Zofia pulls a face. ‘Listing everyone is inclusive, but it loses the punch.’
Miles is looking at me, his eyes half closed. ‘Betsy and Milo! It’s simple and unique– like the shop.’
I’m trying it out for size. ‘Betsy and Milo– the shop with nothing in.With a curly “and” not the word.’
Miles gives a cough. ‘I’m confident you can improve on the tag line.’
Plum looks around. ‘It’s like the gallery. The empty bits make the stock thatishere pop.’
I’m forcing myself to find a way to accept this. ‘The name’s not a big deal. It’s only for a few weeks, after all.’
Plum turns to me. ‘Edie does signs on planks that won’t break the bank. She can do you a couple for the walls, and one to hang in the window.’
When they’re helping so much, it’s only fair I join in. ‘I’ll go up to see her later and talk about sizes and colours.’
Miles jumps in. ‘And I can put up the fixings for the rope to hang the sign.’ He backs off. ‘Unless you’d like to screw some hooks in yourself.’ His voice rises hopefully. ‘Or we could do it together?’
Clemmie gives me a smile. ‘This way it’s so temporary you can take it down in seconds if you change your mind.’
‘That’s good by me!’ I need to make up for that by being the most enthusiastic I’ve sounded since they got here. ‘I’ll get a “Betsy & Milo” Facebook page up and running tonight and put something on Insta.’ That way I can have my nervous breakdowns in private on the sofa later.
Zofia is pulling out the cord of her Henry. ‘If that’s everything, off you all go and leave me to my cleaning.’
Miles unties Fudge from his table leg, Clemmie turns her buggy, and I follow them all out onto the quayside. With the wind whipping my skirts against my legs, it’s so cold I’m thankful for all four layers.
Plum calls back over her shoulder. ‘I almost forgot! Edie has found some more postcard racks for you. Have a look when you call in for the signs, and if you want them, I’ll drop them down tomorrow.’
It’s not lost on me. Without that postcard rack none of this would have started.
As I pause to sigh, Fudge runs past with Miles hanging on to his lead.
‘Would you like a lift back to the cottage, Betsy Eliza?’
I know I should be independent and walk, and probably take Fudge, too, but for one time only I give in, and a moment after I say ‘yes’ I’m climbing into Miles’s car. And the moment after that he turns to me with the kind of smile that sends my insides into free fall.
‘For a cold start-up this is pulling together remarkably well.’
Miles is looking across at me as I settle into the comfy leather seat of his car and slot in my seat belt.
‘Considering we’re making things up as we go along?’ As our eyes meet properly my stomach drops so far it practically hits the road and I drag in a breath to steady myself. ‘The stuff you brought from Falmouth earlier was very useful.’
He laughs. ‘I buy my butter from that place. With the number of buns we’re shifting I’ll be going there a lot.’
‘Anything I can do as a thank you, let me know.’ I want to make it clear I’m not taking any of this for granted, but I already know I’m safe.
He’s holding his fingers in mid-air over the steering wheel. ‘I may take you up on that.’
I narrow my eyes. ‘Apart from helping with Fudge, I have absolutely nothing to offer you.’
‘That’s not completely true.’ He gives me that sideways look of total disapproval, then there’s a lilt of a smile at the corners of his mouth. ‘I’d like you to do some baking.’
My eyebrows shoot upwards. ‘If this is you and Tate trying to humiliate me…’
His tone is quiet. ‘It’s not.’
My voice rises. ‘My superpower is eating, not cooking!’
He holds up his hand. ‘No discussion, no explanations, no skills necessary on your part. You need to come to this completely un-prepped or it won’t work.’
