A Proposal At The Cornish Cat Café | Cozy Romance Bedtime Story

but I've got two cats, Ted and Maisie. They came from a rescue center, or brother and sister

“tabby cats with an obsession for water. It seems hypnotic for them, and a habit of waking me up”

in the middle of the night. I wouldn't say that also Ted and Maisie get on, but they do seem to put up with each other. Just the back. Talking of cats, tonight we're back in Pennyworth Cove at the cat cafe, where autumn and a touch of romances in the air. But between village mishaps, well, meaning interruptions, and a ring with a story of its own, the path to a proposal is anything but straightforward. Before we begin, here's the quick ad break that keeps this

free content possible. To go add free, subscribe via the link in the show notes. For a lot of us, making

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If this feels like the right moment to prioritize your sleep, tap, try free, and apple podcasts or use the link in the show notes, there's no better week to choose rest. I'll be here when you're ready. All right, now back to nightfalls. It's the tail end of autumn in Pennyworth, Cove.

The time of year when you may as well just call it winter and be done with it. Autumn, after all, conjures up images of gold and copper leaves falling onto soft piles,

morning mist, they're all part of autumn.

“But as you approach the end of the season, the leaves are no longer crunchy piles fun to”

kick in the air, but damn, slippery mounds that are nothing short of a hazard. The pathways have turned to mud, so people slide from one tree to the next, grabbing its sturdy safety. All the residents of Pennyworth, Cove, long for the winter to arrive.

The real winter, when it's too cold for it to rain, when the heavy grey clouds finally

drift away to leave watery, washed out blue skies that hover over an inky blue sea. They want to wake up to icicles, hanging from rooftops, and ice on the cobbles, in the sense of roasting chestnuts in the air.

“They want to sit on deck chairs on the beach, wrapped up in blankets, mugs of hot chocolate”

held securely in mittened hands, watching the oyster catchers run up and down with the waves. Winter isn't here yet though. These final few weeks of autumn are some of the longest of the year, and everyone is

feeling it, which goes some way to explaining why Sam chose this, of all times, to propose

to Jenny. When he came up with the idea, he was thinking more about brightening up the gloomy days, and giving a solid distraction, both to Jenny, and truth be told, the rest of the villagers. Nothing, as exciting as an engagement, could be kept between just two people in Pennyworth Co.

Sam had thought about the proposal each morning for months, running through ideas as he bounced over the waves in the dancing dolphin fishing boat. As he hauled in nets, and danced across the sea, his mind focused on how he wanted it to go. While he poured rivers of silver fish into boxes on the pier, he thought about the proposal. As he weaved between the tables of the cat cafe, taking cakes and hot drinks to customers,

he thought about the proposal, and as he laid there at night, his arms wrapped around a cinnamon scent to Jenny, he could think of nothing else. So he would imagine with all that thinking that he might have concluded more than a, he wanted it to be a surprise, and b, he would have to get the ring from a jeweler beyond

“the village, in order to be sure of keeping it secret.”

He'd also vaguely thought that, outside, would be a nice place to propose, but hadn't really got farther than that. Still, it was as much as he could cobble together, and he has together a lame excuse about needing some specific type of fishing net for the reason why he needed to leave for a day. Jenny offered to come with him, and he tried to bumble him, bluster his way through it,

but in the end could find no good reason for her not to come without giving the game away. Which is why the two of them spent a lovely day exploring Truro, and Sam was forced into paying a small fortune for a fancy type of net that he neither wanted nor needed. He tried again the following week, suddenly mysteriously needing a very particular paint that was unavailable in the coves' chandlery, and again, Jenny insisted on making a

nighting of it. So once more, they went around the shops and cafes of Truro, peering in at inviting window displays, trying on outfits that were beautiful, but utterly unnecessary for life in Pennyworth Cove, returning home with an overly expensive pot of paint that practically promised to sail the dancing dolphin for him, but in the end was hopelessly lumpy and thick.

On the third attempt, he stood his ground.

No, he told Jenny, he was going to get her a Christmas present, she couldn't come with him.

and Sam could have kicked himself or not thinking of it sooner.

