“Okay, so maybe we need a new name,” Mia suggested. “Something a little more appealing,”
There was another round of nods, but no suggestions. Mia checked her watch; they’d already been at it two hours, and Ditsy would be expecting her back at the shop. Besides, who knew. Charlie might actually have some customers wanting lunch.
“Well, something for us all to think about before our next meeting,” Mia said. “Say Friday, at ten again?”
She looked over at Charlie, who shrugged. “Might as well start opening for breakfasts at this rate.”
“Okay, in that case, I’ll see you all then.” Mia stood, eager to grab Charlie before he disappeared into the kitchen.
As Magda chattered away to Enid and Susan on their way to the door, Mia tugged on Charlie’s sleeve and asked, “Can I come over this evening to talk about the fundraising?” She bit her lip. The money was always going to be the hardest part of organizing the festival. But that wasn’t why she’d asked. “Unless you’re meeting Becky?”
Charlie shook his head. “No. No. Absolutely not. Tonight’s fine.”
Mia smiled. “Right. See you later.”
Perhaps something good would come out of Becky’s return to town after all.
Perhaps Charlie would finally get over her.
Chapter 8
Charlie sloped off into the kitchen while Magda got rid of the other women. Was he an utter fool to read anything more than financial desperation into Mia’s desire to talk fundraising later? Festival planning wasn’t Charlie’s preferred way to spend his limited free time, and he was still a bit afraid of the women on the committee, but if it meant he got to spend more time with Mia? Bring on the bunting and the raffle tickets.
He pulled the door ajar to check if Enid and Susan had gone yet, jumping when Magda’s face appeared in the gap between the door and the frame. “I don’t suppose you want to help me clear up, do you?”
“Have they gone?” Charlie asked, double-checking over her shoulder.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, boss, the coast is clear.”
“Well, all right then.”
While they gathered dishes and cups and napkins, Charlie said, trying to sound casual, “So, how do you think it went?”
Magda shrugged. “It was my first one. But it seemed to go as well as could be expected.”
“And Mia... She did okay, didn’t she?”
“She did fine.” Magda handed him another stack of dishes to ferry back to the kitchen, and followed behind with a handful of napkins. “They might even make a success of the festival. To be honest, I’m more worried about us.”
“Us?” Charlie asked, briefly concerned he’d missed an important shift in his relationship with his employee.
“Tea and pastries for a twice-weekly committee meeting aren’t going to keep this restaurant afloat, Charlie,” Magda admonished. “And you know it.”
A vision of his tumbledown cottage floated through his mind, and Charlie sighed. There was no way the house was going to save them any time soon. “Okay. You’re right.”
“And…” Magda prompted.
“You’re always right?” Charlie hazarded, figuring it was always a pretty safe bet.
Magda slapped his arm lightly. “And what are we going to do about it?”
“Oh. That.” Charlie tossed the last of the plates into the dishwasher with less care than it really deserved. “We’re going to close two nights a week and focus on the lunches instead. You’re right–we have to.”
“Thank you!” Magda wrapped an arm around his shoulders for a half hug. “And you know, the breakfast idea isn’t stupid, I’ve been saying it for ages. The fixed-price lunches seem to be doing better.” She looked around the empty restaurant. “Ignoring today. I think breakfasts could be good for us.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Charlie said, but his mind was already elsewhere, deciding which nights would be best to close.
“Great. Then I’ll start setting it up.” Magda gave him a sideways look. “And you can spend all this newfound evening time with Becky, if you want.”
That, Charlie felt, deserved a glare. Or at least a raised eyebrow.
Magda laughed. “Or working on the fundraising for the festival.”
Charlie wiped his hands on a rogue tea towel. “You’re absolutely right,” he said, tossing it down on the counter. “And since you’ve got the cleaning up well in hand, I might as well start with a few phone calls right now.”
* * * *
“How did it go?” Ditsy asked from behind the counter. Mia let the shop door clank closed behind her. “Who was there?”
