Page 6 of Cosy & Chill
Empty Places
A gust of wind shoved them into one another as they stepped out of the Crown & Anchor. They chuckled about it, just as they had done for most of the evening. Leo huddled into his coat, hissing when rain found its way under his collar.
“I’m going to make you a scarf,” Finn announced. “To show you how much I’ve appreciated your ice cream.”
Leo grinned. While they talked, Finn had snuck spoonful after spoonful of ice cream from his sample pots until every single scrap was gone. He’d gushed over the chocolate ice cream, but Leo had watched him closely. He’d seen how Finn’s eyes had widened when he’d tasted the cinnamon latte ice cream. Just as he hadn’t missed the moment of stillness that followed Finn trying the first spoonful of green apple ice.
Seeing Finn enjoy the frozen treats had given a much-needed boost to Leo’s ego and had revived his flagging optimism. Selling ice cream had been easy during the summer, but Leo wanted a business that brought income all year round.
A squall of rain hit them from the side, and Leo thought that a big fluffy scarf would be just the thing to keep the cold at bay.
Despite the rain, Leo was loath to end the evening. Finn appeared to have a similar idea, because he led them to the market square and then up the High Street.
“Are we going anywhere in particular?”
“I want to show you something,” Finn said. “Here.” He came to a stop outside an empty storefront. Two shop windows framed the entrance, and despite the low light, Leo could make out empty shelves on one side of the store and a wooden sales counter in the other half.
“I’m utterly in love with this place.” Finn pressed his nose to the window like a three-year-old outside a sweetshop. “Standing here feels like a hug. Have you ever had an old jumper that was ratty and worn out but so comfy that you just couldn’t let it go? I had one I made when I was twelve. Pine-green Aran with a bit of silk in the yarn. By the time I left school, it looked like a rag, but it was the cosiest jumper I’ve ever had. This old shop has the same feel. It would make a wonderful yarn shop. Imagine all these shelves filled with wool. I’d have a couple of big, comfy armchairs in this window, and a little table. When there are no customers, I’d sit there and knit.”
“And watch business in the High Street while you did.” Leo chimed in immediately. “Better than daytime TV.”
“I wouldn’t know. My father’s home since he lost his job. He hogs the TV all day.”
Leo thought there was more to this blank statement than Finn and his father not liking the same programmes, but he didn’t ask. They’d only just met. He didn’t feel he had the right to go poking around in Finn’s life any more than he wanted Finn to poke around in his. He turned his gaze back to the dusty, empty store, and pictured what Finn had described: warm yellow light, the shelves filled with rainbow colours, and Finn plying his needles. “It’d be lovely.”
“Wouldn’t it just. There’s so much room here. I could have armchairs on the other side, too, so customers could bring their knitting and relax for a while. I could have knitting classes and such. Or simply make a cosy space for people who are alone and want a bit of company.”
“Are you going to rent it?”
“Are you nuts? I can’t afford a place like this.”
“How much is the rent?”
“I haven’t dared ask. It’s bad enough that I get anxious every time I come this way. Worried that somebody else has snapped it up, you know?” Finn huffed, but it wasn’t a cheerful sound. Then he shrugged. “Ah well, maybe one of these days I’ll get lucky. Win the lottery or something.”
