by Fiona Grace
“Are you okay?” came the man’s voice.
Lacey snapped back to the moment. “Yes. Sorry. I was lost in my memories. Tasting that scone brought me back about thirty years.”
“Well, you’ll have to have elevenses now,” the man said, chuckling. “Can I tempt you?”
The tingles racing all through Lacey’s body gave her the distinct impression that anything he suggested in that gentle accent with those alluring, kind eyes, she’d agree to. So she nodded, finding her throat suddenly too dry to actually formulate words.
He clapped his hands. “Excellent! Let me fix you up the whole works. Give you the full English experience.” He went to turn around then paused and looked back. “I’m Tom, by the way.”
“Lacey,” she replied, feeling as giddy as a teenager with a crush.
As Tom busied himself in the kitchen, Lacey took the seat in the window. She tried to evoke more memories of the time she’d spent here before, but alas there was nothing more to recall. Just the taste of scones and the laughter of her family.
A moment later, the handsome Tom appeared with a cake stand filled with crustless sandwiches, scones, and a selection of multicolored fairy cakes. He set a teapot down on the table beside it.
“I can’t eat all that!” Lacey cried.
“It’s for two,” Tom replied. “On the house. It’s not polite to make a lady pay on the first date.”
He took a seat right beside her.
His forthrightness took Lacey by surprise. She felt her pulse begin to flutter. It had been so long since she’d talked to another man in a flirty manner. It made her feel like a giddy teenager again. Awkward. But maybe it was just a British thing. Perhaps all Englishmen behaved this way.
“First date?” she repeated.
Before Tom could answer, the bell over the door tinkled. A group of about ten Japanese tourists bustled into the store. Tom jumped up.
“Uh-oh, customers.” He looked down at Lacey. “We’ll take a rain check on that date, okay?”
With that same self-assured confidence, Tom headed for the counter, leaving Lacey with her words stuck in her throat.
With the shop now crowded with tourists, it became loud and busy. Lacey tried to keep one eye on Tom while she wolfed down her elevenses but he was busy making up orders for the gaggle of customers.
When she was done, she tried to wave goodbye but he’d retreated into the kitchen area and didn’t see her.
Feeling a little disappointed, and extremely full, Lacey headed out of the patisserie and back onto the street.
Then she paused. An empty storefront across the street from the patisserie had caught her eye. It stirred such deep emotion within her, it literally took her breath away. The store had been something before, something the deepest recesses of her childhood memories wanted to recall. Something that demanded she take a closer look.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lacey peered in through the window of the vacant storefront, searching her mind for the memories it had stirred within her. But nothing concrete came to her. It was more a feeling that had been awoken, deeper than just the feeling of nostalgia, closer to falling in love.
Peering through the windows, Lacey could see that inside, the store was empty and unlit. The floors were made of pale wooden boards. There was a lot of built-in shelving in the various alcoves, and a large wooden desk against one wall. The light fixture hanging down from the ceiling was an antique brass one. Expensive, Lacey thought. Surely it must’ve been left behind accidentally.
The storefront door, Lacey noticed then, was unlocked. She couldn’t help herself. She went inside.
A metallic smell, tinged with dust and mildew, wafted out. Immediately, Lacey was hit by another bolt of nostalgia. The smell was exactly the same as her father’s old antiques store.
She’d loved that place. As a child, she’d whiled away many an hour in that labyrinth of treasures, playing with the creepy old china dolls, reading all manner of children’s collectible comics, from Bunty to The Beano, to exceptionally rare and valuable Rupert the Bear originals. But her favorite thing to do was just peruse the trinkets and imagine the lives and personalities of the people they’d once belonged to. There was an endless supply of odds and ends, gadgets and gizmos, and every item had that same strange metal-dust-mildew aroma she could smell right now.
Just like seeing Crag Cottage beside the ocean had awakened an old childhood dream of hers to live beside the sea, now too, she found an old childhood desire to run her own store come flooding back at her.
