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When she farewells him two days after their last match of the season intellectually Rebecca knows he will be gone for eight weeks, but she does not internalize it.
Mainly, she does not fully connect the absence of Ted Lasso to the absence of biscuits, which proves to be her fatal mistake.
For the remainder of that week, she still goes into work to wrap things up administratively before taking a break herself, and the first signs of crisis are early rising, however subtle.
The very first day, when there’s a knock on her door at a quarter past eight, for a split second, she is sincerely surprised it’s Higgins who walks in.
“Is this a bad time?”
She needs to work on not being so transparent.
“No, I was woolgathering. What is it?”
Higgins pushes his glasses up as he walks over and places a stack of documents on her desk. Promotion paperwork. Her fingers drum against the glass missing the rhythm of reaching for a pink box around this time.
That was clue number one.
The next three days are uneventful, and if she notices herself getting fidgety in the morning, that’s just how anxious she is to be boarding a first-class flight to Portofino. Sassy has agreed to join her for a week, and it’s time she’s eager to share.
Keeley whines about being abandoned but tells them to have fun enough for three, Sassy makes a threesome joke, and Rebecca knows it’s going to be a happy time they’ll have to repeat once all their calendars align.
Before she boards the plane, she texts Keeley that she’s proud of her and gets the sobbing emoji in return.
Sassy forces her to parties and clubs and into sundresses she’d brought knowing she’d never wear unless coerced because they make her look too soft. She also flirts for Rebecca, who then has to disappoint the men sent her way with polite excuses.
This self-imposed celibacy offends Sassy beyond words (metaphorically), but she lets it go on the third day after stating, passionately, that Rebecca has nothing to atone for. Rebecca rolls her eyes, and they leave it at that.
She only misses the biscuits once, when they have their one decent cuppa in Italy at a café by the beach. There’s a couple sitting nearby, the man has on a ridiculous baseball cap and his – she assumes – wife, looks like she rolled out of bed prepared to sit front row at a Chanel show. He’s talking animatedly with his hands, and she’s eating strawberries and watching him fondly.
Rebecca shifts her gaze away from them and takes another sip. That’s when she remembers her biscuits. The tea really is quite good; they’d go well with it.
When she hugs Sassy goodbye at the train station too few days later, Rebecca feels slightly forlorn. Still, she tells herself this is another opportunity to learn how to be in her own company and manages to get through it without shedding tears.
She gets a text from Ted that night – Something you wanna tell me? – and below it is a picture of himself and Henry with their thumbs up next to a sign that reads “Welton Dentistry. Becky Welton – DMD. The Floss Boss!” with a cartoon tooth doing the floss.
She rolls her eyes and replies You got me, I’m secretly a dentist in Kansas City in my downtime then right after, But still The Boss.
Ted hearts the second message and shoots back You’re cool enough to have a double life, and then You’re always the boss, Boss.
She hearts the messages and gets back to her dinner, smiling around the next bite.
Wandering by herself doesn’t turn out as lonely as she feared. Without Sassy, she can enjoy catching up on reading and soaking in the sun quietly, angling for a glowing tan and a sense of inner peace.
That plan is only occasionally hindered by more Italian men to turn down. One of them looks just like Luca, and even if she can’t take him up on it, it’s still good to know she could.
After that first day, Ted starts texting her puns and rhymes he spots on local business signs, and she reads them in his voice. His love of wordplay is apparently regional because there’s a new one every day. She always likes the pictures; occasionally responds with some quip of her own.
What this means, however, is that he and Keeley are constantly vying for the top spot on her text threads and Keeley demands daily selfies, preferably bikini-clad ones, and Rebecca is 47 and doesn’t always have her glasses on her at the beach and well-
Ted: I don’t think that was meant for me, boss
She checks the notification and frowns, unlocks her phone and ah, fuck
Rebecca: Ted I’m so sorry
Rebecca: That was for Keeley!
Ted: No harm no foul
Ted: Nice to see you're getting some sun
Rebecca arches an eyebrow. She had pulled the strap of her bikini to the side and really pushed up her chest to give Keeley a good notion of her tan for the picture.
Three dots appear and disappear a couple of times.
Ted: That came out wrong.
Ted: But you get it
She smiles, I got it Ted.
He sends a selfie back. Unlike her, he has a shirt on and, unexpectedly, a beard. He looks well, and looks good, too, she thinks idly.
Rebecca: Two coach Beards might get a little confusing don’t you think?
Ted: Wouldn't dream of hijacking Beard’s visual identity, this is just for the break
Rebecca: Good day, Ted
Ted: Good talking to ya, Boss
She sighs, wondering how HR would feel about the whole of her existence at this point.
Oh well.
The trip back the following day is uneventful but tiring. She gets home late and sleeps on top of her sheets, fully clothed.
