Chapter Ten
“The house looks fine, Willow.” Finlay was tossing a ball of wool back and forth with Argyle, who hadn’t departed from his side since Finlay arrived this evening.
I’d left the bookshoppe and gone straight to the printer to plead with him to help me tidy up, in order to convince Bri she wanted to live with me.
He’d even brought another pie to help sweeten the deal.
I, in turn, had promised not to eat the entire thing before morning.
I placed my hands on my hips and surveyed what had always been Da’s room but would now belong to Bri.
The space was neat and tidy enough, and I’d purchased some yellow mums to place in a pitcher next to the bed—my attempt to make it feel more welcoming.
Most of Da’s remaining clothing had gone into a basket for Finlay, whom I hadn’t even given the chance to refuse.
I’d simply pointed to the tear in the knee of his trousers and thrust the basket into his arms.
“I don’t know,” I said, still frowning. “Sure, it’s fine. But is that enough to convince Bri to live with me? She can barely tolerate me.”
Finlay picked up Argyle and carried him over to me.
The kitten immediately hopped onto my shoulder and curled up, smelling of Finlay’s heather-and-gorse soap.
I was already dreading the day when Argyle became too big for this.
“You pass the kitten test with flying colors,” Finlay said, tousling my hair.
I ruffled his hair with exaggerated violence in return. “The kitten test?”
“Aye,” he said solemnly.
“And what, pray tell, is the kitten test?”
“Everyone knows that cats are the most discerning of creatures. Argyle wouldn’t love you if you weren’t, well, lovable.”
As soon as he said it, a blush washed over his cheeks, and I turned away to spare us both the embarrassment. “Argyle loves everyone,” I deflected. “Especially if they hide catnip in their pockets.”
“It was just that twice,” Finlay protested.
“You can’t say ‘just that twice’! It’s not even an expression.
” I removed Argyle gently and set him on the floor, where he immediately went back to his ball of fluff.
“So, tell me, what do you think of my plan to revive the shoppe and become a proper businesswoman?” I turned back to Finlay, hoping my doubt didn’t show in my eyes.
He cleared his throat and began folding the already-folded throw blanket at the foot of the bed. “I think it will be good for you to live with someone else again. I’ve never liked the thought of you out here all alone.”
I barked a laugh. “As if anyone would come all the way out here. Everyone knows there’s nothing of value in this house.”
Finlay’s expression was almost painfully sad.
“What?” I asked, my laugh fading.
“You’re in this house, Willow.”
As his words sank in, I flapped a hand in dismissal and walked to the kitchen. “Enough with the flattery. I already said you make the best pies in Ardmuir.”
“Willow.”
I turned at the flat tone in his voice. He was standing a cautious distance behind me, his expression still pained. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”
“With the pie? No guarantees.”
“I’m serious, Willow. Once word gets out that you have real magical objects in the shoppe, there will be demand.”
“That’s the general idea, yes.”
He shook his head, and there was no bemused twist to his lips now. “I know you like to think you’re invincible, but if traders catch wind of your shoppe, they might start to wonder where all your inventory is coming from.”
I thought of the conversation I’d overheard between Torion and Wexley at the docks.
If Finlay knew they were already aware of me, he would absolutely insist I give up this plan.
He’d try, anyway. And maybe he was right.
The shoppe didn’t have much in the way of security; it had never been necessary before.
I placed my hands on his shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. “I’ll put some extra precautions in place tomorrow. I promise.”
I hadn’t realized how tense he was until I felt his muscles relax beneath my palms. “Good.”
Reluctantly, I let my hands fall away. “Finlay Cameron Barrow. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were truly worried about me.”
“I’m always worried about you, Willow Eilidh Stokes. You’re as stubborn as a heilan coo, with only half the brains.”
My mouth dropped open in indignation. “I’ll have you know that coos are extremely resilient, not to mention adorable.”
