Epilogue
Clothes were strewn everywhere: the bed, the floor, hanging on door handles and on the backs of chairs. I was finally packing, not to move house but because I was going on a holiday. Yes, I was going on a holiday! For a month. Two weeks in Cairns with Stacey and co, followed by a fortnight at a Port Douglas resort and spa with Hamish. I was as excited as a six-year-old in the lead-up to Christmas. So was he.
After the holiday I’d return to the flat, but only until Patricia—the owner/operator of Patricia’s Teahouse, formerly Rosie’s Cafe—sold her city unit and the sale of the shop and flat went through. As per Bryan’s prediction, the bank hadn’t been enthusiastic about lending Patricia the money to buy the business and the buildings outright. Initially, she’d been reluctant to sell her unit in Adelaide and that had dragged things out interminably, especially my patience. For a while there, I’d thought I was going to be stuck with the shop and the flat for the foreseeable future. But it was all resolved now and her unit was on the market.
Hamish had asked me to move into East Terrace with him when the flat was no longer mine. There was no pressure, but I liked the idea of Allie and Mia being neighbours. And Hamish and I spent most of our free time together already.
Elliot was doing fine on his own. He had cleaned up his act. The stroke had given him a scare and he’d realised he wasn’t ready to follow Robert just yet. He was taking his medications and had joined a walking group. So had I. Imagine that!
Rosie’s Cafe had closed mid-August, with great fanfare and a few tears, and Patricia’s Teahouse had opened on the first day of spring. Yesterday. Tomorrow, I’d fly off to sunny Queensland for a month. Patricia had kept on all the staff except Liz, and Lorna had resigned. I’d heard on the grapevine, from Mia actually, that Erin had agreed to extend her hours to cover the lunch shifts on Thursdays and Fridays. Mia thought Patricia might be an okay boss, but not as awesome as me. That girl would go far.
Much quicker than I’d ever imagined, Rosie’s Cafe became a thing of the past. If Patricia had kept the name it might have lingered longer, but the moment the new signage went up, I moved on. And I hadn’t had time to miss the routine because I had too many other things to do. Ruth from Rosie’s Cafe was no more!
I’d never regret my time running Rosie’s Cafe but I was thrilled to be rediscovering who I was and who I might become. I had friends and loved ones, I was passionate about many things, full of opinions that, from now on, I wouldn’t be afraid to voice. I was delighted to be embarking on a future filled with countless possibilities. What else could any woman ask for?