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Charlotte nodded in agreement, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease as she allowed herself to be fully present in this shared experience with her elderly cousin.
"Mrs. Everly has outdone herself with these floral arrangements," Charlotte observed, gently caressing the petals of a nearby rose. "They remind me of the gardens back at The Old Crown Inn."
"Ah, yes," Agnes sighed wistfully, her thoughts drifting to the sprawling grounds that surrounded Charlotte's newly acquired manor house. "Your father always did have a green thumb. It seems you've inherited his love for nature."
Despite the positive tone of Agnes’s compliment, Charlotte was still irked at any comparison between herself and the man who had abandoned her and Roxanne after their mother’s death. She wanted answers, yes, and to find Henry, but she was still angry that he’d been selfishly absent all these years, without so much as a phone call to his adult daughters.
"Agnes," Charlotte began, her voice imbued with a mix of eagerness and trepidation, "I've been meaning to talk to you about something important." She hesitated for a moment before adding, "About my father."
A flicker of concern crossed Agnes's face, her warm eyes filled with understanding. "Henry?" she asked, pausing to set her spoon down on the saucer. "What's on your mind, dear?"
Charlotte took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her father's absence heavy on her shoulders. "I know it's been years since he disappeared, but I can't help but feel that there might be some clue out there, something we've missed that could lead us to him."
Agnes sighed, her gaze shifting to a nearby window as if searching for answers within the ceaseless dance of raindrops on the glass. "I've thought the same thing countless times, Charlotte," she admitted, her voice tinged with sadness. "But the truth is, none of us have heard from Henry in such a long time. He pops up when he wants, and he explains nothing. It's difficult not to worry about his well-being."
Charlotte nodded solemnly, knowing all too well the pain of uncertainty that had haunted her family for so long.
"Charlotte," Agnes said gently, bringing her back to the present moment. "You must know that none of this is your fault. We can't control the choices others make, not even those closest to us."
"I know," Charlotte murmured, her voice betraying the turmoil within her heart. "But I can't help but wonder whether things might have been different if I had tried harder to understand him."
Agnes reached across the table and placed a reassuring hand on Charlotte's. "My dear, we all have our regrets when it comes to Henry. But dwelling on the past won't bring him back. And even if it did, there's no guarantee that the outcome would be any better."
"Sometimes, though," Charlotte admitted, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, "I think maybe it's for the best that he's gone. That the pain of losing him in such a way is somehow less than the pain he might have caused us if he had stayed."
"Did I ever tell you how much I used to look up to my dad?" Charlotte asked quietly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. She traced the rim of her teacup, lost in thought. "He was my hero when I was a child."
Agnes nodded, her eyes softening with understanding. "It's natural for you to feel that as a daughter."
"Agnes," Charlotte said, her voice resolute. "I want to find Henry. I need to know what happened to him, for both of our sakes. I won't let him fade away without answers. I think we should start looking into where Henry's disappears to when he isn’t in Chesham."
"Where do we even begin?" Charlotte asked, her brow furrowed in contemplation.
"Let's start by gathering all the information we can about his past - any old documents, letters, or photographs that might hold clues," Agnes suggested thoughtfully. “Do you have any?”
"Right, maybe," Charlotte agreed, her mind racing with possibilities. "And we should speak with anyone else who knew him well or had any contact with him on his sporadic visits. Perhaps someone in Chesham Cove can shed some light on the matter."
Agnes smiled. "That's a good start. Now, let's order some lunch and figure out our next steps."
Charlotte nodded, feeling her spirits lift slightly at the prospect of taking action. As she looked around the bustling cafe and thought about how she was on her way to restoring The Crown to this level of enchanting, she felt a wave of boldness wash over her. If she could do this for The Crown Inn, then maybe she was strong enough to find her father and demand answers - even if it meant facing painful truths that had been hidden away for far too long.
Charlotte's phone dinged softly on the table. She glanced at the screen, and there it was, a message from Simon. Her heart did a little dance as she read his words.
Spend the afternoon with me by the water.
She could almost feel the cool breeze and hear the gentle lapping of the waves just thinking about it.
Quickly, she looked up to make sure Agnes, ever-observant but thankfully studying her menu, hadn't noticed. It was a tricky thing, keeping something like this under wraps in a small town like Chesham, where gossip spread faster than wildflowers in spring. She had managed to keep her burgeoning relationship with Simon a secret, at least for now. The thought of the townsfolk chattering about them made her nervous.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her mind already drifting to the peaceful afternoon that awaited. The idea of spending time with Simon was like a breath of fresh air. She imagined sitting by the waterfront, sharing stories and laughs, the sun painting the sky in hues of orange and pink as it set.
Charlotte quickly typed a reply, her fingers light and eager on the keyboard, smiling, and then quickly composed her features into neutrality.
I’d love to.
With a final glance at her phone, Charlotte set it aside and refocused on her lunch company, the anticipation of the afternoon making her a little giddy. In a town like Chesham, it wasn't just The Crown that was undergoing a transformation; it seemed her life was, too.
CHAPTER TWELVE
