Chapter Two #2
Before we opened Lily’s, Liam worked with my dad at the family business, Hunter Building and Construction.
Meanwhile, I’d been working in award-winning cocktail bars since I was 18.
I had more experience in the trade, even if Liam was an incredible chef.
We’d had some teething issues when Liam learnt the ropes of being a professional chef, but I hadn’t needed a soft launch.
I knew exactly what the menu looked like, what wines I’d stock, what equipment to order.
It was like breathing, really. Easy. And now Lily’s was a success, it was a little boring.
‘I don’t think I said that exactly.’
I said that exactly.
‘What’s going on? Why are you so twitchy?’ Liam’s eyes widened. ‘Are you moving? Have you been arrested?’
‘No.’ My jaw tightened. ‘I haven’t been arrested.’
Irritation – the kind of irritation only a sibling could summon – thrummed in my chest.
‘Not recently,’ Liam muttered.
My jaw was near cracking. At this rate, Liam would be footing the bill for my dental work.
‘Really, Liam? It was one skirmish with the police when I was seventeen. Can you let it go? You’d think I was serving life at Strangeways.’
‘What’s that?’ Liam pointed to the binder.
I took a deep breath. Okay, here we go.
‘It’s a business plan.’
‘For Lily’s?’
‘Yes. Kind of. I know we’ve discussed new sites. Expansion.’
A huge derelict farm on the edge of town. Just what you expected, right, big brother?
Liam nodded and outstretched his hand. ‘Let me see.’
‘I’ll talk you through it.’ But Liam took the binder from my hands and opened it.
His eyes, brown eyes we both got from Mum, scanned the page. They widened when he read ‘Everly Heath Farm’ and narrowed.
My hands began to sweat.
‘It’s for the farm. We create a unique destination venue – restaurant, hotel, spa.
I’ve included draft architectural plans, broken down into three phases – the main house, which will be the restaurant, then the boutique hotel, and then the outer buildings.
An overview of investment and cash flow.
I even put together an example of a crowdfunding page.
I think locals would invest for perks, like being the first to dine at the restaurant, especially now that we are more established.
’ I rushed out, ignoring that we were talking about purchasing a colossal estate.
Liam turned to the last page – the branding and design page that I’d asked Kat, my future sister-in-law, to design.
She was a graphic designer until she moved up to Everly Heath to renovate her late father’s house, fell in love with my brother, and decided to pursue her dream of being an interior designer.
‘Did you ask Kat to do this?’ Liam asked, in that scarily calm voice I know he only used when he was furious.
It took me right back to being 19, slipping through the door at 4 o’clock in the morning, still off my face from some rave, and collapsing at the bottom of the stairs – like that was ever going to stop the crash coming.
Or 22, when I forgot to order the flowers for Mum’s anniversary, so we had to grab a last-minute bunch from the Co-op, and I said – quite rightly – that it’s not like you can fit that many in the grave vase anyway.
Plus, I knew Mum would prefer orange roses, because they were her favourite.
And, of course, it reminded me of when I told him Lydia and I weren’t talking any more, and he just looked at me, voice low and quiet and dangerous, and asked, Why?
‘Yes.’
‘Did you discuss this with my fiancée before me?’ Liam was lethally calm. ‘Is Kat your business partner?’
‘I – yes. But I know Kat designed the original logo for Lily’s, so I asked if she might mock up one for the farm too.’
‘The farm,’ Liam repeated. ‘You’re talking like this is a done deal, Ren.’
I felt like a sprinter in the last few moments of the race, seeing the competitor in the corner of my eye, pistolling forward.
‘Well, I’ve spoken to the owners.’ My voice broke a little.
Pathetic. ‘Bert wants to sell quickly and is open to a deal. Mabel died last year and, well, it sounds like he’s accepted he needs to sell.
His kids have been trying to get him to sell for years with no hope.
’ I rubbed a hand across my face, trying to block out the sadness I saw in Bert’s eyes when I spoke to him about selling.
‘We’d need to raise the capital, but I think we could get them down on price. I can sell my flat,’ I offered.
I hated my two-bed flat in Manchester anyway.
I’d bought it with money Mum and Dad had put in a trust for us before she died.
I’d wanted somewhere cool, completely different from this quaint little town.
