‘You look like you might need this,’ Millie soothed. ‘Are you feeling all right?’ She led Greta to a small velvet chair.
Greta sat down. She stared into the cup, trying to calm her nerves. When she took a small sip of the Maple Gold, its rich, caramel-like taste slowly spread warmth through her body. ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘I’m just worried about my family. They don’t know where I am.’
Millie tilted her head. ‘Please don’t fret too much. Families always have a way of finding each other again. Just take your time drinking your coffee. I’ll be here if you need me . . .’
Greta’s tension gradually eased. She felt calmer after the brew.
After a few minutes, Millie reappeared. ‘Here you are,’ she said brightly, setting down a shiny bag with ribbon handles at Greta’s feet. ‘All wrapped up and ready to wear.’
‘Thank you, Millie.’
‘You’re most welcome.’ Millie paused for a moment. ‘I’m about to take a break. Perhaps you might like to join me at my house for another coffee? A change of scenery and a proper sit- down might prove beneficial. Plus, I can tell you more about Mapleville . . . if that might be of interest to you?’
There was a hint of something in her voice, as if she wanted the company.
Greta was also keen to learn more about this curious place. ‘That’s very kind of you. I’d love to,’ she said, picking up her shopping bag.
Millie left her shop door unlocked. They strolled together past the park and the ice-cream van, the enticing scent of vanilla and strawberry mingling with the ever-present aroma of coffee.
‘It’s so refreshing to encounter a new face in our little town. In fact—’ Millie’s eyes widened as a thought struck her. ‘I can’t actually recall the last time I had the pleasure of meeting someone new.’
A multitude of questions dropped into Greta’s head. Why were new people so rare? And how had Millie ended up here? Something about her hinted there was more to her story.
‘I’d like to think we could become friends . . .’ Millie added with a smile.
Greta glanced at the confident, poised woman walking beside her. ‘I think I’d like that, too,’ she said.
Chapter 9
MILLIE OPENED HERgarden gate, sweeping an arm as if welcoming an honoured guest.
Greta gazed around her, noting this was the beautiful garden she’d spotted earlier. With its large pale pink roses, topiary peacocks and perfectly clipped hedges, it looked like a scene from the Chelsea Flower Show.
Greta’s own interest in gardening had recently blossomed, too. Weekend walks in the country took her past rhododendrons and orchids in the newly renovated park conservatory. She’d even considered buying pots of mint and basil to use in cooking and to give herself something to nurture as Lottie became more independent.
She followed Millie along the neat path, admiring the symmetry of the flower beds. ‘Your garden looks beautiful,’ she said.
Millie deftly snipped off a rose, produced a pin as if by magic from her pocket, and fastened the bloom to Greta’s dress. ‘There. Now you match the setting,’ she said. She took a step back to admire her handiwork. ‘That looks splendid, if I do say so myself.’
She took a silver compact from her pocket and applied a fresh coat of lipstick, as if preparing for a close-up. ‘Now, might I tempt you with another cup of Maple Gold?’ she said. ‘It has that wonderful aroma of . . .’
Greta thought her words sounded scripted, and she didn’t really want another coffee. But she did want to find out more about Millie and Mapleville. ‘Absolutely. Thank you,’ she said.
Millie’s sitting room exuded an air of timeless glamour, as if it belonged in the pages of a vintage interior design book. The walls were painted in rich shades of coffee and cream, giving the room a classic, chic feel. Each piece of furniture appeared perfectly curated, with polished wooden surfaces and tasteful ornaments on display. There were flowers everywhere, delicate blooms in shades of pink, ivory and yellow, adding bursts of colour. The air smelled sweet, of coffee and roses.
While Millie disappeared into the kitchen, Greta noticed framed photographs sitting on a shelf. Here was Millie in a neat white dress holding a cocktail at a party. Another captured her in a polka dot swimming suit and oversized sunglasses. In every image, she looked effortlessly elegant, as if each part of her life had been carefully choreographed.
The final photo showed her laughing beside a distinguished man who wore a suit and had slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair.
Catching sight of herself in a nearby mirror, Greta was once again surprised by her own reflection. Inside, she still felt like a messy, middle-aged mother of a teen, but the woman looking back at her looked polished, like someone who had life all figured out.
Millie hummed the Maple Gold jingle while brewing the coffee. When she returned, she said, ‘Here we are. Coffee time,’ offering Greta a bone china cup on a silver tray. ‘Isn’t this just the best part of the day?’
Millie’s devotion to Maple Gold seemed rather over the top, yet also infectious. Without thinking, Greta found herself holding the cup with her little finger extended, a touch of Millie’s grace already rubbing off on her. ‘How long have you lived here?’ she asked.
Millie smiled, touching her pearl necklace. ‘Oh, it feels like forever. In the most delightful sense, naturally.’
‘You have such a beautiful home, and life.’ Greta gestured toward the photo of the handsome man. ‘Is that your husband?’
