He nodded. ‘Pretty much. I mean, obviously I’ve been thinking about it.’
‘That a pretty big, life-altering decision to be making on the spur of the moment,’ I said cautiously. ‘Maybe you should take some time to think about it.’
‘No.’ He shrugged. ‘It feels right.’
‘I don’t think bank managers usually recommend buying a business based on a feeling.’
‘Maybe they should.’
‘At the risk of sounding patronizing, maybe you should do some research. Weigh up the pros and cons. Make sure it’s a viable business decision.’
‘Don’t forget, I’ve been running the business for the past seven months,’ he pointed out. ‘I know all the ins and outs, and what I don’t know, I’ll learn.’
‘You make it sound simple.’
‘I know it’s not, and I know you’re just trying to look out for me.’ He gave me a look. ‘But hey, you run your own business. Did you know everything there was to possibly know about business management before you took it on?’
‘Not really,’ I admitted. ‘Like you, I worked there for a while first. Did tattooing by day and painted at night. Then Pete, the owner, told us he was selling and, well, I liked the location, I liked the staff, and I liked turning up there every day. It was a no-brainer for me. Plus, I’d always thought it would make a great art gallery as well as the tattoo side of it, so it gave me a place to showcase my work, as well as other local artists. I had to get a business loan and Adam wasnothappy about that. There were a lot of long days and sleepless nights, worrying about whether I could repay the loan. But I did it. I worked my ass off. It helped that I have great staff. The best. Reputation is key, and word of mouth, especially on social media, can do more for advertising than actual paid advertisements can.’
‘Well there you go. The Cozy Catch already has the best staff anyone could hope for, and with all the tourists it makes a tidy profit. I really don’t think it’s too much of a leap of faith to take it on.’
I held my hands up. ‘At the end of the day, it’s not me you need to convince, and it sounds as if you’ve already convinced yourself.’
Someone cleared their throat discreetly behind him. ‘Excuse, me, Jack?’
Jack turned to look over his shoulder. ‘It’s ready?’
Fiona beamed at us. ‘It sure is.’
‘Thanks. I owe you one.’
He stopped dancing and took my hand, giving it a light tug.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Not far.’
‘How far?’
He smiled. ‘Come with me and you’ll find out.’
I allowed myself to be led. He was right. It wasn’t far at all. Just underneath one of the big oak trees on the outskirts of the green, where the grass started to slope into a little hill, with the children’s playground on the other side. A cozy, pale-blue picnic blanket had been laid out, with a couple of scattered cushions. In one corner there was a basket, and next to it, a mason jar with fairy lights inside. A few scattered pink peony flowers completed the scene. Jack gestured for me to sit, then sank down to the blanket himself, awkwardly tucking his long legs underneath him.
‘You arranged all this for us?’ I asked, as he opened the basket and peered inside.
‘I did. Although Fiona has outdone herself with the little touches. The lights and flowers were not my suggestion.’
‘If I didn’t know any better, I could swear you were trying to be romantic.’
‘Is it working?’
‘Maybe.’ I gestured with my chin. ‘What’s in the basket?’
He lifted out a container. ‘Oysters, for starters. Don’t worry, they’re fresh and they’ve been on ice.’
‘Not exactly typical picnic fare.’
‘I beg to differ. If you haven’t been served oysters on a picnic before, then you’ve been attending the wrong picnics.’