Even the layout reminded her of her dad’s old shop. As she looked around, images from the deepest recesses of her memory transposed themselves upon the view through her eyes, like a sheet of tracing paper laid on top of a drawing. Suddenly, she could see the shelves stocked with beautiful relics—mainly Victorian kitchenware items, as was her father’s particular interest—and there, on the counter, Lacey visualized the big brass cash register, the cumbersome old-fashioned one with the stiff keys that her father had insisted on using because it “keeps your mind sharp” and “hones your skills in mental mathematics.” She smiled dreamily to herself as her father’s words sounded in her ears and as the images and memories played out in front of her eyes.
She was so lost in her daydream, Lacey didn’t hear the footsteps coming from the back room toward her. Nor did she notice the man the footsteps belonged to as he emerged through the door—a frown on his face—and marched right up to her. It was only when she felt a tapping on her shoulder that Lacey realized she was not alone.
Her heart jumped in her chest. Lacey almost screamed with surprise as she leapt out of her skin, swirled, then took in the face of the stranger. Elderly, thinning white hair, puffy purple bags beneath his bright blue eyes.
“Can I help you?” the man said, in an unfriendly and gruff way.
Lacey’s hand flew to her chest. It took her a moment to realize that the ghost of her father had not just tapped her on the shoulder, and that she wasn’t actually a child standing in his antiques store but a grown woman on vacation in England. A grown woman who was currently trespassing.
“Oh my goodness, I’m so, so sorry!” she exclaimed hurriedly. “I didn’t realize there was anyone here. The door was unlocked.”
The man glared at her with skepticism. “Can’t you see the shop’s vacant? There’s nothing here to buy.”
“I know,” Lacey continued gushing, desperate to clear her name and wipe that frown of suspicion from the old man’s face. “But I couldn’t help myself. This place reminded me so much of my father’s store.” To Lacey’s surprise, she found her eyes suddenly flood with tears. “I haven’t seen him since I was a child.”
The man’s demeanor shifted in an instant. He went from frowning and defensive, to soft and gentle.
“Dear, dear, dear,” he said, kindly, shaking his head as Lacey hurriedly wiped away her tears. “It’s all right, my dear. Your father owned a store like this?”
Lacey felt immediately embarrassed to have dumped her emotions onto this man, not to mention guilty that instead of calling the cops to get her chucked off his private property he’d reacted like a skilled therapist, with non-judgmental compassion, encouragement, and interest. But Lacey couldn’t help herself. She opened up and poured out her heart.
“He sold antiques,” she explained, the smile playing across her lips again at the memories, even as the tears plopped from her eyes. “The smell in here made me nostalgic, and it all came flooding back to me. His store even had the same layout.” She pointed toward the back room door the man must’ve entered through. “That back room was used for storage but he always wanted to turn it into an auction room. It was very long and opened out onto a garden.”
The man began to chuckle. “Come and look. The back room here is long, too, and it opens out onto a garden.”
Touched by his compassion, Lacey followed the man through the door into the back room. It was long and narrow, reminiscent of a train carriage, and almost identical
to the room her father had dreamed of hosting auctions in. Passing straight through the room, Lacey stepped out into a wonderland of a garden. It was narrow and long, stretching back about fifty feet. There were colorful plants everywhere, and strategically placed trees and shrubbery providing just the right amount of shade. A knee-high fence was all that separated it from that of the neighboring store’s garden—which, in contrast to the immaculate garden she was standing in, seemed to be used only for storage, with several large, ugly, gray plastic sheds and a row of trash cans blighting it.
Lacey returned her attention to the pretty garden.
“This is incredible,” she gushed.
“Yes, it’s a beautiful spot,” the man replied, picking up a knocked over plant pot and righting it. “The folks who leased the place before used it as a home and garden store.”
