‘If you’re not here to buy a book, then you may as well turn around and leave,’ muttered Sophie, her gaze returning to the notebook she held in her hand. ‘Where were we, Ginny?’
Alexander stepped into the shop and mentally revised his plan. Explaining the reality of Sophie’s situation was out, for the moment. He was more interested in what she and her friend were busy discussing. From the screes of writing and the pages flipped over, anyone would think Sophie and her friend were planning to go to war. Which, considering the divide in the village regarding his family’s plans, wasn’t something he could disregard.
‘Charming way to greet a customer.’ Alexander kept his tone light, friendly. ‘Can you point me in the direction of the autobiography section?’ He gazed round the room and tried to figure out Sophie’s system.
Hand-painted wooden signs, flaking with age, showed romance novels huddled up against horror. Fantasy sat next to astronomy and astrology. The travel section nuzzled up to books on philosophy. No wonder things weren’t going great for her. You’d spend five minutes looking for what you wanted, give up and leave empty-handed.
For someone who professed to love the place so much, he couldn’t understand how Sophie had let it go. Hadn’t moved on with the times; at the very least placed the book sections in alphabetical order.
‘Interesting system you’ve got going.’ He ran his hand along the book spines, noting how dated they were. He’d figured her finances were in bad shape, but to not even update stock? His father had emailed him to say he would talk to his man on the council to see if he could find out anything more about Sophie’s financial issues. Alexander suspected he wasn’t going to need confirmation. The facts were staring him in the face.
‘You’ll find autobiographies next to the biographies, which is next to the science fiction. Just behind me.’ Sophie waved her hand in a vague direction, then resumed scribbling.
Alexander followed her directions and made his way to the autobiographies. The selection was small, and as he’d suspected, dated.
‘Meow?’
A little squeak drew his attention to the floor where the sleek cat he’d seen snuggled up to Sophie the previous evening sat on its haunches, its eyes pleading for attention.
‘Hey little one.’ He squatted down and patted its soft fur and marvelled at its dignified markings. Its jet-black body and face contrasted with a white bib, long white boots on its hind legs and shorter white gloves on its front paws, giving it the look of an old-fashioned butler. ‘Aren’t you adorable.’
The cat meowed its agreement and leaned into his touch as he scratched its cheek.
‘Puddles, don’t engage with the enemy,’ hissed Sophie in a low whisper.
The comment was terse but not hurtful. Simply a way for Sophie to remind Alexander he wasn’t welcome.
‘Puddles.’ Alexander ran his thumb from the top of the cat’s nose to the back of his head and was rewarded with a deep, vibrating purr. ‘You look more like an Alfred to me.’
He gave the cat one final stroke, then turned his attention back to the books.
‘So, I was thinking I could organise a market for this Friday night. A Midsummer’s Night Market.’
Sophie’s hushed tone caught Alexander’s attention. He pulled out a book about an old has-been television actor, flipped through to the first chapter and pretended to be absorbed in the old fella’s words.
‘Get some locals to sell their wares. Have music. Food. Advertise through social media to the surrounding areas. Bring the village together. Remind them what we’re capable of if we stick together.’
‘Sophie, that’s a brilliant idea. We should have done it ages ago. Why didn’t we do it ages ago? I’ll be able to sell my homemade skincare products. The local dressmaker could set up a stall. I’ll spread the word down at the pub tonight. We’ll have the lane filled with goodies and punters and hopefully lots of lovely money.’ She clapped her hands and bounced up and down in her seat.
‘Excellent. I’ll need to get some sort of permission, but I’ll figure that out later on tonight. I was also thinking it’s high time I set up profiles for All Booked Up on all the main social media sites.’
‘Another excellent idea. Sophie, you’re on fire.’
Sophie chuckled. ‘I don’t know about that, but a spark’s been ignited, that’s for sure. Will you show me how to run the social media?’
‘Absolutely. It’s not hard. You just need to keep people amused, engaged and interested. Then when they need a book you’ll be top of their minds. We’ll need to find someone who can build you a website but won’t charge you the earth. Don’t suppose you know anyone?’