When she wakes up, groggy, rumpled, and with a headache, the sun isn’t out yet.
She reaches for her phone and finds several texts from Keeley asking if she got home alright and threatening to “call the coastguard or whoever the fuck” if she doesn’t respond. Rebecca replies and sees there’s a new message from Ted too.
Thought I’d even out the playing field
He is in a polo shirt with the short sleeves rucked up to his shoulders, thumbs up on each side showing off a faint farmer’s tan.
She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips pull up traitorously. She hadn’t paid attention before, but he has nice arms.
She types that in, and just as she’s about to press send, it occurs to her that might not come off as casual or friendly as intended after she’s given him a close up of her chest – albeit accidentally – so instead, she types Ted, it really is fine and is surprised when he responds right away.
Just don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, Boss
She shakes her head. He really does not get it. You could never, Ted.
Three dots haunt her screen, coming and going while he tries to figure out how to respond to that. She rolls her eyes again and gives him the out. Go to sleep, must be middle of the night there.
To that, he manages an answer, It is. Night, Boss
She rolls the texts back, looks at his picture one more time and smiles thinking Silly, silly man before locking her screen and getting up to take a shower.
The fourth week after the season ends, her troubles start in earnest.
Nora comes to stay with her, and this time Rebecca doesn’t bother planning activities, just asks her what she’d like to do.
The unexpected answer is baking.
That’s fashionable amongst the young now, it seems. While Sassy is generally not a terrible cook, leave her with anything dessert adjacent and she’d manage a nuclear disaster. So, Nora is counting on Rebecca to be not-terrible and assist while she works through different recipes, plus, as far as Rebecca’s been able to piece together, it doesn’t hurt that her kitchen is going to look good on Nora’s tiktoks of the process either.
It's one of those moments where she is struck by how much she missed by disappearing into her marriage because, apparently, her goddaughter is ruthless. Gordon Ramsay would be proud.
She nitpicks nearly everything Rebecca does on the first day with plenty of adolescent sarcasm, guides her hands, redoes her work. Rebecca is mostly amused, although she might have a chat with Sassy about where it’s coming from later. Besides, if it’s important to Nora, she’ll tolerate being abused a few hours a day. She does owe her.
Later, flour stained and slightly sweaty, Rebecca has to admit that the iron fist paid off. Their cupcakes turn out nice, and she is even granted the privilege of decorating one all by herself without Nora over her shoulder adjusting the angle of the pastry bag.
She chooses Richmond colors and thinks she’s done a good job even if the way Nora’s face contorts when she sees it suggests otherwise.
She snaps a picture and sends it to Ted.
Ted: Next stop: Bake Off
Rebecca: I doubt that, Ted. My handiwork has not been approved by the specialists
She takes another picture, this time of Nora while she’s not looking, bent over the cupcakes with her own phone.
Ted: Boy, those look good
Ted: Are you guys gonna make biscuits? Am I gonna have to retire?
Rebecca: You wish
Ted: Not once
She smiles and rolls her eyes fondly at the screen.
“Who’s that aunt Stinky?”
She looks up. Nora has a mischievous glint in her eye; an eyebrow arched. It’s an eerily Sassy expression.
“Just Ted,” she answers flatly.
Nora deflates, “Oh, thought you might have a boyfriend.”
Rebecca snorts. Can you imagine? “And the fact that I don’t disappoints you because...?”
“I just want to see my beloved Aunt Stinky happy.”
Rebecca narrows her eyes, “And?”
Nora winces, “And I would’ve traded the gossip for goods and services.”
That earns a laugh. “Don’t you think I would’ve told your mum already?”
“Never hurts to try?”
Rebecca shakes her head, smiling, and pounces, grabbing Nora around the waist and tickling her mercilessly – her little revenge. They both end up on the floor, dissolving into fits of giggles.
The next morning, when she’s taking her tea quietly in the kitchen, Rebecca feels agitated, fingers drumming restlessly on the countertop.
The trouble with an otherwise pleasant experiment is that all the baking puts biscuits on the forefront of her thoughts, so when Nora finally emerges an hour and a half later, Rebecca suggests they go out for breakfast.
She makes sure to text Higgins and ask if the bakery she picked is any of the ones he tried procuring biscuits at in the past, and he confirms it isn’t, so that’s promising at least.
The establishment is clearly high-end — it would have to be in her neighborhood — but not overwhelmingly posh. They get a table against the wall, tucked away behind the register and she’s happy with the privacy.
A young waitress with about a hundred ear piercings comes to take their order and Rebecca asks for tea and biscuits for herself, and Nora goes for iced coffee and a doughnut. The girl writes it all down and, before leaving, compliments Nora’s leather jacket. She blushes quite furiously as she stutters her thanks, and Rebecca thinks that's something else to ask Sassy about.
