Blind-Date Baby (10 page)

She hesitated for a moment, then began typing again.

How did she say this? How did she explain all the weird things she’d been thinking, all the strange things that had been happening to her since that night? Did she tell them how her stomach did the high jump every time Noah walked in the coffee shop? Did she tell them about how, when she was alone in bed at night, she longed for him to be there with her, holding her, touching her…

She swallowed. Okay, she might not be ready to voice those thoughts, but there was something concrete she hadn’t told them yet.

For the first time in their Internet friendship there were no witty replies or strings of exclamation marks, no probing questions. These girls kept her real, asking the questions she was too scared to ask herself, encouraging her to reach beyond what she thought were her limits. But, right now, they were obviously just as stunned as she was about what she’d just told them.

After dealing with two very shocked friends, Grace logged off Blinddatebrides.com and turned off the laptop. Her brain was whirring far too hard to let her sleep, so she walked over to the bookcase and pulled out one of the photo albums.

Not the wedding one. One of the family ones, full of shots of her and Rob—and later Daisy too. A record of their relationship.

It had all seemed so romantic, marrying a handsome young soldier before he went off on active duty, and he’d come safely home again. That time.

She sighed. Rob had been husband material from the day he was born—kind, dependable, full of determination. Only a fool wouldn’t have snapped him up the minute she’d laid eyes on him.

She flicked through the pages…She and Rob hanging out with their friends…The pair of them in front of the Christmas tree with matching Santa hats and silly grins. And then she came to her favourite one. The one she’d taken on their budget honeymoon in Broadstairs—Rob smiling at her as he sat on a wall eating fish and chips.

She almost couldn’t bear to look at it.

Even though I haven’t said ‘yes’ to Noah, I feel like I’m leaving you behind. How can I do that after all we were to each other?

She searched his smiling eyes, looking for answers.

Slowly, surely, the words filled her head, just as if he’d been sitting on the sofa with her with his arm round her, speaking
to her, stroking the wisps of hair above her ears with his thumb. She knew exactly what Rob would have told her, his generous spirit and common sense shining through.

You have to. You have to leave me behind. You can’t freeze-frame yourself and pretend that time hasn’t moved on, because it has. A part of me will always be with you, but it’s time to let go. Time to become who and what you were always supposed to be
.

But did that mean accepting Noah or turning him down? And what was she supposed to be when she grew up, anyway? She gently closed the album and put it back on the shelf. At forty years and three months, she supposed it was high time she found out.

N
OAH
highlighted the last three pages he’d typed into his word processing program and hit the delete key with force. Then he highlighted the three pages before that and deleted them too.

His current hero was giving him hell and, no matter which way he tried to write him, he just wasn’t working. Something just wasn’t clicking.

He pushed himself away from his desk and let his chair roll backwards. What he needed was a change of scenery, a change of atmosphere. What he really needed was to stop thinking about Grace and what answer she’d give him. He didn’t want to pressurise her, but the waiting was driving him crazy.

Maybe it would have been better if he’d picked a glamour vixen instead. At least he’d have had an unequivocal answer there and then.

Actually, he needed to walk. It was a great way to clear his head and get the ideas flowing. And if he could walk where other people were, even stop and watch them sometimes, so much the better. Little questions popped into his head as he observed them, and these little questions were often the sparks for some of his best ideas.

Why is that guy wearing a coat in July? What are those two people sitting on the bench
not
saying to each other? Those sorts of things.

He got into his car and drove into Vinehurst and parked near the large common with a swing park at one end. Although the average person wouldn’t think a bit of wild grassland was a great place to people-watch for a writer of spy novels, they’d be wrong. He often wrote about characters who looked so domestic, so benign on the surface, but underneath they were sinister, heroic or just plain nasty.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and moved his feet. It was time to let his brain off the leash and see where it would run.

It was nearing six o’clock in the evening and most of the mums and kids had gone home for tea, leaving the common to dog-walkers and joggers, but as he passed the playground he spotted a lone figure, pushing themself backwards and forwards with a listless movement of one toe.

Why? his brain asked. Why is that person—an adult—sitting here all alone as the sun lowers in the sky? Why are they using one foot, not two?

He looked again, capturing the exact pose, the exact movement of the swing, because he knew this image was going to come in handy some day. But, as he looked again, he realised it was Grace sitting there on the swing and, suddenly, it stopped being an exercise in logic and became urgently personal.

‘Grace?’

She almost jumped off the swing she was so surprised to hear his voice. She couldn’t disguise the look on her face that said:
Oh, heck. Does it have to be him who finds me like this?
And then he noticed the puffy red patches under her eyes and the way she sniffed quietly, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Long story,’ she said, finally giving in to a good loud blow into a tissue. He sat down on the vacant swing and they both stared out into the distance, rocking in time.

‘Good job I like stories,’ he said, risking a look at her. She looked back, but didn’t smile.