Alexander waited for Sophie to say her neighbour’s name, Natalie. When he’d researched her and taken a look at the salon’s website, he’d been so impressed with its clean, contemporary design that he’d searched for the business who’d created it should their services be needed one day. That’s when he’d noticed her salon’s website had been self-designed. She’d even created a business name ‘Cut to Fit’ and a basic landing page, which led him to believe Natalie harboured a desire to start up her own web-design business one day but wasn’t ready to make the leap.
With that knowledge in mind, he’d made a point of including it in his sales pitch. New home, money to start a business, a chance to follow her passion, enjoy a fresh start.
Natalie’s eyes had lit up, and he’d known that particular deal was done.
He turned to face Sophie and the other woman, Ginny. ‘What about Natalie from the salon?’ He reached his hand out to Ginny. ‘I’m Alexander, by the way.’
Ginny automatically brought his hand to hers and shook it with a welcoming smile.
‘Nice to meet you. I’m Ginny. And I think you’ve got your wires crossed. Natalie cuts hair, she doesn’t create websites.’
‘No, I think you’ll find she’s quite accomplished at website building. She did her own, and it’s easy to navigate and intuitive. She’s set it up so if you go to buy one product, other suggestions are made. Checkout is easy. The design is simple, modern, stylish. I was very impressed. Look for yourself. There’s a link at the bottom of the page that takes you to a business landing page. Her name’s right there.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ Sophie pushed herself up and strode over to the counter where her laptop was open, then tapped on the keys. ‘You’ve got your wires cross—‘
Alexander raised an eyebrow. Waited for an apology.
‘He’s right. She did do it herself.’ Sophie’s lower lip slackened as her brows furrowed together. ‘I’m going to have to have a chat with her about doing mine. It looks great. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me she could do that. Did she tell you, Ginny?’
Ginny shook her head. ‘No, but then she’s been quieter than usual lately. I put it down to the stress and strain of the past year.’
‘Must be that. Anyway, she’s got herself a client, if she wants one.’ Sophie clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
No apology then. And no thank you either. Alexander turned back to the books and faked interest in an autobiography by a marine biologist.
‘I’ve also been looking into writers who might come here to give talks. I saw that romance author, Lucille Devine, was touring the area and figured I’d see if she could fit us in. No harm asking, right? And a spruce up of this place is well and truly in order.’
So that’s what the scribbling and serious looks were for. Sophie was trying to drum up interest in the bookshop to save it from closing down.
‘Love it, on both fronts. Writer talks would be amazing – especially Lucille. She seems like a right character. And can you imagine this place painted sunshine yellow?’
‘I’d like to stick to the same décor.’
Alexander caught a hint of steel in Sophie’s voice. Interesting. Why wouldn’t she want to change things up?
‘But before you start going on about what a stuck-in-my-ways-stick-in-the-mud I am,
I’ve been thinking I’d love to create a library feel to the shop, with bookshelves placed in the middle, as well as round the edges, of the room.’
Alexander twisted round and caught Sophie’s eye. Her cheeks burned red, but she held his gaze, her chin lifting ever so slightly, as if daring him to take the mickey out of her for using his idea.
The temptation to do so was there, but it would have been too easy a wind-up. He winked at Sophie, then went back to his book, but not before her eyes widened in what he swore was irritation. She’d wanted him to call her out? Was she looking for a fight? A reason to throw him out?
Good luck with that. He’d been trained to negotiate, to deal with all sorts of situations and personality types. If he’d learned one thing it was never to be drawn into a petty scrap.
‘Actually, it was Alexander’s idea.’
The fight had gone from Sophie’s tone, replaced with the seriousness of someone who had plans and wanted to make them happen.
‘Don’t suppose you know anyone with basic carpentry skills, Ginny? Someone who knows their way around a bit of timber and a few nails?’
