Page 40 of A New Love

"Charlotte..." Marge began, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words. She knew how much The Crown Inn meant to Marge, but perhaps it was time for a change. And if anyone could breathe new life into it, it was Charlotte herself.

Seeing the hesitation in Marge's eyes, Charlotte took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. "I know this is sudden, but I promise you, Marge, I'm serious about this," she said firmly, her gaze never leaving the older woman's face. "Can we please discuss the details? I want to make this happen."

Marge hesitated for a moment longer, studying the determination etched into every line of Charlotte's face. The scent of fresh-baked bread filled the air around them, mingling with the warmth emanating from the hearth. Finally, she let out a sigh and nodded, her eyes crinkling with a small, hesitant smile.

"Alright," Marge agreed, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron. "Let's sit down and talk about it properly, then. You look like you could use some tea to calm those nerves of yours." She gestured to the sturdy wooden table nestled against the kitchen wall, inviting Charlotte to take a seat.

"Thank you, Marge," Charlotte murmured gratefully, settling onto the bench and smoothing her skirt beneath her. As Marge bustled about preparing the tea, Charlotte relaxed into the comforting familiarity of the scene: the way the sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting dappled shadows across the well-worn floorboards; the faint hum of bees buzzing just outside the open window; the gentle clink of china as Marge set down their teacups—one of her own, and Charlotte’s new favorite family heirloom cup.

"Here you go, dear," Marge said, handing Charlotte a steaming cup of tea. The aroma was rich and fragrant, wafting up from the delicate porcelain and filling Charlotte's senses with a sense of calm. "Now, let's get down to business, shall we?"

Charlotte took a slow sip of her tea, feeling the warmth spread through her body and soothe her pounding heart. She looked into Marge's eyes, the older woman's expression open and attentive, and knew that she had found a kindred spirit in this quaint little corner of England.

"Alright," Charlotte said, setting down her cup and meeting Marge's gaze once more. "Let's talk about The Crown Inn."

"Alright, Marge," Charlotte began, her fingers drumming lightly on the table's surface. "I understand that this might be a bit sudden for you, but I need to know: how much are you asking for the inn?"

Marge hesitated, her eyes flicking around the room as if searching for an answer in the familiar surroundings. Finally, she sighed and met Charlotte's gaze. "Well, dear, I suppose I'd part with it for... oh, let's say two hundred thousand pounds."

Charlotte's heart swelled with relief, and a grin spread across her face. She had been saving up her earnings from her piecemeal art sales over the years, and while she hadn't expected an opportunity like this, she knew she could afford a significant down payment.

"Two hundred thousand," Charlotte echoed thoughtfully, the number feeling both daunting and entirely possible all at once. "I think I can manage that."

"Are you certain?" Marge asked, her brow furrowing with concern. "It's not a small sum, and I don't want you jumping into this without thinking it through."

It would wipe out her nest egg, but Charlotte was thrilled to do it.

"Believe me, Marge," Charlotte replied, her voice filled with conviction, "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. And I have... I have a vision for this place."

"Go on," Marge encouraged, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"Firstly," Charlotte said, gesturing around the cozy kitchen, "I'd like to turn The Crown Inn into a bed and breakfast. A welcoming haven for travelers and artists alike, a place where people can come to escape the chaos of their daily lives and find inspiration in the beauty of Chesham Cove."

As Charlotte spoke, her eyes filled with the dream she had begun to weave for herself – for what The Crown Inn could become. Marge listened intently, her expression softening as she took in the younger woman's enthusiasm.

"Of course, I'd want to keep the charm of the inn intact," Charlotte continued, "but perhaps with a few small updates. Fresh paint, new linens... just enough to make our guests feel at home."

"Guests?" Marge asked, a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

"Ah, yes," Charlotte laughed, a touch sheepishly. "I suppose I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. But it's hard not to when I can see it all so clearly in my mind."

"Sounds like you've given this a lot of thought," Marge noted, her eyes twinkling with approval.

"Thank you, Marge," Charlotte said sincerely, warmth filling her chest at the older woman's words. "I promise you, if you decide to sell The Crown Inn to me, I'll do everything in my power to make it a place you can be proud of."

"Something tells me, dear, that I already am."

The kitchen's familiar aroma of freshly-baked bread and brewed tea wafted over Charlotte as she watched Marge's eyes flit back and forth, her brow furrowed in contemplation. The older woman's hands were wrapped protectively around her teacup, as if drawing some measure of comfort from its warmth.

Charlotte's fingers tightened around her own cup, her heart fluttering with anticipation as she awaited the verdict.

Marge took a deep breath, her gaze steady. "Alright, my dear. I'll sell you The Crown Inn at the price we discussed. This place has been my life's work, and I can't think of anyone better to pass it on to."

"Really?" Charlotte gasped, relief and joy surging through her in equal measure. She felt the weight of her dreams begin to lift as the possibilities unfurled before her. "Oh, Marge, thank you! I promise I won't let you down."

"Something tells me you won't," Marge replied, her eyes softening as she regarded Charlotte with a mixture of admiration and affection. "Now then, let's discuss the details, shall we?"

As they delved into the particulars of the sale, Charlotte's mind raced with plans and ideas, each more exciting than the last. Through it all, however, her thoughts kept returning to one simple truth: she was finally on the path to making her dream a reality, and it filled her with a sense of purpose she hadn't known she'd been missing.

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