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Ditsy waved a hand at her. “Don’t worry about it. You two stop off for dinner or something. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The drive to Felinfach only took about twenty minutes, ten of which Mia spent trying to figure out if she should be apologizing to Charlie or if he should be saying sorry to her.
After about fifteen miles they solved the problem by both saying, “Sorry,” at almost the same moment.
Mia smiled as Charlie glanced down at the steering wheel, then at the road outside.
“I’m sorry I ran out and left you to deal with my father,” she clarified. Then, because apparently she couldn’t stop herself, she added, “What are you apologizing for?”
Charlie’s eyes stayed on the caravan being towed in front of them. “I’m not entirely sure. Putting up your dad? Sleeping with Becky?”
“They’ll do,” Mia said, rolling her eyes. She’d spent the last day or so convincing herself that, since Becky was obviously some sort of evil succubus, Charlie couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. It was only once she’d managed this that she remembered it wasn’t any of her business who he slept with. Which was a bit worrying.
The caravan in front crawled along the B road, and Charlie tapped long fingers against the steering wheel as they followed in silence.
Eventually, the urge to fill in the gap became too overwhelming. “Is he still staying with you?” Mia asked, looking out the window when she spoke.
When she glanced over to check Charlie’s reaction, he was staring at her. She looked away again, mostly in the hope he’d get his eyes back on the road and not crash into the caravan.
“He’s staying up in the cottage,” Charlie said finally. “I’ve put him to work doing some of the repairs in return for a roof over his head.”
“A leaky roof.” Mia felt a certain sort of satisfaction at that. “Couldn’t he afford the Grand?”
“I think he’s trying to avoid people, as well as expense,” Charlie said. “Besides, he’s hoping the cottage will earn him some brownie points with you.”
Mia didn’t like to consider the idea it might. But if he was helping Charlie... “Is that why he’s staying away from the locals too?”
Charlie shrugged. “Probably. He was perfectly happy to stroll into the Crooked Fox to find you. Only thing to change since then is you refusing to speak to him. Maybe he didn’t know how bad it would be until then.”
The caravan turned off onto a tiny side road at last, and Charlie picked up a bit of speed on the final run into Felinfach. Mia stared out the window, watching the tiny town pass by and wondering how much she’d changed since Becky returned to town.
They parked just outside the old windmill, in a car park with about eight spaces. Mia paused to read the sign as they passed, listing all the crafts and artists occupying the mill and surrounding outbuildings at the moment. It was a nice idea, taking the disused mill and making something new and vibrant out of it. An Arts and Heritage Community, apparently. She wondered if there was scope for anything like this in Aberarian.
“I’m not sure an antiques shop counts as an artistic endeavor,” Charlie commented, reading over her shoulder.
Mia shrugged. “It’s more arty than anything we’ve got so far. Come on.”
An hour later, they’d spoken to almost all the shop holders at the Mill, with mixed reactions. Mia figured if they were lucky, they might get one more mixed stall out of them. It was hard to convince people it was worth giving up their Saturday for, when she couldn’t promise anything much. Too many of them remembered previous festival flops.
Charlie took her arm and they headed back to the car. “Come on,” he said. “I’m going to follow Ditsy’s suggestion and take you out to dinner.”
Mia leaned against his shoulder. She didn’t know what had made Charlie so much more tactile, but she wasn’t going to turn it down. “That sounds nice.” Almost as nice as snuggling with Charlie.
“And then you’re going to talk to your dad.”
“Less appealing.” Mia pulled away. “Why would I do that?”
“Because he’s driving me up the wall.” Charlie’s grip on her arm was tight enough she couldn’t break away without a struggle but not hard enough to hurt. “And you know you’re going to have to do it sometime. It’s been days. He’s not leaving without talking to you.”
Mia sighed. This wasn’t anything she hadn’t already figured out for herself. “I should have opened his letters.”
“All they’d have given you was some advance warning.” Charlie pulled her close again when they reached the car and, just for a moment, Mia let herself rest against his warm chest, his arms loose around her waist, let herself forget he wasn’t hers. “If you want this festival to be a success,” he said, and she could feel the words rumble around his breastbone, “if you want to save the cinema, you’ve got to deal with this first.”
Mia rubbed her head against his t-shirt in a sort of nod. “I know.” She sighed. “It was hard enough getting the committee on track at the last meeting. No one else in town is going to take me seriously if all they want to know is what he stole from the museum.”
“You could ask him,” Charlie pointed out.
“He could lie to me.” Mia breathed in, enjoying the warmth and the scent of him for just a moment longer, then she stepped away. “Okay, let’s go.”
“You’re ready to talk to him?”
“I’m ready for the dinner you promised me before I had to.”
* * * *
Charlie didn’t waste any time after dinner. He paid the bill while Mia was in the bathroom and drove straight to his cottage when they reached Aberarian.
“I have to do this right now?” Mia asked, suddenly wishing she’d ordered a dessert.
“As good now as later.” Charlie spun the wheel and pulled onto the cliff road up to the lighthouse. “Just think–afterward, you can get a full night’s sleep for the first time in a long
while.”
“Depends on what he says.” Mia tugged her cardigan tighter around her, and watched the tarmac rise in front of them and Charlie’s tumbledown cottage appear.
“Have faith.” Charlie rolled the car to a stop and pulled on the handbrake. Pausing before opening the car door, he said, “Seriously, Mia. Give the guy a chance.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance, right?” Even Becky, apparently.
“Something like that.”
George was waiting for them by the newly installed front door. Mia suspected Charlie had called him when he was settling up at the pub. When had he and her father become such good friends?
“Mia,” he said, his face breaking into a smile. “It’s so good to see you.”
He stepped forward as if expecting a hug, and Mia instinctively moved backward, colliding with Charlie, who gripped her upper arms to steady her. When she turned her head to thank him, he rolled his eyes at her.
“Right.” She straightened and looked her father in eye for the first time in over a decade. “Let’s take a walk.”
* * * *
The beach was chilly in the encroaching dusk, the sea breeze cool against Mia’s face. But the sand under her feet was familiar and the sound of the seagulls comforting in a way it never was normally.
“You didn’t open my letters,” George said. “Charlie told me.”
“Would you have?”
George sighed. “Probably not.”
There were only a few other people on the beach, walking dogs or jogging. Mia tried to remember what it had been like full of tourists–loved-up couples strolling in the moonlight, and kids running around the rock pools past their bedtime.
“Would the letters have told me why you’re here?”
“You still haven’t opened them?” George sounded surprised. “Even once I got here?”
Mia shrugged. “I figured they just told me you were coming.” And with him so close, she hadn’t wanted to risk them telling her something to make her want to see him.
