She should be relieved he wasn’t interested. And she was. Sort of.
So why was she still standing in the middle of her kitchen thinking about all of this? Carole had no answer to that question.
Gathering up the bottles of salad dressing they’d used during dinner, she carried them to the fridge. When she opened the door, she saw the two bowls of dessert she’d prepared earlier and completely forgotten about.
It was just a simple Eton Mess, filled with sweet strawberries and crushed meringue and dollops of whipped cream, and although it hadn’t exactly required hours of slaving in the kitchen to put it together, she was still sorry Tom had missed out on dessert because he’d had to rush off.
While Carole could easily devour one of the dessert bowls herself, eating two of them was out of the question. She didn’t like to think of the second bowl going to waste.
Perhaps she should take it round to Tom and he could enjoy it while he worked?
Before she could analyse whether this impulse was due to a desire to avoid unnecessary food waste, or because she simply wanted Tom to have his share of the dessert she’d prepared, or because she longed to see him again and smooth over the weird half-hug farewell they’d exchanged moments earlier, Carolegrabbed one of the bowls from the fridge and headed for the door.
But when she opened it, she let out a yelp of surprise when she found someone standing right in front of her on her doorstep.
The dessert bowl in her hand almost tumbled to the floor as she screeched to a halt to avoid crashing into the older lady who was there. It took only a second for Carole to recognise the woman as Olive Nimmo, her neighbour from further down Foxglove Street.
“Oh, my goodness, you scared me, dear!” Olive said with a laugh, clutching a hand to her chest. “You threw the door open so quickly that you quite startled me out of my wits!”
“I’m so sorry!” Carole said. “I shouldn’t have come barrelling through the door like that. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Olive said with another laugh, and held up the bundle of leaflets she was holding. “I was just posting these through the doors up and down the street. The Hamblehurst Local History Museum is having a special summer open day soon and we want to spread the word.”
Olive held out a leaflet, and when Carole took it from her, she scanned the information printed on it.
“The open day is still a few weekends away, but we want to make sure as many people can come as possible,” Olive explained. “The museum is having a major fundraising drive, and we hope this will bring in some money to help us with our various historical projects in the community. There will be special exhibits, historical talks, fun projects for the children, and a historical fashion show, which we’re very excited about. We have quite a few vintage clothing items in our collection and decided it would be exciting to put on a fashion show instead of simply having them on display on the mannequins.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“We hope it will be. So, if you can come along, it would mean a lot to have your support. The event runs from noon until four-thirty on the last Saturday of the month, but you don’t have to be there all afternoon. Pop along for fifteen minutes if that’s all you can spare and see what we have on offer for you to enjoy.”
“I’ll be sure to drop by,” Carole said, tucking the leaflet into the pocket of her capris with her free hand.
“Oh, that looks delicious,” Olive said, noticing the dessert bowl Carole was holding.
“I was just about to drop it off to Tom next-door,” Carole explained.
Olive beamed at this information. “It’s so nice to know you’re already getting to know your neighbours. I’m glad you’re settling in here on the street and making friends.”
Carole felt a blush warm her cheeks. Her current thoughts about Tom went far beyond simple friendship… and that was a mistake.
Perhaps almost crashing into Olive here on her doorstep was a sign that she shouldn’t go round there with this bowl of sinful dessert after all? She was sending all sorts of mad messages to the man and…
Her thoughts were stopped in their tracks when Tom’s door suddenly opened on the other side of the low picket fence that separated their front gardens. Tom hurried outside but stopped when he saw Carole and Olive standing outside her door.
“Oh, hello,” he said, smiling at them both.
“Nice to see you, Tom,” Olive said. “I was just posting these leaflets through everyone’s letterboxes. Here, take this and it will save me a trip up the front path to your door.”
Olive passed a leaflet across the fence to Tom, and he scanned the details.
“I know that the goings-on at the local history museum might not be hugely interesting to youngsters like yourselves,” Olivesaid with a wink, “but I was just explaining to Carole that if you can drop by even for a few minutes to show your support and look at the work we do and perhaps add a few coins to our collection box, we’d be very grateful.”
“Of course,” Tom said, still scanning the leaflet. “If I’m not busy, I’ll try to come along.”
“Thank you. Well, I’d better get on with my rounds.” Olive waved her bundle of leaflets in the air and walked off towards Carole’s front gate. “See you at the open day if not before!”
“Bye, Olive,” Carole said, and waved as the older lady strode off to the house next to Tom’s, already folding a leaflet to post through the letterbox.