While they wait, Nora tries to tell her about the reception to their baking on TikTok, but Rebecca can’t manage to concentrate, fidgeting with her rings as her focus drifts in and out in a bout of inexplicable anxiety.
“Aunt Stinky, are you alright?” Nora grabs her hands to still them, her face pinched in concern.
Rebecca takes a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m in a strange mood today.”
“Well, here’s something that might cheer you up.” Nora pulls up her phone. “I filmed you putting the second tray in the oven, the lower one, aaand-” She hands over the device.
Rebecca takes it and watches the clip loop once; there is nothing much to it, then her eyes shift to the comments.
“That’s… a lot of peach emojis,” is all she manages to say.
Nora nods. “Most of those are from boys I go to school with.”
Rebecca gapes, horrified. “And this was supposed to make me feel better?” She hands the phone back, hanging between her thumb and index finger like it’s contaminated.
Nora takes it and shrugs. “We’ve already established you like younger guys.”
Rebecca’s eye blow wide. “Nora Collins!” she shrieks.
The people nearest turn curiously. She smiles awkwardly at them until they lose interest and go back to their coffees.
“That is my name,” Nora says cheekily.
Rebecca opens her mouth to give her some attitude back, but their server approaches the table and starts lowering the food steadily.
“Anything else?” She asks.
“We’re good, thanks.” Nora answers for both of them.
The girl nods and moves away to the next table.
Once she’s gone Rebecca reaches over and pinches Nora's earlobe lightly. “How long does this adolescence business last again?”
Nora laughs, swatting her hand away. “Sorry aunt Stinky, it was just right there.”
Rebecca rolls her eyes. “Alright, but I’ll get my revenge, you’ll see.”
“Good luck with that.” Nora replies, shoving the doughnut in her mouth.
While she eats her attention shifts back to her screen and Rebecca can see she’s liking a few of the comments on the video. She hopes none of the ones about her ass.
Rebecca sighs and stares down at her plate. She had been successfully distracted from her restlessness by Nora’s antics, but now she could feel it creeping back looking at the biscuits in front of her.
They are round, for one, and too brown instead of golden, and she can tell they won’t be sweet or buttery enough just by the general aspect of their surface. It unsettles her.
In the spirit of not worrying Nora anymore, she bites into one and chews robotically around a taste and texture that feel all wrong, then swallows and washes it down with tea. That’s as much of an effort as she’s prepared to make.
The rest of them, she slowly crumbles with her fingertips and tries not to get caught doing it, thinking all the while about the fact that Ted won’t be bringing her any baked goods for another four and a half weeks.
At least the tea is good.
“You know, aunt Stinky-”
Rebecca snaps out of her bitter reverie to find Nora watching her.
“About that joke I made-”
“It’s really okay, Nora.” She interrupts.
“Yeah, okay-” Nora bites her lip. “But I was just gonna say, I’m kinda glad that’s over.”
Rebecca’s eyebrows shoot up. “I wondered if you were upset and didn’t want to hurt my feelings by telling me.”
Nora shakes her head. “I wasn’t. I’m not. It’s just...”
“What?”
“After I thought about it, even though it’s Sam and he’s great and like, Go Get It and all that...” She hesitates, staring into her coffee glass.
Rebecca reaches for her hand under the table, squeezing it to let her know it’s alright and slowly Nora looks up at her again.
“Well, it was a bit weird, wasn’t it?”
That is a concise way to put it. Rebecca sighs. “Yes, it was a bit weird.”
Nora shifts in her seat until they're properly face to face “You’re still a boss ass bitch, though, even when you’re weird.”
She sounds very serious and for once it makes Rebecca feel like she might not be such a fuck up after all. Or at least, not an irredeemable one. She raises her teacup. “Cheers to that.”
Nora smiles and clinks her iced coffee to it, they both drink, and that’s that.
When she’s settling into bed that night her phone pings with a text from Ted. It’s a link to Nora’s tiktok with the message, What’s the deal with the peaches?
She snorts. Of course, he wouldn’t know.
Rebecca: Take a guess
Ted: Does it mean “delicious”? “Juicy”?
Ted: They did look it
Rebecca: That’s not far off in a sense
Rebecca: Ask Keeley. Or google it. I can’t bring myself to say it.
She waits and once again, the three dots come and go. Rebecca can imagine his ears turning red.
Ted: I got it
And the cringing emoji.
She laughs.
Rebecca: Yep.
Rebecca: Wait, how did you find that video?
Ted: Sassy Smurf
Rebecca’s stomach loops the way it always does when she’s confronted with this connection. She really doesn’t like it when certain parts of her life mix.
Rebecca: Should I ask Nora to take it down?
