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    Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part Three: Broken Promises
    Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part Three: Broken Promises
    Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part Three: Broken Promises
    Ebook87 pages1 hour

    Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part Three: Broken Promises

    By Holly Hepburn

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    About this ebook

    **PART THREE in the brand new series from Holly Hepburn, perfect for fans of Cathy Bramley and Katie Fforde**
     
    When Hope loses her husband, she fears her happiest days are behind her. With her connection to London broken, she decides to move home to York to be near her family and try to piece her life back together.
     
    Taking a job at the antique shop she has always loved, she finds herself crossing paths with two very different men. Will, who has recently become the guardian to his niece after the tragic death of her parents. And Ciaran, who she enlists to help solve the mystery of an Egyptian antique. Two men representing two different happy endings.
     
    But can she trust herself to choose the right man? And will that give her the life she really needs?
     
    The brand new series from Holly Hepburn, author of Coming Home to Brightwater Bay. Parts one to four in the new series are available to pre-order now.
     
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSimon & Schuster UK
    Release dateSep 2, 2021
    ISBN9781398506053
    Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part Three: Broken Promises
    Author

    Holly Hepburn

    Holly Hepburn is the author of seven novels including The Little Shop of Hidden Treasures, Coming Home to Brightwater Bay, and A Year at the Star and Sixpence. Follow her on X at @HollyH_Author.

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      Book preview

      Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part Three - Holly Hepburn

      Chapter One

      ‘Cheer up, love, it might never happen.’

      The words were called from a white van that was trundling along Low Petergate, stuck in the slow-moving traffic that occasionally clogged York’s narrow city streets, and the driver offered Hope a jaunty thumbs up as he crawled alongside. He meant well, she supposed with a grunt, but right at that moment she was tempted to tell him exactly where he could shove his thumb. It wasn’t worth the ensuing argument, of course, but the thought was enough to raise the ghost of a smile, which only seemed to encourage the driver because he added a jolly blast of the horn. It didn’t help with the headache that had lingered behind her temple for the last two weeks, nor did it cheer Hope up. She had good reason to be unhappy and it was going to take a lot more than an instruction from a random stranger to make her feel better.

      Thankfully, the traffic began to move and the van, with its irritating driver, was swept along with it. Hope fixed her gaze on the pavement once more and continued on her way towards High Petergate. There were a few things with the power to make her forget her bruised heart; her family and friends were one, and her job at the Ever After Emporium was another. Being surrounded by so many antiques and vintage items – each with its own fascinating story – was a source of endless distraction and allowed her to keep reality at bay. It was only when she was alone, with nothing to distract her, that she found herself dwelling on the source of her misery: Ciaran McCormack and the hole he’d left in her life. And it didn’t matter how many times her sister told her he’d behaved appallingly and that she was better off without him. Logically, Hope knew both of those things but when was the heart ever logical? She hadn’t even been in love with Ciaran, it had been far too early for that, but she had lowered her guard which, in turn, had opened the door to tentative feelings, something she hadn’t allowed since losing Rob some two years ago. It had hurt when she’d discovered Ciaran was married, and left her feeling foolish. She’d been taken in by his charm and flattered by his interest, it hadn’t occurred to her that he might not be everything he claimed to be. But then, she hadn’t been totally honest with him; she hadn’t revealed she was a widow, suspecting he’d be scared off by her past. Perhaps she’d have saved herself some heartache if she had told him about Rob at the outset.

      Her mood lifted the moment she stepped inside the Emporium, however. There were still twenty-five minutes before nine o’clock and the shop was almost silent, apart from the fading jangle of the bell above the door and the deep ticking of the grandfather clock that was out of sight along the aisle. Hope paused in the doorway, straining her ears for the faint, delicate tick of the cuckoo clock beyond the grandfather clock. She smiled when she heard it. All was well in the Emporium.

      Her colleague, Frances, emerged from further along the aisle. ‘Morning,’ she called cheerily. ‘I thought it must be you. How are you today?’

      ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Hope replied, heading towards the old-fashioned, dark wood counter that was her usual Tuesday morning post. ‘No Mr Young today?’

      ‘Auction in Harrogate,’ Frances said. ‘I’ve been drafted in to fill the gap. But I thought we could hatch a plan for that third window, if things are quiet.’

      Hoped nodded. The window displays hadn’t originally been part of her role when she’d first started at the Emporium, some four months earlier, but she’d been inspired by some of the stock in the storeroom upstairs and had made an idle suggestion about how the items might go together. Mr Young had been enthusiastic and suggested she work with Frances, whose job did include dressing the windows. The resulting Afternoon Tea at the Emporium display had proved popular with passers-by, which seemed to have led to an upturn in sales that had delighted the Emporium’s owner. Frances had been pleased too; she’d confessed privately to Hope that she was running out of ideas herself and welcomed a fresh eye and imagination. And now they were planning their third window together, one themed around York’s proud involvement in the chocolate industry; just thinking about it made Hope crave a KitKat.

      She glanced out at High Petergate, where the summer tourists were already filling the street, and shook her head. ‘I don’t think we’re going to be quiet – not if yesterday was anything to go by. But we can make a start, at least, and see how far we get.’

      Just as Hope had predicted, there was a steady stream of customers across the morning, building to a rush in the afternoon. Some were clearly just browsing and Hope couldn’t blame them – the Emporium had a way of drawing people in and leading them on through the aisles, like a Victorian lady showing a scandalous flash of ankle that promised so much more. Others were tempted to buy and both Hope and Frances were kept busy wrapping the smaller items and arranging delivery for the larger goods. And, of course, Hope felt a pang each time one of her favourites found a new owner, even as she was glad it would be loved and appreciated anew. Thankfully, her favourite antique of all – the magnificent walnut grandfather clock – was safely marked with a red, not-for-sale sticker. It was largely thanks to that clock that she’d got the job at the Emporium in the first place and she couldn’t imagine how empty the shop would feel without its sonorous chimes and reassuring tick.

      As closing time drew near, the flow of customers began to ebb, allowing Frances and Hope to relax a little. Hope was just about to turn the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ when she saw Iris making her way across the road from her flower shop, Blooming Dales.

      ‘Hello,’ she said, pulling back the door to allow the florist inside. ‘I meant to pop over to see you at lunchtime but we’ve been working flat-out all day.’

      Iris pulled a face. ‘It’s

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