‘Wonderful news!’ Mrs Wheeler clapped her hands, beaming at me.
Jake’s assistant brought in a fresh pot of tea.
‘I feel like we should be drinking champagne!’ I was giddy with excitement – this was really happening. I would be the new owner of the most beautiful cottage in Seahouses.
‘Not until you’ve driven me home, young lady.’ Mrs Wheeler gave me a sideways glance as she sipped from her cup.
‘So, Isabelle – any plans now that you’re going to be staying in Seahouses for the foreseeable future?’ Jake caught himself, his eyes widening. ‘I mean, er, work-wise? I think you mentioned that you’re in the financial industry?’ His cheeks reddened and my stomach flipped.
‘Actually, I have been thinking.’ I gazed down at my tea cup. ‘I’d really like to do something new, something different. I want to start my own business.’ I took a deep breath, faking confidence with a tight smile. ‘I’m going to try my hand at interior design.’
‘That’s a wonderful idea!’ Mrs Wheeler clasped her hands together. ‘Isabelle here has such a good eye for design, really, Mr Ridley, you must visit Puffin Cottage and see what she’s done with the place.’
Jake caught my eye and we exchanged shy smiles.
‘Yes, I must visit sometime.’ The colour rose in his cheeks.
I didn’t want to share too much with Jake and Mrs Wheeler just yet, but I had been thinking about how to make Izzy Morton Interiors a success. I knew from corporate life that a brand needed to have something unique if it was going to stand out, and I had just the idea – something that no other designer could offer.
I was also thinking of asking Rachel to go into business with me. I’d need all the help I could get if I was to get a fledging business off the ground, and it would be helpful to have someone I trusted in a back-office role.
Small towns have long memories, and I knew it would be hard for Rachel to go back to her life as it was – working at the hospital, where everyone had known Amy. It was a mercy mission, and I didn’t know how much use she would be, but I felt determined to offer my sister’s best friend a fresh start, if she wanted it.
Mrs Wheeler gasped, which made me jump. She grabbed my hand with a surprisingly firm grip.
‘I have the perfect opportunity to get you started! My daughter, she might employ you!’ She nodded to herself and picked up her tea. ‘Yes, I’ll organise an introduction as soon as possible. Strike while the iron is hot, Isabelle!’
‘Your daughter?’ I thumbed the rim of my teacup. ‘Sandra?’
‘No, not Sandra,’ she said, as if I’d asked a stupid question. ‘My other daughter. Jennifer.’
I wracked my brain. Jennifer… Nothing came to mind.
‘Jennifer Wheeler?’ said Jake. ‘The owner of The Stables?’
‘The one and same,’ Mrs Wheeler said with a smug grin.
‘The Stables is a boutique hotel,’ Jake explained for my benefit. ‘One of the most well-known hotels in the county – in fact, I believe it has won a number of awards?’
‘Indeed it has! It is Alnwick’s only luxury hotel, and Jennifer is planning a refurbishment this year. Your timing could not be better, dear.’
I gulped. It was one thing to enjoy decorating your own place and secretly dream of becoming an interior designer, but quite another to take on a hotel refurbishment. That sounded like the sort of project you worked your way up to, not something for novices. Why had I said anything at all? My mouth went dry as I tried to think of a way out.
‘You could at least meet with her,’ Mrs Wheeler said, as if reading my thoughts. ‘Talk to her, see if there’s some way for you to get involved.’
She spoke so softly and looked at me so kindly with those sparkling blue eyes, I couldn’t say no.
When we arrived at Mrs Wheeler’s, we had a back-and-forth as Mrs Wheeler attempted to give me Jennifer’s number. She didn’t know how to send a contact from her phone, and looking at her ancient handset, I wasn’t sure I would know how to, either. In the end she went into her house and wrote Jennifer’s number down for me. I promised to call Jennifer as soon as I could.
As soon as I felt brave enough, more like.
Once my mind was made up about leaving the bank, it made sense to make it official. Emailing my resignation letter felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and I found myself hoping that Annabelle would be happy in my big office. I sent a message to the woman who was subletting my apartment to let her know it was now available long-term. Tying up the loose ends of my old life was oddly satisfying.
That afternoon, I called a store in Newcastle that bought and resold designer handbags. I listed the bags I wanted to get rid of, and the girl on the phone sounded disbelieving that I had such a collection. Who knows, maybe they were used to calls from luxury-goods fantasists? She reminded me several times that they only dealt in genuine products and would thoroughly inspect all items for authenticity.
Despite her scepticism, she was interested, and told me that if the bags were judged to be of good quality, they could offer me as much as fifteen thousand pounds. I had already squirreled away a couple of my favourites, plus some to gift Rachel, and the girls, once they were old enough. As for the rest of the collection, I was happy to free up the closet space and boost my bank account. If I was going to even consider taking on a hotel refurbishment as the first project in my new venture, I’d need all the cash I could get my hands on.
My final call for the afternoon was to Jennifer Wheeler. I drank a glass of wine to settle my nerves,
