CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Emily woke bleary-eyed the next morning, having spent half the night preparing the inn for Chantelle’s birthday. The moment she realized it was morning she leapt out of bed.
“Daniel, get up, quick,” she hissed as she fumbled to get her clothes on.
Daniel looked exhausted. “I need coffee,” he murmured.
Like Emily, he’d worked flat out for hours taking down the fake spiders’ webs and sweeping up all the flour that had been used as pretend dust, before blowing up sparkly pink balloons and hanging bright streamers.
They stumbled downstairs together, through the pink lacy fabric they’d hung along the staircase, bumping shoulders on the way down the steps, then rushed along the hallway that was now filled with fairy lights and pretty silk flowers. But as they entered the kit
