Page 60 of The Spotted Cottage By the Sea
He tried to wriggle out of her grasp but she was surprisingly strong. “There’s no need, I just wanted to –”
Patty cut him off, flinging the door open and putting her fingers in her mouth, letting out a resounding whistle.
The shop quieted.
“Hey everyone,” she yelled, “Russell Westwood is here! He is a movie star, a wonderful neighbor, and he’s available for pictures!”
Russell dropped his head down, grinning. “Well played,” he said quietly.
“Thank you.” She patted him on the arm. “We’re even now.”
She disappeared into the kitchen and Russell turned to find a small line forming ahead of him.
He cleared his throat. “Hi, everyone. Thanks for coming.”
After half an hour, the line to take pictures with him had fizzled and Russell took the chance to slip outside. The sun had begun its descent and the clouds over the water were putting on quite a show, lined in orange and yellow with a hint of pink just starting at the horizon.
There were heaters outside with warm, enticing flames, but Russell took a seat on an empty bench on the outskirts. No one noticed him except for Derby, who was making the rounds and getting petted by anyone who would have him. He had a big red bow attached to his collar, and an older man held his leash.
Derby spotted Russell and dragged the old man over.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, scratching his rump.
Derby rolled and put his paws up in the air. The old man laughed. “This guy is in heaven.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Reggie, Patty’s friend.”
“Nice to finally meet you. I’m Russell.”
The old man’s smile never broke. “I know. Sheila’s friend.”
A group of small children started pleading for Derby to come to them and he obliged, tugging at Reggie’s arm.
He bowed his head slightly as he turned to leave. “Have a good evening.”
There was still no sign of Sheila, but he knew he was in the right place. At the edge of the patio stood a small setup – two speakers, a microphone, and an electric keyboard. A small sign read,Welcome to A Spot of Tea’s open mic night!
After ten minutes, he spotted her. She swooped in, wearing a black leather jacket, and glided to the microphone, her hair blowing in the breeze.
She tapped on it to get the crowd to quiet. “Hi, everyone. Thank you so much for coming out tonight. I’m Sheila Wilde.”
There were a few yells andwoos from the audience.
Sheila nodded and pointed out at the crowd. “Thank you to my fans. You two mean the world to me.”
Now everyone laughed.
She smiled that hesitant smile, the one that always drew him in. “It really does mean a lot to us that you’re here tonight. I don’t know all of you, but I’m guessing most of you know Patty, who owns the tea shop. You might know there have been more than a few hard times around here.” She paused and a smile spread across her face. “All I can say is we’resohappy to bring this place back to life with the help of all you good people.”
Russell started to clap, and everyone followed suit.
Sheila took a seat at the keyboard and adjusted the microphone. “I’ve been bullied into kicking off the open mic tonight because, as you may know, Patty is my mother-in-law, and moving in with her has been a dream come true. I’ve finally realized my role as a failed artist.”
Laughter erupted again, bouncing through the crowd as patrons from inside filtered out and filled in the gaps on the patio.
Sheila grinned, and Russell grinned back at her. She hadn’t seen him yet—at least he didn’t think she had—but he could see her, her eyes twinkling under the hanging lights, the ocean at her back, the sunset providing the most brilliant backdrop.
“I promised my daughter I would sing one song, so here we go.”
She turned to the piano and struck the first note, soft and sweet.
