Chapter Eighteen
G areth’s new girlfriend was small and bubbly with dark brown curls, and Stacy knew immediately they were going to be friends. Mum and Dad liked her too, you could tell by the way they were plying her with Mum’s traditional roast beef and Yorkshire pud. And Gareth was looking as if he’d won the lottery, and those love-laden glances he and Jo were shooting at each other all the time…. Wow. Was this the start of something significant for her big brother? She’d never seen Gareth like this, all gooey-eyed and soppy grins, and how galling it was that her brother and his girlfriend had only just met and were already all loved-up while she and David, who’d been together since time began, were throwing knives at each other.
She helped clear away after lunch, then took Jo down to show her the deserted shop while Mum, Dad and Gareth went into a huddle over the accounts. Pen ’n’ Paper always felt a bit sad when it was closed, like a shop-in-waiting for the normal working week and customers to stir the air and bring some life in. Stacy bit her lip. In a way, the shop was dying, and oh, help, she was getting morbid now. It must be all the aggro with David.
‘You have a good selection of stuff here,’ said Jo, wandering round the gifts table.
‘We do. Problem is, nobody comes in to buy it.’ Stacy flapped a duster over the pen rack.
Jo lifted a Keep Calm and Drink Tea mug. ‘These are cool. What do you do to attract people in?’
‘Dad does special offers now and then, and puts notices in the local paper when we have some topical stock – Christmas decorations, Mother’s Day presents, that kind of thing. Why?’
‘Gareth and I were talking on the way over. I’m a craft teacher, and we were in a stationery shop in town last week where they were having an origami afternoon. It was jumping. You could do something like that here, too. I could run it for you.’
Stacy thought about the box of origami paper that no one ever asked for in the storeroom.
‘I suppose we could. Let’s suggest it to Mum and Dad.’
‘You could set up some little events for the school hols, too – origami for kids. Or calligraphy. Or “draw a picture and frame it with one of our frames”. That kind of thing. According to Gareth, what you need is more customers, and I bet parents would be queueing up to offload their kids for an hour or two in the holidays.’
Stacy stood still, imagining the shop full of excited children and purse-wielding parents. It was a different take on a stationery shop, but – why not? It wasn’t as if an origami afternoon would be interrupting a hugely profitable day of selling stuff, was it?
She straightened her shoulders. ‘Yes… Or we could do rubbings with wax crayons, or make gift cards. We could even clear the back room a bit and have a craft table in there.’
‘And you’d make them pay a few pounds to join in, and sell them more origami paper or whatever on the way out. There’ s loads you could do, especially around special days like Mother’s or Father’s Day, and Christmas. I could help, if you like, in the school hols and evenings. I know Gareth’s hoping to persuade your parents to have a holiday while he – and you of course – keep the place going.’
‘It’s certainly an idea. We’ll see what Mum and Dad think.’ Stacy moved across to the cards section to dust the racks there. By the sound of things, Gareth was taking an interest in the family business at long last. His accountant’s brain could only be a good thing.
She flapped her cloth over a row of ‘congratulations’ cards. New baby, new home, new job, and maybe, oh maybe, if the shop picked up a bit, there could be a future for her here after all? It wasn’t such a long commute from Manchester, when she and David eventually got themselves sorted and living in their own place. Her stomach lurched. ‘Sorted’ was beginning to sound like an impossible dream.
She was walking through the park on her way home that afternoon when her phone rang. Well, what did you know… David. They both said awkward hellos, then Stacy opened her mouth to suggest meeting for another attempt at talking things through – might as well show him she could be reasonable, but David got in first.
‘Hey, Stace. I was thinking. How about coming to mine next Saturday? I’ll be off then, promise.’
Not even a mention of his visit to Elton Abbey. Unexpected resentment fizzed through Stacy. She’d heard that one before, and – next Saturday? What was wrong with an evening during the week? A talk with his fiancée obviously wasn’t high on David’s to-do list, but they’d never get sorted if they didn’t try, would they?
She gripped her phone and made herself sound firm. And upbeat, as if it was no big deal when they met. ‘We can try. I have some shopping to do in town, actually. Shall we meet early afternoon?’
There, and she’d sounded a lot cooler than she usually did too, so hopefully that would set him thinking. It was high time he spared her more than a passing thought. She was going to stop letting him get away with the doormat treatment.
He sounded surprised. ‘Sure – whatever suits you.’
She ended the call with a brief, ‘Bye, then’, and disconnected first. Good.