But now, the drive after a shift was hellish during rush hour, and it was too quiet, too still, when I got home.
It reminded me of how alone I was. It reminded me that I last felt joy in my flat with her. The last time I felt anything, really.
Nope.
I’m not going to think about Lydia right now.
‘And where would you live?’
‘At the farm.’ I took the binder from him.
‘I’ll convert one of the outhouses into a studio apartment.
Then we can convert the other two into Airbnbs or even small offices for start-ups.
People will come from all over for the hotel and restaurant in the main farmhouse.
Looking at the architectural plans, you can see the plan for adding an orangery for the restaurant to double our covers.
Then we add on extras, like weddings and wine tasting.
Corporate parties. Stuff for kids in the holidays. ’
‘No,’ Liam said, closing the binder with a snap.
‘Liam,’ I laughed humourlessly. ‘Come on.’
‘This is more than a second site. This is a huge project. A massive risk. I expect you’re thinking HBC will help with the renovations. Even though Dad is only working three days a week? Jack is run off his feet as it is.’
When Liam left the family business, he enlisted Jack, Liam’s right-hand man, to run it with Dad, who was pushing 70 now. Dad’s body was beginning to show the wear and tear of years on the job, though he stubbornly refused to slow down.
‘Well, obviously, we’d pay them.’
‘Ren.’ Liam rubbed his face. ‘Kat and I are getting married next year. She just opened her shop. Abi is starting her GCSEs. Dad has recovered from that knee op, but I’m battling with him to keep to three days a week. It’s too much.’
I felt a stab of pain when Liam summarised his life like that – a life marked by love, chaos, and milestones.
I’d never cared much for domesticity but a new, strange pressure was creeping in as I faced turning 30.
I kept laughing off questions about my love life or whether I’d settle down, but when I got home, I couldn’t deny the gnawing emptiness in my chest. No business ventures or flights to exotic locations could keep it away.
I’d tried both. And my reputation as the flighty, fun, irresponsible brother of Liam Hunter was chafing like too-tight clothes.
The farm was a way to prove that I was different.
I’d changed.
Or even better, I wasn’t the loser they thought I was, to begin with.
‘I can do it,’ I said, snatching the binder from Liam’s desk. ‘We can recruit someone to replace me here. I can train them, make sure they aren’t shit.’
‘We’ll spread ourselves too thin.’ Liam returned to his laptop.
This was it. I’d taken my shot and missed.
Frustration twisted in my chest and this felt strangely like déjà vu.
Memories from two years ago lingered in my consciousness.
The day I’d fought with Liam about Lily’s and sought refuge in Lydia’s small bedroom.
Now Liam and I had opened Lily’s, but I still hadn’t made up for the shitty mistake I’d made when I left Lydia in her bed, and left a cowardly note on her pink bedsheets as she slept.
God, she’d looked so perfect.
‘I’ve got a decent application from a guy called Theo for the kitchen,’ Liam said, his attention already back to the matter in hand.
‘You won’t even think about it.’
Liam glanced back to me and softened. Like he pitied me. Like he knew exactly what memory I was thinking of. Like he knew how much this hurt.
‘Look. This proposal is brilliant, Ren. It’s thorough and I can see what you’re trying to make happen.’ His tone didn’t bring any sense of relief. ‘So bring me back another site. Something simple, more practical. Then we can talk.’
I sat there for a moment, letting the words sink in.
We were supposed to be partners. Fifty-fifty on profits, risks, losses. Liam had been clear about that when he called me in the airport in Mexico City, not knowing I was already heading back home anyway, saying he was finally ready to set up Lily’s. He said he couldn’t do it without me.
And, besides that, we were brothers. Before anything else.
But after I had spent months pouring everything into this proposal, here he was, speaking to me like an intern. Like this was his company. Like I worked for him.
I stood and headed for the door.
‘Ren,’ he called after me.
Hope flared, soothing the sting of rejection. He was pulling my leg, taking the piss. He was going to say gotcha! He believed in me and the vision I’d outlined.
‘Don’t speak to Kat about this without telling me first, okay?’
Hope deflated, my eyes burned.
I left the restaurant, threw the binder in the bin outside Lily’s, and walked home to my empty, soulless flat.