“It has to be Wyn’s choice,” Hadley said. “It has to be her choice to stay. And as much as I hate to say it, the three of us are not enough.”
“Not true,” Salem said. “Not true at all. Her job is a flimsy excuse. If it was just about a job, she could easily find work here. Hell, Jane needs a new part-time receptionist at the vet clinic. Wyn could have a job in a second if that’s what it was really about.”
“Did you see her?” I asked. “Did you see her face after the fire at The Diner? Cas, Declan, Brooks . . . they ran to us. She had no one running to her. It’s breaking her heart. She’shappy for us. Of course she is, but it only reminds her of what she doesn’t have. Wouldyouwant to be around your three happy and very in love friends when you’re not even sure you’ll get your own happily ever after?”
Salem groaned. “I’m an ass.”
“We,” Hadley corrected. “Weare asses.”
“I’m selfish,” Salem said. “I want Wyn here for me. I didn’t even think why it might be hard for her.”
“Give it some time,” I said. “As we know, things can change really fast.”
“Especially here,” Hadley said. “There’s something about this town . . .”
“Speaking of town. What’s going on with The Diner?” I asked. “How’s Mr. Bixby doing?”
“Not well,” Salem said. “The Diner is closed for the time being. It was a grease fire, apparently. The ductwork needs to be replaced; the walls in that room all have to be repaired and then painted, not to mention part of the roof and the window.”
“That’s awful,” I said. “It was the only real restaurant in town, too. What are people going to do?”
“Eat at home?” Hadley suggested. “The spill over to Sweet Teeth has already happened. Gracie is working like a dog, trying to figure out how they can offer breakfast options alongside their pastries.”
“Breakfast meat pies are always a winner,” Salem said. “But yeah. I don’t know what this will do to the town. Especially since we don’t know how long it’ll be closed.”
“Are you coming to the Ridge with us? Or should I drop you off at your place?” Hadley asked.
“My place, please,” I said. “I have a few more finishing touches to put on the presentation for Mr. Perkins.”
“I don’t know why you’re nervous,” Salem said.
“Maybe because I’m about to ask a bank for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars?” I asked in amusement.
“Oh, that.” Salem turned around and winked at me. “You have Lucy’s backing and you’re friends with us. That counts for something.”
“I’m an outsider,” I said. “Mr. Perkins doesn’t know me. I’m aware of back-door deals and handshakes over the golf course. This isn’t that.”
“We don’t have a golf course,” Hadley said.
“Figure of speech,” I said with a laugh. “Be honest with me for a second. Truly honest. Do you really think I have a shot in hell at doing this? At getting the loan?”
“Yes,” Hadley said. “And I’m not blowing smoke. You’ve shown us the presentation. Huckleberry Hillneedsthis.”
“You have a clear vision, and you have the knowledge. Connections with us aside, it’s a done deal,” Salem said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Town
Mr. Perkins said no.
It didn’t matter that my hair was in pin curls, that I had dressed like I was ready to bake a cake with powdered eggs and milk, or that I had pulled out esoteric knowledge of one of the greatest crooners in history.
He’d. Said. No.
Before I’d even gotten halfway through my presentation, he’d stopped me, asked me what I had in savings and if I had any collateral.
“There’s just no point in proceeding,” he’d said as he fiddled with his gray bow tie. “I’m all for small businesses succeeding. Especially in Huckleberry Hill. But a bookstore? There’s very little profit margin, not to mention you’re a first-time business owner. Even with your knowledge of the industry and plan to host events and sell local merchandise unique to the area, I don’t have high expectations of success.A meager retirement investment portfolio is not enough. I just can’t help you. I’m sorry.”