Ted: Don’t tell her I said this, but I don’t think there’s enough views here to add up to a problem
Rebecca: Social media expert now, are you?
Ted: Nah, but I like TikTok
Rebecca arches an eyebrow.
Rebecca: You have TikTok?
Ted: Yeah, it’s fun
Ted: I don’t post though, I just lurk
Rebecca: Does Keeley know about this?
Ted: Hell no
Rebecca: Probably for the best
Rebecca: Your secret’s safe with me
Ted: I know it is
Rebecca: Night, Ted
Ted: Afternoon, Boss
She and Nora do lemon tarts and black forest cake next, then Rebecca suggests letting her kitchen rest for an afternoon and going to the cinema.
There’s a mild struggle to find anything not part of a franchise, but they manage and talk about the movie on the way home. Nora is very insightful and Rebecca feels a wave of pride listening to her speak.
The day after, they cheat a bit and do banana splits when Nora declares she’s not in the mood to make an effort. She tries to film Rebecca eating hers, but the peaches have taught her a lesson, so she bats the phone away.
The buzzing nervousness returns daily, when she’s alone in the mornings with her tea, but it usually ebbs as long as she stays busy, so it’s not such a hindrance.
She is aware that the source of it is biscuit withdrawal, something that is completely possible to have as she’s explained to Keeley twice now. There’s some unknown psychological phenomenon at work here babe was her answer, and then she asked if Rebecca had spoken to Roy recently. She had and didn't have good news to share. She hoped Keeley and Roy found a way to work through whatever this distance between them was.
Apple pie is her and Nora's last hurrah. Rebecca cuts her finger preparing the apples and then burns the same one while taking the pan out of the oven to remove the foil. Nora does her the courtesy of not laughing. They eat it still hot with vanilla ice cream, and before digging in, Rebecca sends a picture of her plate to Ted.
Ted: This might be out of character, but I just don’t care for apple pie
Rebecca replies with a shocked face emoji.
Ted: Banana cream, that’s the ticket
Ted: I’ll make you one when I get back, you’ll see
It reminds her again that she won’t have biscuits for weeks still and, for a split second, she thinks about doing a completely insane thing and telling him to ship shortbread across the Atlantic.
Rebecca: I’ll hold you to that
Ted: I don’t write checks my butt can’t cash
She smiles and sends him the peach emoji.
Nora leaves on a late afternoon train the next day packing a lot of leftover desserts. Rebecca hugs her tightly for a full minute before she boards, glad that she doesn’t squirm away embarrassed the way most teens would.
She stays until the train disappears, then drives herself home and calls Keeley to see if she wants to have dinner.
“You okay, babe?” is the first thing out of her mouth when Rebecca opens the door.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” Rebecca frowns, slipping into the heels she had by the entrance.
Keeley reaches up and gently touches the crease between her eyebrows. “Something about your face. And how you sounded when you called.”
“I’m fine, other than biscuit withdrawal.”
“That is so not a thing, Rebecca.”
“Oh, it very much is. Do I need to explain again, it’s-”
“No, no.” Keeley raises her hands in surrender, “I got it.”
Rebecca sighs. “Nora left today.”
“Ah,” Keeley nods knowingly. “So, you’re lonely, yeah? It’s okay to say that.”
“It’s pathetic to say that.”
“No, it’s not, it’s good to say the things you’re feeling.” Keeley takes her hand and squeezes it. “Come on, we’ll have fun. I sacked Roy for this, told him you were having a meltdown and reeeeally needed me; it was the only way he wouldn’t pout about not getting sexy facetime hour for the third day in a row.”
She tries to tug Rebecca outside by the hand, but her feet stay planted in the foyer until Keeley looks back.
“Something wrong?”
“You don't want to spend time with Roy?”
Keeley freezes for a moment. “I do, I’ve just been busy”
Rebecca’s eyes narrow. “You’re avoiding him.”
Keeley sighs, stepping closer. “Babe, could we... not talk about this?”
Rebecca watches her friend’s face, those big eyes that are always so kind, and whispers, “It’s good to say the things you’re feeling.”
Keeley bites her lip. “But some other time, yeah?”
“Promise?”
“Promise. And you too.”
“Alright.”
This time Rebecca lets herself get pulled outside and into an uber. They go to dinner, then dancing, and they don’t talk about anything that matters, but by the magic that permeates the bond between best friends, when they say goodbye, Rebecca feels lighter and hopes Keeley does too.
Without any concrete plans, Rebecca’s days start to string together. She wakes up, has tea, fidgets, checks her phone, paces, decides she’ll be productive – tries to clean, or change all the sheets, or reorganize her closet – and when it does nothing for the nervous energy buzzing underneath her skin, she puts on headphones and leggings and goes for a run on the green.