“Jenny made a big show of mentioning which particular pans she loved to use,”

from which baker she most admired, and would love to read their recipes,

and pointed out that the various cats always needed more toys to play with,

and Sam slunk off the long list of gifts that he would need to get before he could spend time choosing a ring. All the rings he looked at seemed so terribly big and dramatic. He couldn't imagine Jenny wearing something like it, however hard the jeweler is pushed in towards sparkling stones and shining diamonds. In the end, in a moment of desperation, he went into a shop called Rings, Wings, and things.

Not entirely sure what he was expecting, but a bit alarmed to be greeted by a large stuffed owl sitting on the counter, a pair of spectacle sitting uselessly over its glass eyes. An old man peered around the back of the owl and asked if he could be of any help, and Sam mumbled something about the word "rings" being in the shop's title.

“"Oh, yes," said the man, fumbling for a particular key on a ring,”

"the seem to hold a hundred." Used to be known for rings, not so much these days, from not so much, people seem to want new rings, you see.

Those are all second hand, you know, used, old, used, and old, er at a fashion.

He wobbled his way through teetering piles of dusty furniture towards a glass cabinet, finally fitting the key in the log and lifting the lid. He returned to Sam and the stuffed owl, bearing a small tray of rings, fitted into some bleached, purple velvet. Sam had been preparing his excuses when he looked at the rings and

“stopped himself. There it was. The perfect ring.”

It was silver, or white gold as the old man corrected him, and a simple band, and in the centre was a stone the colour of the sea on a summer's day.

Sam ventured, reaching for the ring, blue diamond, the old man confirmed, "rare."

Beautiful isn't she? Sam turned during over in his hand, something was written inside. He held it to the thin light coming through the dust he windowed. He laughed as he read the inscription in an elaborate scroll, imagining a man somewhere in the distant past, having the exact same sentiment he'd felt when he

met Jenny. Thank goodness for you. It read. It was perfect. Thank goodness for Jenny. Thank goodness for the love she had brought into his world. The old man had reached the age when he ran a shop for the sake of running a shop. There wasn't much that extra money would do for him.

He looked at Sam's clothes. At his hands marked with a hundred tiny scars from ropes and chains, and conjured up a price he guessed the younger man could afford. And so it was that Sam slipped during into his pocket, and returned to Pennyworth's cove, with part of his plan accomplished. Now he just had to work out where he would propose.

Sam tried to convince himself that it would be romantic to just casually interrupt Jenny in the middle of her work one day, holding out the ring, and hopefully installing a look on his face that said, "Hi, I'd like to marry you please." But he reluctantly shrugged off the ideas just a little too casual, even for him. He tied with the notion of adding the ring to one of the cat's collars,

but the cats were fickle beasts. He knew that whichever he chose would no doubt take it upon themselves to go for a wonder for five full days, only returning when they decided they needed to sleep

proposing in front of an entire crowd of people was terrifying. No, it would have to be something else.

“He took to carrying the ring around with him, in case a moment happened to present itself.”

But of course, in the way of these things, it never did. There was finally a day when Sam and

Jenny woke, and they didn't see horizontal rain outside the window. The waves were merely washing up and down the beach, behaving themselves instead of crashing over the end of the pier. Even the sequels could be heard once more, without a roaring wind racing its way around the cave. Or walk along the cliffs? Sam suggested, and Jenny eagerly agreed, pulling on her thick coat and warm hat and Wellington boots. Sam was just reaching for his gloves

when Tina came barging in through the doorway. Meg following close behind.

“Tina was clutching a planned pot in her hand.”

"Can you believe it?" she was saying, shaking the planned pot in Jenny's direction.

"Ahoiocent. No. Why? That's months early. I've never known anything like it."

