‘I never said I was staying?—’
‘You need to sell that place. Quickly. Who on earth would want to own a shop full of junk?’
Fern looked around, suddenly seeing it through Ella’s eyes. The haphazard furniture, the clutter, the sheer impracticality of it all. She was a music journalist, not an antique dealer. This wasn’t her life. Ella was right, she’d just run away with herself, got caught up in the situation somehow.
‘Promise me you’ll sort it… if not today, then tomorrow.’
‘Okay, I promise.’
‘Good. And then get yourself home, where you belong.’
After hanging up, Fern mulled over the conversation. Ella had been talking sense. It was a shop full of junk with no income. It wasn’t a business and the whole place was in need of repair. She was just thankful it hadn’t rained yet, because she was sure the water would leak through the roof and windows. Fern dried her hair, put on some makeup, then sat on the bed, phone in hand. After searching through her emails, she found the email from the local solicitor, Edgar Carmichael, and clicked the link that took her through to his website. She was astonished to see that his office was on Anchor Way. Her fingers hovered for a moment before she booked an appointment for ten a.m. the next day.
She exhaled. It was the right thing to do.
‘Done,’ she muttered to herself. It was pure due diligence for her to see if she could sell it even with Daniel living and working here. She could make sure he was going to be okay. She wandered downstairs; everywhere was quiet. The back door was open and as she stepped out into the courtyard she stopped short.
Daniel was there, waiting for her. He had arranged plush cushions on the outside chairs, and the wine was already poured into two mismatched glasses. He’d even scattered lanterns around the courtyard and they glowed softly. He turned at the sound of her footsteps and smiled. ‘Took you long enough. I was about to drink both glasses.’ Then he really looked at her. His expression shifted, his usual teasing gone. ‘You look gorgeous.’ The intensity of his gaze caused goosebumps to erupt along her arms.
‘Thank you,’ she replied, taking the compliment. She sat down and Daniel passed her a glass of wine.
‘To us, and No. 17 Curiosity Lane, and the future.’
She swallowed. Her head was telling her to hold on to the firm decision she had made to sell the shop. This wasn’t her life, not really. But sitting here, with Daniel and a glass of wine in her hand, wrapped in candlelight, her heart was telling her something different. She glanced at Daniel with his ruffled hair and eyes full of something she wasn’t sure she was ready to name, and she found herself wondering: should she listen to her head or her heart?
ChapterFourteen
Fern swirled the wine in her glass. ‘Last week I never would have been able to picture myself drinking wine outside an antique shop that smells like mothballs with a man I barely knew.’ She smiled. ‘But it’s actually not that bad.’
Daniel grinned. ‘Correction: it smells like history.’ He raised his glass with mock sophistication.
She took a sip, eyeing him. ‘Can I ask, how are you actually living right now? If you have no income whatsoever?’
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes, and after a brief silence, he spoke. ‘I have a little bit of inheritance… not much…’
Fern could kick herself for asking the question. Why hadn’t she realised that it was more than likely he had inherited money?
‘But I mainly live for the moment. Take each day as it comes, fly by the seat of my pants. Do I need money to be happy? Absolutely not. I have lost so many people in my life that meant everything to me, and I’ve realised the biggest life lesson of all– that life is for living, not worrying. Waking up on Puffin Island every morning to that view, and being part of this wonderful community, means more to me than anything else. I just want to be a good person.’
Daniel’s views were so different from her own. Of course, she wanted to be a good person, but she also craved routine, a stable job, the security of knowing she didn’t have to worry about money. Yet now, for the first time, she found herself questioning, was she happy? Truly happy? How did she actually know?
They both took a sip of wine and looked out at the sea in the distance. ‘I think you’re right,’ said Fern. ‘There’s definitely something about that view.’
‘Isn’t there just.’ He smiled at her warmly.
‘I do think social media will be the way to go to try and put this place on the map. I mean, we could actually set a whole new trend. We need a gimmick. Something different. I honestly think the public will fall in love with you if you make up songs about the different items for sale. What do you think is the most sellable thing in the shop?’
Daniel thought for a moment. ‘I’ve actually no idea. It’s all about what catches a particular buyer’s eye.’
Fern stood up.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Wait here.’
Fern walked from the kitchen into No. 17 Curiosity Lane and flicked on the light. She looked around. The shop was now a slightly more organised mess of trinkets, relics and oddities, each with its own questionable charm. If she were to pick something that screamed viral sensation, she needed to think outside the box.
Her eyes landed on a ceramic frog. No. Too predictable. A rusted suit of armour? Too impractical. Then, nestled between a porcelain teapot shaped like Queen Victoria’s head and a stuffed ferret wearing a bow tie, she spotted it, the perfect item.
