Page 64 of One Snowy Day
Glad to be pushing the newly raised question of her paternity out of her mind for a moment, Alyssa took a second to switch gears. As soon as she did, she could see the obvious flaw in this. ‘But, Jessie, I know nothing about hair.’
‘Let me start that again. How would you feel about moving the café over to the salon? I own that building. My mortgage on it was paid off when I retired last week so we could make your rent lower than you pay here and that would leave enough over for you to rent a flat. There’s one going up above the nail salon next door so that might work for you.’
Nope, Alyssa still wasn’t grasping this idea. ‘But if you close the salon, what about Georgie?’
Jessie had an answer for that. ‘The only thing we would ask is that we leave the back section for a small hairdressing room, so that we can still provide hair facilities for the elderly folks that don’t want to leave the village. Either Georgie or…’ She paused and Alyssa could see she was picking her words. ‘…Or another stylist will work there. Your café space might be a little bit smaller than here, but you’ll have the extra trade of the salon customers, so hopefully that would balance out.’
‘But Jessie what if it turns out that I’m not… Stan’s daughter.’ Had she just said that out loud?Stan’s daughter.
Jessie shook her head. ‘Alyssa, none of this has got anything to do with that. Whether you’re his daughter or not, I’d have made you this offer. This is about a solution that suits us both.’
Both Alyssa’s top and bottom lips were wobbling now as she tried to process that. In so many ways, it made sense. More footfall. The salon was gorgeous. The location and size were perfect. But then it came right in like a sledgehammer – the one, insurmountable thing that they’d overlooked.
‘Jessie, I can’t. It cost me thousands to kit this place out and I don’t have the money to do it again.’
Now she could see that Jessie was the one who didn’t understand. ‘But you’ve got everything here already…’
‘Yes, but I’d still need to fit a new kitchen. Build a new counter. Adapt the space. There would be construction. Plumbing. All that work is so expensive and it’s money I don’t have. But thank you. Truly. I’ll figure out something else.’
If the room wasn’t full of people, she’d have cried like a baby. For a second, there she’d got her hopes up and now they were dashed again.
The moment of emotional crisis was diverted when, at the doorway, Lachlan cleared his throat. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt you, but the AA have just arrived, and they need my car key in case they set off the alarm. I left it there on the table.’
He grabbed it, went back towards the door, then stopped, turned around.
‘Look, I’m sorry, and please forgive me if I’m overstepping. But I just heard you saying you didn’t have the funds to fit out a new café. I don’t know if I mentioned earlier, but I’m a builder. And it turns out I have a couple of weeks to spare, and I wouldn’t mind spending them here. So maybe I could stick around and help you with that?’
32
LACHLAN
Lachlan had no idea if anyone else had missed his flight due to inclement weather or their car being vandalised by what he’d now learned were twelve-year-old triplets, but he knew for certain that if they did, it was highly unlikely that, an hour later, they would be sitting in a café, with about one hundred strangers, watching two women standing on coffee tables singing the absolute wonders out of ‘Caledonia’ – with everyone in the room joining in, including two old ladies who were still doing their knitting.
That thought took his gaze to the woman who was sitting next to him at the corner table, because when he’d seen her outside earlier, after Alyssa’s mum had kicked him out of the kitchen, the first thing that had struck him was that she was dancing in the snow on a freezing cold night. The second thing was that she had two knitting needles dangling from a pink woolly scarf around her neck.
‘Are you okay?’ he’d asked her warily, wondering how many beverages it must have taken for her to be twirling around in the middle of the street at 11p.m.
She’d stopped as soon as his voice had snapped her out of whatever song was playing in her head.
‘Yes! I’m fine. Great.’
Damn, she was bonkers. Or wasted. Either way, much as there was something endearing about the huge smile on her face and the mass of copper curls that blew out as she danced, he had tried desperately to come up with a way to avoid her. And failed. Especially as he’d just realised his plan to sit in the car was a non-starter because he’d left the damn key inside.
She’d continued to walk towards him. Bollocks. Situations like this made him deeply uncomfortable. Maybe there was a medical professional inside that could help.
‘Sorry, you’re probably thinking I’ve lost the plot.’
‘No. Not at all.’ He definitely was.
It was only when she’d reached him that he’d recognised her as the woman he’d spoken to when he first arrived. The one who’d told him where to find Alyssa.
‘Only I just – and please go with me because this will be the first time I’ve ever said this out loud – I’ve just got off the phone to a TV producer-y person in Hollywood and accepted the absolutely most incredible, out-of-this-world, job of my dreams.’
She’d started twirling again. But at least by then he could see that it was pure joy as opposed to pure alcohol. And he was pretty sure he was grinning, so it must be contagious.
‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you! Urgh, sorry, my manners. I’m Georgie. And you’re the unfortunate bloke who just had his very flash car incapacitated by the evil genius of a bunch of kids who think letting down tyres is hilarious.’
