Chapter 22
GRETA’S EYES WERE crusted from last night’s make-up. Her evening dress was wrapped so tightly around her legs she felt like an Egyptian mummy. She kicked her legs to release them.
For the briefest moment, she was disappointed to find she was still in Mapleville.
Shouldn’t she have woken up back in Iris’s coffee shop by now?
She’d expected the awards ceremony to be the final act, the curtain call to send her home, but the overpowering scent of Maple Gold in the hotel room told her otherwise.
She glanced around, taking in her luxurious surroundings. The vast bed would fit at least six people lying side by side, and the carpet was as soft as cashmere. The dressing table curved like a polished mahogany coffee bean. Yet it all felt impersonal, even ostentatious.
Come on, Greta. Lighten up. Enjoy this amazing place.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the tightness in her calves from standing in heels all night. Her stilettoes lay on the floor.
Spotting a note that had been slipped under the door, she padded over to pick it up.
I didnt want to wake you. Fancy a family game of minigolf in the park with me and Lottie this morning?
Love Jim x
The invitation lifted her mood. After the extravaganza of yesterday’s award ceremony, spending a normal day with her family was exactly what she needed.
Somehow, the dress she’d slept in overnight unzipped effortlessly, as if elves had popped in to grease the zip. She found a selection of pastel dresses and shoes waiting for her in the wardrobe.
By the time Greta had showered, dressed, eaten a croissant she’d discovered on a tray in her room, and arrived at the park, she felt more like her best self again.
Jim and Lottie were already waiting for her on the mini-golf course.
Lottie was dressed in her pink plaid skirt suit and held a bright pink golf ball in her hand.
Jim stood beside her wearing a white polo shirt and cream slacks, casually twirling a club between his fingers.
‘Hi.’ He waved with a welcoming smile on his face.
Greta gave each of them a hug, holding on for longer than she intended to. ‘I missed you both so much last night. I tried to reach you, but there were too many people around.’
‘That’s okay,’ Jim said, kissing her forehead. ‘We know you were busy, and we’re so proud of you.’
‘You’re an inspiration, Mum,’ Lottie added, squeezing Greta’s hand.
They were things her family would never usually say, and Greta relished the words, holding them close.
She teed off first, watching as her ball soared through the air, toward a miniature windmill. It clipped the edge of a sail, bounced off, and then dropped straight into the hole. ‘Hole in one,’ she cheered, throwing her arms in the air.
Jim lined up his shot next, sending the ball sweeping across the turf. It disappeared into a pyramid and emerged on the other side, wobbling briefly before also sinking into a hole. He smiled and performed a bow. ‘Your turn, Lottie,’ he said. ‘Keep up the good work.’
Lottie stepped up, her eyes sharp with concentration. She sent her ball straight through a clown’s mouth. It bounced off the edge of the course before she scored a hole in one, too. ‘Luck must run in the Perk’s family,’ she said with a triumphant smile.
As the three of them moved from one hole to the next, their shots landed with precision each time, as if the universe was helping with their aim.
After a while, Greta leaned on her club and examined her scorecard. ‘Why can’t we lose?’
‘Why would we want to?’ Jim said.
‘Because sometimes losing is more fun. Life can be dull without challenge. When you fail, you learn from it.’
Jim stared at her. ‘Surely the objective of any game is to win.’
‘Not always,’ Greta said, picking up the ball and rolling it between her palms. ‘When you’re not focused on winning, you notice other moments that matter more.’
She paused and frowned, letting her own words sink in. Why hadn’t she seen things this way before?
Her gaze flicked to Jim, the man she’d loved for so long.
This version of him was different, but not entirely.
So much of him was still the same. His eyelashes curled at the tips, and his lips were as kissably plump as ever.
He still had a tiny mole on his top lip, and a gap in his eyebrow that she used to like tracing with her fingers.
It had been so long since she’d done that.
And suddenly, she was done with waiting.
Her heartbeat thrummed softly in her chest as she stepped toward him.
Jim didn’t move. He just watched her as if waiting to see what she’d do next.
Reaching up, Greta gently traced her fingers along his jaw. He leaned into her touch, and her belly flooded with heat. She slid her other arm around his back, drawing him closer. Their bodies fitted together with ease, and the familiar sparkle in his eyes made her heart ache in the best way.
Jim’s lips curved into a surprised smile. ‘Well, hi,’ he murmured.
