Page 21 of The Spotted Cottage By the Sea
In the sober morning light, it was much harder for her to remember why she had felt so justified in yelling at Russell Westwood.
Not only did she not know the man, but he wasfamous!She might as well have been yelling at George Clooney or Matt Damon. Russell’s charm and handsomeness was not gone just because he’d grown a beard!
Who did she think she was, acting like that? Russell had been perfectly reasonable and polite. She had behaved like a mad woman.
Sheila cleared her throat and pushed away the cinnamon bun Patty had forced on her. The sweet smell reminded her too much of the hot chocolate, and the donuts, and the presentation.
It was a frenzy. That was what had happened to her. Ever since she’d gotten up at three in the morning to prepare those donuts, she’d been in a frenzy. It carried her through a traumatic firing, a fight she’d started with Brian, and threatening an A-list actor.
Here she was, back on earth where she belonged, avoiding eye contact with him, yet unable to stop staring.
“Speaking of your birthday,” Patty said, “we never got to celebrate last month. I’m going to make that lemon blueberry cake you like.”
Russell’s gaze turned to her, but Sheila kept her eyes fixed on Patty. “No, that’s okay.”
“Come on! You never want to celebrate your birthday.”
“There’s nothing to celebrate.” People put too much hope into birthdays. Sheila would be much happier if everyone forgot hers existed. “I really have to get going, Patty.”
Patty sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, all right, all right. Go ahead and rush the only celebrity that I’ve ever met out of my house and run him onto the –”
Russell laughed. “I’ll come back. You don’t have to worry about that. If I smell cinnamon, I’ll be back.”
Patty’s face lit up with a smile. “That would belovely.Any time. I mean it!” She clapped her hands together. “Actually, I once met Paul Newman on Daytona Beach. I pointed at him and said, ‘That’s Paul Newman!’ and he pointed back and said, ‘Keep my secret!’” She touched a hand to her chest. “Listen to me babbling on like an old woman. But, just so you know, you’re not the only celebrity I’ve ever met.”
“I don’t hold a candle to Paul Newman,” Russell said, shaking his head.
Patty chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far. You’re very good, you know that?”
Russell smiled. “You’re kind, but I’m your neighbor now. Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you ever need it.”
Patty clasped her hands together as though she’d just been struck with an idea. “I do have weeds you can pull out front! And trim the lavender, while you’re at it. So much of it has withered and died.”
“No problem,” he said with a nod. “I’ll get right on that.”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Patty laughed and tapped him on the shoulder. “It is nice to have you, though. The last owner of your house was hardly ever here. It was a vacation home, and a neglected one, I suspect.”
“It was in need of an update. I’d love to show you sometime.” He stood and carried his dishes to the sink. “Can I at least wash these dishes?”
Sheila suppressed a laugh. It didn’t matter how fast Russell was; he’d never get near that sponge.
“No!” Patty yanked the dishes from him. “You’re my guest!”
Sheila stared, holding her breath. Would he try to wrestle the plates back from her? Patty had a deceptively strong grip, probably from years of playing tug-of-war with Derby.
He seemed to sense this and let it go. “Thank you for being so welcoming today. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding with your son. I’m not trying to steal your home from you. I promise I won’t cause any more trouble.”
Shoot. There it was. He’d beaten her to it. Sheila was going to bring up their confrontation and be the one to apologize.
Instead, she’d sat there like a mute.
It looked like Patty was about to reach out and pinch his cheek, but thankfully, she resisted. “Water under the bridge.”
“Maybe we can talk business soon, Sheila?” he asked.
She nodded and cleared her throat. “Yes. Sure.”
Patty took him by the arm and walked him to the front door.
