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Charlotte felt her throat burn. Roxannecontinued.
“Thank you," Roxie finished,turning to Charlotte with eyes that held the faintest glint of hope. "Forreminding me who I am."
"Always," Charlotte replied,her promise as immutable as the rolling sea before them. Together, they facedthe expanse of night, their bond unbreakable, their hearts slowly mendingbeneath the vast canopy of healing darkness.
Charlotte watched Roxanne's profilesoften, the earlier tension melting away like sea foam on wet sand. "Shallwe?" she suggested, nodding toward the path that led out of the park.
"Let's." Roxanne stood,brushing off her skirt, a metaphorical shedding of her woes.
They commenced their walk side by side,their steps in sync as if they were two notes belonging to the same melody. Thepath unfurled before them, speckled with the golden light of street lamps thatpunctuated the way back to The Crown Inn.
As they traversed the gentle inclineleading away from the park, the sisters' shadows stretched long and lean acrossthe ground, entwining as one. Above them, the sky deepened to a velvety indigo,stars emerging one by one, each a silent witness to the healing that unfoldswhen one is truly seen and accepted for who they are.
The Crown Inn came into view, itswindows aglow with welcoming warmth.
“Welcome home,” Charlotte said.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Laughter cascaded through the grandkitchen of The Old Crown Inn like a soothing melody, mingling with the rich,inviting scents of roasting vegetables and simmering herbs. The room, bathed inthe golden glow of the setting sun spilling through the windows, hummed withthe kind of warmth that seeped into one's bones, promising comfort andcamaraderie.
Charlotte Moore stood at the head ofthe kitchen island, her hands moving with practiced ease as she seasoned acolorful medley of root vegetables. Each slice of carrot and turnip was astroke of her brush on a canvas, each sprinkle of salt and pepper a touch ofshading added to a masterpiece. This inn, with its worn stone walls andsea-scented air, had become her sanctuary, a place where she could rebuild herlife piece by piece, like the crumbling masonry she lovingly restored.
"Roxanne, could you pass the oliveoil?" Charlotte asked, her voice smooth with the familiarity ofsisterhood.
"Of course," Roxanne replied,her movements as sassy and bold as her personality. With a flourish, she slidthe bottle across the marble countertop, her crimson nails glinting against theglass. Her presence was a vibrant splash of color in the muted, earthy tones ofthe kitchen, a testament to her unapologetic vivacity.
On the opposite side of the island,Simon Harris, rugged and handsome, carefully balanced a tray of fresh fish, hisforearms flexing subtly beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel shirt. Hisconnection to the sea was as palpable as the briny aroma that clung to hiscatch, a tether binding him to the rocky shores and frothy waves of CheshamCove. Charlotte caught his eye for a fleeting moment, and something unspokenbut deeply felt shimmered between them—a glance as soft and charged as thefirst light of dawn.
"Looks like we're almost ready toeat," Simon observed, a hint of pride lacing his words as he placed thetray beside the stove.
"Almost," Charlotte echoed,her heart fluttering lightly like a caged bird eager for flight. She turned herattention back to the vegetables, allowing herself a small smile at the thoughtof their shared meal, a symbol of the new beginnings and healing she'd found inthis quaint English village.
The conversation ebbed and flowedaround them, punctuated by the clink of utensils and the occasional burst oflaughter. The kitchen was alive with the rhythm of their teamwork, four friendscoming together in a dance as natural as the tide rolling onto the pebbledbeach just beyond their door.
"Shall I set the table then?"Liam, always keen to help, offered eagerly, his hands already reaching for thestack of plates.
"Please do," Charlotte said,gratitude coloring her tone. "It'll be just a few more minutes here."
As Liam busied himself with napkins andcutlery, Roxanne leaned closer to Charlotte, her eyes sparkling with mischief."I think we've outdone ourselves this time," she whispered, gesturingbroadly at the array of dishes that adorned the island.
"Let's hope so," Charlottereplied, her laugh a soft note that blended seamlessly into the symphony oftheir evening preparations. Together, they stood shoulder to shoulder,surrounded by the fruits of their labor, basking in the simple joy of food andfriendship within the heart of The Old Crown Inn.
The soft strum of an acoustic guitarflowed from the speakers, a gentle melody that caressed the walls of The OldCrown Inn's kitchen with the tenderness of a summer breeze. It was a tune thatspoke of long walks on cobbled streets and lazy afternoons under the shade ofold elm trees, a soundtrack to the easy camaraderie that bloomed likewildflowers among the four friends.
Charlotte let the music wrap around heras she watched Liam move about the stove after he was done with the table, hishands deftly stirring a pot where a stew bubbled promisingly. His movementswere a dance, each step and turn executed with an enthusiasm that wasinfectious. It was clear that for Liam, cooking was less of a chore and more ofan act of joy—a way to bring something beautiful into the world.
"Careful," he said with asmile over his shoulder, "or you'll find yourself lost in the sauce."His eyes crinkled at the corners, the light catching the flecks of green thatdanced within their depths.
"Wouldn't be the worst place toget lost," Roxanne chimed in, her sassy voice floating above the melody,as she expertly twisted open a jar of pickles. There was an ease to her words,a layer of fondness for the man who had become an unexpected addition to theirlittle family.
Simon leaned against the counter, armscrossed, watching Liam with an expression of mild surprise. "Youknow," he began, his voice carrying the deep timbre of the sea,"you've got quite the knack for this, Liam. I'm starting to believe there'snothing you can't do."
The air was rich with the scent ofherbs and spices, mingling with the salt-kissed breeze that snuck through anopen window. Charlotte took a deep breath, letting the aroma of thyme androsemary fill her senses. The natural beauty of Chesham Cove seemed to seepinto every corner of her life here, even into the simple act of dinnerpreparations.
"Ah, but that's the magic ofcooking," Liam replied, a playful lilt in his voice. "It's not aboutdoing everything—it's about doing what you love, with people you careabout." He glanced at Charlotte, his gaze lingering with a warmth thatcaused her cheeks to flush a faint shade of pink.
"Here's to doing what welove," Charlotte said softly, raising her glass of water in a toast to themoment—their shared labor of love emanating from pots and pans and the laughterthat filled the gaps between song lyrics.