“I never said you weren’t adorable,” Finlay said softly. “But you have to admit, you don’t always think before you act.”
We were still standing an arm’s length away from each other.
Normally, this was the point where I would move away from him, waving him off with a quip.
I flexed my empty hands, still warm with his body heat.
I took half a step closer. “You have to admit, Bri coming to work for me solves a lot of problems. I can save the shoppe, Finlay. I can save my father’s reputation, not to mention my own.
I can even help Bri. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me to let people in? ”
When he moved in closer, my heart began to race. I wasn’t sure anymore whether it was anticipation or fear. “I wasn’t talking about Bri,” he said.
“Oh? Who did you have in mind, then?” I glanced at him from under my lashes.
Normally when I teased him like this, Finlay blushed and stammered. But to my surprise, he held my gaze. My stomach swooped like a barn swallow, my mouth dry.
Time slowed down in a way I’d never experienced before.
I dragged my gaze up to Finlay’s, taking in the dark sweep of his lashes, the faint constellation of freckles across his cheeks.
We were standing on either side of a threshold, and there was a part of me that wanted so badly to step forward.
To quiet all the voices in my head telling me not to let anyone into my heart, that everyone ended up alone, that life was easier without hope or expectation.
Finlay started to raise his hand, and now I knew it was anticipation, not fear, that made my heartbeat roar in my ears.
Suddenly, Argyle darted between us, startling me. I stepped back, an awkward laugh burbling out. “What got into him, I wonder?”
Finlay blinked, smiling just a moment too late.
The tension in the air between us evaporated, and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. “Shall we have tea, then?”
Finlay scrubbed his hands through his hair, toeing some invisible spot on the carpet. “Ah, you know? I really should get home to my mother.”
“Oh, is she all right?”
He nodded, avoiding my gaze, and stooped to pick up the basket of clothing. “Aye, she’s fine. But I have work to do, and … Thanks for these, by the way. Anything I can’t use I’ll pass on.”
Normally I delighted in Finlay’s discomfort, but this felt all wrong. I wasn’t ready for him to leave, not with this strangeness between us. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for one cup?” I asked, gesturing to the mugs on the counter.
“Aye, I’m sure. Good luck with Bri tomorrow.” He finally met my eyes. “The room is lovely, Willow. She’d be a fool not to take it.”
When the front door closed behind him, I stared at it for a few minutes, trying to process what had happened. Argyle, emitting one pitiful mew, flopped forlornly on the entryway rug by my feet. He was always depressed for a few hours after Finlay left.
The truth was, so was I. The house was lonely with only me in it.
Da had been many things—a liar, a swindler, a terrible businessman—but he’d also been warm and funny.
Even when we weren’t in the same room, his presence alone was a comfort.
Now, there was no one to turn to when Argyle did something adorable, no one to snuggle up with on the couch while a storm raged outside our cottage.
There was no storm now, but the thought of the two empty mugs in the kitchen made my stomach hollow. I started to reach for my coat, my fingers brushing against the rough wool of Da’s coat with the wooden toggles.
Da.
His loss had nearly ruined me. More than once, I’d walked to the cliffs above the water and contemplated leaping into the black waves of the Obsidian Sea. What was the point of living if there was no joy, only endless work and struggle?
But somehow, slowly, I’d climbed my way out of that place. The Willow I’d been before, the one who had shattered at Da’s loss, was gone now. I couldn’t afford to be that fragile again.
I pulled my hand away from my coat, surprised by my own momentary weakness.
Loneliness wasn’t a good enough reason to let someone else in.
Money? Survival? Yes. But I hadn’t invited Bri to live with me because I didn’t want to come home to a dark house every night.
This was a business transaction and nothing more.
I had the sudden, destructive impulse to take Finlay’s pie and hurtle it out the window. But no, I needed it to lure in Bri, to fool her into thinking that this house was a place of warmth and friendship and freshly baked goods.
