Page 72 of The Spotted Cottage By the Sea
Ah. Everything went back to that: stomach-churning, sleep-stealing, life-threatening risk.
There was no use in asking Patty anything more about it. She was convinced she knew what was best – convinced Sheila did, in fact, love him.
How could she know? It was impossible. He’d been obvious about how he felt – so obvious that even his elderly neighbor could see it.
As far as they knew, Sheila could be fooling them both. The thought made him want to run – get in the car right now and get off the island.
Russell stood from his seat. “Would you like some tea?”
Patty, apparently satisfied she’d ruined his morning, hugged him and said, “No, thank you,” before walking out the door.
Russell stood there, mug in hand, feeling as hollowed out as the doorway, open to the expansive of blue sky above.
Thirty-three
After a week of talking – pleading – with the bank, Sheila had her final answer. There was no way to keep the tea shop unless they came up with a hundred thousand dollars to pay off the loan.
The truth of it hung like a weight on her neck. She walked stooped over, her eyes downcast and her spirit extinguished.
Sheila was so low that she could finally face calling the bank about the foreclosure notice on her home. It wasn’t as dire – she had some options. Apparently, banks didn’t like to foreclose on homes. Not for any benevolent reason, but because it cost them money.
If she came up with enough cash, she could hold them off, but it would mean going back to the mainland and getting a job as quickly as possible. It would mean giving up on this dream they’d all shared.
Why not pretend it was fine for a bit longer?
During the day, she could keep up the act, but at night, her mind wandered. She stared at the ceiling, her heart miles away in the tiny tank where Lottie slept, alone, her calls absorbed by the darkness.
That morning Brian called, but Sheila missed it entirely. She was engrossed with job postings, wondering how she’d explain her recent firing in an interview, when she saw he’d left a voicemail.
“How dare you go after my mother!” he spat. “You bankrupted her business and now you’re losing our house, too? Great work, Sheila. Top notch. I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything different from you. Know this: I’m not giving you a dime.”
Blood rushed to her face and burned her cheeks. She gritted her teeth and deleted the voicemail.
Our house. How could he refer to it as his? As if she hadn’t almost lost everything to buy him out of it.
She ran downstairs. “Patty, did you tell Brian about the tea shop?”
Patty pulled off her oven mitts, a pan of raspberry shortcake scones cooling on the oven. “Not exactly.”
“Then how does he know? He thinks I bankrupted you.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “That might’ve been because of me. I asked if he would help you with the payments on the house. I didn’t tell him about the tea shop, exactly, just that I’ve got some loans here I can’t cover…” She shrugged. “It seems he jumped to some conclusions.”
It didn’t matter. His facts weren’t right, but the result was the same: they were going to lose everything.
Sheila sat down at the table. “I’m so sorry, Patty. I failed you.”
“Stop saying that! Who knows? Maybe Reggie will propose and I’ll move in with him!” She cackled and took a seat, her face lit by a bright smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I keep telling you that, and I mean it.”
Her phone lit up again. Thankfully, it wasn’t Brian – it was her eldest daughter Mackenzie on a video call.
Sheila took a deep breath before forcing a smile and answering. “Hey Mack!”
“Hey Mom! Where are you?”
She panned her phone over to the scones. “I’m at Granny’s house. How are you?”
Mackenzie waved a hand. “I’m good. I wanted to come visit. Soon.”
