Claimed by my Best Friend's Brother

Chapter Six

Daisy’s POV

I place the caramelised biscuit milkshake in front of the two teenagers who are making googly eyes at each other, neither of them seems aware that I’m even here. Dropping two straws beside the glass, I head back to the register, grabbing one of the cupcakes from the display counter and placing it on a plate before carrying it to the table by the window for the elderly woman who is sipping the tea I gave her a few moments ago.

‘Oh thank you my dear’ she wheezes, glancing up at me through the large rimmed glasses framing her face.

Her tired eyes, move to the couple who are now leaning over the table, each with a straw in the drink, staring into each others eyes as they sip.

‘You know, my Horace used to bring me here when I we were courting, Mr Perell would bring us a milkshake to share’ she adds as I smile indulgently. Mira tells me this same story every week when she comes in for her afternoon tea and cake.

‘Mira, are you telling stories again?’ the voice of her husband asks good humouredly as the grey haired gentleman walks slowly toward us from the bathroom, leaning heavily on a cane.

Mira frowns slightly as she stares at her husband, ‘I’m sorry . . do I know you?’ she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

Horace’s gaze dims slightly but he nods, taking a seat next to the woman, pulling the cupcake toward him and cutting it in half.

‘You do indeed Mira’ he tells her, pushing one half of the cupcake toward her side of the plate, ‘from Blissful Oaks . . we live there . . ‘

The old woman’s frown deepens before she nods uncertainly, ‘Oh, well thank you for bringing me here, my Horace used to bring me, when we were courting, before we had the children, but now he has to work so many hours we barely have time. He’s a good man, always taking care of me and our boys . . . we’d share a milkshake you know . . he was such a smooth one, my Horace . . ‘

She giggles like a school girl as her husband smiles affectionately, ‘it sounds like he loves you more than anything in the world’ he murmurs.

Mira nods, smiling, ‘he does . . ‘ She looks around herself, her smile fading, a frown replacing it, ‘I wonder where Horace is . . he usually meets me here after practice . . I don’t want to order our milkshake until he gets here, he likes it fresh from the machine . . .‘

Horace nods, reaching out and patting her hand, ‘I’m sure that he’ll be along soon enough Mira, probably just got caught up at football practice or something, but I’ll keep you company until he gets here . . fend off all those suitors who have been giving you a second look for him in homeroom.’

Mira titters again, waving her hand at him as she smiles brightly, ‘oh you’ she huffs, ‘you’re a sweet talker just like my Horace, I need to watch out for you.’

She turns back to me, her smile back in place, ‘Horace asked me to marry him you know’ she tells me, holding up her left hand where her wedding and engagement rings still sit, glittering under the lights. ‘Daddy says we are too young, but I don’t think so, we’re in love!’

I take her wrinkled hand in mine squeezing it tightly, ‘when the right person comes along, it doesn’t matter what the age’ I reply.

Mira nods her agreement, placing her other hand on top of mine and clasping them. ‘I hope you meet your special person soon too my dear’ she murmurs hopefully, ‘he’s out there, I can just feel it.’

I swallow as I nod, ‘I’ll keep an eye out for him and let you know when he stops by’ I reply.

‘Mira, your cake . . ‘ Horace murmurs gently, pulling the woman’s attention back to him again as she releases me.

She glances back at the table, her eyes brightening in pleasure, ‘red velvet’ she gasps, pressing her hand to her chest, ‘that’s my favourite! How did you know?’

Horace’s watches her as she gushes happily, picking up her half and biting into it, getting a smear of cream on her nose. Chuckling he grabs a napkin and wipes the cream away, making the woman blush as she peeks up at him through her lashes.

‘I’m such a mucky pup’ she whispers, ‘I’m sorry, you must be so embarrassed by me.’

Horace shakes his head, smiling lovingly, ‘you are beautiful’ he states honestly, ‘how could I be embarrassed, sitting next to a fine gal like you, love?’

I back away, leaving the elderly couple to their moment, heading to a table that was just vacated and pick up the dirty dishes there, carrying them through to the kitchen and to the washer.

I’m on my own today so I stack everything into the rack and push it under the washer, pulling down the cover and hitting start. Heading back out into the café, Mira and Horace are just getting up, the old man helping his wife into her coat as she beams up at him.

‘So helpful’ she states, ‘though I feel like I should be helping you into your coat.’

‘No need dear’ Horace tells her fondly, ‘let’s just get you wrapped up warm and we can head home.’

His wife nods, buttoning up her coat slowly before looping her arm through her husband’s and starting to shuffle toward the door and out into the afternoon sunlight.

Heading to their table, I clear up the plate and teacups, shaking my head as I spot the twenty folded carefully under one of the saucers.

Picking up the bill, I slip it into my pocket, wiping down the table before moving to the next and doing the same. Carrying everything precariously into the back, I slide them onto the worktop, wiping my hand across my brow as I blow out a breath. It’s hard keeping up when it’s just me, I wish I could hire more help but that isn’t on the cards just yet.

Walking back out into the café, I startle at the broad shouldered man standing in front of the counter.

Swallowing down my scream of surprise, I paste my best customer service smile on and approach him.

‘Good afternoon, welcome to sugar and nice, if you take a seat at one of the tables, you’ll find a menu in the rack. I’ll be over in a couple of minutes to take your order’ I tell him warmly.

The man smiles stiffly, his eyes remaining cold as he lifts a briefcase onto the counter between us, laying it flat and flicking open the clasps. Lifting the lid, he reaches inside before pulling out a folded bundle of stapled paper which he hands to me.

‘My name I am Alexander Montrel, of Beamish, Murkett and Riddick Associates. I am here on behalf of a client that has instructed me to contact you on his behalf.’

Slowly I reach out, taking the paper, and opening it, frowning in confusion at the official looking letter on the man’s company stationery.

‘What is this?’ I ask, as I read the contents quickly, my frown growing with each word. ‘Who are you? What is this?’ I demand a little sharper as I look up at the man who is busy closing his briefcase once again.

‘As I said, I am Alexander Montrel, I am acting on behalf of my client, he is looking for suitable locations to expand his business.’

My brow creases as I stare at the expensively dressed man across from me, ‘Ok . . ‘ I mutter, ‘and how does that involve me?’

Mr Montrel Straightens up slightly, smiling again, ‘my client feels that this might be a viable option.’

My eyes widen as I stare openly, ‘here’ I state, pointing to the floor at my feet, ‘here, here, like right here? Where my café is?’

The lawyer nods, ‘not just the café, the entire block’ he replies, ‘he is offering very agreeable reimbursement terms, and to cover all legal costs to transfer the title.’

My head is already shaking as I try to push the letter back at the man but he doesn’t take it.

‘I’m not for sale’ I tell him firmly, ‘please tell your client thank you but no thank you.’

Picking up his briefcase, Mr Montrel takes a step back from the counter, his expression neutral.

‘Read over the offer Miss Perell, I think you will find it extremely generous and worthy of consideration.’ With a lift of his chin, the man turns away and heads out of the door, it swinging closed behind him with the tinkle of the bell above. I stand behind the counter, hand still outstretched, the paperwork in my hand, staring open mouthed at the closed door.