part0023

Josie set hers down with a little too much force, slopping some of the tea over the side. “So, what’s your deal with Harry?”

“Harry Powell?” her mum clarified as if there were more than one Harry who regularly came to the pub. She avoided Josie’s gaze, adding jam to her scone.

“Why do you ask?” Her mum took a bite, some crumbs falling onto the table. She wiped them into her hand and discarded them onto a napkin.

Josie wanted to take this conversation slowly, sensing her mum’s not-so-veiled aversion to Harry. She started off with, “She seems interesting.”

“She’s a know-it-all. Do you know the first time she met me, she asked why I was named Eugenie, saying it hadn’t become popular until Fergie and Prince Andrew named their daughter that in 1990. The next time she talked to me, she proceeded to list the Eugenies she researched, including the daughter in Gone with the Wind —the one who died in a horse-riding accident, and Empress Eugenie who married Napoleon III. They lived in exile in the UK.” Her mum harrumphed. “The nerve of the woman but pretty typical for a wanker from London. The type who comes here thinking they’re superior to us yokels.”

Harry’s curiosity had evidently needled Josie’s mum, but Josie found Harry’s thirst for knowledge about everything under the sun charming.

“Did you tell Harry it was your grandmother’s name?”

“No. Why should I?” her mum snapped.

“Because she was trying to bond with you in her Harry way.”

“She was being haughty! She also wondered why we named the pub The Golden Fleece but didn’t have it decorated appropriately.”

“What would be appropriate?” Josie jacked up one eyebrow, pulling one leg up onto the seat of the chair, as she checked out the leather books on the shelves and black-and-white photos of the area from a bygone era.

“She said something about a Greek myth and Jason and the Argonauts.” Her mum made a whoop-de-do flick of the hand.

That was why Harry had questioned Winston’s name last night. “I’m not familiar with that one.” Josie brought up the Wikipedia page on her phone. “Oh, Jason searches for the Golden Fleece. Did you know that when you chose the name?”

“Of course, I knew that!” Eugenie said in an indignant tone that made it clear to Josie she hadn’t. “But we named it after the sheep in the area. The wool industry used to be the backbone of the Cotswolds.”

Josie conceded the fact with a nod. “You know, Empress Eugenie was quite fashionable in her day, and there’s a hat named after her. Greta Garbo wore a Eugenie hat in the 1930’s film Romance . It was all the rage. We should get you one. You’d look adorbs.”

“You sound just like the patronizing Harry.” Her mum’s cheeks reddened.

Josie stopped her eyes from rolling, not wanting to agitate her mum further. “She’s just curious about things. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Luckily, Harry had only questioned Josie’s mum about her name and didn’t accidentally call Eugenie defective. Josie replayed that moment a lot in her head, and each time, she thought it so very Harry. Adorable in a special kind of way. Josie understood not everyone would appreciate Harry’s ways, but that only endeared her more to Josie. Josie got Harry. Most of the time. More importantly, Harry understood Josie.

“What do you think of Natalie?” Her mum’s eyes lit up. “She’s your age, and she grew up in a nearby village.”

“Meaning?” Josie had a good idea where this was heading.

“She’s one of us.” Her mum placed a hand over her chest. “Everyone in the village thinks the world of her. She had a brief fling with a Londoner, but it didn’t last. Nothing ever does with those types.”

Josie attempted to sound neutral. “She seems nice.”

“Nice is a good start.” Her mum fluttered her eyelashes.

“Oh no. Don’t go there.” Josie scraped her chair back.

“Go where?” Her mum’s expression was blank, a clear warning sign that the hamster wheel inside in her head was kicking into manic gear.

“Thinking things.” Josie rapped her forehead.

“What things might those be?”

“The Natalie is nice, and my daughter isn’t dating anyone tract. You know I don’t want you to interfere in my love life.”

“I wasn’t aware you had a love life, and I hadn’t thought about Natalie in that way at all.” Her mum took a dainty bite of scone, getting jelly on her upper lip. After wiping her mouth with a napkin, she said, “But now that you mention it…” Her mum tapped her fingertips together, in mad plotter fashion.

“Stop.” Josie held up a palm. “Just stop.”

“Whatever plot is going on in your head. I’m not interested in a relationship. And, definitely not with Natalie. She’s too… short.” Josie, the speechwriter, cringed thinking that was the best she could come up with, considering how lame it sounded, but her mum could be a force that would only complicate the thoughts in Josie’s head about Harry and the fact that Josie didn’t have a career at the moment. This really didn’t seem like the ideal time to be having any thoughts about any woman. Logically, she got that. Her heart was an entirely different matter. Josie raised her hand to her cheek, running a thumb over the hidden dimple.

The kittens skittered into the room, their backs arched, doing their sidewinder attacks on each other before dashing back toward the arch on the other side of the pub.

Josie needed to pivot. “If you must play matchmaker, fix up William and Agnes. They need your help. Night after night, they both dress up, come here, and sit on opposite sides of the pub, stealing looks at the other.”

“But they have one foot in the grave. You’re full of life and at the age when you should settle down. Have I mentioned that before? You’re still young, but not for much longer.”

Josie chose to ignore the settling down comment and dig at her age. “All people deserve love, Mum.”

“Are you including yourself in that box?”

Josie groaned. “All people who want love should be able to find it, no matter their age. I’m not one of those people. Not one who’s looking.”

