It’s as close to a compliment as I’m sure I’ll ever get from her. There’s almost a hint of fondness in her tone.
“Probably. I’ve been told I’m optimistic to a fault.”
One person told me that, actually. Long ago. When I was so rampantly optimistic I didn’t see the end that was coming until I was standing in it, alone, dressed in a suit and learning a hard life lesson.
June shakes her head at me and looks away, into the forest, like she’s considering my words. Optimism stirs in some dusty corner of my soul where I abandoned it, almost convincing me that I’m getting somewhere with her.
Then she nails me with her gray eyes and says, “How is Thomas?”
It’s like she’s launched a grenade into what could’ve been a perfectly reasonable chat.
She always calls my grandpa Thomas, which no one else does. I’m pretty sure it’s intentional, meant to remind me that the two of them have a history. A history that I’m not a part of and don’t understand.
“The same as always,” I tell her neutrally, same as every time she asks, which is every time I speak with her, which is rarely.
“And that being the case,” she responds, “I have no interest in doing business of any sort with that man.”
“You were willing to do business with my parents,” I point out.
“And I still would be, if they were here.”
“I’ll buy Pier Seven myself,” I tell her. “Formyfamily.” I’ve never made this offer to her before. But I’ve been thinking it over. I know I can make it work. It would mean selling off the bar, but it would be worth it to get into the larger space, the landmark waterfront building that reallyshouldbelong to my family. We built it, after all.
“You don’thavea family,” she retorts.
“One day I will,” my optimism says. But the rest of me adds, “Layne will. And this will be part of their legacy. Tommy wouldn’t have to be a part of it.”
“No.” She turns on her heel and starts up the path again.
“That’s it?” I say to her back. “No?”
“As of right now, the answer is no. You haven’t even made me an offer.”
“I’ll put in an offer,” I call after her. “I was going to, after the festival. No more taking for granted that it’s mine.” I know that’s probably what irks her. That Iassumedit would be.
Or maybe, at the end of the day, this is all about money. She just needs to see my offer.
“You can,” she calls back. “But you may not be the only one who makes one.”
“What?” I hurry to catch up to her and fall into stride. “June. You can’t be serious. You’re not considering selling to Sierra Daniels.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s not local. She sells smoothies. It makes no sense. No one’s going to buy smoothies in Orchard Cove in the middle of winter. And the space is far too large for that.”
“So maybe she’ll expand her business model. Add other items to her menu.”
I’ve never seen June Spencer amused, but I think I’m looking at it right now.
“That would be a very bad idea for Orchard Cove,” I say.
I really don’t know if it would be a bad idea. I just can’t have it.
“Why?” she demands. “You only want a restaurant in that space and think it would be good for the town ifyourun it?”
“I know this town and already run the only restaurant here. Who better than me?”
“I guess we’ll see.” She glances at me sidelong. “She’s already asked to extend her one-month lease.”
