Miracle at the Museum of Broken Hearts

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

I awoke the next morning to Beano sitting on the bedside table, tail thumping impatiently. As much as I enjoyed another presence in the flat, sometimes I wished that presence wanted something other than food.

I’d tossed and turned all night as doubts crept in. Was it really such a great idea to turn up at ParteePizza unannounced? Maybe I should call first . . . Finally, I’d decided to see how I felt in the light of day. Perhaps I just needed time to formulate the perfect words to heal the rift.

Yawning, I reached out to stroke Beano’s soft fur. It was still dark outside, and I could tell by the bedroom’s frigid temperature that the day would be freezing. After a quick shower, I stood in front of my closet, wondering what to wear. I was still as uncertain about my plan as I’d been the night before, but if I did decide to head to ParteePizza later, I’d need to look professional yet compassionate – something that screamed do-gooder, not lunatic.

Finally, I chose a soft grey flannel pencil skirt I hadn’t worn since Gareth had left, pairing it with a red polo neck. The red was cheery against the muted colour of the skirt, and the outfit looked pulled together yet upbeat. After jamming on my black pumps, I twisted my hair into a chignon, jabbed on some mascara and blush, then grabbed my trusty turquoise coat and pushed out into the cold grey London morning.

Almost an hour later, I swung through the door of the museum. It was still early, but already the lights were on and the scent of coffee hung in the air.

‘Honey, I’m home!’ I called out, grinning.

‘Thank you for coming.’ Heath’s voice drifted down from his office. Oh, oops. I hadn’t realised anyone else was here – Heath must have arranged a breakfast meeting with someone. 

A man in a dark suit with a briefcase was making his way down the stairs, Heath following behind. I nodded as the man went out the door, clocking Heath’s anxious expression with dismay.

‘What’s going on? Who was that?’ I bit my lip. Whoever it was, I could see that it certainly wasn’t something good.

Heath sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. ‘That was a council member. Apparently, even though I’d been assured our planning permission for the museum would go through in plenty of time, it’s been held up for some reason or other.’

 ‘What does that mean? We might not be able to hold the opening on the fifteenth?’ My heart dropped as I thought of the many journalists and officials Heath had already invited – all for that specific date. The Christmas season was so busy that if the opening didn’t come off as planned, it would be almost impossible to reschedule before New Year’s.

‘I hope not.’ Heath’s tone was grim, and his lips tightened. ‘If you can think of any way to hurry along a group of councillors, please let me know. For God’s sake, there’s only a week until our opening. Guess we’ll have to cross our fingers and hope for the best.’ He shrugged on his jacket. ‘Right, I’m off to the bank. I’ll see you around lunch-time.’

I nodded and watched him go, my mind racing. Could I think of a way to hurry along the councillors? All it needed was someone influential; someone with a bit of business clout . . . someone like Heath’s mum. As a big businesswoman, she could put pressure on the council somehow, right? ParteePizza did have quite a few outlets in East London.

Yes, this would be perfect. I’d tell her Heath still cared, and that assisting the museum would be the ideal way for them to make up again. It would, too – it’d show Heath his mother cared about more than money. No matter what had happened between them, she couldn’t refuse this chance to get her son back again, I was sure. I might have been hesitant to head to ParteePizza earlier, but with the perfect opportunity for closure falling into my lap, I was certain now this happy ending was destined to be.