“It wasn’t as awful as it could have been,” Mia said, dumping her bag on its hook. “Magda and Charlie joined in, and Mrs. Hamilton and Enid Jones were both there.”
Ditsy nodded. “That’s good. They’re old stalwarts on the committee. They know what needs doing.”
“Apparently a lot of fundraising,” Mia said, which made her think about a peaceful evening alone with Charlie and a bottle of white at StarFish, so it wasn’t all bad. And after all, even if he did get back together with Becky, he was still her best friend, wasn’t he? She got to keep that.
Mia jumped up onto the spare counter stool. “So, what’s been happening here?”
Ditsy’s smile turned wan. “Oh, not much. Jacques brought the post.”
“Already?” Mia felt a pang of apprehension somewhere around her kidneys. “Anything interesting?”
Ditsy sighed and pulled an envelope out from the pocket of her apron. “Another letter from your father.”
Mia stared at the envelope in Ditsy’s hand, but didn’t reach out to take it. “Oh. Well, put it in the post tray, I suppose.” She turned away, suddenly very interested in the stack of local papers on the counter. “I’ll read it later.” Later meaning never.
Ditsy didn’t move for a moment, but eventually Mia heard her turn and shuffle out from behind the counter. When she snuck a look, Ditsy was standing at the P shelf, envelope in hand. Mia watched her until she dropped the letter into the post tray, then turned back to her paper.
She wondered when Ditsy would break under the strain of her own nosiness and open the damn thing.
The letter was still sitting there six hours later when they closed up shop. Ditsy looked longingly at it for a moment before Mia hustled her out the door.
“Are you going to be okay?” Ditsy asked, her voice soft.
“I’m heading over to StarFish to discuss fundraising with Charlie.”
“Good.” Ditsy’s face relaxed. “That’s good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Mia watched her friend walk away in the direction of the Esplanade, then turned the other way toward Water Street.
Charlie was sitting at the bar with a large glass of wine when she arrived, the restaurant empty.
“No customers tonight?” she asked, shrugging off her jacket.
“We’re closed.” Charlie grabbed an empty glass sitting ready on the bar and filled it from the wine bottle in the chiller beside him. “Every Tuesday and Thursday night from now until people want to come here again.”
Which explained the wine. Mia slid onto the stool beside him and took her glass. “I’m sorry.”
Charlie shrugged. “Magda was right. It makes sense.”
“Still. I know how much you wanted to stay open.”
“It’s not all bad news.” Charlie gave her an unconvincing grin. “We’re going to start doing breakfasts instead.”
“I do like a smoked salmon and scrambled egg bagel,” Mia said, aiming for levity. But the look Charlie gave her was far more serious.
“I’ll remember that,” he said, and Mia felt his words against her spine.
Taking a long sip of her wine, she shifted in her seat and said, “Well, I had another letter from my father today.”
Charlie stretched over and refilled her glass, even though she’d only drunk an inch of it. “Did you open it?”
“Still sitting in the p
ost tray at the A to Z shop.” She reached for her glass. “Although Ditsy might have snuck in to steam it open by now.”
Charlie laughed, then turned to face her better. “Would you mind if she did?”
Mia shrugged. “I’m not sure. I mean, on the one hand, vast invasion of privacy. On the other...”
“You’d know what he had to say without actually giving him the satisfaction of opening the letter yourself.” Charlie drained his wineglass, then filled it again.
“Exactly,” Mia said, wondering if this was his first bottle.
Charlie nodded. “Have you considered just opening the damn thing? He never needs to know whether you did or not.”
“But I’d know.” Mia sighed. “I’m not ruling it out. I’m just...not ready yet.”
“For the letter.” Charlie shifted again, and Mia couldn’t help but be aware of how close he was. It was a good job they were at the bar, not tucked away at their usual table by the fire, because if they were, she might think he was going to...