On the fifth day of this anxiety-induced makeshift routine, she runs into Coach Beard on her way back to her house.
He is sipping coffee on a bench, expression unreadable as ever, but the skin under his eyes is perhaps a shade darker, and she guesses she’s caught him nursing a hangover.
“Coach Beard?”
He turns slowly and doesn’t seem surprised to see her.
“Hey, boss.”
She frowns. There is something... out of place about hearing that from someone besides Ted.
“Have you heard from him lately?” Beard asks.
She startles.
“Who?”
“Ted.”
“How did you-?”
Beard shrugs and takes another sip. “Have you?”
She hadn’t. They didn’t text very consistently, but Ted checked in every other day or so, except for the past week, when her texts all went unanswered until she’d stopped trying. He had Henry; he was probably busy with his home life in Kansas. It was fine.
She hadn’t said a word, but Beard was nodding like she'd just told him all that.
“Michelle called. He lost his phone, let it fall in the lake.”
Something in her chest loosens. “Oh.”
Beard tilts his head and points at the seat next to him with his chin.
She can’t say what propels her through the weirdness of the moment, but she pulls the headphones off her ears (she still believes in cords) and sits.
“I thought you'd be joining a marijuana cult in Amsterdam or backpacking in Bali at this stage of a vacation.”
Out the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees his face shift into something that could almost be called a smile.
“I ain't as good as I once was, I got a few years on me now.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Is that a song?”
“Yep. Don’t look it up.”
Rebecca snorts.
“Alright.”
And then they’re quiet, people-watching while he sips his coffee.
There’s a group of kids playing football, several in Richmond jerseys, two with faded Kent ones. Rebecca lets her mind go blank, her eyes following the ball fly back and forth with a soft focus.
It’s... not uncomfortable, sitting with Beard. In fact, it’s the first time in almost a week when staying still doesn’t make her feel like she’ll vibrate out of her skin. She thinks about Ted, and suddenly their friendship makes more sense to her.
Against all odds, it’s he who breaks the silence.
“He won’t get a new phone until the guy tells him he definitely can’t save the old one.”
She hums , “Does Ted remember he’s rich?”
Beard does smile at that. “Looks like there’s something important in there that didn't make it to the cloud."
"Probably photos of Henry.”
“Probably.” He agrees, but it sounds as mysterious as the man saying it.
Rebecca doesn’t know how to keep the conversation going after that, so she doesn’t, and they spend several more minutes watching the game and don’t speak again except to say goodbye – well, she does, Beard just raises his coffee cup at her.
She runs home and unlocks her door, wondering when the fuck her life got so strange.
She might have an educated guess.
“You look nice, Sausage.”
That means she looks less than ideal, which she knew coming out of the house, but Rebecca wasn’t in the mood to get dressed up just for coffee with her mum, even if it meant decoding her backhanded compliments.
“Thanks, mum,” she mumbles against Deborah’s cheek as they hug hello.
When they settle back in their seats, a waiter approaches the table, and Rebecca orders madeleines with her tea. Deborah’s eyes linger on his retreating form before slowly shifting back to her daughter.
“How have you been?"
“Well.”
“You look a bit...”
While she grasps for the word, before she finds it, Rebecca cuts in. “I urge you not to finish that sentence.”
Deborah tilts her head to the side and rolls her eyes affectionately.
“Very well.”
That’s something new about their relationship, Deborah conceding. Rebecca appreciates it
Her mother breaks a biscuit (it doesn’t crumble correctly) and dips it into her tea. “How is Florence? How was Italy? We haven’t had a chat in a while; tell me about your break.”
Rebecca takes a deep breath and starts relaying the highlights, the fun and funny bits. Deborah interjects often to add something that is only ever marginally relevant. Halfway through, the waiter draws her attention away when he brings Rebecca's order, but they manage to make it to the end.
“And yesterday, I ran into one of the gaffers in the green.”
Deborah shifts forward in her seat. “Ted?”
“If it were Ted, I would’ve just said it was Ted. No, it was Coach Beard.”
“Is that his name?”
“It is not, but that is what we all call him.”
Deborah shrugs, accepting this. Since childhood, it’s bothered Rebecca that her mother had always been so unfazed by other people’s quirks, but took issue with simple things about her own daughter. That feeling nags in the back of her mind now, but in the interest of new beginnings, she brushes it aside.
“How is Ted? You haven’t mentioned him, have you spoken?”
“We text sometimes, why?”
"Nothing in particular. He's just always in your stories.”
“No, he isn't.” She surprises even herself with how defensive it sounds.
Deborah raises her eyebrows and takes a bite of biscuit.
“Never mind. Are you going back to work soon?”