In the background, Meg ruled her eyes and gave an apologetic shrug. Apparently, we had to show this chino right away, immediately. She said, a hint of humor in her voice. You know how this scenario ends, of course. Tina and Meg were invited by Jenny to join them on the walk. The women clapped their hands and rushed back next door to add some more layers of clothing. He didn't mind. Jenny asked Sam, and it was too late for him to say anything other than,

of course not, and the four of them formed the line that slipped their way along the muddy path that led to the peninsula, to the west of Pennyworth Cove. Sam went ahead and then helped each of them over the style, wishing Jenny would come last,

and perhaps they might squeeze in a moment together. But no, she strode briskly ahead, first over the

style, and first heading off towards the lighthouse. As if to drive home the fact she had no intention of loitering, she called over her shoulder, "Come on, slow couch is catch up!" as she raced ahead. And to round off the day, Tina and Meg return to the coziness of the cafe, each sightling a cat onto their knee, and demanding the largest slice of cake, Jenny could conjure up.

“It didn't matter what, they'd all be delicious, but size was key. After all they said,”

they'd earned it after their long walk. Sam had to wait a whole week until he had another day off, and another chance to propose, and it just so happened that it was another day when he awoke, and the rain had run out, and the sky was watery blue, and the sea was inky blue, and everything seemed perfect. He grumbled to himself in the shower that it would be nice if just once he could have one of those days when he was heading out to work, but he reluctantly conceded it was best if it

was on the day off. The day he might finally ask Jenny to marry him. Looking out at the window, the little church on the edge of the bay caught his eye. Of course, he thought, that would be the perfect place. There was the bench on the far side, quite hidden from view, and that would be a private spot with a beautiful view, and surely the best place for him to get down on one knee.

As he thought that, Sam had a mild panic about whether he should actually get down on one knee, or not. And after going back and forth for a while, decided he would make the decision in the spur of the moment. So, in this decidedly undecided manner, Sam suggested to Jenny

The packed sandwiches, thick chunks of soft white bread filled with wedges of cheese,

“slather of yellow butter, and tomatoes that threw their peps across the counter when they were cut into.”

They added two slices of the cherry cake, Jenny had made the day before. It seemed cherry cake was somehow too summary for the residents of Pennyworth Cove, and they preferred something heavier in the winter. So, spice dabble cake with rum soaked raisins and pumpkin muffins covered in a generous scoop of butter icing were going down a treat.

Jenny slipped her arm through Sam's as they walked across the cobbles and out onto the lane

that led to the church. Wind whipped her hair across her face. A few times she slipped and almost fell, but Sam held her firm. His eyes fixed on the church and determined to make this day happen.

“The bench he figured would be out of the wind too. It really would be the perfect spot.”

Of course, Sam hadn't reckoned with the other residents having a remarkably similar idea. Specifically, he hadn't guessed that mistips and miswimsy would already be installed on the bench.

Flask's of strong coffee sat between them, along with a plastic box filled with freshly made sausage rolls.

Sam inwardly groaned as he saw them, and wondered if they could retreat before being spotted. But mistips, she must have eyes in the back of her head he reckoned. Some who saw them and gave a cheerful wave. "Then do you space for us all!" she called out, then turned to miswimsy and muttered for her to budge up. So the two old ladies crammed themselves into one end of the bench and Jenny parched on the other, and Sam stood awkwardly in front of the three of them, and said, "No, no, he was fine.

Absolutely fine, where he was." He ate his sandwich, looking stalledly out to see. The three women chattering about the new opening hours for the mermaid, and how the price of milk could con up again, and whether or not they should be planting tulip bulbs now, or waiting another few weeks, or if they'd, in fact, missed the window for bulbs all together. When Jenny and Sam laughed, miswimsy turned to her friend,

remarked that something seemed off about the couple. "He wasn't, well, he wasn't Sam, today was he," she said, the mistibes nodded her head, her lips pulsed tightly. Miswimsy lets out a little whistle. "Ooh, there must be something on his mind," she declared, biting into a sausage roll. "Quite," agreed mistibes. Sam was beginning to think that the universe was trying to tell him something. Surely,

proposing marriage shouldn't be this difficult. Surely, everything should just come easily. Climbed into bed that evening, turning his back on Jenny with a sigh, and facing the window instead. He looked out into the darkness, seeing the end of the pier, let by a single street lamp, and the sweep of the lighthouse on the distant peninsula. The beams stretching out across the rocks in a rhythmic, regular motion. He could hear the sea reaching up and down the beach,

the rise and fall of the water, and could imagine that dancing dolphin rocking gently from sigh to sigh on her mooring. Perhaps that is all he really understood, he decided. Perhaps he was married to the sea. Perhaps that would have to be enough. So he was slightly surprised when Jenny

“pushed the covers back, sent bolt up right in bed, and announced, "Well, I think we should get married."”