Charlie put a hand on Mia’s thigh. “You’re not ready to deal with what happened with your father.”
Mia gave a stiff nod and wondered if the bottle of wine had even been his second. Except wasn’t this what she wanted? Hadn’t she come here hoping he’d got Becky out of his system? Why would she want that for him, if not because she wanted him for herself?
Because she was a good friend, and she didn’t want Becky to hurt him. Because Becky was toxic for the town and for him. Because he meant a lot to Mia as a friend.
Because she didn’t want him to do this just because he was drunk.
But then Charlie sighed and leaned back in his stool, opening up an acre of air between them. Mia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and ignored the part of her body that throbbed a little with regret.
“Joe has a theory,” Charlie said, not looking at her. “He reckons the reason you’re still single is that you can’t get over your issues with your dad.”
“I thought the reason I was still single was that no one in this town could get over their issues with my father,” Mia snapped back. Was that what Charlie thought of her too?
Charlie shrugged. “It’s Joe’s theory.”
Suddenly feeling very tired and very old, Mia reached down for her bag. “Can we talk fundraising tomorrow?” she asked. “It’s been a bit of a day.”
“It’s been a bit of a week,” Charlie said, sounding bitter, but he was looking at her again, so Mia didn’t mind.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked, and Charlie nodded.
But he didn’t walk her to the door.
* * * *
“You don’t actually think this festival thing could be a threat, do you?” Becky leaned against the window of Kim Williams’s Treasures shop before it occurred to her how long it might have been since it was cleaned and she stood up straight again. She was not going to let Aberarian ruin a Karen Millen suit.
Tony peered through the window beside her. “It never hurts to prepare for the worst. What time do these bloody shops open, anyway?”
Becky glanced up. The clock on the church across the square said five past nine. “About five minutes ago, officially.”
Tony gave a pointed look up and down the empty Main Street, with all its closed storefronts. “And they wonder why they don’t have any business.” He sighed. “Shall we try farther along?”
“No, look, here’s Kim now.” Becky pointed up the street at a harassed-looking redhead making her way toward them. She slowed at the point where Becky reckoned she’d figured out who they were.
“Not waiting for me, I hope,” Kim said when she reached them, tugging a huge ring of keys out of her pocket and setting about opening the shop.
Tony put on his most charming smile, and Becky almost rolled her eyes. Apparently overexposure to it went a long way to negating its power. Who’d have guessed?
“Actually, we were,” Tony said. “We’ve got a little something we’d like to talk with you about.”
Treasures’s door opened, at last, and Kim led them all inside. “Let me guess–the Fish Festival.”
Becky trailed behind the other two as they made for the counter, taking the time to fully appreciate the horrors of slate and crystal Kim was selling. Who bought plastic red dragons stuck on the edge of a slate coaster? Nobody, she answered herself. That was why they were there.
“In part.” Tony leaned against the counter. “Mostly, we want to talk about you and your needs.”
Kim raised her eyebrows and glanced over at Becky as if to ask if he was serious. Becky smiled some encouragement, then returned to examining the shotglass engraved with the words of the Welsh national anthem.
“My needs,” Kim repeated. “Really.”
“Yes.” Becky didn’t need to look up to see Tony’s reassuring smile. She could hear it in his voice. “As you know, we’re proceeding with the early phases of our plan, just in case the Fish Festival doesn’t produce quite the revenue you’re all looking for.”
Kim scoffed, which did make Becky look up. “Everyone knows the festival’s going to be a flop,” she said, and Becky moved closer to the counter. This was more the sort of thing they’d wanted to hear since they got to town. “It’s been a disaster for years, and Mia Page isn’t going to be able to turn it around in a month.” Kim let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Hell, if she’s anything like her father, she’ll probably cut and run with the cash in a few weeks.”
“So, you won’t be supporting her efforts?” Tony asked carefully.
