Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAISIE
“Okay, turn just a little.”
Vera took her chin an inch more towards her shoulder, and the stack of three daisies dangling from her left ear caught the ring light just right.
“Perfect,” Maisie said, taking another few photos on her phone.
She’d managed to finish up the daisy earrings on Saturday evening after soaking her tired hips in a well-deserved bubble bath, adding gold loops and post studs to form a dangling chain of three. Florals usually sold well in her spring collections – no surprise there – so she’d made up thirty sets of daisies to go with the tulips, wildflowers, bunnies, and boho geometric styled sets she’d pre-made so far.
“We’re done. Thank you for modelling for me.”
“You’re welcome, sweet pea.” Vera removed the earring and held it across her palm. “I just know that some of the girls you met on Saturday would love these.”
“Well they could always come over to look through my stock. It’d make more sense than buying through my website.” Maisie carefully took the earring back and attached it with the other in the pair to its backing card, printed with outlined florals and ‘ Maisie By Design’ written across the top.
Sometimes when a box of packaging supplies arrived with her brand cutely designed all over them, she couldn’t believe it – that her little hand-made shop had come this far at all. The online market was saturated with talented crafters; she’d never expected for people to want to buy her jewellery. And now here she was, shipping orders all over the world. It was insane, really. But Maisie was proud of herself for what she’d steadily created over the last eight years.
“I’ll mention it. We could organise an evening,” Vera said breezily as she swept through the room and dropped down onto her settee. “Speaking of friends and Saturday … ”
Maisie sensed in the marrow of her bones what was coming. She busied herself with dismantling the photoshoot set-up that cluttered the dining table, purposefully avoiding Vera’s feline smirk. There was only one direction that this conversation was going to take.
“Iain texted to ask me about you today.”
Texted? That was adjacent to what Maisie expected but still it shocked her. A fireball burst within her chest at the mention of Iain’s name, but she refused to acknowledge what that meant just yet.
Okay, act casual. “He did?” More casual than that . She cleared her throat. “About what?”
“He wondered how your bum was feeling after the nettle incident.”
Maisie doubted Iain would be so direct. It’d been like plucking hairs trying to draw out details about his life at first, until a comment about guys having gentle contact had cracked a piece of his steel-wrapped shell. That joke had been daring, even for her.
“He didn’t actually say that, did he?”
“Well not in so many words, but it was implied.”
Right, now don’t overthink this. Though grouchy enough to rival the Grinch, Iain had slowed himself down to her pace and checked numerous times if she was alright on that hike, barely half an hour after meeting her – if falling into someone’s arms and catching them could be classed as ‘meeting’? He hadn’t acted like he’d been forced to keep her company or talk to her, so why would those courtesies not extend to texting her grandma days after the fact for a check in?
Of course, this was all an assumption that he had texted Vera at all. Maisie wouldn’t put it past her to stir up trouble … again.
If Iain really did want to know, well then her arse was still tender from falling flat into that thicket of stinging nettles. Maisie didn’t know what was wrong with her nervous system that she hadn’t realised it at first. Maybe her reaction had been delayed by the very rare shot of adrenaline to her blood from propelling herself downhill?
Her blisters were the size of melons.
Her knees had officially died.
Was it possible to bruise a boob?
Maisie’s pride was wounded more than she was. At least she’d caught the plastic wrapper though, which is what had mattered most.
“Are you blushing?” Vera pressed.
“No. I’m warm. Too many layers.”
Too many thoughts of Iain when she’d been stretched out at his feet, looking up at him with his stupidly green eyes and infuriatingly good beard. The man had done the bare minimum of kindness to another human being and she was getting all hot and bothered. That said a lot about her shrivelled-up dating life.
“Iain is a nice man,” Vera said dreamily. “ Quiet , but good to all of us in the group. And very handsome too.”
Maisie wasn’t going to comment or agree or do anything to suggest that she might like the rough-edged gentleman more than she should. “What did you respond to his text with?”
“Your phone number.”
“Nain!”
“I am joking, Moo Moo.” Vera laughed. “I answered that you were well, and implied that texting you himself would be better. I am guessing that he hasn’t or else you wouldn’t look so shocked.”
Right then, Maisie’s phone began to ring on the table.
Vera jumped to her feet like she’d sat on a cactus. “ Ooo, I bet that’s him! He must have finished work. Answer him.”
What the— Maisie grabbed the vibrating phone before Vera could get any closer, outwardly relieved to see that they hadn’t summoned the Grinch.
