Dramatic morning at the shop. Had a biscuit-related showdown. More soon.
Got there early this morning to finish repainting external window frames. Found Jones already doing it—had wondered where he’d headed off to so early, after scattering his coffee grounds across our kitchen counter. Could’ve had a lie-in if he’d told me he was doing the windows today. Swallowed back a grumpy commentto this effect when I spotted that Red was also here, sitting on the counter inside, eating a pot of chocolate ice cream.
“I paid for it!” she told me when I came in, hastily swallowing her mouthful. Her blue-streaked curls were scraped back, and she was fresh-faced and dewy, with a blob of chocolate ice cream melting on her nose. Of course Red had paid for her ice cream. She strikes me as the sort of person incapable of deviousness.
“You know you don’t need to be here for another”—I checked the time on my phone—“two hours, right?”
“Rosie’s getting a mural painted on the wall at the farmhouse,” she said, wiping her nose. “Something that commemorates the Nicole family history. Toby’s painting it.”
“Oh, he’s an artist?”
She nodded, eyes briefly lighting up. “He’s really good.”
“Wow, who knew! And you’re therefore here avoiding Toby because…”
She froze, caught out. “No, I didn’t mean that! I was just hungry. For ice cream.”
As predicted, she was an abysmal liar. She wiped her hands on her board shorts.
“Let’s get started! I can help you with stuff, since I’m here,” she said. “My dad’s a builder, I’m great at DIY if you want to redo the shelves like you said the other day?”
She might be bad at lying, but she was good at distracting me. Have used this trick a few times myself over the years, but nonetheless, it worked.
“Ooh, really? I want to rearrange that whole wall.” I pointed. “Fewer shelves, and wider ones, so that we can really showcase the— What? You hate it?”
Red was pulling a face.
“Sorry! Sorry. I don’t hate it, but Galoshes will,” Red said, dropping her voice slightly. “She said the other day that she’ll see stock reduced ‘over her dead body.’ ”
“I did not know anyone could care so much about dried goods.”
Red laughed, and then immediately looked repentant.
“Galoshes is kind of scary, isn’t she?” Red said, dropping her voice even further.
“No,” I said, even though I literally lay awake last night thinking exactly this. “All right, we’ll leave the shelves for now—I want to create a little cake stand area by the till, start selling coffee and some of Doc Laurry’s amazing biscuits.”
“Absolutely not,” came Galoshes’s voice from behind me. “We arenota café.”
Red’s face froze as she stared at Galoshes over my shoulder. I turned slowly. Galoshes was dressed all in black, bar her pink glasses, and was wearing a truly formidable expression.
Sheisscary.
“Lots of farm shops double up as—”
“It’s a no,” Galoshes said. “And that’s that.”
“You can’t actually decide that.” Was trying to sound confident but was already starting to sweat.
“You think the committee will vote for what you want? Nothing happens on this island without my say-so, Miss Charlie Jones, and the sooner you learn that, the better.”
She turned on her heel and walked out. Don’t even know why she walked in. It was still almost two hours until anyone’s shift started.
“I think she’s probably right about that,” Jones said through one of the barn windows.
Had almost forgotten he was here, still painting the woodworkoutside. Could’ve piped up when it would actually have been useful, couldn’t he? Felt hot and embarrassed. Wished he’d not seen all that.
“I didn’t realize managing the shop was a spectator sport,” I said to him.
