Page 43 of Quinn, By Design

“It’s an Indian banquet,” Liam said. “We’ve got a mattar paneer, that’s peas and cottage cheese to anyone unfamiliar with Indian food, spicy lentils, whole baked cauliflower with panch phora, and a chicken biryani for the meat eaters. Plenty of rice and some naan. Please, help yourself.”

“So, how did you two meet?” Hunter, Anna’s companion, was sitting beside Lucy. He offered her lentils and a conversational gambit designed to complicate matters.

Niall considered the motives of the man opposite. He wasn’t classically handsome nor body-builder ripped. A man you could pass in the street and not notice. Unless you looked into his eyes. Agate hard, they blazed with intelligence and impatience. A man in a hurry to succeed. The impatience was banked tonight, or else he’d mastered the art of speaking quietly and slowly, while he uncovered every weakness you’d ever tried to overcome.

“We met through my grandfather. Niall restored some furniture for him.” Lucy’s voice hitched slightly when she mentioned her grandfather.

“McTavish?” Hunter-the-architect-turned-property-developer mused. “The big antiques warehouse near Central station. Is that you?”

“It belongs to my family.” Lucy had never claimed it for herself in Niall’s hearing. For her, the family business still included Cam and the numerous staff members Niall had seen farewelling her when he’d picked her up tonight.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Hunter’s tone betrayed familiarity with death. Niall gave him a closer look.

“Thank you,” Lucy said.

“Is your father in charge now?” Hunter’s persistence annoyed Niall.Couldn’t the guy talk about the weather or the baby?

“McTavish is my mother’s name. She was never interested in the business and died when I was a child.” Lucy paraded the explanation with the ease of someone speaking from a script. And her casual act hid a world of hurt.

“You carry some classy stuff.” Hunter swung to Niall, his gaze speculative. A stranger’s curiosity was the last thing Niall needed tonight. “You must be good at the furniture restoring business. Anna told me you were a carpenter. Sounds like she sold you short.”

Niall kicked Liam under the table. “I’m a carpenter. I take the work that’s offered.” He trusted Kate to have told Anna the exhibition was a non-starter tonight. The unknown was whether Anna got the message before, or after, she backgrounded Hunter on this evening’s dramatis personae.

“Hey, I said he made stuff with wood,” Anna interrupted from beside Niall. “Want to swap lentils for cauliflower?” She held up the dish nearest her. “Carpenter” was their joke, and Annahadbriefed her inquisitive boyfriend.

“If you’ve been to a recent art auction at Leopold’s, you’ll have seen more of Niall’s work. He designs and makes brilliant bespoke frames as well. They rival the artwork.” Lucy offered her defence of Niall to a room he’d sworn to silence. His pride had taken a hit when he’d started Frames by Niall. Her support of his debt strategy elevated his activities to branching out rather than scrounging for cash.

“I might drop by McTavish’s sometime.” Hunter took the cauliflower. “Different business models interest me. I’ve always thought antiques are a risky business.”

“Why?” Lucy played with the stem of her glass. She was shit-scared of debt, ditto chaos, and from her hospital-in-the-home plan, Niall guessed that making mistakes was another one of her demons. She’d earned the right to her fears.

“Antiques go in and out of fashion. Wasn’t there a time a few years ago when priceless antiques were dismissed as so much brown furniture?” Hunter added rice to his plate, seemingly oblivious to Anna’s warning look.

“A lot of businesses folded—turnover was slow for a while.” Lucy shook her head when Liam held the bottle of wine aloft. “There’s a lot more interest again now. Antiques prove sustainability works.”

“That’s why Niall uses recycled timber,” Anna said, then made a face at Kate, who was sitting at the head of the table. “What? I’m talking about his frames?”

“And his cradle. Niall made the cradle for the baby,” Lucy added, dragging the conversation back to Niall’s work. “It’ll still be around and appreciated in a hundred years.”

“We love it.” Kate held up another plate. “Naan anyone?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not risk averse.” Hunter was studying Lucy with an expression that did justice to his name. When he ignored the bait of the cradle, Niall registered that Hunter, for reasons of his own, was trying to ferret out why Niall’s upcoming exhibition needed to be a secret from Lucy.

Anna kicked Niall under the table to catch his attention. His family wasn’t subtle. He glanced at her. Anna’s eyes were signalling, “Secret exhibition? Are you insane?”

He shook his head. He’d promised himself a night off from juggling frames, Lucy’s restoration and the exhibition pieces. Hence, his request for his family’s silence. Lucy deserved to hear the truth from him. He was just waiting for the right moment. Okay, he had no feckin’ idea how to find the right moment. But it sure as hell wasn’t dinner with a crowd listening to every word.

“In business, calculated risks can deliver windfalls,” Hunter said, seemingly unaware of the silent messages flying around him.

Right, Niall thought. He’d calculated he could repay Cam by helping Lucy and still manage to produce enough new pieces for his exhibition to go ahead. He wasn’t looking at a windfall but a feckin’ precipice.

“What’s a calculated risk in your line of work?” Kate, bless her heart, leapt on the chance to redirect the conversation.

“It varies. I work with a lot of clients, from businesses about to go under to start-ups. You should only risk what you’re prepared to lose.” Hunter’s gaze settled on Anna, a private smile curving his mouth. “Knowing what you’re prepared to lose is the hardest part of the equation.”

Lucy was looking at Hunter as if he was a financial genius, which he probably was. To be fair, he didn’t flaunt his wealth. If you didn’t count the Rolex or the chauffeured Mercedes EQS they’d arrived in. Niall rubbed his hand down his thigh, his thumb worrying on a loose thread in his jeans. His last decent pair. Frustration, he’d conquered long ago, about an unfriendly fate snapped at his heels. He hadn’t factored his da’s debts into establishing his business. Hadn’t factored in his sense of responsibility for Lucy’s debts.

“In case anyone’s interested”—Anna filled the growing silence—“Hunter and I met at a work function, which would have been the end of it, except he showed up at the office with an offer I couldn’t refuse. The rest, as they say, is history.” Anna’s smile for Hunter was sunny and carefree.

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