Page 48 of Tribute Act
He winked at me. “Done.”
The meeting went well. Really well.
Angie Fletcher was a former accountant and her husband, Dave, had been a wine merchant. They’d left London for the Southwest eighteen years before to set up their first delicatessen, with a focus on local produce. Since then, they’d grown the business gradually, concentrating on small but well-to-do towns with plenty of tourist trade.
As soon as we arrived, they confessed how excited they were by the plans I’d outlined in my emails and it was plain they had a genuine passion for local independent producers. They showed us several other local product lines they stocked that had managed to break into national retailers.
After a quick tour of the deli, Dave led us up to the flat above the main shop and into the kitchen. He made a pot of coffee while the rest of us sat down round the kitchen table and I got out the papers I’d brought.
“Are these the packaging ideas?” Angie asked, reaching for a plastic folder. She flicked past the generic two-litre tubs Derek preferred with their old-fashioned designs, but paused at the cute half-litre cartons I’d proposed.
“I love this design,” Angie said, pointing to my own favourite, a small pint-size carton with strong banded colours and a simple logo: shocking pink and acid green for our Rhubarb Ripple, sable brown and vivid orange for Chocolate Orange Fondant.
“Our customers aren’t looking to fill their freezers with bargains,” Angie went on. “They want something special, and they’ll usually be eating it that night. They don’t mind paying a bit over the odds for it, especially if it’s unusual and luxurious, and this screams unusual and luxurious.”
The Fletchers couldn’t have been more encouraging and generous with their time—we ended up spending two hours with them and left with screeds of notes of their suggestions and a promise they’d pop in to the café the next time they were passing Porthkennack, to see how things were going and have a taste test.
I couldn’t stop smiling when we left.
“I can’t believe how well that went,” I said to Mack when we got back in the car. “They seemed genuinely interested, didn’t you think?”
Mack pulled smoothly out of the tiny parking space he’d managed to cram us into earlier. “Yes, thanks to you. You were great,” he said. “They couldn’t help but get caught up in your enthusiasm.” When he glanced at me, his eyes were warm. “I got pretty caught up in it myself.”
I flushed with pleasure. “Thanks for coming,” I said. “It really helped, having you there. I was so nervous.”
“You didn’t seem nervous,” Mack assured me. “No one would have known.”
“You knew. You knew this morning, didn’t you?”
“You had a wee bit of a rabbit-in-the-headlights look to you,” he admitted, and I chuckled.
“I thought I was hiding it better than that.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got the measure of you now. I’m beginning to recognise the signs of when you’re stressed.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, amused. “Like what.”
“You get this distracted expression,” he said. “And you fiddle with your earlobe.”
I laughed. “Do I? I’ve never noticed that.”
“Yup,” he assured me.
“You’re quite observant, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes. Probably comes from moving around so much. You get used to sizing people up quickly when you’re always starting somewhere new.”
“Do you never fancy . . . not moving on to a new place?”
He went very quiet. He was quiet so long, I thought he wasn’t going to answer at all. Then he said, “Sometimes. But when it comes down to it, I usually get to a point when I realise I don’t have anything to stay for.”
His words felt like a gut punch.
I wondered when he’d reach that point with Porthkennack.
That evening, we strolled round to the house to find out how Rosie’s hospital appointment had gone. When we got there, Mum was high as a kite. She’d opened a bottle of prosecco and the remains of Chinese takeaway were scattered on the coffee table. Derek was apparently at the pub with his mate.
“Are we celebrating?” I asked carefully. Rosie was sitting in her usual spot, headphones in place, though she tore them off when she saw Mack and got up to greet him, hugging him tight. I’d noticed that Mack seemed to be getting more comfortable with her hugs lately.