Chapter Twenty – Rose #2
It was offensive to call stupid people stupid, apparently. I didn’t agree—how else would they know they were in the presence of greatness if I didn’t announce myself?
“On a serious note…” Eleanor cradled her mug and looked into it. “Oliver isn’t a bad person, dear. He’s making what I think is a very bad decision, but—”
“I know,” I said. “He has his reasons. I don’t disagree with that, Eleanor. I understand perfectly why he’s doing it. I just don’t like it, and I’m going to keep fighting it.”
“As is your prerogative.” She smiled gently and met my eyes. “I wasn’t playing with you when I said you’re under Oliver’s skin, and I don’t believe it’s just because you’re making a nuisance of yourself and making his life hard.”
“Thank you. I take that as a compliment.”
Her eyes twinkled with laughter. “Honestly, dear, I think he likes you.”
“Well, if those words aren’t nightmare fuel, I don’t know what is.”
“Rose…”
I couldn’t have this conversation right now.
I finished my coffee and softly set down the mug.
“Eleanor, I appreciate that you mean well when you say that, but if you tell me you aren’t going to meddle, then please keep your word.
Our relationship is… complicated, I admit, but it’ll never be defined the way you wish it to be.
Regardless of whatever feelings one of us may or may not possess for the other, he’s still destroying the place I love most in the world.
Some things can’t be forgiven, and for me, selling the allotments is one of those.
A part of me will always resent that, and I’m unwilling to subject myself or a partner to a relationship where even a sliver of resentment is present. ”
I got to my feet, and she sighed heavily. “I was afraid you were going to say that. I like you, Rose, and I just don’t want to see either of you hurt by the lines you’ve blurred.”
I smiled bitterly, grabbing my bag. “You’re right. Both of us are far too old to be playing around. Don’t worry—when it comes down to it, the only one who’ll be hurt is me.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Thank you for the coffee, but I have to get going or Louis Carpenter will skin me alive.” With that, I turned away from her and headed out of the cafe.
Well, that was what I got for thinking a de Havilland would make my day better.
Historically speaking, I really should have known better.
“This is the recommended setup,” Deb said, handing me a sheet of paper. “Your mum really helped us out. The council were against expanding the fair, but she laid down the law and they ultimately gave us permission.”
I winced. If my mother had laid down the law, then she was practically running this town like a mafia lord now.
The woman was a master of deceit—everyone thought she was a kind, sweet lady always willing to lend a hand, but she was actually a rabid bull who had no qualms about breaking down a door or two to get what she wanted.
And, really, everyone was surprised that there was a jail cell with my name on it.
No wonder the woman never bailed me out. She was probably afraid she’d get thrown in there with me for blackmail or something.
An excellent point.
What did she have on the mayor to get her own way?
Hmm .
“Do we really have this many vendors interested in coming?” I asked Deb, scanning the list.
“Yes!” She practically bounced on her heels, and for a moment, I feared she’d put her hip out or something.
“Some business owners from nearby towns are aware of what’s happening, and many entrepreneurs expressed their willingness to help us and signed up.
One of them is even one of those influency people on that app where you discuss Waffles’ sex life, and she’s going to help us spread awareness. ”
That was one way to describe my Instagram account.
“It’s a shame it isn’t the time for our naked calendar,” I mused.
“Well, she does run yoga classes, so she’s offering some during the craft fair.”
First, it was just a fruit and vegetable stall.
Then, it was local businesses and artists.
Now, there were yoga classes.
Were we organising a market or a summer festival?
Something told me I really shouldn’t voice that particular question, lest I jinx it.
It wouldn’t surprise me if we ended up with a week-long soiree, complete with a bucking bull ride, giant noughts and crosses, and candy bloody floss stalls.
Two knocks sounded at the open door followed by a very unwelcome, “Am I interrupting?”
I narrowed my eyes and swung my attention towards the interloper. “If you have to ask, then the answer is yes.”
Oliver cocked his head to the side. “Forgive me, but you appear rather confused by whatever it is you’re looking at.”
“Well, at this very moment, I find myself confused by your appearance,” I replied, quickly turning my back on him. “I guess we’ll just roll with it,” I said to Deb, handing her back the list. “Are you still all right to co-ordinate all this? If you need some help—”
She waved her hand, cutting me off. “I’ve got your mum, and my daughter is giving me a hand, although she did wonder if we could get goats for the yoga.”
“You’ll have to ask the yoga lady. I’m afraid I’m more of a chicken girl. Though if anyone has planned a petting zoo, I’d be happy to offer up the gang.”
Deb tapped her chin. “The bread rolls would be a great addition for the kids. I’ll see what I can do!”
“That wasn’t a request!” I called after her as she quickly ran away, pausing only to stare intimidatingly up at Oliver on her way out of the door.
He glanced over his shoulder, pointing in her direction. “Is she… okay?”
“She’s fine. She just dislikes you immensely,” I said brightly. “To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit?”
“I need to visit a garden centre.”
“Hollyhock Garden Centre, fourteen-point-seven miles away as the crow flies, open seven days a week from eighty thirty a.m. until six p.m., except on Sundays, when it’s ten ’til four per the law,” I reeled off. “Off you pop.”
He slowly ran his tongue over his teeth, staring at me blankly. “Could you come with me?”
“I could.”
“Now?”
“I said I could, not that I would.”
Oliver sighed. “Would you come with me?”
“I would, but I never said that I will.”
“For the love of God, Rose.”
“You’re the one not asking the right question, Oliver.”
“Never mind asking, I’m half-tempted to haul you into the car and take you no matter what you say.”
I clicked my pen and put it back in the pot. “That would be kidnapping, and that’s against the law.”
“As if anyone who kidnapped you would be successful. Kidnappers wouldn’t charge a ransom for you go home, they’d pay it.”
I held out my hands. “If you’re the kidnapper, I’ll pay my own bloody ransom.”
“I’ll replace the watering can I broke the other day.”
“Damn right you will. I want one of those nice metal ones, not some cheap plastic shite.”
“Like the one you had?”
“Like the one you broke,” I corrected him.
He ran his hand through his hair and briefly looked away. “Fine. Will you come with me, please?”
“Ooh, a please. That’s new,” I teased, getting up. “Luckily for you, I need to go there anyway. It’s time to restock for the nursery, so another pair of arms will be helpful.”
I skipped over to where he was standing, somehow both exhausted and dumbfounded at the same time.
“What on Earth possessed me to ask you for help?” he mumbled, pushing away from the doorframe.
“Momentary burst of genius? Temporary insanity? Inexplicably missing me?”
He snorted, then shook his head. “You’re right. It’s been a couple of days. Maybe I did miss you a little.”
I pulled out my phone and opened the browser. “Huh.”
“What are you doing?” He took my phone from me, squinting as we stepped outside. “Nearest comedy club? What are you looking that up for?”
“You said maybe you did miss me.” I plucked my phone back from his grasp. “I was going to book you a slot, because you’re a real comedian.” I sighed, tucking it into my pocket. “Come on, then. Jump in.”
He eyed Ramona. “In that thing?”
How. Rude.
“I formally revoke your Ramona privileges,” I said, making her beep and flash her lights with one push of the key fob. “Guess I’ll meet you there.”