“That’s a great idea. And I’m sure you’ll have better luck than I did. Thanks for coming to King’s Surf Shop!” King smiles and waves as the guy heads out. The instant he’s gone, King’s smile drops and his eyes jump to me.
I try not to scowl at him, but I’m pretty sure my attempts get lost in the feelings of guilt that bubble up. I already spent plenty of time feeling guilty over the way I left things, and I don’t need more of it now when I’m still reeling from the news that Bill died. “That was a fun story,” I grumble.
“That was a true story.”
“I didn’t think Coop would take that long to go back for you.”
“Yep, that makes it all better.” He comes over and starts lifting all the wood plank shelves, popping them back into place with ease. “You really shouldn’t be back here, Georgie.”
He’s probably right. “I had nowhere else to go.”
“What about your parents?”
I keep my eyes on the shirt I’m folding. “You know I love my parents, but if I go crawling back to them, they’ll smother me with love and pie and try to set me up with some accountant who will provide me with a cushy, quiet life.”
“The horror!”
I ball up a shirt and throw it at him, though I can’t blame him for his sarcasm. He lost both his parents before he turned fifteen, so I really shouldn’t complain that I have both of mine. “I thought I might find a fresh start in Willow Cove, you know? Away from it all.”
The thought makes me tired. All the hard work of the last ten years of my life was taken away from me in an instant, leaving me craving something stable and familiar, something that wouldn’t make me a burden to someone else. Something like Kingston’s, where I always felt like I was a part of something magical. Thoughts of that bakery were the only thing that kept me sane the last couple of weeks, knowing I would have a soft place to land as everything in New York crumbled.
I could go back to my parents’ house, but now that they’re both retired, there’s only so much they can do to help me get back on my feet. Being biology professors didn’t exactly set them up with wealth, so I’m going to have to rely on myself going forward. I haven’t even told them yet that I had to leave New York because they would probably try to give me a chunk of their limited retirement fund.
To my surprise, King stops rebuilding his shelves and sits on the floor next to me. Though he keeps his gaze down at the shirts in front of him, I know his focus is really on me. “Bill talked about you all the time, you know.”
I smile, wishing he would look at me. “I bet you hated that.”
“With a passion. He was always proud of you.”
I sense a ‘but’ in there, but I’m too afraid to ask. Too bad for me, King keeps talking.
“But I don’t know what kind of fresh start you’ll find in a place like this. Willow Cove is too small for a big city girl like you.”
He’s probably right, but summer is coming quickly. This town gets crazy in the summer. Or, it used to. Maybe all that has changed over the last decade. “Like I said, it would just be temporary.”
Actually, he’s the one who said that, and if I had my way, it wouldn’t be temporary at all. At least, I would stay long enough to get the bakery thriving and under the right manager. That could take months, maybe even a year, and then I would hang on to it and use the profits to start something else in a bigger city. I made a whole plan as I drove down here.
“I was really hoping to take over the bakery for Bill,” I say carefully. Something tells me I’m going to have to tread carefully here.
His dark eyes search my face for a moment. “Sorry you wasted a trip.”
“I’ll buy it from you.” Those words jump from my mouth before I can hold them back. Buy the bakery? With what? My savings account is enough to keep me fed for maybe a year, but that’s about it. I still need to find health insurance and a place to live, neither of which will come cheaply. I was banking on the bakery being a gift.
Yeah, I had an awesome job within a multi-million-dollar company, but all my money went to my apartment and to the lifestyle I adopted alongside Lane. I never thought I would lose it all.
King watches me for a beat, studying me intently before he folds his arms. “You want to buy Uncle Bill’s bakery?”
No. “Yes.” Shut up, Georgie! “I know you don’t want it.”
“How do you know?”
“You always hated that bakery. You complained about it every day.”
“A decade ago.”
Okay, so maybe he has a point, but I can’t imagine this man has changed that much over the last ten years. He might be grown up and manly now, but I’d bet the old Royal Kingston is still in there. The one who never failed to get so annoyed when I’d spend all day with Bill at the bakery and then shut up when I offered him a snickerdoodle or a cherry tartlet fresh out of the oven. I’ve always been able to persuade King to do things; I just need to find the right motivation.
“Well?” I reach forward and take hold of his hand. I try not to let it hurt too much when he pulls away without hesitation. “It might take me a day or two to get the loan figured out, but I’ll buy it and take it off your hands. I get the bakery, you get a bunch of money. Win win.”
He’s considering it. I know he is. King could never resist a quick buck, and that bakery is probably worth a decent amount. Granted, I have no idea if I could get a loan, but that won’t stop me from—
“I can’t.” King pushes up to his feet, leaving me in a heap on the floor. “Can’t sell it to you, Georgie. It’s a family legacy.”
I jump up as well, even though I’ve folded maybe ten shirts in total, which is nothing compared to the pile still waiting. This is more important. “Are you kidding me? No one loved that bakery as much as I did. Is this because I refused your proposal?”
“Did you refuse? I remember you saying a whole lot of nothing.” He moves to the other side of the store and grabs a surfboard from the rack where they’re all lined up.
Again, he’s right, and we should probably talk about the whole proposal thing instead of arguing about the bakery, but my mind is fixated on this and won’t let me stop pushing. “King, please. I’ll pay more than it’s worth.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
I follow him out the door and watch as he rests the board against the outside of the shop like some sort of display. “Come on.”
“No, I…” He grits his teeth, folding his arms once more as he turns to face me. “I literally can’t sell you the bakery. Or even give it to you. Uncle Bill did something weird with his will, and the bakery has to stay in the family.”
“Oh.” The fight drains out of me as I consider that. Is that even a thing someone can do? I don’t know enough about law to really question it, but King seems genuine. “That seems a little…” Stupid. That’s what it is.
King shrugs. “It’s Uncle Bill. What did you expect?”
