Page 70 of The Spotted Cottage By the Sea
Patty wrapped an arm around her. “It can’t be that bad.”
“I’ve failed you, Patty. I’ve failed you, and the girls, and Lottie. I’ve ruined everything.” She kept her eyes down, focused on the tissue she was decimating with her fingers.
“Well. It sounds like we’re going to need some tea. I’ll boil the kettle.”
It took Patty nearly half an hour to convince Sheila to tell her what had happened.
When she was done, Sheila sat staring at the teacup in her hands. “I thought we’d be able to keep the house and the tea shop, Patty. I was sure we’d find a way.”
“You did find a way.” Patty chuckled. “I’m just a dope who didn’t know she’d signed a loan.”
“You’re not a dope.”
Patty waved a hand. “We can find a way out. I’ll call the bank.”
“I already tried that. They won’t work with us unless we have the money. They said it’s too late.”
“Don’t worry about me.” She sighed. “I knew this day was coming. But wow, did you give me a beautiful send off.” Patty smiled, but Sheila didn’t return it.
“I’ve lost your house. I’ve lost my house. Russell thinks I’m some eco-terrorist mastermind, and Lottie will never get home.” She was quiet for a moment before adding. “Brian was right. I’m nothing without him.”
Patty pursed her lips. “Now you hold on right there. Brian wasnotright. I cannot believe he said that!”
“I’m sorry.” Sheila shook her head and drew herself up. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Yes, you should have. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind, but first, we’re going to get some help. We’ll figure this out.”
“Please, Patty,” Sheila grabbed her hand. “Don’t tell anyone. I can’t bear it. I’m going to tell the girls soon, but – please. Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
Patty stared at her, her lips pursed. “Fine.” She crossed her fingers in her apron pocket. “I promise.”
Thirty-two
There was something uncanny about the knocking on Russell’s door.
It wasn’t that it was unusually loud or unusually hard – in fact, it was so soft he had mistaken it for a woodpecker at first.
What disturbed him was the persistence. The knocker started knocking and kept going, and though he called out, “Coming,” the knocking didn’t stop. It went on and on the entire time it took him to finish rinsing the soap off the pan in the sink, dry his hands, and rush to unbolt the lock.
All the while, he knew it wasn’t Sheila. She hadn’t tried to contact him again, and he’d nearly convinced himself it was better that way.
Nearly. As much as he told himself it was better she stayed away, and her being absent proved how guilty she was, that she’d never cared for him at all outside of trying to use him…he still wondered.
Could it have all been a misunderstanding? How much of a fool would he have to be to believe their meeting was a coincidence, and she hadn’t known he owned Lottie, that she hadn’t been plotting all along?
It was hard to believe people didn’t know everything about him. It seemed like his personal details were plastered on the internet for everyone to see.
Yet despite all of that, despite the gaping hole in his chest, late at night, when he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed, he put her music on and listened with his eyes closed.
He finally opened the door and the knocker stood, her hand still suspended in midair.
“Patty?” He blinked at her. “Is everything okay?”
“No, it is not,” she said curtly. “Can I come in?”
Before he could answer, she pushed by him and walked into the kitchen.
“You scared me,” he said, closing the front door and joining her at the kitchen island. “I thought a tiny bird was trying to warn me my house was on fire.”
