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The woman’s eyes narrowed as if she were weighing the merits of Charlotte's explanation. "Keep your wits about you, dearie."
What does that mean? Was that a threat?
Charlotte dropped her gaze and hurried along the side of the cobblestone street. She had to find The Crown Inn—the other drunken booking she had made that night. She swallowed hard, fighting back the unease that threatened to consume her. She couldn't explain why the woman's words had unsettled her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they were at least partially true. She would need to have her wits about her here.
Maybe they're not used to outsiders,Charlotte thought as she walked, trying to make sense of her growing discomfort.Or maybe it's just my nerves playing tricks on me.
The rain continued to fall around her, droplets leaving their mark on the cobblestones beneath her feet – a subtle reminder that, for better or worse, her journey had solidly begun. Only it seemed moreSleet, Gray, MudthanEat, Pray, Love.
With each step closer to The Crown Inn, Charlotte's anticipation grew. She recalled the charming building she had seen on the website when booking her stay. Nestled between two towering oak trees and adorned with ivy creeping up its brick walls, the inn website had promised a warmth and coziness that she longed for after her cold, damp journey.
"Only a few more streets to go," she murmured to herself, her breath fogging up in the chilly air. At least, that’s what her phone GPS said. As she ventured deeper into Chesham Cove, Charlotte began to notice the quaint downtown area coming alive around her.
"Fresh fish, get your fresh fish here!" shouted a burly man from a nearby stall, his voice carrying over the sound of the raindrops splattering against the awnings of shops lining the cobblestone street. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted out from a bakery, tempting her with the promise of warm, buttery pastries.
Ooh, I'll have to remember this place later,she thought, making a mental note of the tiny shop's location.
Despite the dreary weather, Charlotte was captivated by the charm and character of Chesham Cove. The unique shops, their windows filled with colorful trinkets and handmade crafts, seemed to beckon her inside as if they held secrets waiting to be discovered.
"Would you like an umbrella, miss?" a young girl asked, shyly holding up an array of brightly colored umbrellas outside a small store. "You look like you could use one."
"Thank you, dear," Charlotte replied with a grateful smile, selecting a deep purple umbrella that seemed to match the hue of the stormy sky overhead. She handed the girl a few bills before continuing on her way.
See? That was a positive. Mustn't let the rain dampen my spirits, she thought, hoisting her new umbrella above her head and reveling in the simple pleasure of its shelter. Then, her phone made a beep, and the GPS rerouted, telling her that The Crown Inn was the exactoppositedirection of where she was currently.
Luckily,she spotted the pub just ahead: The Laughing Lobster. Its quirky exterior featured a hand-painted sign with a grinning crustacean holding a pint of beer in one claw. Ivy climbed up the walls, framing the leaded glass windows that gave way to warm, golden light spilling onto the sidewalk.
"Must be fate," Charlotte thought as she pushed open the heavy wooden door, feeling a rush of warmth and good cheer envelop her. The lively atmosphere inside was contagious – laughter echoed off the walls, and the friendly banter between patrons created a sense of camaraderie that made her feel welcome.
"Evening," greeted the bartender, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "You must be the new chickie in town."
"Am I that obvious?" Charlotte asked with a chuckle, taking a seat at the bar and parking her rolling suitcase next to her.
"Word travels fast in Chesham Cove," he replied, pouring her a pint of their local ale. "It's not every day we get newcomers around here. Here. On the house."
She accepted the drink gratefully. “I’m looking for directions to The Crown Inn.”
He pulled a face that made her frown. "Is there something wrong with The Crown Inn?"
"Nothing wrong, per se," he answered, leaning in conspiratorially. "It's just…well, it has a bit of history to it, if you catch my drift."
"History? What kind of history?" Charlotte's interest was piqued, her fingers tapping against the cool glass of her pint.
"It’s old," he teased, winking at her. "Surprised the building still stands, to be honest. But don’t worry. Margaret’s, the owner, is a fine gal. For now, enjoy your drink and the company. When you’re done, I’ll point you there."
As Charlotte sipped her ale, she eavesdropped on the conversations around her. The locals were clearly intrigued by her presence, exchanging whispers and curious glances in her direction. She found it oddly endearing.
After she finished her pint, the bartender gave her a detailed set of instructions that she committed to memory.
"Head down the main street until you reach the old stone bridge. Cross it, then take the second left onto Rosemary Lane. Follow it as it curves around the park, and you'll find The Crown Inn tucked away on the corner."
"Thank you," Charlotte replied gratefully, her anticipation building at the thought of finally reaching her destination.
Stepping back out into the cool evening air, Charlotte followed the bartender's directions through the winding streets of Chesham Cove. Each step brought her closer to the place she would call home for the next few weeks.
As she reached the old stone bridge, Charlotte noticed a small path leading down to the harbor. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to take a detour. The picturesque view was too inviting to ignore – the sea stretched out before her, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. Fishing boats bobbed gently in the water, their colorful hulls casting vibrant reflections on the waves.
"Wow," she whispered, her breath catching at the sight.