‘Excellent. He’s feeling guilty,’ said Emily, when Stacy told her. ‘Make sure you pin him down for a proper talk, though, Stace.’
‘Don’t worry. He’s not getting away with fobbing me off this time,’ said Stacy, happier now she had a definite plan. ‘I’m not being clingy – I don’t mind not setting an exact date for the wedding yet, if that doesn’t work for him, but I do need to know he’s committed to our relationship.’
Emily cast her eyes heavenwards. ‘After all this time I guess he’s committed, but I also think he’s taking advantage of your lovely soft nature. You don’t want to spend your married life with him wiping his feet on you.’
Her thoughts exactly. Stacy tilted her chin up. ‘Don’t worry. That won’t happen.’
***
The letter from Grande had come that morning, but someone had put it in a pile of prospects and flyers at the side of the reception desk, and it was well into Monday afternoon before Rico noticed the envelope with GRANDE embossed up the side. Oh – that was an extremely quick response, after Bernhard’s visit. Question was, was it a quick ‘no’, or a quick ‘yes please’? He weighed the envelope in his hand – this was more than a short info communication, and it must be something official to be in a big posh envelope and not an email. And it was addressed to Ralph, who’d gone to Lugano for the weekend and wasn’t coming home until tomorrow.
Rico reached for his mobile. ‘We have a huge, fat envelope from Grande – do you want me to open it?’
His father was outside, on a busy terrace judging by the sounds coming down the phone. Apparently the weather in the south was better than here by the lake, where heavy rain was ruining any hope of business on their own terrace that day.
Ralph sounded as if he’d been enjoying his beer all afternoon. ‘Open it if you like, son, but I don’t want to know about anything complicated until I’m home again. It’s been a good day for me thus far – I’ve signed the lease on a flat in the same building as Guido and Julia. Two bedrooms, so plenty of room for you to visit. I have it from October.’
‘So now you’re celebrating,’ said Rico, forcing a humorous tone into his voice.
His father laughed. ‘Wait until you’re about to semi-retire in the sunshine. You’ll be celebrating too.’
‘I guess I will. Have fun then – see you when you’re home.’
Rico rang off, and went back to the letter on the desk. Was this an offer? What if it was? They knew what the place was worth; the hotel and land had been revalued for the insurance people a couple of months ago, and Ralph had emailed their asking price to Grande before he left on Friday afternoon. Rico’s mouth went dry. Dad was all but living in Lugano already; he’d accept any reasonable offer to achieve his dream of a life in the sun with his brother. If this was an offer and they accepted it, the end of the road for the Lakeside Hotel as he knew and loved it was sitting right here in this envelope. And the only way to be sure what was going on was to open it. The envelope shook in Rico’s hands.
He took it upstairs and made a coffee to give him strength to open it – who was he kidding, he was making coffee to put off the evil hour. Rico swallowed half the espresso in one gulp, burning his throat, then seized a vegetable knife and slit the envelope open. Oh. Plans.
He eased everything out and lifted the letter clipped to the top plan, and – oh my God. My God . It was an offer – for the asking price, plus an extra fifty thousand francs. Fifty thousand francs extra. What on earth? Rico scrabbled through the rest of the envelope’s contents, then leaned back in his chair, head clutched in his hands.
It wasn’t a hotel Grande were proposing to run on the Lakeside site. It was a casino, and as far as Rico could see, they were going to demolish the existing chalet and build from scratch. Would Ralph sell up for a casino? But why wouldn’t he, at that price? That extra fifty thousand was a bribe, wasn’t it? To make quite, quite sure they’d accept. Hell on earth. Grande must really want the place – these plans hadn’t been drawn up since Thursday, had they? No, Grande had been so sure they’d want the place – the land – they’d planned it all beforehand.
Rico scrabbled through the plans. Grande’s casino would be built with more or less the same footprint as the hotel, and would be four storeys high. Like the hotel. There would be no problem getting planning permission for that, but oh, no, no. A casino. In quiet little Grimsbach.
A vision of a shiny, multi-storey glass-fronted building swam in front of Rico’s eyes. Posh people in suits and elegant outfits driving up, the noise when the place closed at two a.m. echoing down the main road every weekend, disturbing the sleeping villagers. Cars revving away from the place… no, no. They couldn’t let that happen. But – fifty thousand francs extra. No one in their right mind would say no to that.
His heart thudding uncomfortably, Rico left the plans on the kitchen table and traipsed downstairs. A walk in the rain fitted his mood exactly.