As Long As I Have You (London Sullivans 1)

by Bella Andre

  Mari didn’t believe in lying to her parents, which was why she was glad she could say honestly, “The flat is quite nice, actually.”

  “What about the bookstore?”

  “That’s going to take some reorganization.” Also true. “But I’m sure once I dig in, I’ll be able to sort it out quickly.” She dearly hoped that last part ended up being true.

  “The quicker the better,” her mother said.

  Mari’s gut clenched as she thought of going back to Santa Monica. Though she’d been in London only half a day and had been holed up inside the flat for nearly all of it, she’d found everything she’d seen and experienced so far—the buildings and the river and the delicious scone and jam and wallpaper-stripping tea—to be wonderful.

  Especially her unexpected savior, Owen Sullivan.

  Before she’d set eyes on him, just the sound of his super-sexy British accent had set her insides ablaze. And once she’d actually seen him…

  Frankly, she’d never thought lust at first sight was something that would ever happen to her. Then again, she’d never counted on meeting Owen.

  At first, he’d seemed slightly suspicious of her, as though he assumed she’d come to London to sell off her father’s things to the lowest bidder. It hadn’t stopped him from being extremely kind, however. He’d not only brought her food—he’d cleaned her kitchen too!

  Her mother’s next question broke through her thoughts. “Has anyone poked their nose into your business? Tried to get the dirt on you?”

  “One of Charlie’s friends came by to see if I needed anything.”

  “I can only imagine what kind of friend it was. Probably one he met at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey.”

  “Actually,” Mari said in Owen’s defense, “he was very nice and wanted to know if he could bring me something to eat after my long trip.”

  “Hmmm.” If anything, her mother sounded more mistrustful now. “Maybe he’s planning to play a longer game with you. Reel you in until he lulls you with his charming accent into a false sense of security and then—”

  “Mom!” Mari understood that her mother was worried about her—especially about her life unraveling if she fell for an unsuitable Brit—but after all the help Owen had given her this afternoon, she couldn’t let Donna continue down that road. “Owen isn’t playing any kind of game with me.”

  “I certainly hope not. I didn’t raise you to be anyone’s fool. Or to fall for a good-looking man with an accent the way I did.”

  Mari’s cheeks flushed in the cool night air as she silently acknowledged just how good-looking Owen was. And her mother wasn’t wrong that his British accent made her insides feel…melty.

  “I know you want to honor your birth father,” Donna said in a gentler voice. “Not many people would put their lives on hold out of respect for someone who, frankly, didn’t deserve it. Though I’m not pleased with any of this, I’m also not surprised by how charitable you’re being, given that Gary and I have raised you to be a kind person. Charlie is far luckier than he ever knew.”

  Amazingly, from everything Owen had said about Charlie that afternoon, it seemed Mari’s father truly had been lucky with his bookstore and a bevy of friends on the island. Which only made Mari’s gut churn more.

  Because if his life had come to be so great once he left California and moved to Elderflower Island, why hadn’t he reached out to her at that point? Had he been afraid that seeing or speaking to her would somehow mess things up for him again?

  “He never tried to contact me through you when I was growing up, did he?” She had been only five years old when she’d realized the one thing guaranteed to send her mother reeling into tears and darkness was to ask questions about Charlie. So Mari had stopped asking. Now that she was on his home turf, however, it was impossible to continue to keep her questions inside.

  “Of course he didn’t!”

  A heavy silence hung between them. Jet lag clearly did no favors for either Mari’s self-control or her timing, considering a question like that was guaranteed to set her mother off. “I’m glad I was able to reach you, but I should try to get some sleep.”

  “Okay, sleep well. And be sure to call me tomorrow to let me know how things are progressing—and what day to expect you back.”

  “Actually…” Mari was compelled to say one more thing before they disconnected. “I think it might be best if I spare you the day-to-day details. I’d like to take a little time to try to sort things out a bit more and wrap my head around my inheritance.”

  “What are you saying?” Her mother’s voice vibrated with concern. “That you don’t want to talk with me or your father while you’re in Charlie’s world?”

  “No, that’s not it at all.” Mari tried to explain in a way her mother might understand. “Just like with any business, it’s going to take some time for me to assess the bookstore’s viability. I lost track of time today, and since I suspect I will again, I hate to think of either of you waiting up for my phone calls. I promise I’ll be in touch with any big news, but I don’t want you to worry if you don’t hear from me for a few days.”

  Her mother didn’t reply for long enough that Mari knew Donna was either about to blow up at her or start crying. Of course she didn’t want to upset her mom, but at the same time, she did, in fact, need some space to work through all of the changes in her life. Though she loved her parents dearly, she’d known better than to let them dictate her choices six weeks ago when she’d decided to come to Elderflower Island, and she couldn’t make that mistake now either.

  “Well,” her mother finally said, “in that case, we won’t hold our breath waiting for your next call.”

  “Mom.” Her voice was gentle. “You know the last thing I want to do is upset you or Dad.”