‘The Coffee Bean is on its last legs.’ Her voice was almost monotone, so unlike her usual animated conversation. ‘Java Express has made Caz an offer to buy the shop and I don’t think she can afford to refuse it. If she waits until she has to sell, or goes bust, she won’t get nearly as much.’

‘You’ll lose your job,’ he said. ‘What will you do?’

Grace sighed. ‘I would go back to college and finish my training if I could, but I need a roof over my head. I need to work. Actually, I literally need a roof over my head. The flat is part of the deal.’

She shook her head and big fat tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘I can’t stand the idea that they’ll rip out that beautiful counter and pull up the floor. The Coffee Bean will lose all its character. They’ll just make it…generic.’

Oh, hell. He never knew what to do when people cried. Really cried. He never let himself do it, so he couldn’t even mimic what other people did when he was in the same situation. He didn’t do huggy stuff and there-theres. Didn’t know how.

What did Grace like? What would make her feel better?

Food.

Grace liked cooking. And she certainly enjoyed eating.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’m taking you to dinner.’ He wondered if Barruci’s would have a table free.

Grace looked up at him, her eyes hollow. He was about to pull his mobile phone out of his pocket and make a reservation when his inner Rottweiler growled at him. She stood, and didn’t even bother trying to argue with him.

‘Where are we going?’

‘The Mandarin Moon.’

He didn’t know why. He just knew it was the right choice.

Grace poked at her roast pork chow mein with a chopstick. She must really be in a bad way, Noah thought, if she couldn’t
polish this lot off. He offered her some more sweet and sour chicken and she just curled her lip.

‘What are your options?’ he said, putting the bowl back down on the table.

‘I don’t seem to have many options. I do okay working for Caz, but going to one of the large coffee shop chains would earn me virtually nothing. I’d have to move out of the area to find somewhere to live. But where the property is cheaper, the jobs are scarcer. Vicious circle.’

‘And there’s nothing you can do to save The Coffee Bean?’

She shook her head. ‘Nope. I offered Caz my savings, but she said it would just be a drop in the ocean. It’s a sad day when ten grand is a drop in the ocean.’

Ten grand. Not a lot to him, but Grace must have worked really hard to save that amount of money. Every day he knew her, there was more to marvel about her.

‘In a month’s time, I’ll have no job, no home. No Daisy, even. It’s worse than being back at square one. It’s square
minus ten
.’

He had told himself he wouldn’t push it. That he’d leave the whole marriage thing off the table tonight, but his mouth ran away with him.

‘My offer still stands. Marry me.’

Grace looked as if she was going to put her head face down in her noodles and cry.

‘Not only do I think we can make it work, but I can give you financial security, Grace. You won’t have to worry about a house. You could even go back to college or we’d look at investing in a shop, if you wanted. I always liked the idea of opening a shop myself. Of course I always thought it would be a book shop but, hey, I can be flexible. I like cake as much as the next guy.’

She bit her lip.

‘And Daisy’s college fees would be taken care of. No worries.’

‘Noah, I can’t—’

‘I know it sounds like I’m trying to buy you, but I’m not. Honestly. I need things from you too.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Such as?’

‘Well, there’s all the travelling all over the world, staying at nice hotels—Paris, Rome, Sydney—’

Grace sat up straighter. ‘Sydney? Do you ever get to visit San Francisco?’

‘We could, if you wanted. The other part of the deal is promising to protect me from the scary women with autograph books. Scary women in general, really.’

That was supposed to be a joke. She was supposed to laugh.

‘And, of course, there’s the all-important bonus…’

She folded her arms. ‘Which is?’

He grinned at her. ‘Nice teeth,’ he said, holding the pose. ‘Don’t forget the teeth.’

Despite herself, Grace let out a little laugh. ‘You’re as crazy as a box of frogs.’

‘I know,’ he said, suddenly sobering. ‘This does seem mad—or at least it would if it didn’t seem like the sanest idea I’ve had in a long time.’

Grace’s thumbnail made its way to her mouth. The weird thing was he was right. It did sound sane, logical even. Noah was offering her everything she’d ever dreamed of. And she didn’t feel guilty about wanting to take it. The situation she was in now wasn’t down to lack of hard work, it was merely fate pulling the rug out from under her feet. And, while she would never want to be accused of marrying for money, she had to admit that not having to struggle any more, to be able to enjoy the finer things in life was a real pull.

Oh, what was she going to do?

Noah pushed his plate away. ‘If you’d said yes to my original proposal, I’d have expected a longer engagement,
time to get used to each other, but if you need somewhere to stay, you can move in with me. Of if you don’t like the idea of living together, we’ll get married sooner. Whatever works for you, Grace. Just let me know.’

He was being so sweet. And she was on the verge of agreeing with him. She liked Noah. Really liked him. She could maybe even love him—in a growing-old-and-wrinkly-together kind of way. Was that going to be enough?

