Chapter Twenty-Seven
Edie peered up at Mike, and though she was a head shorter than him, this obviously didn’t faze her in the slightest. He wasn’t sure what to make of Edie. Her house was . . . well, it was bright orange, a colour he mentally referred to as nuclear Irn Bru. There were at least twenty wind chimes hung about the place, causing a good amount of ruckus even though it wasn’t very windy today. She seemed a little eccentric, but Sophie thought the world of her, and that was enough for him.
‘I’m not sure I like you much right now,’ Edie said, her mouth pressed into a thin line.
‘I’m not sure I like me much either right now,’ Mike said, raising his voice to be heard over the wind chimes as the breeze gusted. ‘But I need some help.’
Edie didn’t unfold at that; her arms stayed crossed, her chin up. ‘And why should I give it?’
‘Because I’m hoping that, in the long run, it will be good for Sophie.’
Edie dissected him with her gaze. ‘If you’re not out-of-your-mind, head over heels in love with my friend, you’re not stepping past this threshold. So let’s hear it.’
‘Whatever I am is for Sophie’s ears,’ Mike said, and as he moved forward, Edie stepped back, letting him into her home.
It was . . . not what he’d expected. While the outside was jarring to every one of his senses, the inside was beautifully put together. Whatever else Edie was, she had an artist’s eye. ‘You have a lovely home.’
She smirked. ‘Surprised?’
Mike considered denying it out of politeness but decided that Edie wouldn’t appreciate that. ‘Yes.’
‘The outside has been temporarily sacrificed to an ongoing feud with my neighbour,’ she said, leading him into the kitchen. She filled a kettle and flicked it on, leaning against the counter. ‘Okay then, let’s hear your pitch.’
By the time Mike had finished explaining his idea, they were seated at a cosy kitchen table, their mugs empty, and Edie was no longer watching him like she was considering where to bury his corpse.
She frowned thoughtfully down at her empty mug. ‘You’re going to need my help, obviously.’
‘I would love it, yes, but I’d understand if you’re hesitant. I’ll of course pay for the costs.’ Mike did have some savings – and a credit card – if push came to shove.
Edie waved her hand. ‘I could use a holiday anyway.’ She tapped her fingers on the table quietly as she thought. ‘What will you do if she doesn’t want to play?’
Mike swallowed hard at that thought, Edie unknowingly voicing his fear. He let out a long, slow breath. ‘Then I’ll know where I stand. At least then I’ll know I didn’t walk away – that I tried.’
Edie smiled at him then – it was small, and close-lipped, but it was a smile. She held out a hand. ‘Okay, Mike. I’m in.’
He took it, laughing, as he gave her small hand a shake. ‘Thank you, Edie.’
She shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t thank me yet. It’s up to Sophie now.’
‘I know,’ Mike said, feeling so much lighter now. ‘But I’m thankful nonetheless.’
Sophie nodded, rapping her knuckles on the table. ‘I’d better go and pack. Oh, and Mike – do be a dear and go out in the back garden and turn on all of the bubble machines for me? My neighbour is working outside today and if I’m going away, I need to get in some last volleys before we leave.’