of wine. His grip on her face softened. ‘What’s the matter, Sis?’
To his horror, tears pooled in her eyes. ‘I’m so worried about Daddy.’
‘Hey, hey, it’s okay.’ Sam gathered her into his arms and hugged her tight. ‘Dad’s a tough old sod, he’s not finished yet.’
‘I heard him coughing yesterday, it sounds so painful. I…I thought it would be better by now, but it sounds just as bad as ever.’ Her voice sounded muffled against his thick jacket, but there was no mistaking the hitch in it.
Sam eased back so he could meet her eyes. ‘I had a long talk with him, because I didn’t really understand what was going on with him. His condition is chronic, I don’t think I fully grasped what that meant until I’d seen him struggling every day.’
Eliza sniffed, then nodded. ‘He’s not going to get better, is he?’
‘No.’ The admission cut his soul to the quick. Their big vital father would never be the same again. Using his thumb, he wiped a tear off her cheek. ‘But, with proper management and care, he won’t get any worse and there’s some room for improvement. He’s promised me he’ll follow the doc’s guidance more closely, and as the weather warms up a bit that’ll help him as well.’ He had to believe that. He had to believe there was still hope.
Her hand came up to cover his. ‘You would tell me if there was a problem?’
‘I swear.’ He crossed his heart, just like he’d done when she was little and made him promise something. Her warm laughter eased the knot in his chest. Slinging an arm around her shoulders, he steered her towards the ebbing tide to where Beth and Libby were strolling arm-in-arm just out of reach of the foam rolling over the wet sand.
Bending to pick up a stone, he skipped it out across the water, groaning when it sank into the waves after only three jumps. Eliza gave him a playful shove, then found her own stone. ‘That was rubbish, watch the expert at work.’ She twisted her body ninety degrees, flicked her wrist and sent the small projectile flying over the surf.
‘Five?’ Sam held his hands up in disbelief. ‘You cheated.’
Eliza blew on her fingernails. ‘Face it, Sammy, I’ve got skills.’
Laughing, he tugged her hat down over her eyes. ‘You’ve got something all right.’ The familiar pattern of their teasing warmed him through. He studied her, as she tugged the hat off with an exasperated sigh, then re-settled it on her hair. A flush of colour painted her pale cheeks, and her green eyes sparkled with laughter. She looked good, better than when he’d first seen her that morning. ‘The fresh air suits you.’
His sister spread her arms wide as she turned in a slow circle. ‘I love it here. I never feel quite myself anywhere else.’ There was a wistfulness to her voice.
‘Why don’t you come back? Martin must be able to find a decent job within a reasonable commuting distance. Heck, these days the kind of stuff he does can be done remotely.’
Her nose wrinkled in a little frown. ‘He’s doing really well at work, I don’t think he’d be keen to leave. Especially not when he’s being considered for a promotion.’
She didn’t look thrilled about the prospect, and he wondered why. A promotion would normally mean a pay rise… Before he could ask her about it, she spoke again. ‘Besides, what would I do here? There’s nothing for me locally.’
‘You could help me with the pub.’ It had been an instinctive response—The Siren was a part of her heritage as much as it was his. And she’d always loved the place. He could still recall her pride the first time their dad had let her work behind the bar. With her warm and welcoming personality, she’d be a huge asset to the place. It would also free him up to concentrate more on the restaurant. He’d been to see a local architect and plans were being drawn up ready for submission to the local council. Planning permission would take time, and he’d need it before he could approach potential investors for support.
‘You’re kidding, right?’ Eliza’s incredulous tone dragged him back from his daydreams.
‘Nope. I’m deadly serious.’ He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m not suggesting you drop everything and move back tomorrow, all I’m saying is that there are options here for you if you want them.’ She tucked her head against his shoulder and they began walking again. ‘I’ve been talking to Mum and Dad about converting the old skittle alley into a restaurant.’
Eliza stopped in her tracks to stare up at him, eyes wide with wonder. ‘Oh, Sam! Your own place at last?’
He nodded, knowing she understood what it meant to him.
‘What made you think of the skittle alley?’
‘It was Beth’s idea, actually. So, what do you reckon?’
Eliza’s face was wreathed in smiles. ‘I think it’s perfect. The best of both worlds. Will you show me?’
‘Show you what?’ They’d been so busy talking, Sam hadn’t noticed Beth and Libby approaching.
‘Sam was just telling me about the restaurant he’s going to open right here in the bay!’ Eliza clapped her hands together.
Libby’s brows rose in surprise. ‘Here? Where?’
‘In the skittle alley beneath the pub.’ It was Beth who chipped in this time. ‘Isn’t it exciting?’
‘Can we see it? When are you planning on opening?’
Their enthusiasm was gratifying, if a little overwhelming. ‘Hold on a second! I haven’t even submitted the plans to the council yet.’
‘You have plans?’ Beth grabbed his arm. ‘Show us!’
Sam laughed. ‘All right, all right! I have some draft plans, there’s still some stuff to be finalised, but they should give you an idea.’ He herded the chattering trio towards the pub, the smile on his face growing by the moment. There was no hesitation from any of them that the restaurant would happen, and it strengthen his own belief.
His own place. There was still a long way to go, but he could do it. He would do it.
The walk on the beach, followed by an amazing hour poring over Sam’s plans for Subterranean had done them all the power of good. Filled with renewed enthusiasm for their own little makeover, they continued to make good progress with the painting.
Rolling another stripe of pale lilac onto the wall, Beth continued to turn over the issue sticking in her mind. From the conversation with Gina the previous night when she’d been ordering their pizza, and Libby and Eliza’s subsequent agreement, she would have to face up to the fact she wasn’t going to be able to just turn the sign on the front door and consider the emporium open.
The town was expecting a grand launch. Easter Sunday was just a few weeks away. Which meant she had a fortnight to plan everything if she intended to stick with the idea of being open in time for the first day of the school holidays. What could she do though? There’d have to be drinks of some description…
