‘I’m glad too,’ Bridie admitted softly. ‘And thank you again for offering your spare room last week. Really. But I’d have been terrible company.’
‘You? Never.’ He paused. ‘Though I’m still not convinced you didn’t purposely set me up with that woman who asked about her son’s homework.’
Bridie smirked. ‘Itmighthave crossed my mind that she fancied you. The look on her face said she seemed very put out when she saw me sitting at your table. I guessed you normally come here alone.’
‘You guessed right. And Iknewit!’ He pointed at her triumphantly. ‘You were matchmaking.’
‘It was either match you up or watch her keep pretending she wasn’t staring at you over her coffee.’
Oliver chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Well … we did talk for a bit. She was nice. But not—’ He hesitated. ‘Not what I’m looking for, I suppose.’
Something in his tone tugged at her, but before she could untangle it, he leaned forward. ‘Anyway. How are you settling into your new home?’
‘Very well,’ she said, smiling. ‘It’s small, and the sofa might be older than I am, but … it’s mine for now. And Barney – having him with me has made it feel like a home.’
‘And you’re working in Hannah’s shop? I buy all my materials for school from Hannah.’
‘She’s been amazing. Truly. I thought I’d be making tea and stacking shelves, but she’s actually letting me help with displays and ordering stock. It feels … purposeful.’ She fiddled with her coffee spoon. ‘After everything that happened in London, I needed that, something to take my mind off … things.’
Oliver nodded gently. ‘Your ex, he was a producer, wasn’t he? Is that why you lost your theatre work in London – he put a stop to your working in any more shows?’
Bridie stared at her coffee. ‘You could say that, but …’ she grimaced, ‘it was my fault, really,’ she said softly.
He reached across the table and gently put a hand over hers. ‘I’m sure that wasn’t the case.’
‘I’m afraid it was.’ Bridie looked at him and lowered her eyes. She wondered what he’d think of her if he saw the clip of that fight on stage.
‘You don’t have to tell me what happened.’
She realised that he had guessed she hadn’t told him the whole story. But he didn’t push. That was the thing about Oliver. He never pushed.
He said, ‘You’re here now, and that’s all that matters, and I want to help in any way I can.’
Bridie smiled, letting out a shaky breath. ‘Actually … I do need to ask a favour.’
‘Anything.’
She pulled the crumpled envelope from her pocket and slid it across the table.
Oliver frowned. ‘What’s this?’
‘I don’t know,’ Bridie whispered. ‘And I’m scared to open it. I think it’s something legal. From the theatre. About breaching my contract. Or something. And I thought if I didn’t open it, it might go away. Which is stupid, I know. It’s just after everything that’s happened, I just didn’t think I could face something else.’
Oliver turned the envelope over. His face softened. ‘You want me to read it?’
Bridie nodded.
He didn’t hesitate. He tore it open carefully, unfolded the paper, eyes scanning quickly. Then his brows shot up.
‘What?’ she asked, heart hammering. ‘Oliver? What is it? Oh, god! Am I being sued for, like, breach of contract? Am I—?’
‘Bridie,’ he said slowly, ‘you’re not in trouble.’
She blinked. ‘I’m not?’
‘No. Quite the opposite.’ He turned the letter so she could see it. ‘It looks like you’ve inherited a property.’
Bridie stared at him. ‘A what?’
