Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Beth tucked her blouse into her skirt, then sighed as she stared at her reflection. Sadness hung over her, its weight oppressive and suffocating, but she was determined to talk herself out of the melancholic slump. Today is just like any other day.
She didn’t quite believe it, though.
Focusing on internalising the words, she dropped her gaze to her waistline and frowned. Her shirt wasn’t sitting right. Smoothing her hands over the black cotton fabric, she gave it a few strategic tugs then shrugged. Good enough.
Her mouth pulled down at the corners as she went through the motions, twisting her hair up off her neck and securing it with a clip, slapping on a thin layer of foundation and brushing on some mascara.
When she was done in the bathroom, she padded over to where she’d left her shoes and, feeling like a robot, stepped into the black flats. Certain that she was finally ready, she grabbed her phone and keys, and headed downstairs. It’s just like any other day.
‘Beth?’
She turned at the sound of her name, faltering on the bottom step.
Noah stood in the doorway to the B&B’s sitting room.
He wore black slacks, a black shirt and tie, and dress shoes.
His brow creased as he took in her outfit.
Ellie joined him, her arms wrapped around her middle and her expression void of its usual vibrancy.
She wore a dress, also black, and her entire being drooped, reminding Beth of the chalk drawings in Mary Poppins as they were washed away by the rain.
Ellie glared when she, too, took in Beth’s attire. ‘You’re going to work?’
The logo for the Boomerang Cafe, stitched into the fabric of Beth’s shirt, suddenly weighed a tonne, but she endured the force that threatened to make her crumble to the ground.
She shrugged. ‘Someone has to.’
‘Someone else should!’ Ellie jerked her arms to her chest, crossing them as she unleashed her anger. ‘You should be going to Flo’s funeral. Did you even bother asking Marge for the day off?’
‘Elle,’ Noah warned, though his voice was sapped of all energy.
‘No!’ Ellie turned on him. ‘She’s barely left that room since it happened, refused to speak to anyone, even though we’ve made it abundantly clear that we’re here for her, and now, today of all days, she chooses to go back to work?’
Beth lifted her chin, obstinate. ‘Marge knew Flo longer than I did. She has more right to pay her respects than me. And everyone else has covered enough shifts for me lately.’
‘That’s a shitty excuse, Beth, and you know it. Tom’s closing the kitchen, for god’s sakes! And I’m sure the tourists can get their bloody coffee somewhere else for one damn day.’
Beth held her ground but said nothing. She certainly wasn’t going to admit that she’d begged Marge to let her open the cafe.
Noah murmured something to Ellie, who huffed, rolled her eyes and headed back into the sitting room, leaving disgust and disappointment in her wake.
Beth clamped her teeth together and prayed Noah didn’t notice her chin trembling.
He stepped into the entry hall and she recoiled, realising belatedly that they were now alone. She couldn’t be alone with him. Her feeble attempts at stoicism would not withstand the sympathy she knew he’d dish out if she let him.
Noah studied her closely, as if expecting her to bolt the first chance she got. To be fair, she was planning to do just that, except he stood between her and freedom.
‘Beth.’ His tone was careful, his gaze watchful. ‘I think you should reconsider coming to the funeral. You need to say goodbye. I can only imagine the regret—’
‘I’m going to be late.’ Spinning on her heel, she headed for the kitchen, narrowly avoided a collision with the island bench, and burst through the back door, unable to take a breath until she stepped outside.
Sunlight and fresh air slapped her in the face. Just like any other day.
Except it wasn’t. Because today was the day that everyone in town would gather to say goodbye to one of their own, one of Karlup’s longest-standing residents.
But she couldn’t attend. The idea of being one of many at Flo’s funeral made her feel physically ill.
She’d feel as if she had to hold it together, contain her emotions, when all she wanted to do was scream and cry and shout about the unfairness of losing yet another family member. Because Flo had been family.
Beth had no recollection of her father’s funeral, if he’d had one, and she’d been the only one at Rosie’s farewell because they’d had no one else in their lives—they’d only had each other.
But Flo … everyone in town had loved her, and if Beth were among the mourners, she’d feel as if she were on display.
So, instead, she’d decided to work. And if the cafe happened to be quiet, she’d spend some time out on the deck, where she could soak up the sun, feel the breeze and listen to the sound of the rustling leaves. Just as she’d done when she’d first arrived in town.
But shame followed her as she walked down the street. Ellie’s frustration had been obvious. Beth had never been on the receiving end of her hostility and it scared the hell out of her.
And then there was Noah, ready, as always, to be her rock. Willing to be the voice of reason. But she’d turned her back on him and walked away. Who knew what he thought of her now? She wouldn’t blame him if he finally decided to give up on her.
Self-loathing ate away at her, bubbling in her veins like acid. Because thanks to the way her stupid brain worked, she was unable to communicate her feelings. As a result, Ellie had no doubt lost all respect for her and Noah’s patience had probably, finally, run its course.
Reaching the cafe, she unlocked the door, stepped inside and sank into the nearest chair, utterly defeated.
She really should’ve known that her new life in Karlup was too good to be true.
Stupidly, she’d thought she’d finally found the place she belonged.
Thought she’d gained a family and people who loved her.
But she’d blown it. Flo was gone and it was only a matter of time before Ellie and Noah ditched her.
In coming here, she’d let her guard down, dismantled the walls she’d erected around her heart one brick at a time. If she were to survive, she needed to build them back up. As a matter of priority.
And to do that, she’d need distance.
Half an hour, she decided. She’d give customers half an hour to show up. If they didn’t, she’d close the cafe and head back to the B&B. The funeral would’ve started by then, so she’d be free to pack up her stuff and move out with no judgement from anyone.