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“It’s okay.” His lips curve up. “Vix is right; we have one more spare room. It’ll be nice to have the company.”

“I put the slow cooker on this morning,” she states happily. “A big sausage casserole. There’ll be enough for four, and I’ll make some real mash to go with it.”

On cue, my stomach rumbles loudly, and they all laugh, including Millie.

“Are you mocking me?” I put my hands on my hips and give her a fake glare. “You know what that means?”

“Yes!” She jumps up and down. “A story!”

I chuckle. “Go and find yourself a new book. I’ll read it to you tonight in bed.”

Excited, she runs off to the children’s section to choose something.

“I love the way you encourage kids to read,” Vix says.

“The secret’s to get ’em hooked early, like with tobacco or heroin.”

“Really? In front of my father, who’s also a school principal?”

“I just hope you don’t say things like that to the parents.” Rudolph checks his watch. “It’s four thirty. I’ll take Millie home if you like, and you two can come home when you’re ready.”

“Why aren’t you at school?” I ask, puzzled. It’s a normal weekday, and even though the school day finishes at three, he always used to work until at least five.

“There’s been an educational conference at 35 South this week,” he explains. “I’ve been in and out. It finished at three-thirty today, and I thought I’d sneak off early.”

“Well, nobody’s going to report you to the principal,” I joke, and he grins.

“Got your book?” he asks Millie as she runs up.

She holds up Hairy Maclary from Donaldson’s Dairy, a classic Kiwi rhyming book.

“Good choice,” I say.

“Come on then.” Rudolph holds out his hand, Millie slips hers into it, and the two of them head out into the sunny afternoon.

I hold up my credit card, and Vix goes over to the desk so I can pay for the book. Her lips curve up as I touch my card to the reader. “You haven’t changed, have you?”

“Nope.” Still in love with you, Vix. Always have been, always will be.

Her gaze slips down me, giving me goose bumps. “We need to get you into some shorts,” she teases. “I nearly didn’t recognise you when you walked in.”

I give my jeans a rueful glance. “It’s cold in Welly.”

“And as for the tee…” Her lips curve up. It says, ‘No coffee, no teachy.’

“Talking of which.” I gesture toward The Lantern Café next door. “I need a latte and a cinnamon scroll, stat. I could smell them all the way up the road.”

“I know. I was considering sneakily reopening the archway through to the café,” she says with a chuckle. “I’m sure the smell would help sell books.”

My eyebrows rise. “What archway?”

“Well, originally this was one large building.”

I blink. “What? Seriously?”

“Back in the day. I mean, when it was the Maritime Exchange. The café was the Customs Office, and the Bookshop was the Shipping Office, and the Museum was the Harbour Master’s Office, but there were archways through from one to the other.” She gestures at the wall on either side. “You can see them in the old plans, but they must have covered them up when they turned them into three separate shops in the 1970s.”

“Jeez, I never knew.” I study the wall. “What a shame they didn’t keep them.”