Page 72 of The Cosy Seaside Chocolate Shop

‘Getting better, slowly but surely.’

‘That’s good. And thanks, Bev, you’re a gem.’

They slipped into their usual roles and the time whizzed on. It was just before three when a middle-aged couple paused outside. They studied the shop front, then stood talking seriously together.

‘I think your people are here,’ Bev said gesturing to the front window, as Em came by with a tray of coffee and chocolate fudge cake.

‘Oh, right.’ Em looked up to see them staring in at her. Her heart plummeted, but all she could do was take a deep breath, serve her customers and steel herself ready for the viewing.

The couple walked in. The man had short grey hair, a whiskery beard and glasses and was smiling. The lady was tall and slim, dark – most likely dyed – hair in a bob, cool blue eyes and a tight-set mouth. They looked in their fifties. Emma wondered if they could ever love her shop as much as she did.

‘Hello, we’re Mr and Mrs Wilton.’ They looked slightly awkward, but the gentleman did offer his hand to shake, which Emma took.

‘Hi, I’m Emma. Emma Carter. So …’ Deep breath. ‘You’re here to look around the property?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well then, let’s start with the shop and ground-floor kitchen and move on from there.’

It was a heart-wrenching process, showing these potential owners around room by room. Seeing her life, her home, her work on display for public perusal.

There were lots of ‘Ums’ and ‘Ahs’ and ‘Rights’ – they weren’t giving much away. But when the woman said she’d convert the shop back to a lounge area, Em had a sudden urge to slap her. Maybe she should have insisted the estate agent take the viewing after all. But part of her wanted to check out the future owners too; not that she had any control over who Mr Neil sold to, but she wanted to see if they’d at least appreciate the shop’s character, her little flat’s charm, and if they would be the sort to treasure it and look after it in the coming years. Not be ripping it out room by room to make it into an open-plan box for holiday hire, which she suspected was this couple’s motivation. It seemed they had no intention of keeping it as a business or indeed living there themselves.

‘Oh no, no,’ the woman said at one point. ‘We have a house over at Alnmouth. Lots of space and light there. No, this is just an investment for us; property here in Warkton is rising at such a rate and it would make such a cute little holiday hire,’ she added coolly, with the undertones of ‘although it was fine for holidaymakers, who would actually want to live in a place like this?’

Mrs Wilton actually tutted at the galley-style kitchen upstairs. That was going to get ripped out straight away, apparently. Em hoped Alfie might growl at this point from his bed, but all he did was wag his tail excitedly at seeing new visitors, the traitor.

Hopefully the couple would decide there was too much to alter to make it work as a holiday cottage and go and find somewhere else, Emma mused. She couldn’t help but comment that it seemed an awful lot of work they were planning. Twenty minutes later she saw them off at the shop’s front door. She watched the couple walk down the hill, give a last glance back at the property, then put their heads together, deep in conversation. Em sighed heavily. She could feel pressure squeezing into a headache across her brow. There were still customers in, but as Emma reached the counter she whispered under her breath, ‘Tossers’ just loud enough for Bev to hear.

‘Yeah, thought as much,’ her friend replied with a wry smile. ‘Hopefully they won’t be interested in putting an offer in.’

‘Fingers crossed.’

Well, it was no good moping about, she’d hear one way or another in the next few days. And if not them, then there would be someone else. All she could do was get on with her work, keep saving as much money as she could in the meanwhile in case she had to find somewhere else to rent quickly, and try and keep her options open. She’d looked seriously into her finances and sadly there was no way she’d be able to afford a deposit on a business mortgage to purchase the shop herself, so she had registered on some property rental websites but finding the ideal chocolate shop in the nearby area was proving to be like finding a needle in a haystack. In fact, the only thing she knew was that she was already in the perfect place. And it would be oh-so-hard to leave.

At least Max was coming to see her that evening, the one silver lining in all the dark grey clouds of the past few days. Maybe they could go and relax with a drink down at the pub before supper back at Emma’s, and perhaps Holly and Adam might join them there. The lads seemed to get on quite well and it looked like it was going to be a lovely evening. They could sit in the beer garden and watch the boats bobbing in the harbour and just chill out and chat for a while. That sounded a plan. She’d phone Holly straight away.

When Max arrived later, Emma was in the middle of crafting a batch of creme brûlée chocolate cups. The time had flown by, what with the hospital visit this morning and the property viewing, so she was busy trying to stock up her shelves again.

‘Hey, beautiful.’ Max had come in by the back door and was beaming at her.

‘Hi, gorgeous.’

He gave her a big hug in the middle of the shop’s kitchen, lifting her up into the air.

It felt so good there in his arms, breathing in his gorgeous aftershave scent. ‘Missed you,’ she said.

‘You too. How was Mrs C?’

‘She’s had major surgery on her hip last night. Very sore today, bless her. But in pretty good spirits considering.’

‘That’s good.’

Em was still holding a spatula in one hand, her crème brûlée ingredients ready to mix whilst her chocolate cups were cooling.

‘Sorry, this has taken a little longer than anticipated,’ Em explained. ‘This afternoon was so busy in the shop and I had that bloody viewing to contend with. I’ll just need another half hour or so to get these finished.’

‘No worries. How did the viewing go, Em? Must have been hard for you.’