The Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part One: Starting Over by Holly Hepburn (early reader books TXT) 📗

several tables were occupied by couples and groups, giving it a busy but not overly crowded feel. She ordered a gin and tonic and took one of the tall seats beside the polished wooden bar, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

When the door opened again, it was Ciaran. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ he said, and surprised her by swooping in to plant a kiss on either cheek. ‘An undergraduate emergency that turned out to be nothing of the kind.’

Hope nodded distractedly as she breathed in the lingering scent of his aftershave. Had her other dates smelled so appealing? And then she remembered this wasn’t a date, which made it all the more inappropriate that she was practically drooling over the way Ciaran smelled.

Seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having, Ciaran ordered a pint of Thirsty Bishop before turning to appraise Hope properly. ‘You look lovely. Thanks for agreeing to meet me.’

‘How could I refuse?’ Hope asked, trying to ignore the insistent little voice in her head that was pointing out how attractive he was. ‘You know I’m a sucker for a mystery.’

He laughed. ‘The enigmatic approach works every time. Do you mind if we move to a table? I can never relax perched on these fancy bar stools.’

Hope looked around. Most of the empty tables seemed to be u-shaped booths towards the rear of the bar. Blue velvet seats curved around beneath dim golden lights. They looked dangerously romantic to Hope but the only alternative was to stay where they were and she had to admit she was already starting to regret her choice of dress; the silky material was riding up her legs no matter how still she sat. ‘Sure, no problem,’ she said.

She slid along the velvet seat of the booth, relieved when Ciaran sat opposite her rather than next to her.

‘Cheers,’ he said, raising his pint glass to touch hers. ‘Happy Thursday.’

Hope took a sip of her drink, picturing the URGENT! subject header on his email. But whatever the news was, he seemed in no hurry to share it. ‘How are you?’ he asked. ‘How’s life in the antique business?’

She described her day at the Emporium and he made her laugh with some colourful observations about the students he’d encountered that week. ‘They’re mostly good kids but sometimes I wonder if they have any brains at all,’ he said dryly. ‘That’s another reason I was glad you said yes – you rescued me from an evening of marking hastily-written assignments on “Funerary Beliefs in the Pre-Dynastic Period”.’

‘Happy to help,’ Hope said, grinning at his pretence of a shudder. ‘And I only live a couple of minutes’ away so it was easy to get here. How about you – do you live in York?’

‘On campus during the week, for my sins,’ he replied and grimaced. ‘Which is why it’s even more important to escape every now and then.’

The conversation began to flow and before Hope knew it, she’d finished her drink. ‘Let me get you another,’ Ciaran said. ‘It’s the least I can do for dragging you out this evening.’

He returned with a gin and tonic and a second pint for himself. ‘So, I suppose you’re wondering what news I could have discovered that was so urgent, right?’

‘A little,’ Hope said, smiling, but the truth was she was enjoying his company. It was exactly as Iris had said: they were having a drink in a bar and it was nice. And then she became suddenly aware that her leg was resting against his beneath the table. For a millisecond, she considered moving it away and then forced herself to relax. It was just the way they were sitting. It didn’t mean a thing.

‘After you left my office, I contacted some other Egyptologists to show them your letter and ask what they knew about Elenor’s private life,’ Ciaran explained. ‘I didn’t expect much – it’s not exactly hot gossip, after all – but figured you never know. And today, I got a bite.’

Hope felt a stirring of anticipation. ‘Oh?’

‘Quite a big bite,’ he said, and grinned. ‘From someone who had information about Elenor’s only surviving relative. A great-great niece, no less.’

If he hadn’t had Hope’s attention before, he certainly had it now. ‘And?’

He leaned back against the blue velvet, his grey eyes sparkling, and Hope realized he was enjoying himself immensely. Clearly, he was a born storyteller. ‘Have a guess where she lives.’

Hope shook her head. ‘No idea. London. Cairo.’

‘Nope.’ His eyes sparkled as he looked as her. ‘Closer to home.’

Hope stared at him. ‘Here? In York?’

‘Here in York,’ he confirmed. ‘And she’s willing to meet us, if you’re interested.’

If she was interested, Hope thought faintly and almost laughed. ‘Yes,’ she told Ciaran. ‘I’m definitely up for meeting her. Did you mention the letter and the ring?’

He nodded. ‘I think that’s what swung it, to be honest. I mean, she gave me her address and it’s within spitting distance of the Minster so she’s clearly not short of cash, but she seemed to recognize the ring when I described it. Would you be able to bring it along to show her, do you think?’

The ring was securely back in Will’s safe but Hope was sure Mr Young would approve of another outing if it helped them to gather more information about its origins. ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘And we wouldn’t be going far – just around the corner from the Emporium. When did you have in mind?’

He pulled a face. ‘She suggested this weekend but I’ll be at my place in Scarborough. I’ll be back on Monday, if you’re free in the evening?’

And now it was Hope’s turn to pull a face. ‘I have a dance class on Monday evening. Sorry.’

‘A dance class,’ he repeated, and she thought there was a spark of something more than polite interest in his expression. ‘What kind of dancing?’

Belatedly, it occurred to Hope that she should have kept things vague, because now she had to reveal exactly what