Page 19 of The Spotted Cottage By the Sea
Russell sucked in a breath, still holding the bakery box in front of him like a dope. “Er, no, I’m –”
The woman laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m only pretending I don’t know who you are. Of course I know you!”
The sudden break in the tension caused him to laugh. “Russell Westwood,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I wanted to apologize for not introducing myself earlier.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” She stepped to the side and waved a hand. “I’m Patty Dennet. Please, come on in!”
He stepped inside, breathing in the smell of cinnamon and coffee. A wonderful mix. “These are for you…from the bakery. I won’t pretend to have made them myself.”
“Well, Russell, it seems we’re about to do a sweets exchange.” She accepted the box, smiling as she peeked inside. “I just pulled some of my world-famous cinnamon rolls out of the oven. Would you like one?”
He nodded. “Yes, please.”
She led him down the hall and into a small kitchen.
“Coffee? Tea?” she asked, opening a cupboard.
“I’m all right. I don’t mean to trouble you.”
“We’re neighbors! It’s no trouble. People used to pop over all the time. That’s changed now, you know? People don’t just come over anymore.” She pointed at the table in the corner. “Sit down! Please.”
Russell took a seat at the kitchen table. “Yes, things have changed.”
“You can feel free to stop by anytime,” Patty continued. “I used to have a little tea shop I ran, too, but…” She tapped her chin. “That’s a topic for another day.”
“Who are you talking to?” called out a voice. “If you’re talking to yourself, then I’ll be forced to make a video for the doctor.”
Sheila appeared in the doorway, and when her eyes fell on him, she froze.
He stood to shake her hand. “Hi, Sheila. It’s nice to see you again.”
She wasn’t dressed as a wolf super-fan anymore. Instead, she had on a pair of dark jeans, a hole at the knee, and a washed-out t-shirt with a monkey on it.
He tilted his head to the side. “Your shirt – is that from the Pixies?”
She nodded. “I’m a fan. Or used to be. I thought I’d lost this shirt for good.”
“Turns out I’d stolen it!” Patty cackled a laugh as she poured hot water into a teapot. “I guess I took some clothes to wash last time you were visiting and, well, there you go. You should’ve come sooner.”
Russell reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “I think I have something of yours, too.”
Sheila eyed him. “Oh?”
“You dropped it yesterday.” He delicately removed the newspaper clipping he’d picked off the beach. “Is this yours?”
Her eyes darted down and she accepted it with a delicate hand. “Yeah, thank you.”
He didn’t know how to ask her what it was about, though he was keen to know why she’d carried it with her.
Luckily, Patty had no hesitations. “What’s that?”
“Just a news story from my birthday.”
Patty plopped a plate on the table with a large, gooey cinnamon roll. “If you don’t want coffee or tea, I have milk, too.”
“That’s all right,” he laughed. “Coffee would be perfect.”
In a flash, a mug appeared next to his plate. Patty set a french press next to it. “Cream?”
