Page 16 of A Box of Wishes
“I run a coffeehouse.” Ryan’s chuckle brightened the atmosphere in the car. “I get to listen to many people in a day. I love to cheer them up.”
“Yes, I can see that in you. The cafe isn’tjustyour business, is it?”
“It never was. If I’d wanted just a business in hospitality, I’d have gone for event catering.”
“But if you only catered events, you’d miss the people.”
“So I would.” Ryan let go of Ben’s hand to put the car in gear, and Ben missed his touch. “Could I ask a favour?” Ryan said once they’d left the animal hospital and headed back into town.
“Anything.”
“Would you come with me to IKEA? I need new chairs for my office. And a desk.”
“You also want filing cabinets. The thieves ripped out half the runners in yours, and those that are still in there are bent or cracked. The drawers will never close properly again.”
“I might not mind that one so much.”
“Lucky you. It would drive me insane every time I set foot in your place. Your insurance covers replacement furniture, right?”
“It should, as long as I take photos of all the damage. But that’s not why I didn’t have them on my shopping list.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not the greatest with a screwdriver. Building filing cabinets, with drawers and runners and all… It sounds like hassle.”
“It’s your workspace. Surely it should be more than functional.”
“You have that backward. The kitchen and bar are my workspace. The office is the purgatory required to keep the other parts running. I told you, I’m not a fan of paperwork, and I’m lousy at it. My da and my sister helped me with all the forms I needed to start the business. If it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t have got anywhere.”
“Not a fan of school, then.” Ben stretched in the passenger seat, delighted he’d learned something new about Ryan.
Ryan’s need to make others comfortable ensured he was a good listener. And while he encouraged his customers to share their troubles, he wasn’t prone to talk at length about himself.
“Gods, no. I took a business course in college alongside my catering and baking classes. But it’s always been a means to an end.” Ryan negotiated streams of cars and rows of lights on the large roundabout. “What about you?” he asked when he’d joined the dual carriageway section of the A5.
“I enjoyed school. I couldn’t be a detective if I hated paperwork. We have to document every little thing if we want to convince a judge. Sometimes, a tiny detail collected in one case can help solve another.”
“And I thought you’d look at someone and know.”
“Now, wouldn’t that be nice? You learn to tell when someone’s lying or holding back. Doesn’t work consistently, of course, or I’d have seen my ex coming a mile away.” Having Ryan beside him eased the sting of bitterness thoughts of Keith brought in their wake. As did the brief brush of Ryan’s fingers on his cheek. Ben wanted to return the caress, but he didn’t want it to feel like gratitude when it was beginning to be something quite different.
“Maybe you need to take extra lessons.” Ryan didn’t let him brood. “Or recruit my ma. I can’t get anything past her, even now.”
“Do you try?”
“Rarely. I’m only going shopping because she’s bound to call and ask if I’ve got my office back in order. And I don’t dare tell her I’m procrastinating over assembling filing cabinets.”
Canvases and framed prints filled giant racks in the picture section of the store. Ben rifled through them, though his taste in home decor ran more to photographs he’d taken himself. Photography was another pastime he’d abandoned in the last year and while he trailed after Ryan, he wondered what else he’d lost or given up.
The first few weeks after Keith had moved out, Ben had relished the lack of arguments and snide remarks. He’d spent weekends on his couch, Morris on his lap, watching what he wanted without having to apologise. He’d ordered takeaway, not needing to justify his choices. And he’d loved the silence.
When the novelty of being by himself had worn off, he hadn’t had the energy or the desire to trawl his collection of photos and choose new ones to frame, just as he’d not felt in the mood to rearrange his books, or shop for new furniture. He’d let Keith dictate his choices even once he was gone, and he’d slipped into a hole so deep, he’d been unable to see daylight.
Maybe a colourful print or several wasn’t such a bad idea if it could entice him into making a fresh start.
“Seen something you like?” Ryan pushed a trolley laden with boxes. He hadn’t stopped at choosing a desk, chair, and two filing cabinets. His trolley held potted plants, a lamp, packets of coasters, and a box of tiny Christmas trees, as tall as his hand from heel to fingertips.
“Don’t judge,” Ryan said, noticing Ben’s gaze. “They’re table decorations.”
