Page 15 of Quinn, By Design

“I didn’t think of that.” But there must be other possibilities involving frames if Lucy gave it some thought.

“Why piss me off by suggesting it?”

“It was worth a try.” Lucy deserved the scepticism evident in his raised eyebrow.

“What’s Plan C?” He was inexorable.

“Your current agreement includes a clause whereby Grandpa can nominate pieces for you to restore.” Her heart started pounding. Lucy hadn’t intended to lay her cards so openly on the table.

He winced. “How many?”

“We can negotiate as we go along.” Relief he wasn’t showing her the door anymore made her giddy.

“I’d prefer a time period.”

“Like three pieces a month?” She was being provocative because the time needed for restoration would depend on the piece.

“Like a day a week of my time,” he corrected her, “for the remaining term of my initial agreement with Cam. I’ll give you fourteen eight-hour days.”

“So, the number of pieces will depend on their size and the condition they’re in.” Hope was a rare green shoot for Lucy in recent months, too bright a promise to question his motives.

“That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen you give.” His voice was gruff, and he tugged her hand away when she pressed it to her mouth. “Cam wanted you to be happy.”

“I know.” Her grandpa had rescued her when she’d given up hope of being found. “I’ll need money to buy pieces.”

“You could hock your jewels?” Mischief quirked the corner of his mouth.

Lucy fingered the perfect pearls hanging in a double strand around her neck, almost sure he was joking. “These were Gran’s. Grandpa bought them for her. I couldn’t sell them.”

“Do you have a float to get us started?”

“I’ll ask the bank to fast-track a loan.”

Lucy would have time to see the manager again this afternoon. Straight after the psychologist she hadn’t seen in a decade. Because after meeting the bank manager the first time, she’d had a mini meltdown—gone home, curled into a ball under the blankets and closed her eyes, as if that would make her problems go away? Ridiculous behaviour for a woman who prided herself on her business acumen. Her attitude to debt was more phobia than rational assessment of her situation. Knowing that didn’t make a blind bit of difference.

“Think about picking up more frames for me at the next auction as well.”

“How did that work with Grandpa?” she asked, the glint in his eye telling her this was more teasing. She missed her grandpa’s teasing. “Did you look through the catalogues and suggest stuff? Visit the auction rooms in advance?”

“Both.”

“There’s an estate auction next week. With no money, I wasn’t planning to attend.”

“Cam didn’t always buy.” He knew her grandpa’s habits.

“He liked to look almost as much as he liked to buy.” Lucy loved—hadloved—that about him. He could admire without needing to possess, the opposite of her mum, who’d craved the shiny and new. “You should come with me?” The invitation was out before she realised. She backpedalled. “See if we can work together?”

“I haven’t made a decision on the foundation yet.”

“The foundation is a done deal. Whether you accept Grandpa’s challenge is up to you.” She held her breath, hoping he’d accept her dare to attend the auction.

“Are you sure you can bear to be seen in public with such a Philistine?”

“If you know the word, you aren’t one.”

The workshop comforted her in a way it never had during her grandpa’s day—not that Niall Quinn’s presence had anything to do with that. He was a link to her grandpa. That made him an ally of sorts, and an orphan didn’t readily discard an ally.

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