CHAPTER 13
“You’re working late. I don’t usually see you at this time.” Jack says.
It’s nine pm, and I’m still at Jack’s. Once I’d finished dealing with Dexter’s demands—I’m on the fifth lot of templates for the product pages, a batch that looks remarkably like the second set of designs I presented him with and he rejected—I made a start on the Lochalshie website. It is charming, but the design is a mish-mash, and there’s no consistent use of font, styles or pictures.
“Bitten off. Chew. More than you can,” I told myself. “Rearrange these words, Gaby, so they form a popular saying. And then promise yourself you will never do it again.”
Luckily for me, Jolene is nothing like Dexter. When I emailed her my first suggestions, she rang me back straight away. “Gaby, these are so fantastic.” I