By the time she realized the truth—that I was cold and hard and brainless as a coo—it would already be too late.
After a long, sleepless night, I climbed out of bed and put the kettle on. The tea was still steeping when Bri knocked at the door. She looked windswept and a little baffled when I answered.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, afraid she’d gotten lost, or worse, had a run-in with a bog. But aside from the inevitable soggy hem and muddy boots, she seemed dry enough. She was also right on time.
“I’m surprised you live so far out here,” she said as I took her cloak and hung it on the coat rack. “It’s more isolated than I realized.”
I shrugged and let her into the kitchen. “It’s quiet,” I conceded, “but land is much cheaper out here, and I’m certainly not going to give up my one asset to live in town.”
“You own the house?” Bri asked, looking around as we settled in the sitting room.
I nodded. “Da’s father left it to him, and the deed passed to me. It’s lucky it was paid off, or I’d be living in the shoppe.”
“It’s cozy,” Bri said. “Oh!” She startled as Argyle leapt into her lap. “Who’s this?”
“That’s Argyle. Say hello to our new roommate,” I said to him. “Hopefully,” I added hastily, glancing at Bri. I had to walk the delicate tightrope between encouraging her and pressuring her, and nuance was not my forte.
“You don’t strike me as the kitten type,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.
I laughed. “I’m not. Or I wasn’t, anyway. Finlay gave him to me for his birthday.”
“You mean your birthday?”
I took a sip of my tea to avoid her gaze. “Nope, his. He has a habit of giving gifts to other people on his own birthday. Says he prefers it to receiving gifts.”
“That’s … really lovely,” she said, and I felt a stab of jealousy. Not because I thought she had feelings for Finlay, but because it was such a normal reaction to the sort of thing he did all the time. He was lovely, in every way. “Do you want to show me the bedroom?” she asked.
I stood, grateful for the change of subject. “It’s through here.”
I waited outside the open door while Bri walked around my father’s bedroom, admiring the furnishings. “Willow, this is a beautiful room. I’d love to live here.”
My breath left me in a rush. “I’m so happy to hear you—”
“But you should have a roommate who can afford to pay you. It wouldn’t be right for me to accept this.”
I shook my head, my frustration rising. “You don’t seem to understand, Bri. There’s no one else.”
“But—”
I met her eyes. “There’s no one else. Even if there was someone willing to make the trek out here every day, no one wants to live with me.
I lied before, when I said I was a beloved daughter of the community.
I’m not beloved. This is all I have to offer you in exchange for your help, at least for now. ”
She sat down on the edge of the bed, rumpling the throw Finlay had folded so carefully. “This is a mistake,” she muttered, putting her head in her hands.
I held my breath.
“But unfortunately, I’m not in a position to say no.
” She raised her head, brown eyes glistening from underneath her hair.
“I gave my last pound to the hotel this morning. I told Ana that I’d found other employment.
” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“This is the contract I wrote up. Read it carefully before you decide. I’ll wait outside. ”
Before she could get past me, I took the contract from her, skimming it quickly as I hurried to Da’s desk. It all seemed rather standard. I grabbed a quill from the inkpot and scribbled my name before she could change her mind.
“Willow! You didn’t even read it!”
“I read enough. Unless there’s something in the fine print that says you’re allowed to cook kippers every day with the windows closed, I don’t need to know any more, Brianna.” I reached out my hand. “But I’d still prefer to shake on it.”
“That’s not necessary,” she replied, taking the contract from me and returning it to her pocket. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll unpack now.”
I glanced around, confused.
“My suitcase and violin are outside.”
“Of course. Feel free to do whatever you need.” I turned away to give her space.
“Willow.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Yes?”
“For what it’s worth, it’s nothing personal. I wouldn’t live with anyone if I had a choice. I prefer to be alone.”
I gave a half-hearted smile, hoping she couldn’t hear the lie in my voice when I said, “So do I.”