Page 37 of Barging In
C lem snapped her laptop shut and blew out a frustrated breath. The YouTubers who’d promised to feature Clem’s Coffee he’s a bit of a collector, too,” he said.
“Then he helped me clear out a collection from a music lover’s estate — got some great finds. ”
“Did you shout about your new stock on social media?”
Max rolled his eyes. “No. I will now.” He glanced at the dark grey sky. “I shouldn’t have bothered opening today, and if you’re giving away cake… you probably shouldn’t have either.”
“I did okay.” Clem shrugged. “At least people want hot drinks in this weather.”
“Oh! Look what I picked up today.” Max grabbed a small, plastic box from his chair and handed it to her.
She opened it to find a stack of loyalty cards and a custom stamp.
Max pressed the stamp onto the back of his hand. “Your idea worked well,” he said, showing her a cute record shape in black ink.
“That’s great,” Clem said, looking at the loyalty cards with ten circles on them and Buy 10, get ￡10 off written across the top.
“So, how was it?” Max asked.
“How was what? ”
“Your tour. Jasper said he gave you one.”
“It was really interesting, more interesting than I expected. Jasper is great.”
“Isn’t he just?” Max replied, all dreamy-eyed.
Clem smirked at Max’s obvious attraction. “He’s so knowledgeable and such a natural tour guide. Everything rolls off his tongue. Did he tell you Victoria offered me a job?”
He took a bite of the blueberry muffin. “He mentioned you were baking for the wharf now.”
“Oh yeah, I am, but I didn’t mean that. Victoria wants to hire me as a marketing consultant. Only part-time or casual hours — whatever I want.”
“No, he didn’t mention that. Maybe he doesn’t know. Will you take it?” Max turned to her. “Wait. What about Florence?”
“I don’t know.” Clem shrugged. “I want to take the role. There’s something about the wharf; it kind of wraps you in a warm hug.”
Her friend laughed. “Are you still talking about the wharf?”
Clem gave his arm a playful punch. “I’ve got so many ideas to help, and I want to! It’s such a worthy cause. It makes sense to get paid for it.”
“Then why the hesitation? It sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”
“I have… and I haven’t,” Clem admitted. “I’m not sure how I’d manage it and Florence.”
“Why don’t you stop overthinking it and just give it a go?” he suggested. “That’s what brought you here in the first place, isn’t it? Spontaneity.”
Clem bit her lip. It kind of was, but it was more the culmination of years spent feeling stuck.
She wasn’t exactly unhappy with the way things were working with Florence.
A little unsatisfied and anxious about money, yes.
But then there was the prospect of working for Victoria.
Would it be difficult, being her employee and having feelings for her?
Would she be able to focus? Victoria was very distracting.
What if she struggled to keep her mind on the job?
What if they disagreed, or worse, gave in to something neither was prepared for?
That last thought pulled a smile tugged at her lips. She could dream, couldn’t she?
She shook her head, brushing away her unhelpful thoughts. “I’m still thinking about it,” she settled on. “That reminds me: Were you serious about needing somewhere to set up your cider empire?”
“Maybe. Why?”
“I might have found the perfect spot. Look.” Clem pulled out her phone and swiped to a series of photos.
Max took it from her, zooming in and out. “Gosh, Clem. This is perfect. Where is this place?”
She nodded towards the wharf. “Right on your doorstep.”
His eyes widened. “Really?” He passed the phone back, his forehead furrowed. “I’m not exactly in a position to do anything at the moment. Distinct lack of funds, you know.”
“Sounds like you need an investor… or an avid fan?”
“Jasper? I couldn’t. We’ve only been going out a few days.”
“You could draw up a contract to keep that side of things professional. Make him a silent partner.” Clem shrugged again. “It’s worth speaking to him. Or what about your parents? Could they help get you up and running?”
