Page 85 of Criminally Yours

“All my life, although I travelled years ago when I broke up with my husband.”

Merryn grinned at Millie’s wince. “Don’t worry. He wasn’t an arsehole, but we didn’t love each other anymore. He’s living with the local vicar now, and I’m searching for Mr. Right while trying to get my Elsie to be less scared of the world.” Merryn pointed at the hunched girl behind the till. When two people walked in, her recoil was visible beneath the blue hair hiding half her face. “Were you serious about what your mum did at your wedding?”

“Not really. I was trying to annoy my husband,” Millie uttered.

“Having problems with him?”

Millie stared at her, wide-eyed.

“You seem lost,” Merryn replied, pointing at the pastry Millie had pulled into pieces. “And you keep removing and replacing your ring. Joyce was right when she said I’m a good listener. I’m here if you want to chat.”

Heat filled Millie’s cheeks as she stared at the ring halfway off her finger. “Things are tricky, but because of me, not him. Sometimes I wonder…” She glanced out the window where the same man in pocketed trousers walked past again.

Merryn waved, and the man returned it. “That’s Tony. He’s local. He loves the ladies. I’ve tried setting him up with Elsie, but she’d rather read a book than date. Although if that’s what makes her happy, then it’s okay with me. But you were saying you wonder..?”

Millie sighed. She’d shared her secrets with more strangers than those close to her recently. “I wonder if some mistakes are impossible to get past.”

“Ah, one of life’s big issues.” Merryn rubbed her chin. “I’d say that it depends.”

“On what?” Millie popped a bit of pasty in her mouth and groaned as the chocolate burst through the flakes and covered her tongue.

“I make a mean chocolate croissant.” Merryn chuckled. “Can I ask about this mistake? Was it yours or his?”

Millie tipped her head from side to side. “A bit of both.” They’d both done things they couldn’t change.

“Do you want to get past these mistakes?”

“I’m not sure.”

Merryn sat back and hummed. “What’s holding you back from getting past them?”

“Fear,” Millie blurted. “And I’m not sure he can move forward. Maybe this mistake means we’re meant to be a stopgap for each other.”

“Can I share something?”

Millie nodded with a smile.

“Imagine our lives are a patchwork quilt. Every experience, good or bad, is a patch sewn into this quilt. For me, my husband was a patch, my bakery is a patch, my daughter is several patches, and my travels were many more. My mistakes are patches, but so are my successes and the times I was brave.” Merryn’s hands danced as she spoke. “I could’ve lived a life where I did the same thing every day, too scared to try new experiences. When I died, that version of me would still have aquilt at the end, but it would be plain and resemble anyone’s. Which isn’t a bad thing.”

“But it makes for a dull blanket.”

“True,” Merryn concurred. “My quilt won’t look like that. It will be filled with patches of mistakes that, years later, might make me laugh or cry. It will have colour and moments of courage and fear. But it’ll be a life I’m proud I lived rather than hid from. Our lives aren’t meant to be one colour, emotion, or experience. They’re a collection of all that was rather than all that could’ve been.”

“Oh,” Millie said, twisting her lips.

“All I get is an ‘oh’?” Merryn teased. “That’s the most inciteful thing I’ve ever said.”

Millie giggled. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She sipped her latte. It warmed her throat nearly as much as Merryn’s words warmed her heart.

“We’re about to hit a rush, and Elsie’s shaking with nerves, so I’ll leave you to consider what you want your next patch to be.” She stood and thumbed in the direction of the window. “And your husband is trying to get your attention.”

Millie turned to where Strike stared, his lips tight and his hand quaking.

Sorry, she mouthed. Even his distress couldn’t stop the happiness tickling her skin at the sight of him or the butterflies demanding she greet him.

The door shook on its hinges as he ran in. “I was terrified,” he said, his voice wavering. “Please never do that to me again. Make sure you answer your phone, too. Anything could’ve happened. I thought someone had… shit, Sunset.”

“I turned my notifications off. I needed to get away,” she whispered. “Can you give me two minutes?”