“Horse riding?” She took a minute with them, chatting to the children and mentally filing away information that the team could use to enhance their next visit.

Then she walked into the café to talk to Leo.

“Hey, Milly.” He was adding marshmallows to the most indulgent hot chocolate she’d ever seen. “Can I get you something?”

Would Nicole be hungry? What did she eat? Probably not carbs.

“Nothing, thanks, Leo. Just wanted to say hi and check everything was okay.” She scanned the blackboard. “Today’s specials look good.”

“The roasted veg and mozzarella ciabatta is Tilly’s creation, and it’s a winner. Come back later and sample it, if you like.” He put the hot chocolate on a tray along with a cappuccino.

“I might do that.” It would be nice to bring Nicole here and sit on the deck so she could enjoy the view, but she knew she couldn’t risk that. It would be safer, much safer, to make her food at home. “Any problems?”

“Apart from me trying to resist Tilly’s double chocolate cookie? No, all good.”

Satisfied that everything seemed to be running smoothly, she took the path that led from the café to the lake and then followed it around the water and past the sign that said Private—nesting birds.

Nesting birds and fugitive actors, she thought as she carried on walking.

She was proud of this place, and the part she played in keeping it running. Her grandparents had built it, her mother had expanded the business, and Milly had added all the extra luxury touches from the waterside café that buzzed with activity all day to the tubs that overflowed with colorful blooms on every terrace and deck. She’d planted pots of fresh herbs for each cabin and added locally sourced food to the welcome baskets. She’d built a sauna and a games room, which had proved a hit in wet weather.

The boathouse was tucked into an inlet in the lake, hidden behind the trees, visible only at the last minute.

There was no sign of Nicole, but she could hear the shower running, so she headed for the kitchen and selected four of the eggs her mother had given her when she’d dropped Zoe off the day before.

She cracked them one by one into a large bowl and whisked them with a fork until the mixture lost its streaks and turned golden.

Then she took a pair of scissors and snipped a thick bunch of chives from one of the herb pots she kept on her windowsill. She chopped them finely, sprinkled them over the mixture and then turned on the heat under the pan.