Cally pursed her lips. 'They're lovely. Where did you find them?'
‘They were upstairs when I first moved in. I was going to chuck them, but something made me keep them because I loved the old patina.’
‘Yeah, nice.’
‘I want it to feel a little bit like you've stepped back in time in my speakeasy.’
‘Love that idea. I'm starting to see that this festival is a big deal in Lovely. It's not just about the food, is it?'
'Nope, it's not. The chowder is important, of course. It's the heritage, connection to the sea and to the past of the place.’
Cally nodded. ‘It’s the belonging, for me.'
'Exactly. You're part of Lovely now, whether you realise it or not.' Nina joked. ‘You have no choice in the matter. You get roped in for all sorts if you live here.’
Two hours or so into setting up the tables and chairs, Nina came down the stairs with a couple of mugs of tea. Passing one to Cally, she held up a couple of lengths of very thin rope tied into intricate nautical knots. 'What do you think about these for the napkin rings?'
‘Love. Where did you find them?'
'Old Tom just down here made them for me. He’s worked on the boats all his life, and so he knows a knot or two.’
The detail of the knots, so quintessentially Lovely, made Cally smile. ‘Wow, so clever. It’s simple but oh-so-Lovely.’
‘I know. I love it, too.’
Cally gestured around the room. 'Well, that didn’t take too long. It's really coming together.’
‘Yep. It’s exciting. Something’s in the air. You can’t put your finger on it.’
Cally nodded, understanding exactly what Nina meant. It was as if Lovely buzzed in anticipation about the upcoming festival. However, no matter how much she tried to look on the bright side or flick the switch, our Cally wasn’t buzzing. Nor was she happy. Flat, more like. Very, very flat and down in the dumps. Her arms ached from being back to holding up that same old, same old sky. Not a good position to be in at all.
32
Cally had heard nothing from Logan. She’d considered messaging him but had decided against it. Instead, she stuck her head in the sand, buried herself in her laptop, and tried not to think about it. Eloise had told her in no uncertain words that she thought she was doing the wrong thing, but Cally's head had remained well and truly in the sand. Her grandma had always told her she was stubborn. It seemed she’d been right.
Part of her seethed about Logan and what she perceived to be his lies. Sitting at her laptop waiting for a customer to find their order number, she realised that while she thought about Logan and the situation, she was clenching her jaw so tightly it was almost as if her bones might crack. He’d riled her up and then some. And now he’d stuck to his word and not called or darkened the door. Poor devil couldn't do anything right. All of it would have been fine if she didn't care less. She did. The problem was that she still loved him and probably would until the cows came home.
Henry-Hicks might have stuffed up, but he was unknowingly still very much in the game.
She tutted as the customer gave the wrong order number and she had to instruct her that she needed an eight-digit number.The joys of working in customer service. Dealing with another three customers at the same time via different windows, she tried not to think about Logan. Easier said than done.
After making a cup of tea and working through an afternoon filled with complaint after complaint, by the end of the session, she’d had enough. She checked her watch and wondered whether she could bail out of the Chowder Festival progress meeting she was attending that was happening at a speakeasy at the back of the deli. She considered not going for all of about three seconds. Being part of the Lovely community was very important to her, and ducking out of the meeting would put a very black, very intense mark against her name. She wasn’t in the mood for the meeting in the slightest, though. About the only thing she was in the mood for was comfort eating, a shed load of wallowing, and maybe a bit of a cry for good measure. Or perhaps getting into bed, putting the duvet over her head, and hibernating until the whole Logan mess was something she could forget. As she pulled the lever on the shower, listened to the water coming up through the building, and heard the pipes clang and bang, she cursed herself for the billionth time for falling in love with Logan. She rued the day she’d first set eyes on him when the bottom of her bag fell away on the riverboat. Rued his stupid surname. His manor house, no less. Shoulders, eyes, everything else.
After showering, putting on her usual short skirt uniform, and sticking her hair up in clips, she poured herself a hot blackcurrant and, with a bit of time to kill before the meeting, decided to have a little walk. She hoped the fresh air might do her some good. Walking out of the back entrance of the deli, she headed down the service road at the back, came out not far from the lighthouse, stood gazing at it for a few minutes, and then headed back in the direction of the shops.
As she made her way further along the street, she hoovered up the Lovely scene in front of her eyes. Even though she was not happy about what had happened concerning falling in love with one of Lovely’s poshest inhabitants, she still adored the third smallest town in the country. The line of pretty boutique shops with paned windows looked back at her and oodles of bunting ready for the festival fluttered across the top of the street. A young couple sat in the window of the chocolate shop with steaming cups of coffee and truffles, and she smiled at the old bookshop with its striped awning and bench outside loaded with second-hand books. The old-fashioned hardware store, where timber trestle tables lined up against the shop window were stacked with old fishing baskets full of hardware items, was just closing up for the day. A little dog was tied up outside the charity shop and a couple of mums, one wearing one of the blue wax Lovely coats, pushed prams back and forth as they chatted outside the Co-op. Cally liked being part of Lovely. Quaint, old-fashioned, and from another time, it made her feel safe, as if she belonged and had somewhere to call home.
She smiled as she stopped at the pub, peered in the window, and looked along at the bow-fronted shop of the deli with bunting hanging across the top of the door. A chalkboard with bunting tied haphazardly around the top detailed Lovely Bay chowder was available and invited passers-by to pop in.
A few minutes later, she was standing in the deli. Alice frowned and smiled at the same time. ‘Hey, our Cally. You’re a bit early, aren’t you?’
‘I had to get out of the flat. I’ve been staring at my laptop for hours on end. Had enough of it.’
‘Right, you are. Coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’
Alice lowered her voice, ‘You coming later?’
