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She sat at the worn kitchen table and rested her elbows on the solid wood.
“Here’s my remedy for a case of crapulousness.” He handed her a glass. “A teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda mixed into a large glass of water. Drink up.”
The mixture didn’t look appetizing, but she drank it down.
“He won’t stop until he owns this property, Ford. Isobel always says that the laws are firmly on the side of males when it comes to the ownership of property.”
He took a seat across the table from her. “You don’t know that this person has a credible claim.”
“All of the work you’ve done. The dreams I allowed myself to dream. All of it could be for nothing.”
“You fell in love with this house, with the idea of freedom from your mother’s control.”
“It’s just a house. Four walls and a roof.”
“A roof that doesn’t leak now. Walls that will stand the test of time. I’ve made sure of that.”
Beatrice sighed. “It’s foolish to fall in love with a house. I thought we could make something beautiful, a lasting legacy, but we were only passing through. We’re already memories, Ford. Already ghosts.”
“Don’t say that. It’s not like you to just give up onyour goals. This is your house, and it will be a welcoming haven for women to support each other’s ambitions.”
“About that. Ford, I shouldn’t have told you Viola’s secret.”
“That she’s finishing her father’s symphonies?”
“Shhh.” Beatrice placed a finger to her lips. “It’s a secret. If word got out that Mr. Beaton wasn’t composing the symphonies anymore, no one would pay him for them, and the audiences would disappear. Please promise me that you won’t tell a soul.”
“I would never betray your trust.”
“Thank you. I’m sad that my ladies won’t have a new clubhouse, after all.”
“You can’t take Foxton’s word for anything. You’ll have to verify this distant relation’s claim for yourself.”
“My brain isn’t working properly today, though this tonic is improving things considerably. I didn’t think I’d drunk too much wine, but perhaps...”
He met her gaze. “Yes, perhaps it was the wine. I didn’t know you’d had so much.”
“It wasn’t the wine.” How could she tell him what she needed to say? That she’d fallen in love with more than the bookshop. That she didn’t want him to leave.
So many things to say and all of them sounded wrong in her head.
Everything seemed so bleak now. Foxton could find a way to take the shop. And Ford... hadn’t put his arms around her yet.
“I only have a few small odds and ends to finish,” he said. “I’ll be finished by tomorrow.”
“You may as well stop working. If the bookshop isn’t mine, or if the ownership is under review, then there’s no point in your completing the renovations. I’ll still pay you, of course.”
“It’s not about the payment. I never leave a job half-finished. It’s not in my nature. I’ve got to keep my hands busy.”
“You may as well just leave.” It would be better if he left. Seeing him again was only prolonging the inevitable pain of their parting.
“Don’t lose heart. Let’s pay this potential heir a visit. With my muscle and your pocketbook, we should be able to find a way to influence him.”
Beatrice brightened. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when Foxton arrived. I hate that you had to face him alone.”
“It’s all right. I’m accustomed to being alone.”
