Page 13 of For My Finale
Daisy was still practically vibrating. “I can’t believe this. Lilah Paxton. In Bankton. The whole town is going to lose its mind.”
“Only because you’re going to inform them all,” Ives said. “Don’t you have letters to deliver?”
“Oh god, yes,” said Daisy. “I got a bit over-excited.” She pulled a batch of envelopes out of her bag and handed them to Blossom. “Yours. Mostly bills by the look of things. And I’m off to spread the news.”
She practically danced out of the cafe, leaving Blossom staring at the envelopes.
“Bloss?” Ives said.
“What?” said Blossom, sticking the bills under the counter where she wouldn’t have to look at them.
“This isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”
“What?” she said again.
Ives sighed. “You and Lilah Paxton separated by just a stone wall.”
“You think I’m going to creep into her bedroom at night or something?”
Ives looked at her doubtfully. “Just… be careful, eh? Celebrities aren’t like their on-screen personas. It’s easy to think that we know them when in actuality we really don’t.”
“I’m not sixteen,” Blossom said.
“Mmm,” said Ives, as though she didn’t believe her. She looked down at her watch. “Crap, I’d better go. Talk to you later.”
Blossom picked up Ives’s cup and wiped the counter under it. The cafe was empty now, and she usually enjoyed this little lull. It was her most peaceful time of day. She found herself humming as she washed cups.
Humming despite the fact that Ives seemed to think she wassome sort of crazed stalker who was going to, what, peep on Lilah Paxton from the bushes? Blossom intended to do nothing of the sort. An occasional glimpse of the movie star would do her just fine. In fact, she didn’t even need that. She was just going to pretend that nobody lived next door. That would be easiest.
Bankton was the only home that Blossom had ever known. And she loved it. She loved the little cobbled streets. She loved how Mrs. Wilkins the grocer always called her ‘petal’ despite the fact that she was a grown woman. She loved the little town museum and the fountain by the police station.
She loved the fact that even though both her parents were gone now, she’d been a surprise when they were both well into their forties and resigned to being childless, this still felt like home. She still felt loved and protected and safe here.
Hollywood though, that would be a different world entirely. Like something off TV. Glamor and flashing lights and designer outfits. A life that Lilah must see as perfectly normal.
For a second there she could see herself sitting in a palatial mansion up in the hills. The kind that Lilah had probably lived in before she’d started slumming it in Bankton. The floors were gleaming marble, there was a chandelier the size of a VW bus, and a robot butler that would serve her coffee on a silver tray.
“Your flat white, Madame Baker,” the robot would say in a posh accent.
Blossom could see herself draped in silk pajamas, lounging on a velvet chaise. “Why, thank you, Geoffrey,” she’d say grandly.
And Lilah would be there too, in a long ball gown, smiling at her, those green eyes twinkling, telling Blossom just how much she’d changed her life, and then…
“Oi! What are the chances of a coffee around here?”
Blossom jolted back to reality just as Arty slid onto a stool at the counter. “Sorry, Art, I was a bit lost there.”
“Yeah, you looked it.” He looked around the cafe. “Mind you, this place is hardly buzzing at the moment, is it? Got plenty of time for dreaming. I’ll take a black coffee, strongest you’ve got. Had a late one last night.”
Blossom poured him his coffee and set it in front of him. “Anything special going on?”
“Last night?” he said, picking his cup up, sipping, and then wincing at the heat. “Not really. But everyone was talking about that new neighbor of yours.”
Blossom groaned. “It’s all anyone can talk about this morning.”
“Can’t blame folks for being excited,” Arty said. “It’s not every day a movie star moves into a sleepy little English town.”
“You’d know, I suppose,” said Blossom, leaning on the counter.
