Page 43 of Tattered Edges

In an effort to keep my emotions in check, I thought it best to steer the conversation in a different direction. “You called the pub his third place. What does that mean?”

“Well, almost everyone has two places where they are known best. At home, with their families who know them most intimately, and work, where we spend so much of our time. A third place is that special place that is neither home nor work but a place where everyone knows you; a place you enjoy; a place you choose.”

I looked away from Hattie and around the Tavern, which was fuller now than it had been when I sat down. I considered the people who sat together over drinks and games. I thought about the way Hattie must have known a good number of them. She wasn’t just an employee at the pub. She was a keeper of names and a collector of stories and memories.

I loved the concept ofa third place. It was both comforting and inspiring. I wanted my store to be someone’s third place, too.

“I know Rory wanted to buy the bookstore and turn it into a restaurant,” I said, casting my attention across from me once more. “Given how inviting the pub is, I’m sure it would have been great for business.”

“That makes one of us,” she stated flippantly.

“So, you weren’t on board with the idea?”

Hattie drew in a deep breath as she shook her head. “Rory is brilliant. Truly. I love him as if he were my own. I’ve known him since he was a small boy and can attest he’s grown into the man his grandfather knew he was, and the man his uncle believed he could be. But sometimes his ambitions are his downfall. I’m quite relieved you came along. The last thing that man needs is more work.”

I liked hearing her talk about him. I liked it even more that she’d known him since he was little.

“You’ve been a part of this place for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Longer than I’d like to admit,” she laughed. “Jack hired me on, back when I was still young and gorgeous,” she teased, patting her white hair. “For a while, I stayed because I was sweet on Henry. He was a bit of a rolling stone, though. I gave up on him and married someone else. I had a couple children and quit working for a bit, but when I was ready to come back, Henry made it happen. Then after we lost him, I found I couldn’t leave.

“The only two here left who really knew Henry are Rory and me. There was Sawyer, of course, until he passed. And old as I am, I’m still useful. Rory relies on me down here, and I’m happy to be of service in Henry’s Tavern.”

She’d labeled herself asuseful, but in the short amount of time I’d spent with her, I knew she was selling herself short. The first time I met her, I could tell she had a care-giver’s spirit. Now, I knew it was more profound than that. I was hardly more than a stranger, and yet after thirty minutes in her company, my heart felt full.

“Hattie,” I began to say, leaning toward her a little. “If I’m a treasure, you’re a crown jewel.”

She beamed at me as she laughed. “Oh, I like you. We’re going to be friends.”

I couldn’t help but to smile right back at her as I replied, “I hope so.”

Two and a Half Weeks Later

Iwasgoingtobe late if I didn’t leave in the next sixty seconds. Much as I appreciated what had become the beguiling expression on Rory’s face when he was scowling, I liked it best when he wasn’t annoyed at me when he did it.

We were still getting to know each other, but I’d spent enough time with him to know the difference between a good-natured scowl and a grumpy one.

In the weeks that had transpired since the boiler incident, I was more confident than ever I was well within my rights to consider the man my friend.

Our friendship aside, he considered it downright disrespectful to arrive late to the beginning of a match—and I was inclined to agree. Nevertheless, I couldn’t leave without replacing the almost full pot of dripping water I had just beyond the foot of my bed.

The good news was: I was officially off the couch and in a fully furnished bedroom. I was no longer living out of a suitcase, I had ample room to stretch out while I slept, and my boiler was working like a charm. In the grand scheme of things, life was actually really good. I was settling in, establishing a routine, and cultivating relationships. While my family situation had turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, life in general felt full and invigorating.

I was still a newbie to London, business ownership, and century old building maintenance—but I was happy.

The bad news was: I’d recently discovered I had a leak in my roof, one I’d neglected to address when I first noticed it a couple of days ago. At first, I was merely grateful it wasn’t right above my bed. Until that morning, it was an almost forgettable problem. My flat might have been renovated relatively recently, but the building in which I lived was still more than a hundred years old. It wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t need it to be. Though, more of a break between problems would have been nice.

The rain hadn’t been terrible since I noticed the leak, so it took more than twenty-four hours for the first pot to reach even half full.

Trouble was, when I woke to the chiming of St. Paul’s bells Sunday morning, I was also greeted by copious amounts of rain. It was a quarter after one in the afternoon, and I’d already emptied the pot twice. Before I left to join my friends next door for the Manchester United match, I needed to swap out my pots so as not to return to a flooded bedroom.

I made the swap and then carefully carried the full pot to the bathroom, where I dumped the water down the bathtub drain. Rather than carry it with me down the stairs and into the kitchen, I left the empty pot next to the bathroom sink. I was sure I’d need it again before dinner.

While in front of a mirror, I took another look at my appearance. Rather than team attire, I’d chosen something a bit cozier to befit the mood of the day. I had on blue jeans, a plain white tee, and my favorite, oversized, chunky-cable-knit, mustard yellow cardigan.

Honestly, it was the sweater dreams were made of.

I’d styled my hair up in a strategically constructed messy bun, sure my hair was no match against the rain, and I wore a light layer of makeup. I was going for cute, but not trying too hard. It was, on its face, only a casual afternoon of watching soccer.

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