Page 9 of Quinn, By Design

“The existing agreement runs for another four months. You can offer him money in lieu of occupancy, but your problems snowball from there. He’s also invested money in the property. Some might consider you have a moral obligation to cover the costs of his alternative accommodation for the four months and reimburse his outlays.”

“Grandpa would expect that.”He’d be appalled at the scenarios I’m considering.

“You’d have a sizeable bill before you implement the conditions in your grandfather’s will. That’s your real issue.” Henry’s smile carried the patience of a man who’d been dragging her back to this point for more than an hour. Lucy could feel the noose shortening. “But you’ve already thought about Cameron’s intentions. He wants to establish a foundation as his legacy.”

“What doyouthink of Niall Quinn?” Lucy asked, envying Henry her grandpa’s confidences about the carpenter, but needing his answer.

“A talented, impoverished cabinetmaker. Honest. I think Cameron saw some of his younger self in Quinn and decided to become his backer. I’d expect Quinn to be surprised and a bit embarrassed to learn of the contents of the will.”

An objective observer, like Henry, might say Niall had been blindsided by what Lucy had told him. She was reserving judgment. Although, Quinn had been present at Grandpa’s funeral but not forced his attentions on her. He’d given her food and drink despite her hostility, an act of service reminiscent of her gran.

And she hadn’t revealed the half of Cameron McTavish’s wishes to Niall Quinn.

Henry continued. “His honesty translates to a bit of stiff-necked pride. Niall Quinn doesn’t want charity. I had a lot to do with him over the first agreement. He wrestled with signing it.

“This is a more complicated gift. I’d guess he’d be reluctant to translate the gift to cash, even if that was possible. He’d be more concerned if any quixotic idea he may or may not have planted in Cameron’s head tipped you into financial stress.”

“He doesn’t need to know anything about my finances.” Lucy paused.

How much did Henry know about her childhood? Grandpa had dealt with Henry Senior until the old lawyer had retired six years ago.

“I hate being in debt.” Hate was an inadequate word to describe the visceral terror gripping Lucy.

“Tell me.”

“I’m not ready to sell the house.” She swallowed the sob caught at the back of her throat.

Ridiculous sentimentality, given her nomadic childhood. But the house held precious memories she couldn’t bear to surrender: Slipping into Grandpa’s library to inhale the comfort of much-loved books and the peat-scented whiskey he’d liked to sip while reading. Her gran had introduced her to perennials in her country garden, teaching Lucy the magic of living in one place long enough to bury her face in familiar blossoms year after year.

“You don’t need to sell the house, Lucy. You can make your assets work harder for you.” His advice made sense for someone who hadn’t constantly fled insecure housing as a child.

“Can I make Niall Quinn work for me?” Lucy sat up straighter as the idea took shape. “Because you’re right. Grandpa was offering patronage, and that’s a reciprocal arrangement. If Quinn’s as proud as you say, he’ll see the fairness in providing something in return for Grandpa’s generosity.”

“The current agreement says he’ll restore pieces on request.Cameronstopped requesting.” He emphasised her grandpa’s name.

“Do you know why?” She chose to ignore his hint.

“Cameron said he was a genius. Perhaps Cameron worked out he wanted to be more patron than employer.”

“But he never said?” Lucy had been her grandpa’s chief confidant after her gran’s death. He’d had ample time to explain Niall Quinn. Grandpa’s silence was permission of sorts for her suspicions.

“The will is making Cameron’s statement for him.” Henry wasn’t offering her any wriggle room. But lawyers could get lost in black and white, whereas she was drowning in greys. Testing the boundaries with the erstwhile restorer made sense. “Do you like Niall Quinn?” Henry asked.

“I barely know him.” But the image of him plonking a large sandwich on the table and effectively demanding Lucy eat rose in her mind’s eye. He’d been kind, and kindness was rarer than most people understood.

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