‘Hi, honey,’ Greta whispered back.
Birds sang in the distance and butterflies flitted around them, as if this was a scene from a Walt Disney film. Time seemed to stand still as they held each other, both lost in the moment.
Their lips drifted closer.
Greta could feel the heat from Jim’s fingertips through her dress and hear the quickening of his breath. Her pulse raced in anticipation.
But then . . . a long whistle broke the spell. ‘Mum. Dad. Get a room,’ Lottie called out with a laugh.
Jim and Greta pulled apart, their eyes still drinking each other in.
A kiss would have to wait. She pressed her cheek to his chest, laughing and holding him tight.
Knowing, hoping, there would be many other moments like this.
Everything here felt right. So long as her family were by her side, she was truly home.
After finishing the game of golf, Jim and Greta held hands and strolled with Lottie to a pleasant spot in the park where a large checked picnic blanket lay on the grass.
Millie and Jefferson already lounged there, surrounded by a glorious spread of food.
Sandwiches were stacked with precision in neat triangles, fruit glistened, and a coffee-and-walnut cake was cut into neat slices.
A large silver Thermos took pride of place.
‘Hi, fancy seeing you here,’ Jim said.
‘Well, hello there, neighbour,’ Jefferson replied. ‘What a glorious day.’
‘My, you look beautiful today, Greta,’ Millie added, her own clothes and make-up as immaculate as ever. ‘You must join us for lunch. There’s plenty to go around.’
Jim, Greta, and Lottie thanked her and settled onto the grass. Greta was hungry after her tiny breakfast.
With a flourish, Millie picked up the Thermos, holding it up like an Oscar. ‘Ta-da,’ she announced. ‘Look what I’ve brought to accompany our picnic.’
‘How wonderful, darling,’ Jefferson said, his eyes glowing with admiration.
‘You’re welcome.’ Millie smile grew a bit too wide. ‘Though I think it’s your turn to cater for us next time . . .’
Jefferson shrank back as if he’d spotted a slug in the grass. ‘Me?’
‘Yes. I’ve been noticing a few things recently, like how I always seem to make the coffee, and organise picnics. There should be more balance between us, don’t you think?’
Jefferson blinked several times, but Millie had already handed him the Thermos. ‘Do pour us all a coffee, won’t you, darling?’
Greta tried not to laugh as he fumbled with the lid.
‘Maple Gold, Greta?’ Jefferson offered, still looking startled.
‘Oh, no, thank you,’ she replied. ‘I’m all coffee’d out.’
Jim, Lottie, Millie, and Jefferson stared at her, as if she’d just spoken in Spanish.
‘Don’t you guys ever want to drink anything else?’ she asked with a shrug.
A few more bewildered glances flew around, but no one replied.
Only Millie seemed to consider the question, tipping her head and staring at the Thermos.
As they all tucked into their sandwiches, Greta began to feel more detached.
The picnic was delicious. Her companions politely passed food to each other, chatted about the weather and sipped their coffees.
They debated which football team would win the league—Mapleville Town or Mapleville United.
Every topic was pleasant but lacked any real spark, surprise, fun, or tension.
Jim held her hand and gazed into her eyes.
However, Greta found her thoughts drifting.
She used to love bringing Lottie to the park, where she could channel her inner child, too.
The excitement of a new plastic bucket and spade, and playing in the sandpit, never got old.
Sometimes she and Lottie would fly so high on the swings that the chains jolted, making them feel like they might swing over the top.
Greta thought the whoosh, soar, and stomach drop was the closest you could feel to being in love.
But here, everything felt less adventurous.
The afternoon stretched out, with each action and conversation following a steady rhythm.
Greta felt like time was meandering, and she wondered again when she’d return to Iris’s coffee shop.
She hadn’t expected such a long stay in Ma- pleville, and still wanted to get home for dinner with Lottie, and to prepare for the Coffee Morning Crew show.
She fought off a yawn, wanting something, anything, to happen, to shake things up. Perhaps for someone to accidentally knock over a cup, or for a wasp to land on Jefferson’s arm so he’d yelp and run around, and they could all have a good laugh about it.
Jim touched her arm. ‘You seem distracted, honey. Are you okay?’
Greta lifted her head, attempting a smile. ‘Yes . . . yes. I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.’
Jim offered her a plate of sausage rolls, and she took one, nibbling at it, even though she was full.