She’d been paying lip service to the idea of growing up, moving on. Now was her chance to make a mature decision about the rest of her life. Was she going to run away like a frightened child, or was she going to reach out and seize the day?

She exhaled long and hard and looked Noah in the eye.

‘I need to talk to Daisy. It wouldn’t be fair to make a decision without at least asking her how she feels about the changes this is going to make to her life.’

With a heart rate of at least a hundred and seventy five, Grace dialled Daisy’s mobile number. They’d mainly stuck to emails while she’d been away because of the cost of the calls, but this was one thing that couldn’t be typed out and sent with the click of a button.

Her stomach went cold and crampy when the dialling tone disappeared and she heard it ringing. A few seconds later a surprisingly crackle-free voice said, ‘Mum?’

All at once, Grace began to cry. She missed her girl so much. If only Daisy were here and they could sit round the kitchen table with a pot of tea and a stack of bacon sandwiches and they could hammer this all out.

‘Mum! What’s happened?’

Grace swallowed the lump in her throat and wiped the tears away with a flat palm. ‘Nothing’s happened. Well, not nothing—but I mean it’s not an emergency—nobody died or anything. I’m just so happy to hear your voice.’

‘Oh, Mum, me too!’

And then they were both in tears.

Grace pulled herself together first. There was more purpose to this call than just making her phone wet.

‘I’ve got some news…some good news, I think.’

Daisy sniffed and her voice was sunny through the tears. ‘Oh, yes?’

Grace nodded. Stupid, because Daisy couldn’t see her. ‘You know that man you set me up with…on the blind-date?’

‘I thought you weren’t dating him.’

‘I’m not…well, not really…but we’ve become very close.’ She took a deep breath and the words tumbled out when she released it. ‘He’s asked me to marry him.’

If Grace thought her heart rate was bad before, it was fit to leap out of her chest now. Not so much the high jump, but hurdling.

‘Daisy? Are you still there?’

Silence.

‘I’m still here. Flipping hell, Mum. You work fast!’

‘It’s a long story…’

And Grace filled Daisy in on all the details of The Coffee Bean, who Noah was and how quickly things were likely to happen. When, at last, she’d run out of things to say, she waited.

‘I don’t care who he is or what he does for a living. Although I have to say I’ve read a couple of his books and they’re really rather good…Anyway, that’s beside the point. What really matters is: do you love him?’

Grace dragged her top teeth across her bottom lip.
Not yet, but almost…

‘Not the same way I loved your dad, but I’m older now. I’m looking for something different this time around.’

‘And you think you can be happy with him?’

Grace stood still and shut her eyes, trying to picture a future—a long one—with Noah in it.

‘Yes. Yes, I think I can.’

She could almost imagine the determined expression on Daisy’s face as she said, ‘Then I think you should go for it.’

Noah had insisted he pay for Daisy to fly home from Greece for a week and then fly back out again to join her friends. In the days before the wedding they sorted through the flat, packing some things, donating other things to charity shops, just falling about laughing at some of their possessions.

Whose idea had it been to buy the light-up Santa that whistled a tune and dropped his trousers to display a bare bottom when you pushed a button? Grace swore it hadn’t been hers. As did Daisy.

It was nice to be back into their old home together, laughing, eating stacks of bacon sandwiches as they worked, but sad too. This truly was goodbye to her old life, the old Grace. Still, she packed a couple of pairs of fishnets, just in case.

Daisy looked up from the box she was packing. ‘Mum?’

‘Yes, sweetheart?’

‘I’ve also got some news.’

She grabbed her daughter by the shoulders. ‘Dear Lord, Daisy! Please tell me you’re not getting married or are pregnant!’

Daisy did an eye-roll thing that was totally her. ‘Mu-um! Don’t be so melodramatic! It’s nothing like that. It’s big…but it’s not bad—at least I don’t think it is.’

Grace’s heart was pumping. ‘Well, get on with it before your poor mother has a heart attack!’

Daisy looked at the floor. ‘Being away from home has given me time to think about what I want from life. I’ve decided I don’t want to study history at Durham uni any more.’

‘But you’re going to do it in London somewhere? That’s what you’re saying. That’s what you’re telling me, isn’t it?’

She shook her head. ‘Sorry, Mum. It’s just…not my passion, you know.’ She looked up, very earnest, and Grace
was reminded of a seven-year-old Daisy who had announced, very seriously, that she would run away if she was made to go to any more of the ballet lessons that Grandma had booked and paid for.

Grace’s voice came out soft. ‘Then…what is your passion?’

Please don’t let her say pole-dancing. Please don’t let it be that.

‘I missed the café, Mum. I missed the cooking and the smells. I know it’s gone now, but I realised I want to learn to cook like you do—to make things, beautiful things that make people happy, even if only for a few minutes.’ She looked hopefully at Grace. ‘I want to go to catering college like you did.’