“No, he bowed out gracefully when Poet asked him to,” Salem said. “He’s giving us time to cheer up our girl.”
“It’s going to take a lot for that to happen,” I said, my tone dark.
“Which is why we brought the big guns,” Hadley said.
Salem pulled out a foil-covered dish. “Flourless chocolate cake with huckleberry syrup drizzled on top, huckleberry hard-cider for Poet and homemade ginger beer for us, because—babies.”
“Tell us what happened,” Hadley said as she moved around the kitchen to grab napkins and forks.
Salem popped the lid off a huckleberry cider and handed it to me.
“I didn’t get the loan,” I said. I took a sip and then another.
“We figured. When we didn’t get an excited call, we deduced that Mr. Perkins said no,” Hadley said. “Which is stupid on his part.”
“Very stupid,” Salem agreed.
The three of us piled on the bed, the flourless chocolate cake between us.
“You really need a couch,” Salem said.
“And where would I put it?” I asked.
“Good point. Try the cake,” she said.
I took a bite, the delicious chocolate melting on my tongue. “This is so good.”
“We made it this morning,” Hadley said. “It was supposed to be your celebration cake, but . . .”
I sighed. “Thanks.”
Hadley and Salem exchanged a look.
“We have something to run by you,” Hadley said.
“Hmm. What is it?” I took a drink of cider and waited for her to go on.
“We’ll finance the bookstore,” she said.
I looked at her and then at Salem, who nodded.
“You’llwhat?” I asked softly.
“Finance the bookstore,” Hadley repeated. “You need money? We’ve got money.”
“No.”
“Poet,” Salem began. “We can help.”
“I know you can help,” I said, emotion battling its way up my throat. “But I can’t take your money.”
“Why not?” Hadley demanded. “We’re offering it to you. No strings attached.”
“We believe in you,” Salem added. “We believe in your dream. So let us help.”
I shook my head. “I won’t take your money. And I’d never ask it of you.”
“That’s why we’re offering,” Hadley said. “Besides, we don’t want you to leave.”
