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

the top floor. The apartment was silent as she let herself in but for once, she didn’t mind – she was too busy mentally spooling back through the evening. There’d been a lot of laughter, she recalled as she removed her make-up, plenty of lively conversation and a flattering amount of flirting. She’d had a great time, only enhanced by the delicious pressure of his leg against hers beneath the table. And if she was totally honest with herself, she’d enjoyed being escorted gallantly home, with Ciaran’s jacket around her shoulders to make her feel just that tiny bit more cosseted. He’d been the perfect gentleman. Hope could have no complaints at all.

And yet she had a niggling sense of frustration as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim her. She’d panicked slightly when they’d reached her door but now that she’d had time to reflect on the moment, she felt irrationally disappointed. The only sensible explanation was that part of her had wanted Ciaran to be a little less of a gentleman, that she’d subconsciously hoped he would try to kiss her. And now that she had admitted it herself, she had no idea how to feel about the realization.

No idea at all.

Chapter Eight

The apartment belonging to Elenor Lovelace’s great-great niece was even more grand than Hope had imagined. Part of the renovated Purey Cust hospital buildings, with the Minster looming large nearby, the red brick building shone in the evening sunshine as she and Ciaran approached and rang the bell.

‘She’s in the penthouse,’ Ciaran murmured as they waited to be buzzed in. ‘Like I said, not short of a bob or two.’

Hope half-expected the apartment door to be opened by a maid in traditional black and white but the woman who answered did not have the bearing of an employee. She was elderly, with a lined face that suggested she was in her eighties and an elegant twist of white hair pinned to the top of her head. She wore expensive-looking, tailored trousers and an immaculate silk shirt. Definitely not a maid, Hope decided.

‘We’re here to see Isobel Lovelace,’ Ciaran said politely.

‘I know,’ the woman said, with more than a trace of irritability. ‘Well, don’t just stand there – come in.’

There was just time for Hope to exchange a look with Ciaran before going inside. The woman led them down a short hallway and into an ivory living room. Tall windows were swathed with gold edged curtains and billowing translucent cotton, vases of perfect white lilies graced the side tables and the floor was covered by pale carpets that Hope thought wouldn’t have stayed clean for more than a minute in Harry’s house. Belatedly, she thought about removing her shoes but the woman waved them towards the sofa. ‘Don’t worry about the carpet,’ she said. ‘My housekeeper will take care of it tomorrow.’

Smiling weakly, Hope perched on the edge of an elegant cream sofa. Ciaran sat beside her.

Isobel fixed them with an imperious stare. ‘So, what is it you’ve come to show me?’

Her tone wasn’t rude exactly but she definitely had the air of someone who didn’t suffer fools gladly. Hurriedly, Hope reached into her bag for the letter and the ring, while Ciaran did the introductions.

‘I’m Professor McCormack, from the university, and this is Hope Henderson from the Ever After Emporium. As I said when we spoke on the phone, we’d like to show you some artefacts that might relate to Elenor Lovelace and perhaps see if you can answer some of our questions.’

Isobel pursed her lips. ‘It was all a very long time ago. She’s been dead for decades.’

Hope summoned up her most professional smile. ‘I’m not sure whether you know the Ever After Emporium – it’s just around the corner from here, on the corner of High Petergate and Minster Gates.’ Isobel grunted in recognition and Hope went on. ‘A few weeks ago, we discovered a letter we believe was written by your great-great aunt hidden in a cedarwood puzzle box. With it was a ring – quite a special ring – and we’ve been trying to find its rightful owner ever since.’

The old woman’s voice crackled with suspicion. ‘What kind of letter?’

Hope glanced at Ciaran, who took up the tale. ‘It’s a letter breaking off an engagement. We thought perhaps—’

There was the merest hint of indrawn breath as Isobel became oddly still. ‘What does it say?’

‘We brought it with us – I can show you if you’d like?’

The old woman shook her head. ‘No need for that. Just read it aloud, if you please.’

Hope didn’t dare look at Ciaran as she passed him the letter. That elicited another ill-tempered sigh from Isobel. ‘Not him – you. I’m sure you don’t have the breeding, but I want to imagine it’s my aunt reading it.’

Beside her, Ciaran seemed to be trying not to laugh. Hope took a deep calming breath. They seemed to have got off on the wrong foot with Isobel and she wasn’t sure why, other than the fact that Isobel was clearly determined to be as disagreeable as possible. But Hope decided she might as well do as she’d been asked; she dug deep for her business voice and read the letter aloud, doing her best to imbue the words with all the emotion she thought Elenor might have felt as she wrote. When she’d finished reading, Isobel didn’t move.

‘Did you say there was a ring?’ she said at length, when Ciaran had discreetly cleared his throat.

‘I did,’ Hope replied nervously. ‘Would you like to hold it?’

Isobel gave an imperious nod. Hope got to her feet and crossed the living room to place the scarab ring in Isobel’s wrinkled hands. At first, she wasn’t sure whether she’d imagined the faint sigh as the old woman ran her fingers across the rounded emerald and diamond encrusted sides. Then Isobel smiled in a way that seemed to light up the whole room and Hope was stunned