Alexander’s heart abandoned its steady pace and began to thump against his ribcage. Not caused by the realisation that Sophie was trying to invigorate her business, to make it viable. But because he knew someone who was good – no, great – with nails and timber and building and creating. Except that person had been told in explicit terms he was not to indulge in that pastime. That there were not enough hours in the day for hobbies – for something that made his soul sing – when there were deals to be done and connections to be made. Yet his fingers automatically curled into a loose fist, as if the hammer was already in his hand. The satisfying whack on metal as he landed its head straight into the bullseye of the nail, sending it clean into the wood with one thunk, stirred a satisfaction in his gut that no amount of getting people to give up their lives for inordinate amounts of cash ever did. Ever would do.
‘I’d love to say that husband of mine could help, but he’s shocking. I still have a half-built outdoor bench cluttering up our yard. I love Mike, but he really needs to stick to fishing.’
‘Maybe there’s a local handyman who’d do it in exchange for books?’ Sophie’s fingers tapped out an erratic tune on the counter.
Alexander glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her teeth were sunk into her bottom lip, her gaze distant, a tiny line marred the smooth area between her brows. Beneath the strain he saw a brightness to her rich, chocolatey eyes. Burning intensity. Passion. The kind he wanted to bask in. To be part of.
It was one thing to build an empire, another to build something that mattered to someone so much they’d go into battle to fight for it.
He wasn’t meant to care. To get involved. To focus on anything except expansion and returns on investment, but his heart wasn’t satisfied living that way. His heart wanted to do more. To help. To reinvigorate. And Sophie’s need for someone who had the skills that he possessed was like a sign from the universe, giving him one last chance at happiness – even for a few days – before surrendering to his destiny.
‘I can help.’ The words escaped his lips before the thought was fully formed. His stomach clenched. What the hell had just happened? What was he doing offering to help someone build the business he intended to buy in order to pull down?
‘What’s that now?’ Sophie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘Did I just hear you offer to lend a hand? You? The guy who wants to buy my home so he can destroy it?’ She stood and strode towards him, her arms folded tight over her chest. Her jaw as tense as her frown. ‘Is this how you plan to get me to sign my business over to you? By helping me out, while what? Buying the most expensive timbers and nails and glue, or whatever it is you need to hold a set of shelves together. Spend what money I have so the business goes bust and I have no choice but to sell?’ She tilted her chin, held his gaze. Dared him to deny what she was saying was the truth.
So, what are you going to do, Fletcher? You’ve just gone and created a fork in what was meant to be a very straightforward road.
He could back out. Back off. Let Sophie try to save her shop. And probably fail if the rundown look of the place and lack of customers was anything to go by.
Or he could step up, help out. Give her what she needed to make her business work. Whether that business was in her current spot, surrounded on three sides by a five-storey resort, or somewhere else. Somewhere bigger. Better.
Like the empty shop across the road.
This was the moment he’d been looking for. The chance to explain what would happen to her village and how selling up and moving would benefit her, and what the ramifications of refusing to do so would be.
‘I’m going to be honest with you, Sophie, because I get the feeling you prefer a straight-up relationship to one that’s filled with layers of machinations. The Fletcher Group will build a resort here. We have the council’s backing. The support of the village.’
‘Some of the village,’ Sophie interjected. ‘And once they see how this market idea of mine can save the town, they’ll all want you gone.’
‘No, they won’t. It’ll just show them a taste of the success they’ll experience once the resort is built, the facilities are improved and people are here not just for one day, but all year round. Speaking of which, if you’re going to hold a market you’ll need a licence.’
‘I know that.’ Sophie smiled, tight and determined. ‘I’m planning on getting permission.’
‘It takes around three months.’
Alexander watched Sophie’s triumphant smile fall. Remorse squirmed low in his gut. He didn’t mean to burst her bubble, but Sophie had no idea what she was taking on, and he didn’t want her to get in trouble. Not when he was bringing enough distress to her door as it was. ‘Let me hurry the process up. We’re in the council’s good books. They need us more than we need them at the moment. I can sort it.’
