“Noah . . . ?”
Abby nodded towards the little boy playing in the corner. “My son,” she said, a slight note of proud challenge entering her voice.
“Of course.” Claire smiled at the boy, who, at the mention of his name, had looked up from his toys. “Well,” she said, only half joking, “you don’t have a job going, do you?”
Abby made a face. “Sorry. I wish I did. I wish I had enough business to warrant the help.”
“It was worth a shot,” Claire said. “How about an egg and bacon sandwich and a cup of tea instead?”
“That I can do,” Abby said, and rang up the order. Claire paid and then wandered to a table by the window, where she could watch the sea surge and swell. She propped her chin on her hands and wondered where else she could look for a job, and then she wondered if she really wanted a job.
Did she want to stay in Hartley-by-the-Sea? Maybe only by default, because she had nowhere else to go. But to get a job, actually settle down here, if only for a while?
She turned the thought over in her mind, trying to imagine it. Working here, making friends here, building a life. Something she’d never actually done before, not really.
She’d spent four years in Portugal, but it hadn’t felt like a life or a home. She’d had a job that had felt like being a show pony, a glamorous, soulless executive flat, and a fiancé who had sometimes felt like a stranger. A charming, handsome stranger but someone she didn’t really know or miss.
The thought brought a sense of shame, that she’d come so close to tying her life to a man she didn’t actually care about. But then she didn’t know if Hugh had even cared about her. She’d never really understood why he’d wanted to marry her, except that she looked good on his arm and always did what he said. Not exactly the stuff of romantic dreams.
He hadn’t called her once since she’d left Portugal a month ago, hadn’t sent so much as a text. It was as if he’d disappeared from her life, and the worst thing was she didn’t feel hurt or even disappointed. She only felt relief.
“Here you go.” Abby put down her sandwich, along with a little tin pot of tea and a jug of milk.
“Thanks.”
She stood there while Claire poured the tea and milk, starting to feel self-conscious under the women’s scrutiny.
“I think you should try the post office shop again,” Abby said. “I know Dan Trenton can be a bit unfriendly, but honestly, he’s like that with everyone.”
“Is he?” Claire took a sip of tea. “I don’t actually have any experience working in that kind of environment.”
“You don’t need much. Just ringing up the till, stocking shelves, I imagine.” Abby hesitated. “What did you do out in Portugal, then?”
“I worked in real estate.” It sounded far more important than it had been. “Really, I just showed retirees a new estate of villas my fiancé was developing. It didn’t involve much more than walking around an empty house, opening doors and talking about the stunning ocean views and dual-aspect kitchen.” She grimaced at the memory, and Abby cocked her head.
“Didn’t like it much, did you?”
“Not really.”
“What happened to the fiancé?” Abby asked. “If you don’t mind me asking?”
“We broke up.” Claire felt her face heat. “Actually, he dumped me. I think.”
“You think?”
“Well.” Claire grimaced. “We left it a bit... undecided. I was coming to England, and we haven’t spoken in a month. So.”
“You don’t seem too disappointed.”
She let out a laugh, surprised at Abby’s bluntness. “No, I’m not. And yet I stayed with him for nearly four years. I’m not sure what that says about me.”
“Maybe that you’re very patient?” Abby suggested with a smile. “Enjoy your sandwich.” She turned away to tend to the pair of hikers who had come into the café, stomping mud from their caked boots and brandishing elaborate-looking walking sticks. Claire stared out at the sea.
Perhaps she would try Dan Trenton again. Why not? She’d made two sort of friends since she’d come back to Hartley-by-the-Sea, and as she sipped her tea she could almost imagine what it would feel like to live here. To have a life. To be free and independent and happy.
Three things she’d never really felt before, but maybe, just maybe, she could feel them—be them—here.
Chapter five
