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I loved them already.
It wasn’t busy—a fact I’d been counting on by not coming during the lunch rush—and so I was able to wander right up to the counter without having to wait in line.
Heather turned to me with a smile on her face. Her black hair was pulled back into a twist in a pale green crocodile clip, and a few wisps framed her dark eyes as she greeted me.
“Charlotte! How are you, love? What can I get for you?”
I couldn’t help but smile back at her. “Just a cup of coffee, please. And can I get one to put on the board?”
“Of course you can. I’ll just charge you for the board.”
“Oh, I can pay for both.”
She waved her hand at me as she turned. “Nonsense. Even if I hadn’t already promised you, I heard about that ridiculousness with the bed and breakfast. As if you could have murdered anyone.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Look at you. I’ve got a stack of five kilo bags of sugar in the back that wishes it was as sweet as you.”
I laughed, stepping aside as a woman walked up next to me. “That’s kind of you to say. Let’s hope the police agree with you.”
“From what I hear, Noah George does.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
I scoffed. “That was a long time ago.”
“I’m so sorry to interrupt you,” the woman who’d just approached said, looking at me. “I heard Heather mention the bed and breakfast. Does that mean you might be Charlotte?”
Discomfort flitted through me at the intensity of her gaze, and I took a small step back. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She held out her hand. “Stephanie Tierney.”
Oh.
Shit.
She couldn’t have been much older than me. If I had to guess, I’d say it was five years at most. Her dark hair hung around her shoulders in loose waves—the kind that took much longer to do than they looked—but her eyes belied her grief.
They were ringed in red, shadowed by darkness, and just held that little shimmer of sadness that came from a deep-rooted place of tired pain.
I didn’t like her husband in our short meeting, but my heart ached for her.
I swallowed, shaking her hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs Tierney.”
“Please, call me Stephanie.” She brushed it off, clasping our hands with her other one. “And thank you. I was hoping to run into you sooner or later. Heather, I’d like to cover Charlotte’s drink, if I could. I’ll have a cappuccino.”
Heather nodded, and I opened my mouth to speak, but she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head in my direction, and I shut up.
I’d come back tomorrow or later and slip a few quid to her for the board for another drink.
I didn’t feel right taking two free cups of coffee.
“Are you both having them to go?” Heather asked, pausing in front of the coffee machine.
Stephanie nodded. “Yes, please. Charlotte? I’d love to talk to you, if you’ve got the time.”
God, she was so nice.
How was I supposed to say no to her?
