A CHANGE OF LOCATION BY MARGARET PORTER – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Margaret Porter
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 6.2 MB
- Price: Free
Tourists, thrilled to discover quaint and quintessential Englishness, pointed
their phone cameras at the brick shop façades lining Latimer Row. Other
pedestrians lingered just long enough for a quick selfie before stepping
inside one of the establishments, if they bothered to enter at all. The black
taxicabs passing along the street couldn’t detract from the historic
ambiance. However it was briefly marred by the death-defying motorcycle
courier perilously—and noisily—weaving through the traffic.
Pausing at the window of Wincott & Sons, Hannah Ballard examined
the artful display of cheese wheels, blocks, and wedges. Catching sight of
her reflection in the dimpled antique pane, she adjusted the tortoiseshell
clips in her unruly hair. When she pushed open the gleaming black door, she
was startled by the ding of a brass bell—and the intimidating and confusing
array of dairy products.
“Good afternoon, Madam. Are your requirements specific, or general?”
Madam, already in over her head, contemplated a speedy flight to the
supermarket several streets away. Helplessly she faced the one employee
who didn’t wear a striped apron and straw boater. His shaggy brown hair,
not as dark as hers, contrasted with the classic gray suit and paisley silk tie.
The sign hanging outside boasted that the firm had been EST. 1753, so he
definitely wasn’t Wincott, or even one of the Sons. A great-great-great-great
grandson?
“I’m shopping for a party.”
“Drinks party?” At least six feet tall, he towered over her—a pet peeve,
but he was so easy on the eyes that she wouldn’t hold it against him.
She nodded. “I need wine as well as cheese. And fresh fruit. For a
business thing. Tomorrow. And I know it’s very short notice, which is why
my hotel can’t provide catering services. The concierge suggested I come
here.”
“For how many guests?”
“About eight, if they all show up.” They wouldn’t.
Hannah surveyed the neat rows of unidentifiable wedges in the
refrigerated display. She felt unworthy to gaze upon his fine cheeses, or
carry any of them away.
“The venue?” he prompted.
“My suite.”
The party wasn’t her idea. From the other side of the Atlantic Ocean her
executive producer had insisted on it, as a gesture of goodwill and to
promote their nascent film project and partner studio. Why hadn’t she
reminded Liz that organizing a social event—in London, of all places—was
not part of her otherwise expansive skill set? Craft services was just about
the only department that remained a mystery to her. Emailing and texting
invitations to her contacts at the location search company was simple
enough. If, as she expected, senior staff were too busy to attend, they would
probably send their assistants.
“Fine British cheeses are our speciality. We also source products from
France, Italy, Spain, and Holland.”
She followed the manager as he pointed out shelf after shelf, making
suggestions, nodding enthusiastically whenever she recognized a name.
Cheddar, Stilton, Brie, Camembert—he had them all. And then some.
“We take particular pride in this one.”
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