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Watching them, Charlotte felt a sense of peace settles over her. She smiled as she watched Amelia and Simon chat, though her mind was still reeling from their kiss. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt such an instant connection with someone.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" Amelia suddenly exclaimed, turning to Charlotte. "Happy 4th of July!"
Charlotte blinked in surprise. "Is it the 4th already?"
"Yep! Independence Day!" Amelia gave an exaggerated wink.
"Too bad they don't celebrate it here, huh?" Simon said, sounding a bit sad.
"Darn British," Charlotte joked. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to have our own little Independence Day party. What do you say?"
"Yes!" Amelia clapped excitedly. "We need flags, and fireworks, and apple pie!"
"And we could have a barbecue on the beach!" Simon added with a grin.
Charlotte laughed. "I don't think we'll be able to get fireworks on such short notice. But I'm sure we can scrounge up some red, white and blue decorations from the inn's storage."
"Oooh, we could make s'mores over the barbecue!" Amelia said. "I'll see if I can find sparklers or poppers or something for makeshift fireworks. But later. I just came to make sure you crazy kids were behaving." Another wink had Charlotte blushing.
“Amelia! Really?”
“Gotta go, coffee waits!”
As Amelia dashed off, Charlotte met Simon's warm gaze. "Thanks for being so great with her," she said softly.
Simon squeezed her hand. "Of course. She's a terrific kid."
Charlotte nodded, her heart full. "She really is."
They resumed their dinner, the interruption having added a layer of comfortable ease to their evening. Charlotte savored each bite, her taste buds delighting in the flavors of the meal she had prepared. The conversation flowed naturally, a gentle current of shared interests and laughter—and, a little disappointingly, no more kisses.
As they finished their meal, Charlotte's thoughts drifted to the next several days. She had planned a few house projects to tackle with Amelia, a way to spend quality time with her daughter and keep restoring The Old Crown Inn in to a charming, pristine condition. There was also the excitement of new guests checking in, a family from America, bringing with them a slice of the home she had left behind. Charlotte looked forward to welcoming them, sharing stories, and perhaps introducing them to the magic of Chesham Cove.
"I've got a busy few days," Charlotte said, collecting the dishes. “Sightseeing with Amelia, and the day after, reno, new guests…”
Simon helped her with the dishes, his presence a comforting rhythm in the quiet kitchen. "Need any help with the projects?"
Charlotte smiled at his offer. "I think we've got it, but thank you. It's nice, having Amelia here for the summer. We're making the most of it. And she is getting a kick out of playing hostess at the inn. It’s great having a second set of hands for when I have to be out of the house."
"I can see that," Simon said, a softness in his voice. "It's good to see you both so happy."
As they finished cleaning up, the last of the evening light faded, giving way to a blanket of stars. Simon walked Charlotte to the door, their hands lingering in a gentle goodbye.
"I had a wonderful evening, Charlotte. Thank you for dinner," Simon said, his eyes holding hers.
"Me too, Simon. Thank you for coming." She stood on her tiptoes, giving him a quick, tender kiss on the cheek. With a final wave, Simon left, and Charlotte closed the door, leaning against it for a moment. She felt a sense of contentment, a lightness in her heart. Tomorrow would be a new day at The Old Crown Inn, and so would the days after, filled with the laughter of her daughter, the arrival of new faces, and the continuation of her own journey in Chesham Cove. She looked forward to it all.
CHAPTER TWO
The Crown Inn and its inhabitants awoke to the harmonious cacophony of seagulls, their calls a reminder of the vast ocean just a stone's throw away. The air was rich with saline whispers, carrying with it the briny promise of the sea. Below the chorus of the seabirds, a gentle breeze danced through the leaves of the sentinel trees that stood guard around the perimeter of the inn, their branches swaying in a rhythmic ballet.
There was just something about this place—this little town—that made Charlotte feel poetic.
Inside, the dining area exuded a warmth that seemed to hum from the very grain of the polished wood table and kitchen countertops. Charlotte found a comforting solitude in her morning ritual. The aroma of fresh baking wafted through the room, mingling with the earthy scent of steeped tea leaves that lingered like an old friend.
"Can you believe this place doesn't do bagels?" Amelia said with mock indignation, a playful light dancing in her eyes as she spread a generous layer of clotted cream onto her scone, each movement precise and ladylike – a far cry from the boisterous child who used to smear jam over her cheeks with glee.
"Blasphemy," Charlotte replied, matching her daughter's tone while hiding her amusement behind a sip of Earl Grey. She watched Amelia, her heart swelling with pride. Her daughter was a woman, no longer a little girl—and Charlotte wondered how that had happened so fast.
