13. Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mabel was just finishing taking the dogs for their morning walk when she saw Felicity heading up the drive with a large parcel in her arms.
Mabel dropped off the dogs, changed course, and went after her. “Hey!” she called out. “Slow down. Are you going to the village?”
Felicity jumped like she’d been shot and spun around, her parcel clutched to her chest. She wore a faded green waxed jacket over a large beige fluffy sweater and jeans. Her hair was pushed back from her face with an Alice band.
“Mabel! You scared me!”
“I’m sorry.” Mabel caught up with her. “I have to speak to Cheryl about the website she’s building for the house, and I thought I’d tag along with you.” She paused. “If that’s okay.”
Felicity managed a smile. “It’s fine! Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because you look guilty as hell?” Mabel pointed out. “I know it’s none of my business, but are you a spy or something?”
“Of course not!”
Felicity started walking and Mabel kept pace with her. All the exercise with the dogs was finally paying off. She wasn’t even puffing.
“You know you can get your mail carrier to pick up and deliver parcels to your home, right?”
“I am aware of that, Mabel.” Felicity marched on, her face pink with exertion. “Perhaps I’d just prefer it if everyone kept their noses out of my business.”
“Oh.” Mabel grimaced. That was as forceful a putdown as she was ever likely to get from a British person. “I’ll shut up, then.”
“Thank you.”
Felicity slowed down as they approached the village. There was a board outside the village shop advertising local ice cream, and the tea shop next door had reopened after its winter break.
“Do you need anything from the post office?” Felicity asked stiffly.
“No, I’m good.” Mabel held her gaze. “And I’m really sorry for being so nosy, but if you need to talk to someone, I’m your girl.”
Felicity sighed. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. Will you meet me at the tea shop for elevenses when you’ve finished your errands?”
“I’d love to,” Mabel said.
Half an hour later, after successfully concluding her business with a very enthusiastic Cheryl, Mabel went into the tearoom, which was the usual explosion of pink chintz, patterned china, and lace doilies instead of placemats.
She picked her way through the small tables to the far corner where Felicity sat with her back to the wall exactly like a spy.
Mabel didn’t think it would be a good idea to point that out, and instead smiled, and took the seat across from her.
“Were you waiting long?” Mabel asked.
“No, I only just got here. The queue in the post office was terrible. Mrs. Frankel was attempting to upgrade her second-class stamps to first-class ones, which meant the dispersal of three extra stamps for each letter, and she had a dozen to send. She insisted on applying the stamps to each one and handing them over to the counter clerk with a detailed explanation about the person who would be receiving them rather than stepping aside and letting someone else have their turn.” Felicity sighed.
“I shouldn’t complain. She’s in her eighties and she’s a remarkable woman. ”
A waitress dressed in a black dress and a white apron approached the table.
“Morning, Felicity. Morning, Mabel.”
Mabel recognized one of the younger members of the W.I.
“Hi Lucy. How’s it hanging?”
“Er, very well thank you.” Lucy surreptitiously checked the hem of her skirt and then got out her pad and pen. “What can I get you? We have a nice Welsh rarebit with mustard and local ham today, and a lovely carrot cake.”
“Is that an actual rabbit-based thing?” Mabel asked cautiously. “Because I can’t eat Thumper.”
“No, it’s basically a fancy version of cheese on toast,” Felicity said. “It’s quite pleasant.”
“Then I’ll have that, a slice of carrot cake, and a coffee,” Mabel said as Felicity perused the menu.
“I’ll have the earl grey tea and a slice of Victoria sponge, thank you,” Felicity said.
“I’ll have that out to you in a tick.” Lucy wrote everything down. “It’s not too busy yet.”
After Lucy left, Mabel lowered her voice and leaned closer to Felicity. “Do you think this place will offer competition to our planned café up at the house?”
“I shouldn’t think so.” Felicity considered her. “By my calculations the average person in this country needs a drink and a snack every two and a half hours, which means that even if they stop here to refuel, by the time they’ve walked around the house, and gardens they’ll be ready for more.”
“You’re probably right.” Mabel rearranged her silverware into a more pleasing position before centering her napkin on her placemat.
She was just about to do Felicity’s side of the table when she noticed Felicity watching her.
“Sorry. I’m slightly OCD. It comes with the nerd territory.
We like process and there is nothing more orderly than a perfect line of code. ”
“My brain doesn’t function in that way.” Felicity set the menu back in its holder. “According to my grandmother, I’m always away with the fairies.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Mabel said. “We can’t all think the same or the world would be a very boring place.”