  She heard her mother’s shaky exhalation over the phone line. “I know. And I trust you to do the right thing, honey. Of course I do. It’s just that I also know how enticing exotic things can be. Enticing enough for me to lose my head when I was your age. But you’ve always been strong and smart, so I’ll do my best to heed your wishes and stop worrying about you.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

  “Love you too, honey. Good night.”

  After hanging up, Mari didn’t immediately head back inside. The evening was too beautiful, with the rising moon sparkling on the river and the air smelling sweeter and fresher than it ever did in Santa Monica. A black cat sashayed past, eyeing her up before slinking over to the front door of the bookstore and sitting in front of it.

  Mari had always wanted a cat, but her stepfather was allergic to dander. “Are you another one of Charlie’s friends?”

  The cat didn’t answer, of course. It simply lifted one paw to give it a leisurely lick. When she opened the door, it sauntered inside as if it owned the place, then hopped up onto the counter by the register, curled into a ball, and closed its eyes.

  Perhaps it was foolish to leave a cat she didn’t know inside the store, but honestly, the animal couldn’t make things any messier. “Good night,” Mari told it, then went upstairs to finally get some sleep of her own.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Morning dawned bright through the guest bedroom window. Mari had intended to take a bath before falling asleep, but by the time she’d walked upstairs, it had been all she could do to strip off her clothes and slide beneath the clean sheets Owen had put on the double bed.

  So many things were different in England. The architecture, the accents, the history—even drawing herself a bath rather than taking a quick shower. Slipping into the hot water and lying in the clawfoot tub felt indulgent. And extremely necessary, given how much her muscles ached from her hours of cleaning the previous night.

  As she soaped up her skin with an orange-scented bar, she couldn’t help but think about Owen. Though she barely knew him, her heart raced as she wondered what it would be like if he did this for her instead.

  When her stomach rumbled, she realized with a jolt back to reality
just how crazy her thoughts were, considering they had only just met the day before.

  Last night, by the time she’d polished off the rest of the scones, clotted cream, and jam, the corner market had been closed, and it had been too late to venture out to find an open grocery off the island. Charlie’s cupboards were bare apart from a can of baked beans and something called spotted dick. Upon reading the ingredient list, she learned that it was a suet and dried fruit dessert. Another day, she’d try it. Thankfully, this morning she had breakfast plans with a very handsome local.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was dressed and ready to go. Owen wouldn’t arrive for a half hour or so, which gave her enough time to venture back into the bookstore in the light of day.

  Even dusty, dirty piles of books were wonderful, of course. But this wasn’t just any bookstore. Her father had chosen each of the books on the shelves, the armchairs for people to sit in to read, the rugs on the floor, the framed prints on the walls. What’s more, in order to make a decision about what to do with the bookstore—whether to sell it or to keep it and run it herself—she needed to find out what state the business was in. Which meant finding the account books, as well as the local business regulation handbooks and customer lists.

  After heading down the stairs from the flat to the store, she slowly scanned the space and was surprised to realize there was a garden patio out back. Had Charlie’s customers enjoyed taking a book out into the sunshine with a cup of tea? And given the completely overgrown state of it, how long would it take her to turn the small garden into a place where someone would actually want to sit in the future?

  A meow from the counter by the register startled her. She had forgotten about the little black cat. In truth, much of yesterday had a blurry feel to it.

  The cat stood and stretched, then hopped off the counter and made for the front door. Mari picked her way through the pile of books on the floor to let it out. She watched as it raced across the street and headed for the Fox & Hound. Obviously, it knew exactly where to go to find food.

  She had long dreamed of eating at a British pub. But how would the owner, and the other locals, react once they knew she was Charlie’s daughter? Would they assume she had abandoned her father and hate her for it, given that Charlie was clearly a local hero? Then again, Owen’s suspicions had instantly dropped away once she’d blurted out the truth about Charlie’s leaving.

  At a glance, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the bookstore. She hoped it was just a bad first impression. Reminding herself that she always enjoyed creating order from chaos while at the office, she forced herself to approach the situation as though she was working with a client who had inherited the store. First, she would need to pull together anything related to sales and inventory.

  Figuring those files might be located near the register, she made her way through the piles of books. Halfway across the room, a copy of Winnie-the-Pooh caught her eye.

  One of her crystal-clear memories of her father, apart from playing conkers together, was how Charlie would read the book to her before bed nearly every night, doing different voices for each character. After he had gone, the popular children’s book had felt like her only remaining link to him.

  At twenty-two, she’d taken her first paycheck from the accounting firm and bought fourth-edition copies of Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner. Over the years, she’d added to her collection whenever she could.

  Picking up the book, she dusted it off with her fingertips, then opened the cover. She could hardly believe her eyes. Not only was it a first edition from 1926, but it was also signed by both A.A. Milne, the author, and E.H. Shepard, the illustrator.

  Her hands shook as she held the book to her chest. It wasn’t just that she knew the book was worth an absolute fortune. What moved her far more was that finding it felt like an omen. A good one. As though her father had left the book here in the hopes that she’d see it and think of their time together…

  A knock at the door jolted her out of her musings. Still clutching the book to her chest, she went to let Owen in.