Suddenly, a terrible smell assaulted her nostrils, making her gag. It was pungent and earthy, like a goat shed. She pinched her nose, staring around. ‘What’s that smell?’
The others looked at her, puzzled.
‘All I can smell is coffee and cake,’ Lottie said.
‘No . . . I . . .’ Greta started, but as she dropped her hand, the stench vanished without trace.
Frowning, she picked up her sausage roll and tentatively sniffed it. It smelled delicious, of rich, buttery pastry and herby meat.
Millie leaned toward her. ‘Are you okay? Your thoughts seem elsewhere.’
Greta waited until Jefferson and Jim sparked up a conversation about golf. ‘I just felt a bit . . . strange,’ she admitted.
‘Maybe something you ate?’ Millie said.
‘Or drank . . .’ Greta murmured, thinking about Iris’s coffee. She shook her head, wondering if the smell was connected to her dabbling with the blend. ‘I think I’m okay now.’
She tried to take her thoughts elsewhere, away from the unsettling sensation.
A memory surfaced, of a picnic she’d once been on with Jim and Lottie. It would be nice to tell Millie more about her other life.
‘Your eyes are sparkling again,’ Millie said. ‘Are you thinking about something nice?’
‘I was remembering a day out I had with Jim, when Lottie was a toddler,’ she said.
‘We’d taken food and a blanket to a nearby beauty spot.
The skies were clear and bright, the sun shining.
But then, suddenly, everything darkened like an eclipse had blocked the daylight.
A rainstorm burst out of nowhere, soaking us to the skin.
Jim quickly gathered all our food together while I scooped Lottie into my arms.
‘We dashed into a forest, and I remember twigs snapping underfoot like finger clicks as we laughed and stumbled. It grew chilly, and we huddled together with the trees sheltering us like umbrellas. The rain pattering onto the leaves overhead sounded like a melody. Lottie gradually felt asleep in my arms, sucking her thumb, and Jim draped his jacket around us. We shared a soggy sandwich, but it didn’t matter.
’ She sighed. ‘The messiness and imperfections of the day made it memorable.’ Millie sighed, as if caught in the moment, too.
‘That sounds so romantic.’ Then a slight frown appeared on her forehead.
‘I’ve never actually seen it rain here.’
‘And I’ve never seen rain as romantic before,’ Greta mused.
She had always thought that loving gestures were grander things, such as bunches of flowers and words of affirmation, craving these from Jim.
Was she guilty of overlooking some of his smaller, quieter efforts, such as draping his jacket around her shoulders in the storm?
‘Nothing so exciting has ever happened to me in Maple- ville,’ Millie added. Her gaze became distant for a while, lost in thought. Then her eyes widened. She lifted her arm and ran her fingers along her forearm, as if a drop of rain had just splashed there.
Greta watched her closely. ‘Are you alright?’
Millie blinked, then smiled faintly. ‘Yes, I think so. I just keep getting these fragments of thoughts, as if from somewhere else. They glimmer for a moment, then slip away before I can grasp them.’ She looked at Greta with a quiet intensity. ‘They only started after you arrived.’
The back of Greta’s neck prickled. She wondered if Millie might be remembering things.
Had she always lived here, or had she arrived, too?
Lowering her voice so Jim wouldn’t overhear, she asked, ‘Do you ever get the feeling sometimes that things aren’t quite real?
Like maybe we’re part of something bigger, or just playing a role? ’
Millie’s lips twitched. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Sometimes . . . oh, I don’t know. I just feel like I’m following a script that’s been written for me.’
Millie plucked a daisy, twirling it slowly between her fingers. ‘Like you’re trying to fit into someone else’s story?’
‘Exactly.’ Greta shifted on the blanket. ‘You feel it, too?’
‘Lately, more and more.’ Millie glanced at Jefferson before continuing.
‘I’ve started to wonder if the choices I make are truly my own .
. . or if I’m just playing the part of Millie that everyone here expects.
’ She paused, then took out her compact, clutching it tightly.
‘Do you really think it’s possible to write your own destiny? ’
Greta considered this for a moment. ‘It’s something I’ve been trying to do,’ she admitted with a wistful sigh. ‘Make my story my own.’
‘So, taking the script and flipping it?’
Greta let out a small laugh. ‘Or throwing it away completely.’
‘Hmm.’ Millie was about to open her compact, then paused. She slipped it back into her pocket instead. ‘Now, that sounds like something worth trying.’