Page 4 of Frosted Fakes

"Good." Milly released her hand and sat back. "Now, about the other thing."

"There's more?"

"I'm moving into Chilton Gardens."

Elliott felt the floor tilt slightly beneath her feet. First the bakery, now this. "You don't need a retirement home. You're perfectly capable of…"

"I'm eighty-three." Milly interrupted. "I'm tired, love. My knees hurt, and I can't manage the stairs like I used to, and honestly? I'm rather looking forward to someone else cooking for me for a change." She chuckled. "Though I reserve the right to complain about it."

"But…" Elliott stopped. What was she going to say? Don't leave me? She'd spent the last decade and a half proving she didn't need anyone. She wasn't about to start admitting otherwise now.

"I'll be twenty minutes away," Milly said gently, reading her mind as always. "And I expect regular visits. Someone needs to tell me all the gossip about whoever takes over this place."

Elliott managed something that might have been a nod. The kettle began to whistle, and she was grateful for the excuse to turn away, to hide whatever her face was doing. She made tea with hands that weren't quite steady, poured two cups, and set one in front of Milly.

"You'll be fine, you know," Milly said, wrapping her hands around the cup. "You're stronger than you think."

"I know I'm strong." Elliott sat across from her. "I don't need reminding."

"Mmm." Milly sipped her tea. "Stubborn as the day I met you. Do you remember that?"

Elliott did. Seventeen years old, with nothing in the world but a backpack and a chip on her shoulder the size of Yorkshire. She'd wandered into Milly's bakery looking for a job and found something she hadn't known she was missing.

"You gave me a croissant," she said. "And told me my attitude was dreadful but my hands were steady."

"Still true on both counts." Milly's eyes twinkled.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, drinking tea. The afternoon light shifted, and Elliott tried not to think about how many more afternoons like this she had left.

"Promise me something," Milly said finally.

"Depends what it is."

"Don't close yourself off completely." Milly set down her cup. "I know you think being alone is easier. Safer. But humans aren't meant to be islands, Elliott."

"Islands are very peaceful," Elliott said. "No one bothers them."

Milly just looked at her with knowing eyes, and Elliott had to look away first.

After Milly left, Elliott cleaned up the tea things, packed away her photography equipment, and contemplated eating the raspberry tart. But she wasn’t hungry. She sighed and looked around the flat.

It wasn't much. A small sitting room and a kitchen corner, a bedroom barely big enough for a double bed, a bathroom that required creative maneuvering. But it was hers. She'd painted the walls herself, chosen the secondhand furniture. She mopped the floors every Sunday. And Milly came in whenever she wanted. It would be lonely without someone popping by, she thought. Especially if she didn’t have to work in the bakery anymore.

But then she’d have money. For the first time in her life, she’d be able to do what she truly wanted without worry. It was a tantalizing thought.

She set the tart on the counter and stared out the window at Oakhaven's high street below. It was a pretty town, all light stone and winding lanes, the kind of place that appeared on postcards and made tourists sigh with contentment. She'd never meant to stay this long. Then again, she'd never meant to stay anywhere.

Her phone buzzed. She ignored it.

It buzzed again.

And again.

With a sigh, she picked it up.

Emergency

The word glowed on screen. Shay. Her erstwhile best friend. Not that Elliott ever remembered making that decision. Shay presumably had decided their relationship by herself. Another message came.