That piques Rebecca’s suspicion. Letting one thing go is in line with Deborah’s capacities, but two? And so easily? This isn’t a friendly mother-daughter coffee date; it’s a meeting.
“In three days.”
“Very soon.”
“Yes.”
Deborah hums and they fall silent. Her mother looks around distractedly at the other people chatting and sipping their drinks. Rebecca can almost see the cogs in her brain turning, wondering how to bring up whatever she’s here to talk about.
“I’m thinking about moving.” She finally says.
“Oh.” Rebecca’s a bit surprised, her mum was always very attached to their house, but at least it’s not terrible news. You never know with Deborah. “That’s fine Mum, I already told you – take apart my room, sell the house – I don’t mind.”
It was nice to reminisce when her father died, but that place still didn’t hold sway over her. Some things are better left in the past.
“Yes, I just thought I’d check in. I’ll probably keep everything anyhow, but if there was something you wanted-”
“There isn’t.”
Deborah nods, her fingers pulling on a loose thread in her napkin. It’s a second before she opens her mouth to speak when Rebecca realizes the other shoe hadn't dropped.
“I’d like to move here.”
“What?” Rebecca croaks.
“I’ve looked at an apartment across the street. It’s why I suggested this place. It’s a decent size, lots of natural light. Close to you, but not too close; I knew you wouldn’t want us to be neighbours.”
“When did you decide all this?”
“Oh, a few weeks back. Elsie used to work in real estate, did you know? She’s been helping me. That’s my friend from book club. I’ve mentioned her a few times; she’s the one who-”
Rebecca puts a hand up to stop her. “Mum, your whole life has been that house, that neighborhood, and you want to move at this stage? Won’t you miss your friends? Your routines?”
“Frankly, Rebecca, I’m bored by my routines. I know I’m old, but I can still take charge of my own life.”
That takes her aback. It’s the fact that her mother doesn’t mention Brené Brown that makes it seem so serious.
“I just-”
“Don’t want your mother around.”
Rebecca sighs. “I just wish you’d told me before it was all... done.”
“I wanted to but-” Deborah shrugs.
“What?”
“I didn't want to deal with the disappointment on your face.”
“Oh, Mother.”
“Don’t deny it, sausage. I know how you feel about me, but I thought this would be an opportunity to grow closer. I’ll give your spare key back if that’s what you’re worried about, you can have all the naked men you’d like in your kitchen, and I’ll be none the wiser.”
Despite the lingering confusion, Rebecca snorts. “That makes me sound like a slag.”
“Lucky you.”
The curse of Deborah is that she is very charismatic and although Rebecca has built up an immunity, she’s still not entirely unaffected.
“Fine, Mum, move."
Deborah’s face splits into a grin.
“We should order mimosas to celebrate!”
Rebecca rolls her eyes. “I’ll have to see this flat; I don’t trust Elsa.”
“Elsie. And grand, I’d love your opinion.”
Rebecca sighs and shakes her head; she’s become a sap with a spine of noodles, and every day, they get more cooked.
She laughs at nothing when she realizes that’s the exact kind of thing Ted would say.
“Are you alright, dear?” Deborah frowns.
“I’m fine.”
She is. Mostly.
Going back to the club is simultaneously a reprieve from her loneliness and a test of her nerves, both thanks to Higgins. Only the administrative staff was in house at this stage, so the two of them have taken to working together in her office. The players and coaches would be off for another week, two, in Ted’s case, and Keeley wouldn’t be back at all.
It was a bit awkward at first when Higgins asked to stay. She was so surprised by the request, the agreement stumbled out of her mouth before she thought on it. But the next day, when he sat on the carpet (better for his sciatica, according to him. Rebecca has her doubts) and scattered his things on her coffee table, it was already not so strange anymore. It’s good to have someone close by.
The only issue, per se, is the man buzzes, and she feels it infecting her and piling onto her own restlessness. She's trying to deal with it, but by Friday, when her eyes keep getting drawn to his leg bouncing, Rebecca's reached her limit.
“For God’s sake, stop!”
Higgins startles, almost lifting off the couch.
“Sorry.” She brushes her hands down her shirt in an attempt to compose herself. “Your leg, Higgins. It’s distracting.”
He looks between her and the offending limb.
“Is everything alright, Rebecca?”
“Yes, it’s fine.” It’s curt and dry, and she doesn’t like the way it sounds, but can’t manage anything softer at the moment.
He pushes his glasses up and clears his throat.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Higgins sighs and starts shuffling around to stand.
“What on earth are you doing?” She asks, watching him fumble until he manages to land on his feet, panting slightly.
“I’m approaching the bench.” He tells her and moves closer to sit on the chair across from her.
Rebecca rolls her eyes. “I'd just like you to keep still.”
He peers at her over the rim of his glasses in a knowing sort of way and she imagines is how he must look at his sons when they’re being difficult.