“Maybe,” he mused. “I could sell the boat, but that would mean moving in with them. ”
Clem couldn’t believe she had to walk him through this. “Max,” she said slowly, “where have you spent the last few nights?”
His eyes flicked away as he smiled. “Jasper’s.” He played with his lip. “Can you send those photos to me? It does look perfect. I could sell vinyl from there, too. It looks cool and dry, everything selling from a narrowboat is not.”
“And no need for those sunshades! Why don’t you stop overthinking it and just give it a go?” Clem suggested, tossing his previous words straight back at him.
“Touché.”
“It’s not so easy to make potentially life-changing decisions, is it?”
Max rolled his eyes and smiled.
“Well, I’m going to see if anyone around here wants a slice of lemon drizzle.” Clem smiled.
“You’re desperately trying to get into her good books, aren’t you?” Max observed, then slyly added, “Or is it her bed?”
“Still married,” Clem called back as she headed off along the tow path to the bridge.
She wound her way through the wharf to Victoria’s office, knowing she would be in.
Overcast days led Victoria to switch on a light, and it had been on all day.
Clem had also happened to spot her at her desk every time she looked out the port side of Florence, which was pretty much every five minutes.
What else was there to do on a drizzly day but stare out a window at a beautiful woman who made your insides somersault?
Clem tapped lightly on Victoria’s open office door and stuck her head around. “Hello.”
Victoria looked up from a pile of papers. “Clem. ”
The beaming smile on her face suggested she was happy to see her, so Clem stepped inside.
“I have a very lonely slice of lemon drizzle looking for a new owner. I don’t suppose?—”
Before Clem could finish her sentence, Victoria was on her feet.
“I’ll look after it,” she said, taking the container and diving straight in.
Clem could barely contain her amusement as she watched Victoria devour the treat in seconds, like a starving dog.
Licking her fingers clean, Victoria passed the container back.
“Hungry, were we?”
“Always hungry for your creations. But yes, salad isn’t very satisfying for anything, except the waistline.”
“You have a perfect waistline,” Clem said before she could stop herself.
Victoria gave a tilt of her head in acknowledgement. “Then thank the salad. It’s your fault I have to eat it. I need to counteract all this lemon drizzle with something.”
Clem recoiled playfully, clutching a hand to her chest. “My fault?” She poked a finger at Victoria’s shoulder. “You could try resisting.”
“Seriously? You think resistance is possible? That would require several months in rehab, miles away from you… and your temptations?” Victoria’s smile faltered.
“Yeah, sounds a bit extreme if you ask me.” Clem winked. “Keep eating the cake and salad; I’m sure it’s perfectly balanced.”
“I have no plans on stopping. Lemon is a fruit, after all. That’s one of my five a day.”
“I’m not sure it works like that, but—” Her phone vibrated in her pocket. “Sorry, my phone. ”
She took it out and saw Dad flashing onto the caller ID. “Sorry, I’d better take this.”
“No problem,” Victoria said, returning to her desk as Clem answered.
“Hi, Dad. Is everything okay?”
The line cut in and out for a moment. She checked her signal; it showed five bars. “Dad?”
“We’re at Accid— and Emer— Buckley Hos—. Your mum — X-ray.”
A jolt of panic shot through her.
“Dad, is she okay? It’s a bad line. What happened?”
Victoria was suddenly at her side. Clem hadn’t even noticed her leave her desk again.
“Dad?”
The line went dead.
“Buckley Hospital,” Clem muttered, looking at the full signal bars on her phone.
“Who’s in the hospital?” Victoria asked.
“My mum, I think.” She tried calling her father back, but a series of short, sharp beeps sounded in her ear. “Damn it.”
“What do you need, Clem?” Victoria urged.
“A lift to the hospital.”
“Okay, let’s go.” Victoria shut her laptop, grabbed her keys from her desk, her coat from her chair, and was already heading for the door.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out. I could get a taxi.”
“And wait how long for it?” Victoria muttered as she left the room. “Come on.”