‘I can’t imagine the West Village without the Little Knitting Box.’ Violet took out a peculiar stainless steel contraption from the cupboard and rummaged at the back for something else. ‘Would the new owner consider granting leases to existing store owners?’
‘I think we’d have been notified by now if the new owner wanted to extend the leases beyond the extra year.’ Cleo had washed and peeled carrots, chopped the potatoes and put them into a saucepan, and was now relaxing with a glass of champagne, on Violet’s orders. She’d offered to help out today and she knew Violet was happy to see her, but suspected Violet would be more than happy to do all of this alone. So Cleo stood back, sipped her champagne, and waited for her next instruction.
‘Will you try to open up elsewhere?’
‘I’m not sure how realistic that is. If I could pick up the store and know it’d do the same in another location as it was doing now, then I’d probably go for it, or if Grandpa Joe was adamant he didn’t want to see the store close, I’d be more determined. But the rent where I am has been the same for years and years – I’m surprised they never put it up, to be honest – and I know I won’t get that price anywhere else, at least not somewhere that’ll do my business any good.’
‘What’s your grandpa up to this year?’
‘He’s with Maggie at her place.’
Violet grinned. ‘Good for him.’ She slotted a coarse blade onto the peculiar contraption she’d pulled from the cupboard. ‘I think it’s good he’s letting you take the lead on where to go next with the store. And at least you’ve got the extra year. It was nice of the current owner to negotiate it for you all. Have you met him or her?’
‘I have.’ Cleo moved closer, side-stepping any further inquisition for the time being. ‘What is that thing?’
‘It’s a food mill. Honestly, Cleo, one day I’m determined to squeeze out some kitchen enthusiasm from you.’
‘Not much point when I’m cooking for one.’
‘It’s a shame, I was hoping to make the dinner party up to ten tonight but the person I had in mind couldn’t make it.’
‘Dylan.’
Violet’s head whipped up as she put the potatoes on to boil. ‘How did you know?’
‘I’ve been your friend long enough to expect matchmaking.’
‘Oh no, you don’t get away with a flippant remark like that. How did you know I’d asked Dylan? Wait, are you and he—’
‘We may have had a moment at your last party.’ Cleo couldn’t help but smile.
Violet clapped her hands together. ‘I knew it! Robert said he’d picked up on a vibe between you two when he’d seen you sitting outside on the porch swing.’ She grabbed the turkey baster, opened the oven and the smell of the huge bird cooking unleashed. She positioned the nozzle of the baster to suck up some juice, then squirted it all over the skin of the meat, already crisping up nicely and crackling away in the heat.
‘Tell me everything!’ Violet put down the baster and picked up her champagne flute and Cleo topped up their glasses.
‘We kissed.’
Violet punched the air with the arm that wasn’t holding the drink. ‘Hallelujah! The girl still has her sex drive!’
‘Stop it, I’m not that bad.’
‘When was the last time?’
‘The last time I had sex?’
Violet nodded.
‘Er…’
‘Exactly.’ Violet smiled conspiratorially. ‘I don’t know much about him, but I’d say Dylan was much more than your average guy.’
He certainly was. ‘He’s also my landlord.’
‘What?’
‘He owns the buildings, the stores. His dad had a property business which he left to the family with a lot of debt, and Dylan was made an offer he couldn’t refuse. I guess with two kids it’s understandable.’ She swigged her champagne.
‘I can’t believe it.’ Violet shook her head. ‘So it’s game over before it’s even begun. You can’t go hooking up with the man who’s putting you out of business. It’s like that film.’
