After the One, Cass Lester [top romance novels .txt] 📗

fetch one, before realising the only ‘spare’ key she had was Josh’s. She went into her bedroom and dug it out of her bedside table. It’d lain there undisturbed for four years, but nevertheless Charley still felt a swift pang of loss as she handed it over.

Pam glanced at the keyring and smiled. It read, ‘My Other Car’s a Porsche.’ ‘I gave him that when he bought his first car!’ Cheerfully pocketing the key, she headed off.

‘We can sort out money later!’ Charley called after her.

Once Pam had left, Charley gave up any pretence of job-hunting and threw herself into looking into what sort of party bag she could do for a fiver while still making a decent profit. And, as it turned out, she could do a pretty damn good one. But then Charley was on home ground here, since for the last three years, she’d sourced the various Prosecco-themed gifts they had sold at the Prosecco Night fundraiser. She knew her way round the suppliers, and she knew the sort of gifts and treats people liked to buy, and what they cost. So, after some swift research to double-check prices and availability, Charley settled on: a lip balm, bath bombs, white chocolate truffles, a small scented candle and the requisite mini bottle of fizz which she knew she could source at cost via the pub. All of which would be presented in a chic, white-and-gold striped mini paper carrier bag. She was just about to order up enough stuff to make up some sample bags to show Jacob, when it occurred to her that other venues might be interested in the party bags, and there might be other events she could cater for, such as birthday parties, pamper weekends, weddings…

Pam’s key in the lock momentarily startled her, but then it had been four years since anyone else had opened the front door except her. Hearing Pam struggling up the hall, Charley went out to help, and it was just as well she did, since the poor woman was laden with bags.

‘Blimey, Pam! Is there anything left in Sainsbury’s?’

Her mother-in-law laughed and gratefully handed over a couple of full carriers to Charley to lug up the hallway. ‘Just a few store-cupboard essentials!’

Between the two of them, it took nearly an hour to put away all the ‘store-cupboard essentials’, mostly because they had to have what Pam described as ‘a bit of a sort-out’ to make room for everything, which involved spring-cleaning the fridge and scrubbing out the insides of all the food cupboards. It was a mystery to Charley how so many unsightly smears and stains had been made over the years by cans and jars that to her certain knowledge had never even been opened, and by the time they’d finished Charley felt both invaded and vaguely rebuked. Apparently oblivious to that, Pam was keen to volunteer for more work.

‘Is there anything else you’d like me to do?’

‘Um… not really.’

‘In the garden perhaps? The pots need a bit of weeding or I could paint that new bit of fence? Or if you haven’t got the paint yet, I could clean the windows?’

The windows? Instinctively, Charley glanced at the windows and, noticing precisely how grubby they were, she cringed.

Pam followed her gaze. ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to imply they were dirty…’ She flushed pink, clearly mortified at having inadvertently caused offence. ‘It’s just that… I’ve got nothing to do!’

Charley sent a reassuring smile Pam’s way. ‘If you really want to clean the windows, then fine, go ahead, I mean… you live here, too.’ Which was true, but it didn’t stop Charley wincing at the thought.

Pam cheerfully cleaned all the windows, inside and out, including the frames. She refused to let Charley help her, and instead shooed her back to her job-hunting, and then afterwards, with the glass now sparkling and the paintwork gleaming, she started to prepare lunch for both of them. Charley hovered in the kitchen, once again feeling that she should at least offer to help, but Pam was adamant that she was fine and didn’t need her. Then, as the first mouth-watering mouthful of Pam’s salmon en croûte melted on her tongue Charley realised, with a sinking heart, that if they were going to share the cooking then she was going to have to up her culinary game quite a bit – well, a lot, actually. Ping meals and piles of pasta in packet sauces simply weren’t going to cut it. It was either that or gracefully step aside and let Pam take over in the kitchen. Charley was beginning to feel like she’d been made redundant all over again, but this time, it was in her own home.

Chapter Eleven

‘I’ve had an idea which is either bloody brilliant or barking mad!’

Charley had called Tara to pitch her the party-bag business idea, and Tara instantly pronounced the notion as ‘bloody brilliant’.

‘See, I said you were wasted in the pub! You’re a born entrepreneur.’

‘Ah, but if I hadn’t been working in the pub then I wouldn’t have had the idea in the first place!’ countered Charley, which Tara reluctantly conceded was true. Charley then cut to the chase. ‘Do you think I could supply the Avalon?’

‘Maybe,’ Tara said cautiously, ‘but you’d have to approach the intellectually challenged youth who calls himself the manager…’

Charley laughed out loud. ‘Okay, but could you do some research for me? You know… what kind of events are coming up, how many people are booked in… and crucially how much the Avalon charges for things, so I can pitch myself in the right level? I don’t want to be too expensive. Or look too cheap, either.’

‘Sure!’

Nisha was more cautious and businesslike in her response than Tara had been, warning Charley to cost the venture properly from the outset.

‘Be sure you can make enough profit right from the beginning. If you have to go back later and charge more, you’ll lose customers and you won’t get them back.’

Dutifully, Charley made a mental note