Chapter Six #2
“Or, if you want to sell, I can assure you this store means the world to me and I’ll happily—”
“Look,” Cleo interrupts. “We can buy you out. I mean, you guys are from Boston or something, right?” It’s a marker of great
personal growth, I tell myself, that I do not correct her. “It’s not like you’re going to settle in and take up running a
knitting shop in Iowa. Let’s just all transfer everything over to Nora. Easy.”
“It’s not quite that easy,” Logan returns.
Cleo crosses her arms over her chest and glares at Logan. “Amelia’s lawyer said it would be.”
“Did he?” Logan smiles, but this is less sunshine and more shark, reminding me that he’s not beloved at his white-shoe law
firm by accident. “He’s wrong.” He gestures at me. “Lexi is an award-winning textile designer.”
“La-di-da,” Cleo says under her breath, earning her a reproachful look from Nora.
“She has a vested interest in this kind of thing. While Midas might not be our home, we have to take some time to determine
how we want to deal with our shares in the store,” Logan says. All in his lawyer voice.
He’s not trying to make friends here, which I have to admit is fascinating, because usually that’s his go-to. The charm just
oozes off him like he can’t help it. He’s sure helping it right now.
“Nora has more shares than all of us combined,” Cleo points out.
Logan still doesn’t look at Nora. “I’m aware.”
“Even if you kept yours, she still gets the final say. So why do you need to think when the obvious answer is to sell to Nora?”
“Because you so desperately want us to do just that. It makes me suspicious, Ms. Kirkpatrick.”
I feel like things are getting a little out of hand. Which is usually when I wade in and make things worse, but I’m a little off-kilter at Logan being so weird to Nora. Especially when Nora is so obviously trying to do the right thing.
“Did you make this?” I ask Nora, pointing at her sweater.
Nora looks down at it. “Actually, Amelia did. I do knit, though. She taught me. The Bellamys were nice enough to adopt me,
but it was kind of . . . Well, I was the only girl around. Amelia was always happy to give me some feminine space when I needed
it.” Nora smiles at me. “Did you make yours?”
I nod.
“It’s amazing. Amelia would be so proud.”
Logan is not getting the hint to chill out. “The one thing missing from the paperwork I received on the store is the financial
report.”
“Financial report,” Nora echoes. She looks a little lost. “I gave the lawyer all the information I have.”
“Profit-loss? Inventory? Accounting? All I received was information on the value of the building. Not the business.”
He’s being weirdly cold for a guy who made a best friend in a terrifying gas station last night. I can only stare at him.
“I’m sure . . . I’m sure I can get that for you,” Nora says, firming her voice as she goes. She even gives a little nod, but
I think it’s more to reassure herself than Logan. “It just might take a few days to sort out. Amelia’s accounting was mainly
on paper. I’ve been working to digitize it.”
“We’ll need everything before we make any decisions.”
“Fine. You’ll get it,” Cleo says, a little bitterly. “Did you see everything here you needed to see in order to consider your
options?” She clearly wants us gone.
With the way Logan’s acting, I can’t blame her.
“Yes,” I reply, then whisper so only Logan can hear. “The robot impression is weird. Knock it off.”
But he ignores me. “We’ll take a few days. I’ll be in touch. With the lawyer,” he says, and he’s kind of looking at Nora, but mostly at a spot behind her head.
He makes a move to turn and head for the door, but Nora stops him.
“You guys can go out the back,” she rushes to offer. “It’s quicker. Amelia always went that way.” She waves us deeper into
the store and we follow her back into the inventory area she already showed us. She points to a door even farther back. It’s
propped open and a cool breeze that certainly wasn’t there earlier this morning is wafting through, bringing in pleasant scents
of fall, earthy and sweet.
“Feel free to come and go this way. I lock up the shop after hours, but you’ve been given a key, too. This place is partly
yours,” Nora says, over Cleo’s disapproving frown. “And I live upstairs if you have trouble with the dead bolt. It can be
tricky.”
I ignore Cleo and beam at Nora. “Thank you, Nora. It was good to meet you.”
“You, too,” she says with an appreciative smile. “Come by anytime regardless of—” she glances at Logan, who is patently ignoring
her “—business stuff.”
I nod. I notice Cleo is glaring at me just as much as at Logan, but it doesn’t bother me. She reminds me of a guard dog, and
I feel like Nora might need one.
Logan and I move for the door. I step outside first, then jump back with a scream. Logan doesn’t scream, but he also jumps back.
There on the back concrete stoop is a mutilated . . . something. A mammal. Maybe a raccoon? Bloody and oozing, with flies
already buzzing around it.
I look back at the two women who came running when I screamed. They’re exchanging a glance that feels . . . ominous. Because it’s not shocked in any way. When Cleo sees me staring, she shrugs.
“Cats,” she says. Her expression is bland.
“Those are some cats,” Logan says dryly, clearly not believing that story any more than I do. “Do you need help cleaning this
up?”
“No,” Cleo says, and her smirk is back. “We’re locals. We’re good at cleaning up other people’s messes.”
And it’s Logan’s and my turn to share a look.
Because that sounds threatening, at best.