  Though the air outside was chilly, his smile warmed her. “Good morning. I know I’m a little early. I hope that’s okay with you.”

  “It’s great.” He was even better looking today, if that was possible. “Let me put this book away, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

  Owen cocked his head to read the spine. “Charlie had a particular fondness for Winnie-the-Pooh stories. They’re brilliantly written and illustrated, of course, but his interest seemed to go beyond that.”

  Thinking of her long-ago connection with her father had warmth blooming in Mari’s chest as she put the book behind the counter. As she’d hoped, several account registers were stacked on the lower shelves, along with thick book sales catalogs.

  “If you don’t mind a bit of a walk,” Owen said, “I’d like to take you off the island to one of my favorite cafés in Richmond.”

  “A walk sounds great.” She locked up behind them, and then they headed out past the pub and boutiques to the bridge.

  The landscape seemed impossibly green, especially to someone who had grown up surrounded by golden hills and droughts that could last for years. What’s more, they were barely into their walk when Owen pointed out two blue plaques—markers bestowed upon buildings of historical significance by the English Heritage society. One was for a music studio where the biggest British rock bands of the sixties and seventies had recorded, and the other was for a respected landscape painter from the early 1900s.

  A few minutes later, Mari had a perfect view of the Richmond Bridge, the oldest bridge in London. She nearly pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. “I feel like I’m in a British fairy tale,” she said, sounding like a full-fledged tourist.

  “Plenty of Brits feel the same way about the US.”

  She turned to him in surprise. “Really?”

  “Most of us grew up on a steady diet of American TV shows and movies.” He leaned in and lowered his voice as though he were sharing clandestine information. “We secretly dream of attending an American high school or a baseball game.”

  Who would have guessed? Smiling, she leaned toward him and said, “My advice? Skip high school and go straight to the game.”

  He grinned. “Duly noted.”

  Mari was thankful that Owen had been the first person to come calling at the bookstore. Though they didn’t know each other very well yet, he made her feel like she wasn’t in this entirely alone.

  “Have you ever lived in the US?” she asked.

  “No, but my brother Malcolm did a foreign exchange when he was in sixth form.” At her confused look, he clarified, “Sixth form is our last couple of years of high school, when we’re studying for our A levels, just before we go to uni. Anyway, he loved it. Enough that if he hadn’t been accepted to Cambridge, I’m not sure we’d have gotten him back to the UK.”

  “How many siblings do you have?”

  “There are five of us. I’m the oldest, then Malc, Tom, Fiona, and Alice. And Tom has a five-year-old daughter named Aria. She’s adorable.” He said each sibling’s name and his niece’s so fondly that she knew they must be a close-knit family. “What about you?”

  “I have one brother, Carson. He’s my stepbrother, actually, but my mom married his father when I was four, so it feels like we were always brother and sister.”

  “How does your family feel about you being here?”

  “Carson offered to come with me even though it would have meant completely reorganizing his work schedule. I couldn’t let him do that.” She paused, unsure of how much more to say. The last thing she wanted was to be disloyal to her mother and stepfather. At the same time, she longed to discuss things with someone who might know more of Charlie’s side of the story.

  Before she could figure out what to tell Owen about Donna and Gary, he said, “We’re here.”

  She must have been completely lost in her thoughts. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have missed
entering this beautiful park on a hill, at the center of which sat one of the cutest cafés she’d ever seen. The pillars for the outdoor terrace roof were made from thick tree branches, and the roof was thatched. Several people were having coffee and enjoying the view through the park to the Thames, and young moms were watching their children play together on the grass.

  “What a beautiful setting,” she marveled.

  “The Hollyhock Café is a well-kept local secret. When people come to see the usual round of nearby tourist sites—Kew Gardens, Richmond Park, Turner’s View, Pete Townshend’s house—this park and café are easy to overlook.”

  “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  He smiled. “You’re a local now.”

  Longing welled up inside her chest. Could she actually pick up here where her father had left off and be an Elderflower Island local?

  Or would it be far more sensible to do what her mother had suggested and completely wash her hands of it all? To continue with life in Santa Monica as she’d always known it?

  They headed into the café and ordered, then took their hot drinks outside and found a table set slightly apart from those of the other customers. Though Mari knew it would be easier to keep asking questions about Owen’s family, or to have him tell her more about Elderflower Island and the surrounding towns, she refused to bury her head in the sand.

  “Whatever you know about Charlie,” she said, “I’d appreciate hearing it.”

  “He was a quiet man, and a good one. Possibly more comfortable with his books than with people. But if you ever needed anything, he was there to help. And his bookshop was as much a hub of the island community as the pub.”

  It was a lot to take in, even though Owen had already given her hints as to just how beloved her father had been. “Did he host a lot of events at his store?”

  “Not formally.” Owen gave her a rueful grin. “Charlie, as you might already have noticed, wasn’t great at organization. But reader groups, and nonbook groups too, still liked to congregate informally in the shop.”