‘It’s like anything,’ Cleo explained. ‘You need time, and a lot of patience.’
‘Do many men knit?’
‘You’d be surprised.’ She showed her prowess with chopsticks as she picked up a succulent morsel of chicken. ‘I have lots of regulars who are men, or wives come in to buy yarn for their husbands. Knitting is something that once you’ve got the hang of, can be quite an adventure.’
‘So where is this store of yours?’ He had a second shot at picking up a decent portion of noodles and succeeded this time.
‘In the West Village. There’s a little row of stores not too far from Hudson Street and the Little Knitting Box sits between a café and a bridal boutique.’
When she announced the name of her store, he only just managed to swallow the mouthful, but it went down the wrong way and he coughed, rescuing himself with a sip of water. ‘Excuse me.’ He coughed again. ‘Did you say the Little Knitting Box?’
‘So you’ve heard of it. See, you’ve heard of it and one day perhaps you’ll be curious and come in to see what the fuss is all about. If we’re open, that is.’ She sat back in her seat and sighed. ‘The buildings have been sold and we’ve all been given a letter to say we’ll have a one-year extension on the leases but then that’s it. I’ve no idea what the new owner plans to do after that, so I don’t know what the future holds for the Little Knitting Box.’
Should he say something? Should he keep quiet? This was the first woman he’d truly been interested in for more than a fling since Prue. And it was all about to blow up in his face.
‘My Grandma Eliza started the store.’ Cleo went on, oblivious to his predicament. ‘Knitting was her passion, the Little Knitting Box her dream. It was her whole life, and when I came over to New York to run it for my grandpa, I fell into a routine that was alien to me but one I’ve grown to love.’
Dylan braved another mouthful, hoping he would be able to chew and swallow the noodles and prawns. When he’d finished and she was eating her chicken, he asked, ‘How do you feel? About the lease ending?’
‘I don’t know. At first I panicked – I got the letter the night of the party, when I met you.’ Armed with her chopsticks, she manoeuvred another piece of chicken, ready to secure it.
‘I think there’s something you should know.’ He thought about topping up her wine, which was almost at the bottom of the glass, but he held back in case she decided to throw it all over him.
‘Oh?’
‘I honestly didn’t realise this when I met you or when I asked you to out for dinner with me, but when you talked about the store tonight it clicked into place.’
She twirled the stem of her wine glass. ‘What did?’
‘I own them. The stores. The letter was from me.’ He watched her and she didn’t seem to know whether to believe him. ‘My father owned the premises and when he passed away everything was handed over to my mom and then to me, along with a mountain of debt. I had an offer I couldn’t turn down.’ He was rambling but he couldn’t help himself.
‘I see.’ Cleo took a deep breath.
Dylan picked up the bottle of red. ‘Would it be safe to top you up, or is the wine going to end up all over me?’
A little dazed, as though barely absorbing the facts he’d given her, she shook her head. ‘I’m not that dramatic. And like you said, you didn’t know who I was before this dinner.’
He topped up both their glasses and didn’t say anything, but he was still expecting Cleo’s entire glass to come his way.
After what felt like forever, he said, ‘I wish you’d say something.’ They’d finished their food in silence and he’d do anything to go back and not ask her anything to do with her job. He wanted to chat and laugh about nothing in particular and get to know her.
When a waiter asked if they’d like dessert menus, Dylan took his cue from Cleo and declined. ‘I’ll just get the cheque then, shall I?’ he asked, although it was a rhetorical question.
‘Dylan, I’m not angry if that’s what you think.’
‘You’re not?’
‘It’s just business, right?’
‘It is.’ He asked for the cheque when the waiter passed by the table.
‘So tell me about it… tell me about the business your father owned.’
She sounded way too calm and it took him a while to relax and not think that this was some kind of weird trap he was about to fall into. He told Cleo all about his parents, how his dad had built up a property portfolio over the years. He told her about the debts incurred resulting in the selling off of most of the properties already.
‘Why did you spare the stores until now?’ Cleo asked.
‘It made sense. Once we’d sold off all the other properties, we had the funds to keep the buildings where your store is situated, and even after overheads, the stores have been a good source of rental income. They’ve also been hassle free. The tenants are solid and reliable.’ He felt as though he was talking too much about the good side, because of his audience, and was almost forgetting the reason he wanted to sell up.