She crossed her arms, and installed a scale on her face. "You do?" asked Sam, turning over and facing her. "Yes," said Jenny, firmly. She almost pouted.

"There." "I've said it." She bit her lip, and looked as if she was holding back tears.

“"Well, on earth are you talking about?" asked Sam. "I think we should get married too."”

"I've been trying to ask you, but oh, you just kept going wrong." Jenny turns him, blinking back the tears. He told her about the over-price net, he had purchased, and the useless paint, and the enormous pile of Christmas presents he'd felt obliged to buy. He told her about the shining rings, and had they didn't belong at all. And the stuffed owl with the spectacle sat on the counter, and how he'd found the perfect ring.

And here he scrambled over her, and reached for his genes, pulling the ring from his pocket. He held out the ring, and continued talking about the walk they'd taken to the lighthouse, and how Tina and Meg had somehow joined them, and messed up that plan. And how he'd planned to ask her by the church, only Miss Wimsy and Miss Tibes were already there. Were more interested in talking about tulips than taking the hint he'd tried to drop to leave them alone.

And finally, he stopped talking, and looked over at Jenny.

Her eyes were fixed on the ring, and she had a smile on her face, and he wasn't sure she'd heard half of what he'd just said anyway. "Can I try on?" she asked at last, and Sam embarrassed, stumbled out of the bed, and found himself kneeling on the floor beside her.

“"I have to ask first," he said. "I wasn't sure if I was gonna kneel, but I think that's the right”

thing to do, and I'm trying to get this right. Jenny will you marry me?" She laughed when she saw the inscription, as did everyone else when she showed it to them. "Thank goodness for you. So simple. So true. So perfect. It worked both ways." Miss Tibes and Miss Wimsy said, "Of course Sam was going to propose, and they were just wondering

when he would finally get around to it, and they never breathed a word to anyone of their other

conversation. "Oh, they denounced loudly to all who would listen. They'd known this was going to happen. It was obvious how others hadn't seen it, they had no idea." They talked about it so much, and so loudly that Tina and Mag had their suspicions, but kept those between themselves. Mag also kept the suspicions to herself that them bursting in with an early house, and might possibly have delayed this engagement by a number of weeks, but it wouldn't

do to say anything. Besides, Tina wasn't going to change. She was always going to be the

excitable, exuberant friend who just had to do things in a particular moment, a small round world

“wind of a woman who embraced every emotion and feeling as if it were the most important ever, as”

if it were her last. When asked, Jenny smiled easily and said no, they had no particular plans for the wedding. Not yet. Truths be told, she wasn't that interested in the details of the day. She just knew that she was with Sam forever, and that was enough. But she would wake every day in her home above the Cornish cat cafe, and he would be next to her. The she would walk, just as both slipped from the harbor, and no when it returned,

because he would come and wrap his arms around her in the cafe, and burrow his face into her neck. That every evening, as she baked her cakes for the following day, she would chat to the cat, and feed them tidbits, and then she would join Sam in the window, and they would take glasses of wine, the color of melted rubies, and sit, and look out to the cove together. Pennyworth cove was her home. This little place that she had happened upon by chance,

and the pier that reached out into the grey sea, and the fishing boats that bobbed on the water,

“and the promenade that ran along the edge of the beach. She belonged here, and the ring was”

a reminder of her place in the world, and her place in Sam's heart.

Jenny took to whispering the same thing to him each night as they fell asleep,

grateful for everything that had happened to her in the last few years.

“She would lean down and kiss his hand, and whisper the words that would always make him smile,”

and hold her a little closer. A little tighter, as she drifted off into dreams.

Thank goodness for you. We'll leave our story there for tonight. Ah, he doesn't love a bit of romance in the air. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. [Music] [Music] [Music]

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