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“I guess.” Charlie stood back and looked around. “Mia said when she was little, she’d always imagined this place done up as a proper coastal cottage.
“Mia,” Becky said, her voice frosty.
He’d decorated their dream cottage the way Mia wanted.
She was going to slap Tony when she saw him next.
“I’d better let you get on with it, then.” She plastered a smile on her face to go with her bright red lipstick, and retreated out into the fresh air, breathing deeply and almost choking on the salt.
This was not at all how she’d expected this day to go.
He was in love with Mia. Tony was right. Charlie loved Mia. How could this be possible?
She needed to focus. How was she going to fix this? Because it was absurd. Why would he choose Mia over her? She was his soulmate. He’d always said so. There had to be a way out. Just because Tony was right about this part, didn’t mean he was right about…the other thing. No. She just had to focus on the goal here. All she needed to do was persuade Charlie, and the rest of the town, that Mia wasn’t the wonderful person they thought she was. Then she could have Charlie, and the casino, and her rightful place in Aberarian.
She thought about George Page hiding out in her dream cottage and realized it wouldn’t be so very hard at all.
* * * *
“I’m not sure this is quite the sort of thing the Fish and Film Festival-goers are expecting for the closing concert,” Charlie said, yelling in her ear so Mia could hear him over the pounding bass and screaming lead singer of Enid Jones’s nephew’s band.
Mia winced and shook her head, wondering why Magda had insisted on coming to hear them in the first place. Across the table, Magda was grinning and giving her two thumbs up, which Mia couldn’t quite bring herself to return.
“Plastic cups,” Joe said, dumping four clear plastic glasses–two filled with lager, two wine–onto the scarred table. “What sort of a place is this?” An abrupt end to what turned out to be the last song of the set meant the rest of the pub got to hear Joe’s opinion too.
Mia reached for her wine just as Charlie reached for his beer, his fingers brushing lightly against hers and throwing Mia’s mind back to the night before last. She felt a blush starting to rise up her neck, remembering that not only had she kissed him, but she’d run away afterward.
Coward.
“Switch seats,” Magda ordered Charlie, shifting his chair closer to Mia when she took occupancy. Joe and Charlie continued their conversation about classic rock without a table and Magda between them. Magda watched them for a moment, apparently to assure herself they weren’t at all interested in prospective girl talk because then she nodded, turned to Mia and asked, “So, what happened?”
Her cheeks growing warmer, Mia said, “With the festival? Well, I don’t think we’ll be booking this band...”
“With Charlie.” Magda, Mia was learning, didn’t believe in beating around the bush. She preferred to jump right in and risk the thorns. “He’s been crazier than usual ever since the two of you had your night out in the Fox. So, what happened?”
Mia looked to see if the next band were going to come on stage and save her, but there appeared to be some sort of issue with guitar strings delaying them. Damn.
“Stupid instrument,” she muttered, then sighed and bent her head closer to Magda’s. “Don’t read too much into this, but I sort of kissed him. A bit.”
Magda’s fair eyebrows rose up to her hairline. “‘Don’t read too much into this’?”
“It was a celebratory thing.” Mia twisted her plastic cup around in her hand. The wine was already warm and too sweet, so it wasn’t like it could get much worse. “I’d just persuaded Jonny to set up alcohol camp down at the festival site.” Heather Jenkins had been almost complimentary about the achievement at the committee meeting earlier. It was a thing worth celebrating.
“And obviously after that you had a long talk about your feelings, realized you’ve been in love with each other for the last year or more, gave up on this stupid waiting idea and sorted out your combined future?” The sarcasm in Magda’s voice made Mia snort with laughter, which attracted some attention from the other side of the table. Mia waved a hand at Charlie when he looked over with concern and, after a moment, he returned to his conversation with Joe.
“It’s not like that,” Mia told Magda. “I told you, he’s still getting over Becky.” Although, he had kissed her back. It was the only thing making it possible for Mia to face him that night, Magda’s insistence or not.
“He’s really not.”
