More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(15)
“I would just feel better,” Libby continued, “if there were more distance between us. I hate knowing he’s just a few suburbs away.”
“So where does this Chris live?”
Libby was considering moving in with an old friend and mentor.
“He lives somewhere on the Garden Route.” Tina raised her eyebrows at that bit of information. The Garden Route was a six-hour drive away. A beautiful part of the Western Cape that Tina always enjoyed visiting.
“That’s quite a distance,” she stated unnecessarily, and Libby nodded regretfully.
“I know, but I think, for now, it’s best.”
“I could drive you.” The offer was out before Tina could think about it, and Libby’s face went slack with shock.
“But it’s a long drive. Clara and I could fly.” Her tone of voice conveyed her reluctance at that thought.
“I suppose it’s better than being cooped up in a car all day,” Tina agreed.
“Truthfully,” Libby said with a grimace, “I’d prefer driving. Even though it’s a short flight, I’d rather not fly with her just yet.”
“So let me drive! Road trip—we haven’t done anything like that for a while!” And never with a baby. Tina wasn’t sure it was such a good idea, volunteering to place herself in such close confines with the infant, but maybe this would be the perfect cure for her stupid issues. Total immersion therapy.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. I haven’t tested my car yet. Not really. I’ve only done these piddling little drives to and from work. Sometimes to my parents’ house. This will be fabulous. Let me take you. Please. It’s the least I can do.”
“You’ve already done a lot, Tina,” Libby reminded her, and Tina waved her hand impatiently.
“You’re my friend. My best friend. And I love you. ‘A lot’ is never enough.”
Libby graced her with a grateful smile. “Road trip it is, then,” Libby said, her voice wobbly and her eyes shining with tears.
Chapter Three
“Oh my God, this town is gorgeous.” Tina sighed as they drove into yet another of the many picturesque tiny towns on the Garden Route. This one had a huge sign posted at the entrance of town:
WELCOME TO RIVERSEND
POP 5017
“We have to stop here!”
“We’re less than forty minutes away from our destination,” Libby informed her with an indulgent grin.
“Last stop on our road trip, then,” Tina said, her voice cajoling.
Libby laughed. “Fine! Let’s have a late lunch somewhere. I need to change my munchkin anyway. I want her fresh and happy when she meets her ‘uncle’ Chris for the first time.”
Tina scanned their surroundings until she spotted a faded neon sign that was switched on, even in the middle of the day: MJ’s. The M was flickering, and the apostrophe was off. The windows weren’t exactly clean, and there were remnants of Christmas decorations still adorning the corners. Clearly someone had attempted to remove them but couldn’t be bothered to clear away all the tinsel. Who knew how long it had been there. Somehow Tina doubted it was from last Christmas, which had been four months ago.
“I don’t know,” Libby said skeptically as she stared at the less-than-impressive exterior of the place.
“Come on; it’s an MJ, like me. It’s bound to have some hidden charms. Besides, I don’t see any other eateries. And I doubt you’d want to take Clara into the pub.” Tina eyed the pub, just a few doors away, dubiously. The place looked seedy, but a few locals and tourists were milling around outside. Tina knew there was a huge Saturday rugby test match on at the moment, which could explain the thronging crowd currently populating the pub. Ralphie’s—the pub—did have the usual sports-bar paraphernalia on its signage and advertised “big-screen TVs” boldly on its windows.
The huge roar coming from inside the pub affirmed Tina’s belief that it was filled to the brim with sports fans.
“Um . . . I think we’ll stick with MJ’s,” Libby said, wrinkling her nose as she clearly drew the same conclusion.
Tina dropped Libby and Clara off in front of the restaurant before driving off to find parking—difficult, when the main road was jam-packed with cars, and the restaurant didn’t have any dedicated spaces. She had to drive up the road a ways and find a spot off the main road.
She fed the meter and took a leisurely walk back to the restaurant. It was a glorious autumn day—the pretty little town was close enough to the beach that she could smell the brine in the air and hear the crash of waves in the distance. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of the sparkling blue water just behind the buildings across the street. Riversend was built on a slope, and a lot of the homes were downhill and closer to the water. There were a few larger houses farther up the hill that probably had spectacular, uninterrupted views of the ocean and town.
It was clearly a tourist town, probably busy only in spring, summer, and early autumn, but she loved the appeal of the place. People smiled and nodded at her as she passed them, welcoming and generously warm. She wondered why a place like this, which likely earned most of its money during the peak seasons, had no decent restaurants. Tourists probably stayed here and went out to eat at the nearby larger cities, like Knysna or Plettenberg Bay. Possibly even to Libby’s friend Chris’s place.