“It’s my friend, Faye. The one who’s opening the bakery in Manchester. Sorry, I’m just going to …” She jumped at the chance to grab her cardigan from a dining chair and dash through the kitchen. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear your voice,” she said all at once as she stepped out into the garden. It was a short, thin sort of thing, mostly paved-over for convenience, that Vera had arranged plant pots with tiny shrubs around the edges of.
“I’ve missed you too, Maise.” Faye’s smile carried through her voice.
Maisie sat down on a bench beneath a few dangling, solar powered lanterns, the salty breeze from the ocean reaching her even here as they caught up with one another. “What’s your new flat like?” she asked.
“Bigger than what I had in London.” Faye only moved into it yesterday. “I have a kitchen that’s separate to my living room, now. And my sofa no longer smells like a takeaway.”
“Small wins, take them.”
Faye chuckled. “I will.”
“And how are things with you and Bash?” Maisie pried as she crossed one ankle over the other, still giddy over how her best friends had started dating recently.
She could hear the contented smile in Faye’s voice. “It’s early days, but it’s really, really good, Maise.”
“There’s no such thing as ‘early days’ when you’ve known each other for eleven years, Faye.”
“It’s different now. I’m allowed to touch him and not pull my hand away, and I get giddy doing it.”
Ugh. They were an adorable couple who’d finally taken the blinders from around their eyes and seen what was right in front of them: that they’d been in love with one another for a decade with only their shared group of friends telling them about it. After a romp to Bash’s family home for Christmas when Faye was otherwise going to have been in London by herself, they’d gotten together, and years of held back feelings had been released, resulting in one of the best love stories Maisie had ever seen.
Ever since Faye got together with Bash, she’d been like a new woman. So much happier than she already was. Maisie would have to have an ice-cold heart to not even be a little jealous of being seen and heard the way that Bash understood Faye’s every emotional need. And from what she’d been told, Faye’s physical needs were being well taken care of, too.
“Bash is staying here for the week,” Faye said. “He’s gone off to do some grocery shopping while I’m supposed to be figuring out how to hang up this shelving unit I’ve bought for the shower.” A disgruntled sound travelled down the phone. “It’s not going well.”
“I believe in you.”
“Thank you. So what’s it like living with your grandma?”
They made conversation about Maisie’s new living situation for ten minutes, recounting how many times Vera had simply walked in on her naked without apology, and how Mister Roberts gave her the side-eye as if she wasn’t the one to have been the apple of Vera’s eye first, albeit twenty-nine years ago.
“Have you met anyone new yet?” Faye asked.
Maisie tucked herself within her chunky knit cardigan. “There’s this … guy.”
Faye dropped something with a clank . “Tell me – everything .”
This is what Maisie missed: getting to gossip with Faye and Sienna too over cheesecake and wine about guys they’d had two seconds of interaction with.
She glanced towards the kitchen window to make sure that Vera wasn’t on the other side eavesdropping. Instead, Mister Roberts sat on the sill glaring at her like usual. She narrowed her eyes for a second in return.
“He’s the only one roughly my age in Nain’s hiking group she signed me up for. And he’s … He’s nice. He has a dog.”
“Is that it?” Faye wasn’t impressed.
“What else do you want me to say?”
“What does he look like? What does he do? What’s his name ?”
Maisie raised her eyes to the night sky. “His name is Iain. He definitely works out, and he said he plays rugby. Dark hair. Green eyes. Beard.” It was like reeling off his dating profile.
“Good beard?”
“Very good beard.” She realised after she’d said so that it’d been with a smile on her lips.
“Welsh?”
“Definitely.”
“Have you Googled him yet?”
“Is that a euphemism?”
“Not in this case.”
Maisie nibbled on the inside of her cheek. Should she look him up? Was that a complete violation of the acquaintance they’d made?
Nah. Standard practice once a guy had had his hands on your waist.
“I’m going to my computer, hang on.”
Loveable, affable Faye was a bad influence.
Maisie slipped into the kitchen and peeked into the living room. Vera wasn’t there on the sofa, or anywhere else in the room, in fact. A vague shuffling above her meant she had to be quick. The last thing she needed was gossiping Vera seeing her looking Iain up online.
She slid into her seat and tapped at her keyboard. “I’m back.”
“You never said where he works,” Faye mentioned.
Maisie kept her voice as low as she could. “At a kitchen and bathroom place, but he hates it.”
