Sarah Bennett - Spring at Lavender Bay - A delightfully uplifting holiday romance for 2018!

Clutching her clasped hands to her breast, she fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘You sure know how to spoil a girl.’ She heaved a sigh and he was pleased to see the tension seep from her frame. ‘And you always manage to make me feel better. Thank you.’

Sam sketched a bow, which no doubt looked ridiculous in a tracksuit. ‘That’s what I’m here for.’ Her smile faltered a little, so he hurriedly changed the subject. ‘So, has the place changed much since the last time you were working behind the counter?’

She shook her head. ‘Not really. When I walked in and caught that first hint of Penhaligon’s Bluebell perfume it was like I’d never left home.’ Glancing over her shoulder, she looked towards the stock room behind the shop. ‘I keep expecting Eleanor to step out from the back.’

‘As soon as the clock hits five-thirty, I find myself reaching for the sherry,’ he confessed, and she turned back to him with a laugh.

‘For medicinal purposes only,’ they said together, and he shook his head. Eleanor’s death had left a huge hole in so many lives—his own included.

It was quiet now, but the Easter holidays were less than two months away and families would be piling onto the beach and strolling the promenade. The emporium was such a fixture of the town, he couldn’t imagine it without the doors wide open, revolving stands of postcards and trinkets standing out front, and inflatables dangling from strings hooked over the ceiling beams. The children loved to jump up and try and head the balls, animals and bright rubber rings—it was a rite of passage for locals and visitors alike and no one had cheered louder than Eleanor when one of them leapt high enough to touch one.

If Beth decided running the place was too much to deal with, he hoped someone else would take it on. ‘Do you know anything about the potential buyer you mentioned? Do they intend to keep the place as it is?’

Beth shook her head. ‘Mr Symonds said they had a standing request for any kind of property that might come up.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘A developer, I think he said. If they didn’t keep it as a shop, what do you think they might do?’

A heavy weight settled in his gut. A developer would be interested in only one thing when it came to a prime seafront location. ‘Flats would be my guess.’ There was a real demand for high-end apartments in seaside towns like Lavender Bay. He’d noticed on his return last year how things had already begun to change.

The collection of shops he remembered from his youth had been altered irretrievably. At least three of the traditional buildings along the prom had been converted into glass and steel monstrosities with oversized balconies. The traders’ association had discussed lobbying the council to fight any future developers’ plans, but investment was desperately needed so they walked a tightrope between wanting to preserve the special atmosphere of the seafront and the depressing sight of empty, boarded up buildings.

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