The Best Next Thing

“Of course, sir. As soon as I have the supplies, everything will be in order.”

“I’m glad you’re here, George, then I won’t have to repeat myself.” Miles diverted his attention to the older man, who had been watching his frigid exchange with Mrs. Cole with interest. “My stay this time will be somewhat different. I have been…ill, and I’m here to recuperate. I won’t be leaving the house much, and as such I won’t be requiring your services too often. That said, I would prefer you remain accessible for the duration of my time here. Clear?”

George nodded smartly in response to Miles’s question.

“Mrs. Cole.” She had been busy pouring the batter into a hot skillet, and her back stiffened even more—how was that even possible? —and she cocked her head in a manner that indicated she was listening, even though she kept her eyes on the pancake. “Meals will be informal. I will eat breakfast in the kitchen. And lunch and dinner in the living room instead of the dining room. I would prefer heartier breakfasts than boiled eggs and toast. Feel free to surprise me. I came here for solitude and rest. As such I would prefer not to have the cleaning service visit too often while I’m here. Since I won’t be using the entire house, I’m sure you can manage. Understood?”

“Understood.” She flipped the pancake expertly as she said the word. They were all silent for a moment while she finished the pancake and slid it onto a plate before starting the next. “Will you be needing anything from town, sir? The weather service says the rain will continue for the rest of the week. And that means we probably won’t be able to do another shopping run for a while.”

“Why not?”

“The river will likely burst its banks, which can lead to localized flooding. The bridge linking us to the main road could be washed out or even away. And if that happens we could well be cut off for weeks.”

“Has it happened before?” he asked. His brow lowered as he contemplated that troubling possibility.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been trapped here? Alone?”

“Amos was here the first time it happened,” she said, with a dismissive shrug.

“The first time? How many times has this happened?”

“Only twice since I’ve been here.” She slid a plate, laden with a stack of pancakes and a few rashers of bacon, toward him. Momentarily diverted, Miles took a moment to stare at the perfectly golden and fluffy stack of pancakes and the beautifully crisped bacon. He swallowed down the saliva that flooded his mouth and nodded in thanks.

Reaching for the syrup, he drenched the pancakes and shoveled a forkful into his mouth. His taste buds sang in ecstasy, and he bit back an appreciative moan. He could not remember the last time he’d had pancakes. It had always seemed like such a frivolous meal to him. Vicki had often tried to coerce him into having some of hers, but he had always preferred his boiled egg.

But this…this was glorious.

He washed the mouthful down with a sip of coffee and had some of the bacon.

Christ! So fucking delicious.

He schooled his features into impassivity, but it was hard when he was enjoying the most amazing food of his entire life.

He hadn’t had an appetite in weeks but suddenly—after just two bites—his body felt like it was coming alive again. He ducked his hands beneath the counter in an attempt to hide their trembling from George and Mrs. Cole. He was embarrassed by his reaction to what was essentially an extremely basic meal.

He stared at the plate fixedly for a moment, resisting the urge to scarf it all down like a barbarian and, after composing himself, lifted his fork and began eating again.

“What happened the second time the bridge washed out?” he asked, hoping neither of them found his behavior odd.

But when he looked up, it was to find that Mrs. Cole had turned away to clean the stove, while George had sat down at the banquette in the cozy breakfast nook. The elderly man was reading a newspaper and ignoring them as he sipped from a cup of coffee that Mrs. Cole must have provided while Miles was having his come-to-Jesus moment.

“Everything was pretty much the same, only it didn’t take us by surprise that time. We knew what to expect, and I had stocked up in the expectation of exactly such an event.”

George grunted, and Miles’s gaze swung to the man, who was staring at them over the top of his newspaper.

“Not quite the same as the first time, Mrs. Cole. Amos was in the Eastern Cape for his uncle’s funeral.”

“Well, Amos lives out in the cottage, so it’s not like we see each other all the time. I barely saw him the first time it flooded. We’d check in on each other periodically to make sure everything was fine, but other than that I might as well have been alone.”