‘The West Village is a prime location,’ she agreed, ‘and we’ve all been there for a long time. So if it’s so easy, why the decision to sell now?’
‘Like I said, the offer was too good to refuse. I was approached by a buyer who has offered above and beyond what I ever would’ve expected. I feel that if I don’t take this chance now, I won’t get another opportunity like it again. And I’m a single dad with zero interest in being a property magnate.’
‘Do you think your father would’ve wanted you to keep his legacy going?’
Dylan thought about it. ‘Actually, I don’t. He was a calm, sensible man and had good business sense, but he wasn’t sentimental, not about business. And with the debts mounting up, he would’ve weighed up the offer, probably investigated a bit more than I have, and knowing Dad, he would’ve asked for all of your approvals before giving you notice.’ When Cleo smiled at him, relief flooded his body.
‘What do you do for work yourself?’ she asked.
He told her all about life as a lawyer. The study to get there, the hours he’d put in, the change in direction he’d eventually taken.
‘Do you miss law?’
‘Some days I crave adult company, but I’ll never go back to the job. I’m glad I did it though. Sometimes you need to do something you’re not suited to to realise where your passions lie.’ He watched her drink her wine and lean forward to hear more. ‘I’ve been slowly getting started in my web design business and I love the creativity, the freedom. Having a concept and producing it onto a page.’
They talked about the web design he’d done so far, but his heart sank when Cleo moved back to the subject of the stores, as though despite her interest and her smile, she’d had the thoughts at the back of her mind throughout their conversation.
‘Have any of the tenants got back to you yet?’ she asked.
‘A couple have.’ He couldn’t divulge whom, for confidentiality reasons. ‘One has complained and asked who the new buyer is to try to secure another tenancy, and the other is willing to go. I’ve yet to hear from the rest, including you.’
‘It was a kind letter,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t really a business letter, which would’ve served us with notice and that would’ve been it.’
‘See what I mean.’ He smiled. ‘I would never make a hard-nosed business man.’
She sat back in her chair, her hair golden beneath the lights of the restaurant. ‘You don’t need us to say yes though, do you? It’s a done deal. We’re leasing premises and those leases are coming to an end and you’re selling up. You’ve been more than fair at letting us know in advance what’s going on. And the extra year is a godsend. It’ll give everyone a chance to work out what they want to do, what they can do.’
‘I suppose a part of me doesn’t like the conflict this could cause.’
‘But you’re the faceless party… nobody would know who you are.’ She was being so reasonable.
‘I’d know though, and I would hate to be the cause of someone’s unhappiness.’ Especially hers. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being devastated at this development, unable to work, unable to find anywhere else for her store. If there was a prize for giving the worst news on a first date, he felt sure he’d win it tonight.
‘What’s going through your mind?’ He may as well ask her outright.
She finished her wine and managed a tiny smile. ‘I’ve had a long day at the store and right now, all I can think about is getting home, getting into my pyjamas, and going to bed. If that doesn’t make me sound like an old lady, I don’t know what does.’
He may have only spent a couple of hours with this woman, but Dylan didn’t miss the vibes. And they weren’t particularly positive. He motioned for the waiter to bring over the check and they shrugged on their coats. Where did this leave them? Nowhere good, he suspected.
Outside the restaurant, he didn’t want her to go, not yet. ‘I know you’re tired, but can we find somewhere else, grab a coffee or something?’ He rubbed his hands together to warm them in the brisk November air. ‘No talk about business, I promise. I feel like we’ve got off on the wrong foot and I could kick myself for even mentioning work.’
‘Don’t be sorry you mentioned it.’ Standing next to him, she wound her scarf a couple of times around her neck so that the ends hung over her shoulders and down her back.
‘If you’d rather not go to a café, at least let me walk you back to your apartment.’ When she was about to turn and walk away, he stopped her. Despite the smell drifting onto the sidewalk from the restaurant and the traffic fumes that constantly hung in the air as though they had sole right to be here, he could still smell the shampoo he remembered from the night of the party. He wanted to put his hands on either side of her face, he wanted to let down her hair and run his fingers through it just like before.
‘There’s no need to walk me home,’ she said.
‘I insist.’
‘Come on then. It’s a decent walk… but there’s a good café right near where I live, we can go there.’ She tilted her head for him to follow and they crossed the street to where the crowds lessened a little and she led the way back to her place.
As they walked up Canal Street, they talked about the city, the things they loved, what they didn’t like so much, and even in the thirty-minute walk Dylan enjoyed getting to know this young woman who was as beautiful on the inside as she was the outside. When he realised they weren’t going in the direction of the West Village and the row of stores, he was relieved. It’d break his heart a little more if he knew he was not only putting her out of business but out of an apartment too.
Cleo pointed out her apartment building before they found the little café tucked in a side street. They sat on the high bar stools at the bench facing the window that looked out onto the street. There wasn’t much to see apart from the cars drifting past occasionally or people huddled together keeping warm as they made their way home.
When he and Cleo both had a coffee in front of them, Dylan turned to her. ‘What will you do?’
‘When I don’t have the store?’ She looked at him. ‘I thought we weren’t talking about business.’
