Stephen Webb & Steven Fox (both new) – Casual ‘hello’ messages sent
I retrieved the magnets from the kitchen floor and stuck my new list to the fridge door. Kat squeaked at my feet. I picked her up and gave her a hug.
‘It was the right thing to do,’ I said to her. ‘What if I’d got involved with him and Steven came along? We’d both end up getting hurt. This way’s better. He’s obviously not interested in me or he wouldn’t have sent me such a casual text. I have a silly little crush on him, that’s all. It will go away soon and maybe one of these Stevens will be your new daddy. Would you like that?’ Kat purred and nuzzled closer. ‘That’s right. Nick and I were never meant to be. The man of my dreams is called Steven. Nick was a blip. Madame Louisa said it wouldn’t be plain sailing. This is obviously what she meant. From now on, we’re searching for Steven. We’re not dreaming about Nick.’
But a tear slipped down my cheek.
A week passed and I didn’t hear a peep out of Nick. Seaside Blooms thrived and trade kept increasing as Christmas crept closer. Mum was helping out full-time and Cathy’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Jade, had started working Saturdays and a few weekday shifts when she wasn’t at college, which relieved the pressure.
Auntie Kay kept us posted on her travels with regular familyemails and photos. Every so often, she texted me to ask for a progress report on Nick but I evaded the subject.
The final week of school term arrived and, by Friday evening, there was still no word from Nick.
I’d barely seen Elise for the past fortnight as she was tied up directing a pantomime at school and various other Christmas activities. Stevie was tied up with a few big work projects and Clare was unavailable due to weekend work commitments although she was expected in Whitsborough Bay on Saturday night.
Mum and Dad seemed to be out every other night with friends, leaving me all alone with just two cats for company. And my troubled thoughts. Despite my resolve to forget about Nick and just search for Steven, I couldn’t get him off my mind. I didn’t think it was appropriate to text him again but I ventured down to the beach at dawn for a run five times during that fortnight in the hope that we’d run into each other – literally. We didn’t.
I spent a ridiculous number of evenings staring blankly at the TV, checking my laptop every fifteen minutes or so to see if I’d received any new messages or to check Nick’s Facebook status. I hated being like that. I kept opening up my lovely silk beaded notepad and trying to focus on ideas for developing the business, but the next priority really had to be my website, which got me side-tracked looking at the portfolio Nick had pulled together, which got me thinking about Nick again, which drew me back to the laptop to check his Facebook status. Vicious circle.
Ste Parker from my original list hadn’t been in touch but the three new Stevens had. I’d stupidly entered into online conversations with all of them which created a massive challenge in remembering who’d said what. Even though I could scroll up to previous messages, there soon became too many messages to work through. I ended up allocating Post-it notes of a different colour to each Steven, scribbling down the key points, and sticking them to the dining room wall in coloured columns in an effort to keep track.
Around mid-afternoon on Thursday, we hit a lull. I watched Jade dusting the shelves in the glass display cabinets while she sang along to ‘Last Christmas’. In The Outback, I could hear Mum singing while she unpacked a delivery of gifts. Cathy, making aChristmas wreath next to me, hummed away quietly and I smiled as I watched my team in action.My team.I liked it.
I decided to take advantage of the lack of customers and check to see if I had any messages. There was one from each of the three new Stevens and, as I quickly scanned through them, my heart sank.No! I don’t believe it!
‘I need to nip out, Cathy,’ I said, logging off the site. ‘Will you be okay without me for a bit?’
Cathy laughed. ‘Of course. It’s not like I’m on my own. I’ve got George Michael in here and Andrew Ridgeley out there. You take a break.’
‘I’ll only be ten minutes. Maximum.’ I grabbed my coat from The Outback, telling Mum I had an errand to run. Clutching my mobile, I headed for Castle Park at the end of the street and sat on one of the benches, overlooking South Bay. The biting coastal wind made my eyes stream but at least it was dry. I called Clare, hoping she was free.
‘Clare. Please say you can talk.’
‘Sure. We’re at an exhibition, but I’ve seen what I need to. Let me go somewhere quieter.’ The background chatter died down and her voice came over a bit echoey. ‘I’m in the entrance hall now. What’s the craic? You sound worried.’
‘I am. I’ve heard from Steve Collins and he’s asked me to meet him.’
‘That’s grand. When?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘So what are you worried about?’
‘I’ve heard from Steven Fox and he’s asked me to meet him too.’
‘Oh. Dare I ask…?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘Bummer.’
‘I’ve also heard from Stephen Webb.’
‘No! Tomorrow night too?’
‘Yep.’
‘Christ, Sarah, you’re in demand. What will you do?’