“If he lived in London I could see if Bash knew of anything available like that.” Faye’s boyfriend owned a luxury interior design firm with his friend, Bennet. “Are you Googling him yet?”
She was on the web browser, a blank screen and empty search bar staring back at her. “I don’t know his last name.”
“How many kitchen and bathroom places could there be nearby?”
Her nails tapped on the keyboard for a minute. “Three within a few miles.”
“So what are you waiting for?”
“This feels like we’re breaching into stalker territory,” Maisie said.
“This isn’t illegal. You’re not digging up any personal information.”
Who was this woman, and what had she done with Faye?
Maisie closed the tab with a resolute click. “You know what, no. I’m just going to ask him what his last name is the next time I see him.”
She could practically hear Faye’s eyebrows wiggling. “Next time, huh?”
Ah nuts. “They hike every week.”
Unfortunately Maisie had to miss out this next Saturday. So tragic, she knew. But Vera’s friend’s granddaughter’s flat was going up for lease that morning and she wanted to be the first one there for an official viewing.
“You could do what I did the first time I walked with Bash and his family?” Faye suggested.
The moving of feet upstairs sounded suspiciously like they’d made their way to the landing, which meant that in two seconds they’d continue down the stairs. Maisie absolutely couldn’t be heard talking about this. Vera would be like a dog with a bone if she caught wind that she had even the tiniest interest in Iain.
She thought weightless thoughts as she rose and tiptoed back outside.
“I am not falling off of a stile just so that he can catch me,” she said once she was safe from prying ears, recalling what had happened on Faye’s first family walk with Bash.
“It hadn’t been intentional, Maise, but it was thrilling.”
“He’s already caught me once.”
“When were you going to tell me that!”
“I slipped on the steps of the minibus, and he was behind me. In fairness, I wouldn’t have almost fallen if his dog hadn’t ripped my pastry from my hand.”
“Is his dog cute?”
“Ted is … Ted is Iain in dog form.”
“I’ll pretend that that makes sense.”
Maisie popped herself back down on the bench. “Have you ever looked at Bash next to an animal and thought they were alike?”
“I would put him between a golden retriever and a teddy bear.”
“Then you know what I mean,” she said.
“What do you think to asking Iain out?”
“I mean … he definitely flirted a little.” Which was thrilling. “But I didn’t come here to start dating someone, you know that.”
“I know. But I’ve also learned recently that if something good is right in front of you, then you shouldn’t push it away.” Listening to her friend, Maisie sighed. “If you like Iain, then I’ll like him too. I trust your judgement in men. You might have to convince Bash, though, and Freddy will definitely want to look him in the eye.”
Their boys had always been protective.
“And Sienna?” Maisie wondered.
Faye hummed in thought. “She’ll probably undress him with her eyes, first.”
Would it be such a bad thing if Maisie did, maybe, have the teeniest, tiniest interest in Iain? It might not even be romantic. Some of the things that he’d said – more so what he didn’t say – made her want to peel him like an onion. A strange compulsion to feel, but she was rolling with it.
What was the thing that made his frown soften away? That was her biggest question. Maisie refused to believe that he looked so done with the world all of the time, every day. Unfortunately for him, she came from London – scowl central city of the United Kingdom. His moody glare didn’t phase her.
He was nothing like the men who’d caught her attention before. Maybe her seven-month drought had been too long and her body was taking matters into its own hands? Like a compass pinning ‘north’ on the first male she had any form of prolonged interaction with and deciding that he was where the arrow would point.
They ended the call half an hour later with Faye telling her the plans for the next week of renovations at the new bakery before Bash came home with their groceries and she had to go.
“Moo Moo, you’ll catch a chill!” Her nain’s voice carried from inside.
Maisie was done with her phone call anyway, so she came back to the warmth of the kitchen to find Vera digging around in the always-stocked biscuit barrel, though it was the new box of random items on the kitchen counter that caught her eye.
“What are these things?”
“Hm?” Vera’s eyes darted over and then swiftly away to the chocolate bourbons in her hand. “Oh, just some things I’m going to take to the charity shop tomorrow.”
Maisie lifted one of the cardboard flaps and peered inside. The repurposed box just held things : ornaments, books, empty picture frames. “Do you want me to drive you? It’s a lot to carry.”
“Don’t worry, lamb, Ronnie is picking me up.” Vera patted her arm as she passed through to the living room. “You have work to do.”
“Okay. So long as you’re not carrying anything with your wrist.”
“ Pfft . My wrist is fine. That doctor is just being a worry wart.”
He wasn’t the only one.