50
Aurelia forced herself to get out of bed in time to see Antonia off the next morning.
She made a strong cup of coffee to wake herself, then found her sister already awake and showered, ready to head back to Paris.
Antonia nudged Julia awake for a hug goodbye, then insisted she could make her way to the station on her own.
Aurelia felt a little sad as she watched her sister walk across the square, but reminded herself that she’d see her again soon.
In less than a week, Antonia would be back with the rest of her family, ready to collect Julia and celebrate Aurelia and Oliver’s wedding.
That afternoon, Aurelia decided she’d made enough progress on the final chapters of her book to meet David for lunch.
Julia looked fit to burst at the prospect of being left on her own in the shop—even if only for an hour.
She kept testing out sitting at the desk and standing next to it, trying to decide which would seem more welcoming if a customer stopped in while she was ‘running things.’ Aurelia suspected the shop would be quiet, which—combined with the fact that she’d be meeting David at a café just around the corner from the shop—made her reasonably comfortable leaving Julia on her own.
Aurelia had called David before driving up to Yorkshire with Oliver the week before, wanting to let him know that she was okay and that she and Oliver had sorted things out after their argument.
At lunch, she thanked him again and apologized for leaving out the details of what, exactly, had caused the temporary rift.
“So everything’s fine now?” David asked.
“It is. It’s much better. It’s going to be an ongoing thing—something we need to keep working on together. But we’re good,” she added with a smile.
“Well, I’m going to keep working on you: you two need hen and stag nights.”
“No, we don’t,” Aurelia said, rolling her eyes at the sudden and yet not unexpected change of topic. “I know you want to see us dancing on tabletops until the wee hours, but you know that’s not our speed.”
“You keep saying that, so I’ve been thinking of alternatives. What about a mild, tame pub crawl?”
“I’d probably make it to two before I passed out under a table.” Aurelia laughed. “It wouldn’t be much of a crawl.”
“How about one club—just one?”
“I don’t know,” Aurelia said, pulling a face. “Neither one of us is really the club type. We’re more the swim in the ponds at Hampstead and sit with a picnic type.”
“Done!” David exclaimed.
“What do you mean, ‘done’?”
“We have to do something. And while that’s not exactly what I would have envisioned for your hen and stag dos, I’ll take it.”
“Oh you will, will you?” Aurelia asked, barely containing a grin.
“I will. We can divide up for the swim—ladies to their pond, men to theirs—then join up for a picnic afterward.”
Aurelia cocked her head as she thought before saying, “You know, that could be fun.”
“It will be! We’ll pack lots of wine, and I could make something for the picnic.”
She took in a sharp breath and tried to keep from making a face, but David caught her.
“Not one of my old recipes,” he promised resignedly. “Though there’s this one dish from the Renaissance period that would be perfect for a picnic…” He trailed off and Aurelia could just imagine the bizarre ingredients he was seeing dance before his eyes.
David’s cookbook, based on his blog of historic recipes, had been published earlier that year and—in spite of some of the strange concoctions—had sold quite well.
“Make whatever you like,” she said with a warm smile.
David rubbed his hands together gleefully.
“You’re very pliable today. We’re going to have to sit here until I can think of something else I’ve been wanting you to do.”
They spent the rest of the hour laughing over David’s suggestions, and Aurelia returned to the shop feeling more excited about the prospect of a pre-wedding party than she’d imagined.
Julia greeted her at the door, buzzing with her own excitement at having sold books to not one but two customers while Aurelia had been out.