“So you keep saying.” Her mum popped the last bite into her mouth, licking her fingers. “Not even contemplating the endearing Natalie.”

Josie couldn’t determine if the sentence was a statement or question, but decided to put the matter to rest. “Natalie is the last woman I would date.”

Her mum nodded, seeming to agree with Josie’s assessment. “What about Helen Swift? She’s a professor. Has a fancy house. She’d be able to take care of you.”

Did her mum think Josie was a total wreck who needed someone to show her the way? If that was the case, no wonder her mum was pushing Josie to settle down. Her own mum thought Josie was a disaster who needed a caretaker. Did everyone in the village think that way?

Josie knew her life was turned upside down at the moment, but it wasn’t like she was destitute or anything. She was simply taking the time to figure out her next move. Was there something wrong with that?

Josie didn’t want to open Pandora’s box by pressing Eugenie. Time for another pivot. “William and Agnes would be cute together. Like Christmas ornaments that hang on the tree, side by side, but don’t talk.”

“You have a very strange way of imagining relationships.”

“The man has only said a handful of words to me. The most memorable being Doom Bar and crisps . Granted, he’s old and probably reserving his energy… for other things.”

With a curious expression, her mum asked, “Like what?”

Josie fumbled for something that didn’t have to deal with sex or relationships. “Fox hunting.”

“It’s illegal in this country.”

“Is it? I could have sworn I saw a painting in one of the antique shops on the square.”

“It goes back centuries, and it was in an antique shop.” Her mum waved a hand, implying that answered it completely.

“The murder of beautiful animals should still be celebrated?” Josie could barely believe she was charging down this path, considering how flimsy it was. But her mum always took the bait when Josie utilized the obnoxious American role.

“It’s not just the UK that hunted foxes, darling daughter. They did so in America as well.”

“Not sure how that’s helping your argument. Americans and violence go hand in hand.”

“Oh, this sounds like a light and frothy conversation to start off the day with.” Clive sat with a steaming mug of tea.

“It’s either this conversation or dating.” Josie’s shrug implied she’d rather talk about murder.

“I’m curious why those are the only two conversation topics today or ever.” Clive raised his brow.

“Don’t pay her any attention. Josie’s being dramatic because she doesn’t want me to know she likes Natalie.”

“Natalie. I had my money on Harry.” Clive ran his hand over his short ginger hair, yawning.

“That’s because you’re an impractical man!” Her mum’s face turned beet red.

“That might be the case, but Camilla mentioned Harry needed a good shag. Knock the cobwebs loose, so to speak.”

Josie’s jaw dropped.

“She does seem a bit uptight,” her mum conceded.

“I am not having this discussion. Not with my mum and playboy uncle who receives threats via kittens. It’s weird. So very, very, very, very weird. Times a million.”

“Would that be four million, then, since you said very four times?” her mum asked in all seriousness.

“Doesn’t matter. As long as you get the point that we aren’t discussing me shagging Harry to make her less uptight as some type of Good Samaritan thing.”

Her mum looked past Josie, a wicked smile on her lips. “Good morning, Harry.”

“Very funny.” Josie sipped her tea angrily.

“Should I come back?” It was Harry’s voice.

Josie’s heart briefly stopped before it went into hyperdrive, thudding to the point Josie felt it in her toes. She spun around in her chair. “Oh, fuck. You really are here.”

“There won’t be any chance of shagging any time soon now,” her mum whispered much too loudly to Clive, wickedness in Eugenie’s eyes.

If it were possible to stop her heart, Josie would have done so.

Harry looked just as mortified but seemed frozen, unable to think or say anything to extract herself from the situation.

“What brings you by?” Clive asked as if Harry were there for business.

“Uh, I really can’t remember. I did have a purpose, but…” Harry visibly swallowed.

“Josie, didn’t you mention something about going for a walk? It looks like a lovely morning.” Her uncle looked forcefully at Josie as if trying to use Jedi powers to get her to act.

Her mum tried to speak, but Clive made a keep your trap shut motion.

“It is nice out,” Harry said, still shell-shocked, but some color slowly returned to her cheeks.

“That settles it,” Clive said. “You two are going for a walk.” His tone sounded so much like a relative trying to rid himself of bored children during a school break. “Get going.”

Josie rose to her feet. “Would you like to?”

Harry nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s why I stopped by.”

Josie was touched Harry had thought of her, but the conspiratorial look on her uncle’s face worried her. Had Camilla asked him to help Harry get laid? While Josie enjoyed Harry’s company and wanted to get to know the woman more, Josie didn’t want to deal with anyone’s matchmaking tendencies. Even if Clive didn’t mean any harm by it. Josie hated being managed by family and friends.

“I just need to pop upstairs to change.” Josie raised a finger as if saying she would be quick about it.

Harry nodded, visibly not enthused about being left alone for any amount of time with Josie’s mum.

Josie sprinted upstairs, located a wool sweater, shoes, and beanie, and assembled herself in record time, dashing back downstairs to rescue Harry from her mum’s withering stare and Clive’s goofy grin.

“Shall we?” Harry waved for Josie to go ahead.

“You two have a lovely walk. Take a long one. Your mum and I can set up everything.” Clive shooed them out, all the while digging his phone out of his pocket. Did he plan to text Camilla that step one of their machinations had been accomplished?