Chapter 4 Faye #2
“It’s not you – I don’t want you to go. I haven’t been alone with any man apart from Ian in my room since I was eighteen. It feels strange,” she admitted without thinking. It unnerved her how easy it was to talk to him.
“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.” Peter winked, breaking the tension.
Faye rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, silently thanking him for putting her at ease. Peter manoeuvred around her and the paint cans to get to the windowsill.
“Sorry about ruining your paintwork. I’ll try to be as neat as I can.”
“The paintwork is the least of my concerns,” she said, watching as he scorched the same two symbols from the stairs on either side of the windowsill. Faye felt a new sense of peace, knowing her new home was secure – or that at least she had some fail-safes to help her escape if needed.
“That should do it.” Peter handed her the blowtorch. He looked around the bright yellow walls she had finished decorating with floral wallpaper behind her bed’s headboard. “I like what you’ve done with the place. I didn’t know you had such a love for flowers.”
“Leaving the cottage means leaving my garden, and since I don’t have a garden here, I thought I’d bring the flowers inside.
I’ve nearly finished painting and hanging up the wallpaper.
Mrs Stoker has been using the place as storage since she moved out in the seventies to live with her husband.
It took me weeks to help her move all her things out, dust, and make the place liveable.
There was some wood staining, but I got a few rugs to cover the worst of it,” she said, unsure why she was giving him a history lesson about the place.
“I saw the wallpaper at Mrs Crawford’s flower shop, and she had some left over that she was willing to part with.
I couldn’t exactly go around town buying new furniture. ”
Peter stared at her with a soft smile, letting her ramble on.
“Sorry, I’m talking your ear off. I just haven’t been able to talk to anyone about the place.
Do you think the floral wallpaper is too much?
” she asked, trying to cover her embarrassment.
She hadn’t had much freedom to decorate the cottage.
Ian liked minimalism. The only creative freedom she’d had was in the kitchen and the garden.
“No, I like the bold colours. A bit like being in a flower-filled fever dream.”
“That’s a good thing?” she chuckled. She’d never enjoyed a fever dream.
“I think so.” He smiled, something she could get used to seeing.
“I’d thought you’d be more into black,” she teased.
“Very funny.” His eyes were fixed on hers, like he could see through her soul.
“How about some coffee for the road?” Faye asked, wanting to give him something for his hard work.
“I’d love some. After you.” Peter gestured, following her out of her room.
In the main café, Faye turned on the coffee machine while Peter waited at one of the tables. She felt his eyes on her, and she had to say something. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Black.”
“Funny.” She opened the fridge to remove some of the cupcakes and pies she had prepared for the display case. “These are for you.” She brought him a to-go cup of steaming black coffee and half a dozen Devil’s food chocolate cupcakes in a box. “My way of saying thank you.”
She sat across from him with her own cup of tea and a blueberry and white chocolate muffin. Nurse Jackie was right about feeling a little woozy, but the sugar and carbs would soon correct that.
“You’ve thanked me enough,” Peter said, but he opened the box. “My favourite,” he mumbled, taking a big bite.
“I know. You order one every time you come in.” Faye bit her lip to hide her amusement as he got chocolate frosting on his nose. Peter frowned when she offered him a napkin and motioned to her nose.
“I wasn’t just thanking you for today,” Faye confessed. If she didn’t thank him now, she might not get the chance again. “Thank you for getting Ian the job in Clover’s Pub in Willow Valley. I also know you convinced Mrs Stoker to give me a chance here. You’ve no idea how much you’ve helped me.”
Peter stopped chewing and suddenly found the table fascinating.
“You should be thanking Benedict,” he lied, putting down the cupcake and wiping his nose.
“Nice deflecting, but I’m thanking the right person.” Faye shook her head.
He hesitated.
“Benedict told you.” He huffed. “I knew he couldn’t stop himself. He’s always been a terrible liar.”
“Benedict didn’t tell me a thing. He didn’t have to.
” Faye smirked. “I figured it out myself. You used your ability as a Reaper to make yourself look like Benedict, and used his pull in town to convince Mrs Stoker to hire me. When Mrs Stoker reached out to me about the job, she told me that Benedict had come in complimenting my Devil’s food cake.
He even gave her a slice to convince her of my skills.
I only made that cake for your mum on your anniversary.
” She felt slightly awkward bringing up the anniversary of his death.
Peter shrugged, finishing his cupcake. “So? Benedict could’ve brought her a slice.”
“He told Mrs Stoker it was his favourite. We both know Benedict’s not a big fan of chocolate and that his favourite has always been my pumpkin pie.
When we were in school, you always bought all my chocolate cupcakes during the bake sale,” Faye went on.
“All I had was a suspicion; that day I picked up both of you on the side of the road, I tested my theory. I thanked Benedict for the job, and he had no clue what I was talking about.”
“I didn’t realise you were a baker and a detective,” Peter said, closing the lid on the box of cupcakes.
“Why would you want me to believe it was Benedict? I only wanted to thank you,” Faye said, her voice filled with her profound gratitude. “This job means the world to me, and I never would’ve had the confidence to apply myself, let alone become the owner.”
Peter hesitated, and she could see the hint of fear in his eyes.
“I’m not supposed to intervene in the lives of the living.” His words were quiet and cautious.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it stays between us,” Faye promised. “Along with everything else you’ve done for me.” She appreciated him stretching the rules to help her. She owed him far more than six cupcakes.
“It wasn’t for entirely selfless reasons.” Peter smirked.
“Oh, really?”
“You working here also means I get my favourite treats when I pass through town.”
Faye laughed. “I’m flattered.”
“Anyway, I should get going. Let you open up before your loyal customers start banging down the door for their morning hit,” Peter said, getting up. She wondered if his sudden discomfort was because of her praise.
“I’ll see you around,” Faye said, unsure what else to say.
It wasn’t like he lived in Foxford. Did Reapers have homes?
Maybe he lived in the Matherson Manor now that Benedict had moved in with Lucinda.
Despite her curiosity, it felt rude to ask.
Telling him to have a nice day also felt wrong, considering his job involved collecting the souls of dead people.
“Count on it,” Peter said, with a devious glint in his eye.
Watching him go with his cupcakes tucked under his arm, she wondered if he was flirting, but quickly dismissed the thought. Peter was just being Peter.
Time to open the café for the caffeine-deprived residents, she thought, when a sudden strong smell of pastries caused her to hurry into the kitchen to take out the bakes on the cusp of burning.