“I noticed you keep reaching for your biscuits.”
Busted.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Is it even lying if it’s so blatant?
Higgins presses his lips together sympathetically. “I’m not Keeley, but if there was anything you wanted to talk about...”
Rebecca shifts uncomfortably. “There isn’t; I’m just having biscuit withdrawal. I usually have something to munch on, and now I do not. That is all.”
"Biscuit withdrawal?”
“It’s a thing!” She halfway stands in her fervor and Higgins leans back, alarmed.
“Okay, okay.”
Rebecca shakes her head trying to clear it, settling back down. “Sorry, I’m on edge.”
He nods, understanding. “Have you talked to Ted? I'm sure he’d send you some.”
“I can’t do that, that would be pathetic. And he would think I’m crazy.”
Higgins frowns “Are we talking about the same Ted?”
She rolls her eyes. “He will be back in two weeks. I’m not a child; I can wait.”
“But you don’t have to.”
“I can wait,” she repeats pointedly.
Higgins’ face is pinched and pitying like he can tell she’s losing it a little. He probably can. She probably is.
Rebecca sighs and lets her head drop to her hands on top of her desk. Fuck.
Ted: Hey, boss, I’m back!
Ted: And to answer your question two weeks late: yeah, the tooth fairy is creepy. What’s she doing with the teeth? We just don’t know.
When her eyes catch sight of the notification, the surprise makes her heartbeat falter, and she smiles, quickly unlocking the screen.
Rebecca: Not lost to the lake then?
Ted: No ma’am
Ted: It was valiantly retrieved and bravely resuscitated
Rebecca: You could’ve just gotten a new phone, Ted
Ted: I needed this one
Rebecca: Ever head of the cloud?
Ted: Boss, didn’t think you’d be one to kick a man while he’s down
Rebecca: But you are no longer down, it’s fair play
Ted: Technicalities
Ted: How did you know about the lake?
Rebecca: Ran into Beard
Ted: Well, I’ll be darned. Didn’t know he was hanging out at home already
Ted: He usually joins a cult around this time of year
Rebecca: That is what I told him!
Ted: What’s that thing they say about great minds?
She sighs, thinking about how close she is to having some shortbread again.
Rebecca: I’m glad the phone still worked, Ted
Ted: So am I. Would’ve been up a creek if it hadn’t
She'll have to google that one.
Rebecca: What was so important that you went through all this trouble, anyhow?
Ted: Things of sentimental value
Ted: You know how I roll, boss
Rebecca: Sap.
Ted: Guilty as charged
Ted: I gotta go, Henry’s getting off a playdate and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting
Ted: Real diva that kid
Rebecca: Bye, Ted
Ted: Talk later, boss
It’s not until she’s tucked in that night that Rebecca registers that he’d called Richmond home. It makes her smile.
On Monday morning, Higgins parks himself in front of her desk, and when she looks up, she recognizes his demeanor from the early days of her ownership of the club, a mix of second-guessing and fear.
“What is it?”
He tightens his lips and sways on his feet, hesitating.
“Just say it, Higgins!”
That springs him into action. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a brown paper package tied with twine and offers it to her.
Rebecca takes it and places it in front of her keyboard. Her nail digs into the bow until it unspools and she pulls at the wrapping to reveal a small pile of square jammie dodgers.
“Higgins family special. They’re not Ted’s biscuits, but I thought you’d like something to nibble.”
It takes her a moment to realize what he is offering, and when she does, she feels tears prickling the backs of her eyes and concentrates on keeping them in.
To deflect, she asks quietly, “Who on earth makes jammie dodgers?”
Higgins laughs nervously. “Just something we did with the boys when Kris and Dana were little and Lindsay was going through a phase, whenever we needed them to focus on something nondestructive. We only do it for the holidays now, but I mentioned you were-"
Rebecca stares at him threateningly with her eyes narrowed and he swallows the end of that sentence.
“Anyway, we couldn’t make them this past Christmas, so Julie thought it was an opportunity.”
“And squares?”
He shrugs “We did that once when we didn’t have cookie cutters and it became tradition.”
Rebecca picks one up, inspecting it briefly before taking a bite.
It’s good, perhaps not good enough to be worth the trouble – not as good as her biscuits – but good.
She looks up at Higgins. “Thank you. Really.”
He gives her a thumbs up. “Less than two weeks to go.”
She nods, forcing a smile.
“And thank Julie, too.” She adds a beat later.
“I will.” He promises, and shuffles off to his spot on the floor.
On Tuesday, Keeley drops by unannounced, carrying a purple box, and plops down on the couch like she’s supposed to be there. Rebecca approaches carefully, and confused, watches her open it to reveal two strawberry tartlets.