Sophie’s smile didn’t return. A good thing considering the truth bomb he was about to lay on her.
‘Look, the reason I’m here is to spell out the reality of what’s going to happen in the coming months. Simply put, if you don’t sell we will build around you. It’s not our ideal situation, but we can make it work.’
‘You wouldn’t.’ Sophie’s jaw dropped, her eyes widened in horror.
‘I wouldn’t, but the Fletcher Group would.’ He rubbed his hand over the layer of stubble that had sprouted since he’d arrived in Herring Cove and tried to remember the last time he’d forgotten to shave, let alone allow it to grow that long. It was like the village’s laid-back vibe was getting to him. ‘I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I have to. It’s the truth. I’ve been thinking about a solution to the problem and I think there’s a way we can make this work. The empty shop across the road had plenty of potential and oozes charm. It would be the perfect spot for your bookshop. With the money we’d give you, you could have it done up and looking brilliant. Best of all, you’ll have all the money you need and you won’t have to worry about being in debt to anyone.’
Anger shimmered off Sophie. ‘You saw the email notification. That wasn’t yours to see.’
Alexander shrugged. ‘It wasn’t, but I saw it and I’m offering you a chance to be financially stable, or to put up with the consequences.’
Sophie’s lips pressed together in a way that took the wind out of his sails. His pitch seemed rock-solid, yet she didn’t look to be buying it.
‘I’m not taking the deal.’
‘You understand what I’m saying, right? This is going to happen whether you want it to or not. We will build around you. Three-quarters of your building will be in shadow. You’ll have tourists peering into your flat upstairs as they go about their business. Day in. Day out.’
‘I don’t care.’ Sophie folded her arms, her eyes not leaving his.
Alexander’s heart began to thunder in his chest. This was the worst-case scenario. His father wouldn’t care about building around
a small business. Making their life untenable, but he did. Very much so.
He cupped the back of his neck and worked through the options to make things better for Sophie.
‘Take me up on my offer. Let me help you build the shelves. I’ll make a new sign for outside since the old one’s looking like it’ll fall apart in a gentle breeze. I can repaint the walls the same shade if you want me to.’
Sophie shook her head. Her lip in a stubborn line.
‘Please, Sophie. Let me work with you. Let me help build you up. Don’t let your determination to stay in your home be in vain.’
Ginny came to stand beside Sophie and laid her hand on her forearm. ‘Soph, I hate to say it, but can you afford to say no? Don’t let pride get in the way of your business succeeding. Not when you’ve got so many excellent ideas on the boil. Alexander’s offering free labour, even though he doesn’t have to. What’s in it for him?’
What was in it for him? He’d be able to walk away from Herring Cove knowing he’d done right by all concerned. Those who’d sold would have enough money to make their lives infinitely easier. With his help, Sophie’s business would have a chance at survival. And his values would be intact. All the while, as far as his father was concerned, he’d have done right by the family.
He massaged a knot in his neck as he realised his mistake. His father. He’d left him out of the equation. Helping Sophie meant needing time. Time he did not have. He was expected back in the office any day now. Offers signed. Job done.
The fluttering poster on the pole caught his attention.
That was it. He’d use the rising tension in Herring Cove as his cover. He’d stay for the week to smooth things over with people. Slap some backs. Shake some hands. His father would understand that. The last thing he’d want was negative press coverage due to villagers holding protests when building was due to begin.
‘Will you let me help? No strings attached?’ Alexander pressed his palms together and gave his best big-eyed pleading look.
Sophie’s chest rose then fell as she exhaled a long, loud breath. ‘I’m going to regret this. I already think I’m an idiot for considering it, but… Fine. I have conditions though.’ She held her fisted hand up and began listing off her rules, a finger rising for every statute. ‘You will work here only when I’m here. You will work out the back, away from customers. You will only interact with me. And you will only use the materials I provide you with. If you cannot or will not agree to those terms, then we have no deal.’
The Little Bookshop at Herring Cove Page 4