Lacey immediately noted the melancholy air in his tone. She realized then that the large glass greenhouse in front of her had its doors wide open, and several potted plants lay strewn all over the floor, their stems smooshed, the soil from their pots spilled across the floor. Her curiosity was suddenly piqued. The sight of the strewn plants in an otherwise carefully tended garden seemed odd. Her mind switched immediately from her father to the present moment.
“What happened here?” she asked.
The elderly man’s expression was now downcast. “That’s why I’m here. I got a call from the neighbor this morning saying it looked like the place had been emptied overnight.”
Lacey gasped. “They were burglarized?” Her mind couldn’t quite conflate the concept of crime with the beautiful, tranquil seaside town of Wilfordshire. To her, it felt like the sort of place where the closest anyone came to wrongdoing was the local scamp of a boy stealing a freshly baked pie off a window ledge where it had been placed to cool.
The man shook his head. “No, no, no. They left. Packed up their stock and cleared out. Didn’t even give notice. Left me with all their debts, too. Unpaid utility bills. A mountain of invoices.” He shook his head sadly.
Lacey was shocked to realize the store had only become vacant that morning, and that she’d inadvertently intruded into an unfolding scenario, inserting herself accidentally into a mysterious narrative that had only just begun.
“I’m so sorry,” she said with genuine empathy for the man. Now it was her turn to play therapist, to pay back the kindness the man had shown her. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Not really,” he said, glumly. “We’ll have to sell to settle the bills, and honestly, me and the wife are far too old for this kind of stress.” He tapped his breastbone, as if to indicate the fragility of his heart. “It will be a damn shame to say goodbye to this place though.” His voice cracked. “It’s been in the family for years. I love it. We’ve had some very colorful tenants in that time.” He chuckled, his eyes misting over as he reminisced. “But, no. We can’t go through that upheaval again. It’s too much of a strain.”
The sadness in his tone was enough to break Lacey’s heart. What an awful predicament to have been left in. How terrible a situation. The deep empathy she felt for the man was only compounded by her own situation, by the way the life she’d built with David in New York City had been unjustly ripped away from her. She felt a sudden responsibility to fix the problem.
“I’ll lease the store,” she blurted, the words leaving her lips before her brain had even realized what she was saying.
The man’s white eyebrows shot upward with evident surprise. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
“I’ll lease it,” Lacey repeated quickly, before the logical part of her mind had a chance to kick in and talk her out of it. “You can’t sell it. It has too much history, you said so yourself. Too much sentimental value. And I’m super trustworthy. I have experience. Sort of.”
She thought of the dark-eyebrowed border guard at the airport, telling her she needed a visa to work, and how she’d so confidently assured her the last thing she wanted to do in England was work.
And what about Naomi? Her job with Saskia? What about all of that?
Suddenly, none of it mattered. That feeling Lacey had been hit with when she’d seen the store was akin to love at first sight. She was throwing herself in at the deep end.
“So? What do you think?” she asked him.
The old man looked a little stunned. Lacey couldn’t blame him. Here was this strange American woman dressed in thrift store couture asking him to lease her his store when he’d already decided to sell it.
“Well… I…” he began. “It would be nice to keep it in the family a little longer. Now isn’t the best time to be selling either, with the market the way it is. But I’d need to speak to my wife, Martha, first.”
“Of course,” Lacey said. She quickly scribbled her name and number on a slip of paper and handed it to him, surprised by how certain she felt. “Take all the time you need.”
She needed time to sort out her visa, after all, and work out a business plan and finances and stock, and well, everything. Maybe she should start by purchasing a copy of The Dummies Guide To Running A Store.
“Lacey Bishop,” the man said, reading the paper she’d handed him.
Lacey nodded. Two days ago, that name had been so unfamiliar to her. Now it felt like hers again.
“I’m Stephen,” he replied.
They shook hands.
“I look forward to your call,” Lacey said.
She left the store, her heart soaring with anticipation. If Stephen did decide to lease it to her, she’d be staying in Wilfordshire on a much more permanent basis than she’d planned. The thought ought to scare her. But instead, it left her delighted. It felt so right. More than right. It felt like fate.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I thought this was a vacation!” Naomi’s furious voice exploded through the cell phone wedged between Lacey’s ear and her shoulder.