“Once again, he did sleep with her.” Mia twirled her cup again. “Very, very recently.”
Magda shook her head violently and leaned closer across the table. “You’ve got to get over that. It was nothing.”
“He talks to you about this sort of thing, does he?”
“He doesn’t have to. I’ve spent so much time with him, I’ve learned to read his mind.”
If that was true, Mia thought, then she had a hell of a lot more questions to ask Magda. But since all the guitars on the stage were now fully strung, the next band started up, and Mia’s chance was lost.
These guys were more to Mia’s taste–and the other people in the bar’s too, according to the audience reaction.
“Hire this lot,” Charlie mouthed across the table, and Mia nodded even though it would mean hanging around until much later to talk to them.
On her right, Magda gave an over the top yawn and gave Joe a pointed look. It took him a moment, but once he caught on, Joe was on his feet, taking advantage of a song break to say, “Well, if you two are staying, I’d better get Magda home.”
“I’m really very tired, you know,” Magda added, her eyes bright and alert.
They bustled off, Joe’s arm firmly around Magda’s waist, and Charlie shifted chairs again before asking, “What on earth was that all about?”
Mia rolled her eyes. “I think they’re trying to set us up.” Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Mia returned her attention to Magda and Joe. They had reached the cloakroom, and Magda had leaned her head down on Joe’s shoulder while they waited for their coats. As she watched, Joe pressed a surreptitious kiss on Magda’s hair, and Mia smiled. “At least, Magda is.” Joe, it appeared, had other motives.
Mia wondered if Magda had noticed yet.
* * * *
By the time the bell above the A to Z shop door rang for the fifth time on Saturday morning, Mia was pretty sure she knew what the latest customer was going to want–the same thing the last four had. And it wasn’t batteries, soup or parcel string.
“Mia, dear, I was just wondering...” April Havers leaned over the counter and whispered, as if the entire town didn’t already know what they were talking about. “Did your father happen to mention exactly why he came back to town?”
“To see his daughter,” Mia said, the words growing hard with repetition. She’d stopped adding, “Why else?” after the first few theories people had responded with.
“Only I heard it might had something to do with the festival,” April went on, unprompted.
“Everything is fine with the festival,” Mia said, trying to shut down the line of questioning with a firm tone. “You really
don’t need to worry.”
“As long as you’re sure, dear,” April said, but she looked doubtful. Just like every other customer that morning.
The door swung shut behind April Havers and Mia sighed heavily, wondering if Ditsy would notice if she switched the sign over to Closed. Or if it would stop any of the nosy locals from coming in anyway. Perhaps if she locked the door...
“Everything okay?” Ditsy asked, appearing from the back room with two mugs of tea. “Who was that?”
“April Havers,” Mia said, and sighed again. “Wanting to know about my father and money and the festival. Same as everyone else.”
Ditsy handed over Mia’s mug of tea, and Mia rolled her eyes at the Keep Calm and Carry On message emblazoned upon it. Of course, it wasn’t so far off the mark. This was most definitely war.
Because there were only two people with a motive to spread this rumor, and Tony didn’t know enough about Aberarian to make it work. Mia should have expected it. The festival was finally coming together, and Becky couldn’t risk losing her bloody casino and her chance to stay with Charlie.
Still, it was a low blow.
“How many so far?” Ditsy asked, staring out of the window at the approaching figure of Jacques the postman.
“Five this morning. Want to take bets on how many we’ll hit before I head out for the committee meeting?” With the festival so close, they were up to three meetings a week, including the new and most unpopular Saturday afternoon session.
The final count was thirty-four, much to Mia’s disgust, and she handed the Ditsy the last chocolate biscuit for payment. She’d been sure they’d hit fifty.
She’d known the meeting that afternoon would be hard, but it wasn’t until she opened the door to StarFish to see Mayor Fielding sitting at the head of the committee table that she realized she was in real trouble. Jayne Fielding made a point of being all sweetness and light for her constituents, right up until they did something wrong. Then she was absolutely cold and ruthless.
