The Friends We Keep(110)

“You’re selling the tearoom?” An idea started to form in Evvie’s mind. It wasn’t what she had originally planned, opening a café without Maggie, but maybe she could find another partner, raise the financing to do it herself.

Harry nodded. “I’ve got the agents coming round next week.”

Evvie had been to the tearooms, an old stone building, small in the front, but with a rabbit warren of rooms that stretched back to a small courtyard. The interior hadn’t been touched since the seventies: heavy dark beams, a swirling orange carpet, small round tables dotted around, and tea carts piled with cakes baked by Ruby that creaked their way slowly around the room from table to table.

The couple of times Evvie had been, once with Maggie, once with Topher, she couldn’t understand how the business kept going, other than the locals’ love and loyalty to Harry and Ruby. How she could transform it! Throw out the carpet, knock down the cheap partition walls. Add planking and skylights to the cheap 1970s addition at the rear, banquette seating along the side, French doors onto the courtyard.

“What do you think you’re going to ask, Harry?” Evvie struggled to keep her voice calm, excitement bubbling up inside her. “Because I’m interested. I’m very, very interested, and I’d love to talk further.”

Harry sat up, more alert than he had looked all evening. “If you mean what you’re saying, I’ll talk to Ruby.” He named the price they were thinking of, which seemed insanely huge to Evvie. She balked slightly, but took a breath. Topher would help her find the money, she was sure of it, and her motto had always been “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“Are you still interested?” Harry peered at her and she nodded. “How about coming over and taking a look then? Sooner rather than later would be best.”

“How’s later this week?”

Harry nodded. “You just let me know. Do mornings work?”

Evvie nodded, leaving to go into the back room, where she wrapped her arms around herself and took some deep breaths. It would be perfect. It was exactly the space she and Maggie were looking for before . . . Well. Before.

She knew exactly what she would do with Ye Olde Tea Roomes to make it beautiful, and exactly what kind of food she would serve to bring people in. The tearoom would make a perfect breakfast joint. All she had to do was find the money, and she could do it, she thought. She always got what she wanted eventually. She just had to figure out how.

In her pocket, her cell phone vibrated. She pulled it out and looked at the text that had just come in.


I’m ready to talk. Can we meet for coffee tomorrow? The River House at 11?



It was from Maggie. “Thank you, God,” whispered Evvie, looking up toward the ceiling, and as she typed back a yes, a large smile appeared on her face.





fifty-three


- 2019 -



Evvie got to the River House first, unsure of what Maggie would say to her. For all she knew, Maggie could be putting the house on the market, could tell Evvie she needed to get the rest of her stuff out by the end of the week. She could tell her she never wanted to see her again, that their friendship was well and truly over.

But somehow she didn’t think so. Not that you can read anything into a text, but Evvie felt that Maggie’s text was gentle; she felt that Maggie had found a way to . . . if not forgive Evvie exactly, then to perhaps let bygones be bygones.

Or was that simply her own wishful thinking?

She liked that they were meeting on neutral territory, and in this cozy café, with its whitewashed stone walls and worn, wide-plank wood floors. Evvie took a seat by the window and ordered a flat white, drumming her fingers nervously on the table as she waited for Maggie to arrive.

The door opened and Maggie walked in, and Evvie’s first instinct was to rush over and hug her. Maggie was smiling ever so slightly, and Evvie felt a prick of tears—oh, but she had missed her!

“Hi.” Maggie bustled over, slipping off her faux fur vest.

“You’re still rocking the trendy look then.” Evvie attempted levity.

“Topher won’t let me go back to what he calls frumpy country maid,” she said, and she laughed as Evvie started to relax.

Maggie ordered a cappuccino, then sank her chin in the palm of her hand, looking at Evvie.

“You look well. I’ve missed you. How’s the bartending going?”

“It’s going well. I’m surprised at how much I’m enjoying being out in the world. Everyone who comes in is lovely. It’s one of the nicest jobs I’ve ever had.”

“And the flat?”

“Pretty grotty. Did Topher tell you? Or . . . Jack?”

“Topher. I think he was ever so slightly horrified.” She took a breath. “I want to talk to you about Jack. Well, not just Jack, but us. Everything. I want to talk about everything.”

“Okay. Where do you want to start? I know Jack’s staying with you.”

“He is, and you understand why? You understand that I’m not trying to be a surrogate mother, but that he is desperate to know the other half of where he comes from. And . . .” She shrugged. “I love having him there. He’s so like the best parts of Ben. And you. I see so much of you in him as well.”

“Thank you, I think.”