‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Ivy said. ‘Have you seen the snow?’
‘I…’ Noah looked behind him, and Quinn thought he was trying to think of an excuse. ‘I just… There’s… I won’t be available.’
‘But you see…’ Ivy began.
Noah stepped backwards, his hand finding the door handle. He was about to leave, but Ivy placed a hand on his arm. ‘Please, Noah. You would be an immense help.’
For a moment, Quinn thought he would say yes, that the three of them could come together and with his influence, they could save his shop.
‘I’m sorry,’ Noah said. ‘You can always try Blair Beckett. I hear he’s still in town.’
He closed the door, leaving Quinn and Ivy stood feeling dumbfounded.
‘Bloody Blair Beckett?’ Quinn choked.
ChapterEight
‘I’ll ask again; I don’t care,’ Ivy said as Quinn made them a coffee. ‘He’s nervous about getting involved in, like, politics or something. He will come round.’
‘His answer was obvious, Ivy. He’s not interested.’
But Quinn couldn’t help wondering why Noah came to the shop at closing, almost as if he knew by coming then, he could avoid the crowds. The man had been elusive in the town centre in the early morning, like a vampire about to retire before the sun shone.
Washe a vampire? Quinn had yet to see him in direct sunlight. He supposed he would look wonderful, all strapping and glowing that wonderful glow…
Stop it.
Quinn’s apartment was a modern one bedroom with hardwood flooring and a bright kitchen. The windows looked out to the rooftops of Hay behind his shop, so he could see down to Lion Street and glimpse the bridge across the frozen river. At the other end of the apartment, he could see the castle. It seemed to taunt him every time he looked at it. Minimalistic, the apartment gave the impression of being bigger than it was. As he handed Ivy the coffee, he thought about how lucky he was that he wasn’t losing his home. Just his income. His bookshop. His livelihood.
Which would mean he couldn’t afford his mortgage.
Debt collectors. More evictions.
‘Stop being negative.’ Ivy held the green coffee mug in her ringed hands, the steam rising past her face. ‘I’ve met many people like Noah. They say no at first, but they always come around. It’s disappointing, but we will get him involved.’
‘I imagine he wants a fee.’
‘Capitalism.’ Ivy sighed. ‘A horrible thing.’
‘The source of all of my problems,’ Quinn said. ‘Literally.’
They sat in the kitchen opposite each other at Quinn’s breakfast bar. Ivy reached for a banana in his fruit bowl.
‘It’s not the end, though.’ Ivy unpeeled the banana. ‘Oh, no. We’re just beginning.’
She bit into the fruit, looking thoughtful. Quinn got lost in his own thoughts of what life might look like without his shop. He already knew rent rates were out of the question and he refused to move his shop out of Hay.
There was nowhere else.
His shop was home.
‘I can’t lose it, Ivy. Because I enjoy helping people and I love my job, and how many people can say that? Then there’s Dad. I’m his son. Son of a bookseller. I feel like it’s a reputation of mine and that by losing my shop, I’ve failed. Failed him, even.’
‘You haven’t failed him.’
Quinn looked at a small painting of a robin hung up on his wall. ‘I hope not.’
‘Okay, okay, think, think…’ Ivy placed her fingers on her temples. She looked like a psychic trying to tell the future. ‘We have snow, meaning we will have stranded authors and notable people in Hay. We get them on board.’