Kim sighed. “Look, it was a nice idea, and I don’t deny we all got a bit caught up in the idea of doing it for ourselves. But it’s never going to happen. People in this town don’t trust that girl far enough, for a start.”
“Well, okay then.” Tony glanced over at Becky, who tipped her head at the door. “Thank you very much for your time.”
Outside, they walked a little way along Main Street, away from Treasures, before Tony started to talk. “Well, that was...illuminating.”
“Mmm. I hadn’t realized people were still so hung up on the George Page thing.” Becky shrugged.
“Yes. Because I rather thought you might have mentioned anything that might be so useful before.” The edge in Tony’s voice made her look up. He didn’t look pleased. In fact, he looked disappointed. Becky swallowed down the bitter taste in her mouth. Soon it wouldn’t matter what Tony thought of her, right? Once she had Charlie back. Tony was just for now. She had to remember that.
“I did mention it when we met her yesterday. You all told me to shut up.” Tony just looked at her, and she sighed. “Okay. Here’s the story. When we were fourteen, Mia’s dad was our history teacher and the curator of the local museum. Then one day he disappeared, and it came out he’d been having an affair with the school secretary and they’d run off together–so far so sordid, right?”
Tony nodded. “But hardly grounds for a long running grudge.”
“You don’t know Aberarian,” Becky muttered. “Anyway, the real thing was, the safe in the museum office was left open, and nobody knew what was supposed to be in it.”
“So it could have been empty,” Tony pointed out.
“Yes, well, by the time the story got around Aberarian, it was the great lost treasure of A to Z Jones, and the town was millions poorer for its loss.”
Tony was still staring at her. “This town is absurd.”
“And that’s why it’s going to make us rich,” Becky agreed. She took his arm, feeling cheerier about their endeavor. “Come on. More shopkeepers to sow with distrust before the morning’s over.”
Chapter 9
Mia had finally given up on sleep at six in the morning, her head still full of Charlie and the night before, so she’d dressed and gone down into the shop to stare at the post tray for an hour or two. She’d even added the original letter from her father to the pile, wondering how long it would take Ditsy to notice.
She was still perc
hed on her stool, out in front of the counter, when Ditsy arrived for work and reminded her it was her morning off.
“But I had yesterday morning off for the meeting.”
“And I promise if we have a sudden influx of customers, I’ll call you in to help. Otherwise, there’s really no point in both of us being here, and I’ve got a good crossword to do today. Did you have fun with Charlie last night?” Ditsy asked, hanging up her coat.
“Sort of,” Mia said, unsure how much of a lie it was. She jumped down from her stool. “Actually, I need to go and talk to him about...fundraising, anyway.”
“I thought that’s what you were doing last night,” Ditsy said, her tone knowing.
Mia didn’t answer, just grabbed her bag and jacket and headed down to StarFish, where Magda was hard at work on a breakfast menu.
“I think he’s up at the cottage,” she said, pen hovering over the details of a full English. She added in a few more words, and Mia looked down over her shoulder. Smoked salmon and scrambled egg bagel had been added in above the other items, in a different pen. In Charlie’s handwriting.
“Cottage?” Mia asked, confused.
Magda looked up at her with a frown. “The lighthouse keeper’s cottage? Up on the cliff?”
And then Mia remembered. The cottage he’d bought for Becky. “He still owns it, huh.”
“He’s doing it up,” Magda said with a nod. “Probably to sell.”
“Then I’ll go and find him there, I suppose.” Mia let herself have one last glance down at the menu then left.
The climb up the cliff path to the cottage was steeper than Mia remembered, and she was a little out of breath when she reached the garden gate. Pausing against the fencepost, she wondered what Becky would make of her dream cottage now, with a front door that was mostly off its hinges and no windows to speak of.
She found Charlie in what must have been the lounge once, measuring the window. “Looking good in here,” she said, and he spun around to face her. His cheeks were pink, but she couldn’t tell if he was blushing or had just caught the sun on his way up.
“Hi,” he said eventually. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. I was...”
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