“My brothers think I’m quite useless as well.”
“Colin would never say anything like that.”
“He doesn’t need to.” Felicity sighed. “I’m the girl, the afterthought, the least important in the line of succession.”
Mabel suppressed a strong urge to suggest that Felicity could change that opinion if she took charge of her own destiny. But they weren’t close enough for that kind of honesty, and Felicity probably wouldn’t take a blast of American positivity and can-do spirit well.
“You probably think the same.” For a guilty second Mabel wondered whether her thoughts had showed on her face. “You’ve been incredibly successful in your chosen field.”
Mabel shrugged. “I was lucky.”
“You worked hard.” Felicity wasn’t having it. “I read all about you.”
Their drinks arrived and they stopped talking to allow Lucy to set them down.
Mabel took a sip of coffee. It was good, strong, and freshly brewed, which cheered her up immensely. Felicity stirred the teapot and left the loose-leafed tea to brew.
Emboldened by the coffee, Mabel decided to try a more direct approach. “So, what’s in the packages for the post office?”
Felicity looked at her. “You’re very tenacious.”
“Like a dog with a bone.” Mabel grinned at her. “Feel free to tell me to mind my own business and I’ll never ask again.”
“I thought I already tried that.” Felicity poured her tea and added a slice of lemon to the cup before raising it to her lips. She set it down with a decisive click. “If I tell you, you have to promise to keep it to yourself.”
Mabel made the sign of the cross over her heart. “I swear I’ll do that. Now, spill.”
“I… write books.”
“Okay,” Mabel said cautiously. “That was not what I was expecting to hear.”
“What did you think I was going to say?”
“I thought you might be selling stuff on eBay or Etsy, and that you didn’t want your family to know you were ‘engaged in trade’ as Bartle would say.”
“I only have the faintest idea what those things are,” Felicity said. “Did you think I was flogging off parts of Colin’s inheritance?”
Mabel gasped. “Whoa, maybe that’s where all the stuff has been going.”
Felicity glared at her for a full second before finally cracking a smile. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told,” Mabel said, relieved that Felicity had finally got the joke.
“I haven’t taken anything from the house, although it wouldn’t surprise me if some of the other residents had been doing so,” Felicity said darkly. “Perhaps you should mention that to Colin.”
“I will.”
Their food arrived, and Mabel was slightly disappointed to see that her Welsh rarebit looked remarkably like a regular grilled-cheese sandwich.
It wasn’t until she took her first bite and got the full explosion of flavors, including the beer, that she appreciated the difference.
It took a great deal of will power not to finish half the sandwich in two bites and return to her conversation with Felicity.
“I assume those parcels are full of pages, right?”
“Yes.” Felicity nodded. “We do most of the editing online these days, but I always prefer to see the actual pages at some point.”
“I get that.” Mabel drank some coffee. “Code looks different on the screen and in print.”
“I suppose it does.”
“What do you write?”
A faint hint of rose flushed Felicity’s cheeks. “Romantic comedies.”
“I love those!” Mabel said. “Do you have a pen name?”
Felicity took a deep breath. “Loretta Lang.”
“Shut up!” Mabel might have been louder than she realized because everyone in the teashop looked over at their corner. “I’ve read you! You’re amazing!”
“Really?” Felicity blushed. “Thank you.”
“You’re massive in the U.S.”
“So I’ve been told. My publisher wants me to come out and promote myself, but it’s not really my cup of tea.”
“Why not?”
“Because no one here knows what I write, and they’d probably be horrified if they did.”
“Who cares what they think, when you could be a star?” Mabel asked. “I mean, don’t you want that after putting it all that effort?”
“Not really. I prefer the anonymity.” Felicity glanced down at her plate. “I just like the writing part.”
Mabel considered her. “I can kind of get that, because I love to write code, but I always end up having to be the bridge between the customer and the techies because I’m the most personable.
” She paused. “Well, Joss is probably better at it, but he likes me to do it, which, now that I think about it, actually sucks.”
Felicity was looking at her strangely.
Mabel shrugged. “Sorry. Definitely not your problem.”
“I’m not sure I agree,” Felicity said slowly. “It’s not right that either of us get pushed into doing things we don’t naturally feel comfortable with just to make other people’s lives easier. I think I’ll take a leaf out of your book and ask my editor to back off.”
Mabel nodded in approval before they both started eating again. Eventually Felicity cleared her throat.