Dropping all pretence, Celia tilted her head in a gesture of sympathy. ‘Sweetheart, are you sure you want to know?’
Yet more dire possibilities raced through Beth’s mind, these visions even more tragic than before.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Please tell me.’
Celia studied her a moment longer, then glanced away and nodded, as if coming to the conclusion that she wasn’t breaking any confidences by telling Beth what she wanted to know.
‘He hasn’t told us anything, but it’s clear something’s happened between the two of you. I think he’s having difficulty accepting it. Ever since the funeral … well, it’s like he’s lost the spark he gained when you came to town. He’s been morose, quite frankly.’ She hesitated, her frown deepening. ‘Did he tell you he applied for a business loan?’
‘No.’ Beth perked up. That, at least, was good news. If he was taking steps to make his dream come true, it was a sign that he’d be okay.
‘His application was rejected.’ Celia shook her head. ‘Mick and I offered to act as guarantors, but he’s refusing to let us use the farm as collateral.’
Of course he would. Because he appreciated his family and was incredibly loyal. Never in a million years would he risk his parents’ livelihood or their family’s legacy for a chance at chasing his dream.
‘Maybe …’ Celia rubbed her chin. ‘Maybe you could talk to him?’
Beth winced. ‘I’m not sure he’d listen to me.’
Aside from the fact that not even the greatest con man of all time could convince Noah to risk his family’s land, they hadn’t spoken since the day of the funeral. She’d sent him a text message the day after, explaining that she no longer needed his help to complete the work on the house.
Unsurprisingly, he’d called her immediately. And when she’d let the call go to voicemail, he’d messaged, asking her to call him. She’d ignored that, too, and after a few more fruitless attempts to contact her, he’d turned up and spent a good half-hour rapping on her front door and begging her to come out so they could talk.
She’d hidden behind the mountain of boxes in her front room, where she’d stayed until she heard him drive away.
‘I’m not sure why you think he wouldn’t,’ Celia told her now, arching a brow as if to make it clear she knew her son’s heart. ‘When he first admitted to us what he wanted to do with his life, he mentioned that you’d helped him realise his true passion and encouraged him to go for it. You believed in him, Beth, and I’ve never seen him happier. But now, it’s like he’s given up and he’s not interested in finding another way forward. Maybe you can get through to him. Convince him to let his father and me help him.’
Beth considered it, if only to give Celia a sliver of hope, though she knew those hopes would be dashed. Noah would not accept his parents’ help. But maybe …
Maybe there was another way.
‘Look,’ Celia blurted, ‘forget I said anything. It was unfair of me to ask when I know things aren’t right between—’
‘No, Celia, it’s okay.’ Beth took her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘I’ll talk to him. I mean, I can’t promise it will help, but I’ll try.’
She had to do that much at least. After everything Noah had done for her, she couldn’t leave town without trying to convince him not to give up on his dream. Not when she’d been the one to dangle the proverbial carrot in front of his face in the first place.
Celia’s face lit up. ‘You will?’
Beth nodded. ‘I’ll do my best.’
She only hoped her best would be enough.
* * *
Beth was a bundle of nerves when she knocked on Noah’s door the following afternoon. She hadn’t called ahead—of course she hadn’t—or sent a text. That would’ve been horribly hypocritical, seeing as she’d all but ghosted him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he told her to get lost when he saw it was her on his doorstep.
Clenching her fists at her sides, she sucked in a nervous breath as his footsteps echoed inside the house and a shadow appeared in the entry’s opaque glass panels. A second later, the door swung open and Noah stood before her.
Sensing surprise rather than hostility in his raised brows, she relaxed slightly and managed a tentative, ‘Hey.’
‘Er—’ Noah cleared his throat. ‘Hey.’
Raising an arm overhead, he wrapped his fingers around the door but made no move to let her in.
‘Can we talk?’
‘Um, yeah. Of course.’ He stepped back and swung the door wider, letting her in, then closed it behind her and led the way down the hall. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