Keeley pats the cushion next to her, then picks up one of the sweets and looks at Rebecca.
“Come on, sit, let's catch up.”
Rebecca does, wondering what has brought this on, but Keeley’s constant stream of chatter distracts her and soon she's lost to tales of eccentric clients.
Roy’s first day back is on Wednesday and he shows up sporting a very noticeable tan.
He drops a container of chocolate croissants on her desk with a grunt and an eye roll and leaves before she can thank him. Or mention the tan.
The croissants look and taste homemade. They are also quite good.
Rebecca wonders if he’s taking something out on baking.
She feels extraordinarily stupid on Thursday when Beard, of all people, knocks on her door after lunch and offers her something wrapped in parchment paper.
“Oh my god.” She stops in the middle of brewing her afternoon tea and stares at him. “These are not coincidences.”
Beard just raises his eyebrows. He might be a cryptic man, but that look is easy enough to interpret. It took you four days?
She sighs and takes it.
“I can’t believe you all think I am this deranged,” she mumbles.
Beard clicks his tongue disapprovingly but doesn’t say anything.
It’s baklava and it’s delicious.
“I think you’ve won this little scheme,” she tells him in between bites.
Beard shrugs. “We’ll see.”
She oversleeps on Friday and doesn’t arrive at the club until nine-thirty.
Her mood had taken a turn for the better knowing people cared enough to enable her madness. Besides, she was now very close to getting her hands on her actual biscuits since Ted would be landing in a week's time.
She’s wondering if she’ll find the entire team crammed into her office with a dessert selection twenty-strong as her heels click-clack through the club. Although the thought makes her warm, it also unnerves her to think of everyone being privy to her biscuit-induced insanity.
She's pondering that when her phone starts ringing inside her purse.
Rebecca mumbles a curse under her breath and leans against the nearest wall to fish for it, guessing it’s Higgins, or worse, accounting, wanting to know where the fuck she’s disappeared to. When her fingers close around the device and pull it out, however, it’s Ted’s name and picture (his reply to her tan) on the screen.
She frowns, accepting the call.
“Ted, is something wrong?”
Immediately, she worries that he's hurt, and then selfishly thinks about how that could delay the arrival of her biscuits.
“Hey, boss, it’s all dandy, don’t worry-”
His voice sends a jolt through her; she hadn’t heard it since their goodbyes before he went off on his vacation.
“-I was just wondering if you’re in your office. I had a question about some contract stuff.”
Her frown deepens. “I’m almost there if you could wait a moment.”
“Yeah, no, I’m good to wait. So, Beard tells me you had one hell of a week, what’s up?”
The shift in conversation throws her a little and she blurts out, “There was a conspiracy to feed me.”
Ted chuckles, and again, the jolt. She shakes her head to brush it off and resumes her walk; phone held against her ear by her shoulder while she zips her bag.
“I expected it of Higgins and Keeley, maybe even Roy, but Beard was a surprise. I’m starting to think he is a sap, like you.”
“Oh, he is. Big softie.”
“Anyway-” She keeps going, shifting the phone to the opposite ear and holding it as she climbs the stairs. “For the first time in... seven years, at least, I missed my alarm and got in late. It's almost ten. It has been a very strange break. Did I tell you my mother wants to move closer? Just sprung it on me over coffee, and I-”
Her hand closes around the door handle to her office and swings it open. She doesn’t notice there was no need to unlock it, distracted by her ranting, but she does halt three steps in, mid-sentence, to look at her watch.
“Wait, isn’t it around four am for you, Ted? What fuck are you-”
The words die in her throat when she looks up.
Resting neatly on the center of her desk is a pale pink box. Her stomach drops.
“Hey, boss!”
She whips around.
“I thought I’d lead with the biscuits, Higgins said I might lose a finger trying to hand them over.”
His tan is a little deeper than it was a few weeks ago, and he’s clean shaven (except for the moustache), smiling at her from the doorway. The corners of his eyes are crinkled happily, pleased at having surprised her. Her chest feels like it’ll cave in.
It’s Ted, here, six days early, and for the first time in weeks, she does not give a fuck about biscuits.
He is still talking, but she is not listening. Her legs get away from her and cross the room in strides; she doesn’t come to until her arms are closing around him and she can smell his aftershave and feel that he is real. The relief is so intense, so shocking, it could knock her over if she wasn’t holding fast.
For a beat, Ted is startled, his arms hanging at her sides, and then she feels a warm puff of air on her neck as he huffs a laugh and hugs her too, one hand between her shoulder blades and another on her lower back, his fingers splayed and sure and anchoring.
She turns into him and tries very hard not to start sobbing. He must know because he tightens his grip on her like it’ll help keep her together, and sighs deeply, exhaling a tension of his own.
“Missed you too, boss.”