She sighed, tuning out her sister’s tirade, as she tapped away at the keyboard of the Wilfordshire town library computer. She was checking on the status of her online application form to switch her vacation visa to a business start-up visa.
After her meeting with Stephen, Lacey had thrown herself into research and learned that as a fluent English speaker with a healthy amount of capital in the bank, the only other thing she required was a decent business plan, something she’d had plenty of experience with thanks to Saskia’s penchant for offloading responsibilities onto Lacey’s shoulders that were far beyond her pay grade. It had only taken Lacey a few evenings to compile the plan and submit it, a painless process that made her more than certain the universe was having a hand in her whole new life.
As the screen logged her into the official UK government portal, she saw that her application was still showing as “pending.” She was so desperate to get going, she couldn’t help but sag a little with disappointment. Then her focus tuned back into Naomi’s voice in her ear.
“I CANNOT believe you’re moving!” her sister was yelling. “Permanently!”
“It’s not permanent,” Lacey explained, calmly. She’d had plenty of practice over the years in not rising to Naomi’s moods. “The visa’s only for two years.”
Oops. Wrong move.
“TWO YEARS?” Naomi yelled, her anger reaching a fever pitch.
Lacey rolled her eyes. She’d been fully aware her family wouldn’t support her decision. Naomi needed her in NYC for babysitting duty, after all, and Mom basically treated her like an emotional support animal. The giddy message she’d typed onto the Bishop Girlz thread had been received with the gratitude of a nuclear bomb. Days later, Lacey was still dealing with the fallout.
“Yes, Naomi,” she replied disappointedly. “Two years. I think I deserve it, don’t you? I gave fourteen years to David. Fifteen to my job. New York City had me for thirty-nine. I’m hurtling toward forty, Naomi! Do I really want to have lived my whole life in one place? Had one career? Been with one man?”
Tom’s handsome face flashed in her mind as s
he said it, and she felt her cheeks grow immediately warm. She’d been so busy organizing her potential new life, she hadn’t returned to the patisserie again—her vision of languorous breakfasts on the patio temporarily replaced by a banana on the go and a pre-mixed frappuccino from the convenience store. In fact, it had only just occurred to her that if this deal went through with Stephen and Martha, she’d be renting the store opposite to Tom, and she’d be seeing him through her window every day. Her insides squirmed with delight at the thought.
“What about Frankie?” Naomi wailed, bringing her back to reality.
“I’ve mailed him some fudge.”
“He needs his aunt!”
“He still has me! I’m not dead, Naomi, I’m just going to live abroad for a bit.”
Her little sister hung up on her.
Thirty-six going on sixteen, Lacey thought wryly.
As she put her cell phone back in her pocket, Lacey noticed something on the computer screen flicker. The status of her application form had switched from “pending” to “approved.”
With a squeal, Lacey jumped up from her seat and punched the air. All the senior citizens playing solitaire on the other library computers turned to look at her with alarm.
“Sorry!” Lacey exclaimed, trying to temper her excitement.
She sank back down, breathless with awe. She’d done it. She’d been given the green light to set her plan in motion. And it had all been so painless, Lacey couldn’t help but suspect that fate had had a hand to play in it…
Except, there was one last hurdle. She needed Stephen and Martha to agree to lease her the store.
*
Lacey was anxious as she ambled around the town center. She didn’t want to stray too far from the store, because the second she received Stephen’s call, she was going to go straight back there with her checkbook and a pen and sign the blasted deal before her self-saboteur told her she couldn’t do it. But Lacey was an exceptionally talented window-shopper, and got to work perusing everything the town had to offer. As she strolled, her cheap airport boat shoes caught on the cobblestones, making her stumble and twist her ankle. It was then that Lacey realized she needed to do away with her whole thrift store casual look if she wanted to be taken seriously as a potential new business owner.
