giggled and shook her head, repeating the words ‘sex-god, hot bod’ as she took a tray of mince pies from the oven and placed it to cool on the Christmas tree-shaped trivet on the worktop.

‘Sounds to me like the young whippersnapper’s got an even better reason for visiting now,’ Jessie said before sipping her sherry.

‘You must be joking, Gran. I can’t face the man after this. You, Mum and Dad will have to talk to him if he does come. And you’ll have to show him around.’

‘What about me?’ Raven asked. Still wearing her coat, she was perched on the edge of her seat and hunched over the kitchen table.

‘You’re too young to be drinking sherry,’ John said.

Raven rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve drunk far stronger stuff than sherry, Grandpa, but you can keep that muck. Yuck. Can’t stand it. I meant what about me meeting Zachary? I won’t say anything stupid like he’s got a ‘hot bod’, or anything. He’s waaaay too old for me to find attractive.’

Molly passed her two mince pies on a plate and smiled. ‘That should make him feel wonderful, Raven. We’re trying to impress him, not tell him he’s past it.’

‘Duh-uh. I wouldn’t tell him he’s old. I’m not stupid, you know. How many calories are there in these?’

‘Not enough for you to worry about. Just enjoy them, darling.’ Molly sprinkled them with icing sugar. ‘That’s to make you even sweeter than you are, if that’s possible.’ She blew her granddaughter a kiss and reached out and stroked her hair.

Raven smiled at her before shoving an entire mince pie into her mouth and grinning at Evie.

‘Delightful,’ Evie said, grinning back. It made a change to see anything on Raven’s face other than a frown.

‘Well someone’s got to speak to the man,’ Jessie said, ‘and it won’t be me. I do enough around here as it is and he’s not going to drag himself from The Grand Hotel in Michaelmas Bay to see an eighty-eight-year-old. Don’t I get a mince pie? It is my secret recipe and I did help to make them, after all.’

Molly put two mince pies on a plate and sprinkled them with icing sugar. She glanced at Jessie, grinned and sprinkled more icing sugar over them before passing her the plate and winking at her.

Jessie screwed up her eyes. ‘Don’t think that was lost on me, Molly Starr because it wasn’t.’ She smiled and bit into one, closing her eyes and leaning back in her armchair. ‘Heaven. Even if I do say so myself.’

Evie grabbed one. The pastry melted in her mouth and the sugary filling oozed onto her tongue as she munched on the chopped nuts, cranberries, glacé cherries, raisins, sultanas and currants. But it wasn’t the abundance of fruit and nuts that gave her gran’s mince pies a taste that no other mince pies had. It was Jessie Starr’s secret recipe and no one was getting that until Jessie Starr was – to use her own words, ‘Dead, burned and floating to the heavens over Snowflake Inn.’

‘You can do it, sweetheart,’ Molly said, smiling encouragingly at Evie. ‘You dealt with Nigel without any help. Zachary seems to have a good sense of humour on his show. If he’s like that in real life, I’m sure he’ll see the funny side of it. And you didn’t say anything too embarrassing. Not really. He should’ve told you who he was from the off, so it’s his fault, not yours.’

Evie sipped her sherry. Her mum was right. She was making a drama out of nothing. So what if she’d told him he had a great body. It wasn’t as if the guy didn’t know that. And he’d no doubt heard it hundreds of times, from hundreds of women. One more wasn’t going to make a difference. If he’d got the impression that he was on to a good thing, or that she’d jump into bed with him the minute he batted his long, honey blond lashes, he was in for a surprise. Not that he’d be interested in her anyway.

‘You’re right. I’m being silly. And it’s not as if I even have to persuade him to pay us a visit, now. Thanks to you, Gran, he’s going to come here no matter what. At least, that’s the way it sounded. It’ll be fine. All we want is five minutes of his time and a shot or two of him outside the inn, and possibly drinking a glass of something, stretched out in a chair beside one of the fires. And maybe just a line or two about how picturesque Snowflake Cove is and what a warm welcome visitors receive at Snowflake Inn. That’s not much to ask … is it? But millions of people will see our little corner of the world and surely some of them will want to visit the inn? Even if it’s just to sit in the chair Zachary Thorn occupied for five minutes during one of his shows. I’m convinced it’ll drum up some business for us. It has to.’

‘He’s a TV star,’ Raven said. ‘Or he thinks he is. Getting five minutes of his time is like getting an audience with the Queen. He’ll expect to be paid. Even that Z-list celeb they got to turn on the Christmas lights in Michaelmas Bay got paid, I bet. Don’t give me that look. I wasn’t interested. Mum showed me the photo you sent when she was trying to convince me that it’d be all festive and fun to come and stay here. Wrong! Anyway. He’ll want money or something. No doubt about that.’

Evie’s heart sank. Raven was right. Why hadn’t that fact occurred to her? He was coming to Michaelmas Bay to do a show. She was hoping to get him to spend five minutes at the inn and give them some free publicity. But why would he do that? Just because he seems like a nice guy? Lots of people must ask him to do this sort of thing. He couldn’t possibly accommodate everyone. What had seemed like a good idea earlier now seemed like the dumbest idea she’d ever had.

But he was coming. Her gran had seen to that. All Evie had to do was persuade him to bring his film crew and take a few shots. At the very worst, she could ask for a selfie with him and post it on the website and all the social media pages for the inn. That would be better than nothing. Surely he wouldn’t expect to be paid for that?

‘Gran? How did you get him to agree to visit us? Is he expecting money? Because we don’t have any.’

Jessie smiled and tapped the side of her nose. ‘Never you mind. That’s one of my little secrets. He’s not expecting anything. Well, not in a financial sense.’

‘What is he expecting?’

‘A warm welcome, a good meal and a drink.’

Evie studied her gran’s smiling face.

Perhaps she’d make sure there was a pepper pot nearby when Zachary came to visit. Just in case.