“To make you feel comfortable with the changes at the shop, I mean.”
“It’s not about feelingcomfortable. It’s about what this place is, and what people like you want to make it.”
There was a lot to unpack there.
“What do you think I want to make it?” I settled on after a moment.
“Posh. Expensive. A café that sells a few local bits. Not a proper shop for the community. A gimmick for the tourists instead.”
“You’re right—we are trying to draw in more tourists. So are most of the business owners on this island, Galoshes—tourism is the key industry here.”
“You think I’m stupid? Of course I know that. But there are some places that areourshere. You’d get it if you’d grown up on the island. There’s the Ormer the day visitors see—Windward Ridge, the bathing pools on Little Ormer, Karyn’s chocolate shop. Then there’s the real Ormer. The Ormer that’s still here out of season. The cliff paths without signposts, the ones whose names are in old Ormerese and not written down nowhere. The bays no tourist’ll ever find. The old Ormer families, like the Nicoles—good people, island people, community people. The shop was part of that world. And you’re turning it into the other thing.”
For the first time, I considered the possibility that Galoshes wasn’t just being obstructive because she didn’t like change. I allowed myself to wonder whether on some level, she might be being obstructive because she wanted to protect something important. Wewereturning the shop into “the other thing”—at least a little. And maybe that would make us easy profit and ensure we could both stay on as comanagers, but was it right?
“I hear you,” I said. “Let me think on that.”
Marly wandered back over in time to catch Galoshes’s surprised expression.
“All friends over here?” she said.
“I’ve always been friends with Jones,” Galoshes said.
I laughed.
“What! I have. I’ve always been nice to you.”
“You’ve been civil to me. I’ll give you that. But not to Charlie.”
“I’m nice to Charlie.”
“You’re not nice to Charlie.”
“Fine, I’m not. But she’s…” Galoshes pulled a disapproving face. “There’s something about her—she’s not telling us something, I’d bet my cat on it. And she’s toomuch. With all her pumpkin decorations and her trendy clothes and her airs and graces.”
“When people say women are too much,” Marly said, “it usually means they’re intimidated.”
“They mean that if they say it about you, because you are bloody intimidating,” Galoshes told her.
“Charlie’s got lots of ideas, and she’s driven. People like her, too. The committee might all vote with you out of loyalty, Galoshes, but I’ll tell you now, she’s won at least half of their hearts already. She’s good at this job,” I said.
“You’re being very nice about your competition.”
“She’s my teammate. Not my competition.”
“We’ll see,” Galoshes said. “I’d watch your back, Jones. Say what you like—I don’t trust her.”
I do trust her, actually. And I really don’t want to be watching my back. Iwantto trust Charlie. I’m choosing to. I’d rather be a hopeful dupe than the bitter, lonely man I became back home.
Bye for now,
Charlie Jones
London, five months earlier
Jones knew that you could not stay in a relationship out of pity. That was anawfulthing to do. But he also knew that Aspen was struggling, and had been every day since her father’s death. She’d recently fallen out with Bridget, too, which was hitting her hard considering all the issues she had with her mother. And it wasn’t that Jones didn’t care for Aspen or enjoy his time with her. In fact, it had been very easy to slide into her life. Her friends were becoming his friends, which was handy, since he’d lost many of his own in the breakup of his marriage. Her belongings now peppered his sparse bachelor pad, giving it her signature style—classy, candle-heavy, lots of velvet cushions in earth tones.
He was almost shocked to discover how easy it was to stay in a relationship that he knew, deep in his gut, was not quite right.
