Someone behind the tall shelf of espionage and spy thrillers coughed. Ellery hadn’t realized there were any customers in the shop. That was a good sign!
“So?” Trevor snapped. “What’s it going to be?”
Ellery didn’t want to get all expansive with Trevor, but he needed these impromptu visits to stop, and maybe he hadn’t been clear enough in their previous conversations. He said, a little apologetically because he did not like confrontation, “The thing is, Mr. Maples, my inheriting this bookstore gave me a chance to start over. I was ready to start fresh, and this is the opportunity I was waiting for. I like Pirate’s Cove. I’m getting to love living in a small town. I even sort of enjoy running a bookstore—”
“You don’t have to leave Pirate’s Cove,” Trevor interrupted. “I’m not running you out of town. You can stay in the village. You can even stay on in the bookstore, working for me. I can always use good help, and you’ve done an impre—decent job of cleaning out this rat’s nest and getting the shop up and running.”
What an ass.
Ellery said firmly, “I’m sorry, the Crow’s Nest is not for sale.” His cheeks hurt with the effort of keeping his pleasant smile up and running.
Trevor looked as taken aback as if the bronze paperweight had spoken up. His expression hardened. “I see,” he said dryly. “Fine. Name your price. I’ll pay whatever you want. Within reason, of course.”
Did Trevor really think this was all about negotiating for a better deal? Yeah, he probably did, because that was what he would be doing in Ellery’s place. Anyway, what the heck was his obsession with taking over the Crow’s Nest? Pirate’s Cove was surely large enough to support two antiques shops or two bookstores or two anythings. Especially in the summer, when business picked up. That was the rumor, at least. Business picked up when the weather turned warm and the tourists arrived.
Of course, if Trevor’s claim that Great-great-great-aunt Eudora had promised to sell to him was true, his frustration with the way things had turned out was understandable. But according to Mr. Landry, Great-great-great-aunt Eudora’s lawyer, no such sale had been in the works. In fact, Mr. Landry insisted Great-great-great-aunt Eudora would never have willingly sold to Trevor.
Maybe it would have been different if Trevor wasn’t so arrogant, so pushy. His offer was a fair one—and this new offer was likely more than fair—and it was true that Ellery had no sentimental attachment to the shop or to the bookselling business. With the money from the sale of the Crow’s Nest he could open another business, maybe even one with a better chance of success. But Trevor was so unpleasant, it made even someone as easygoing as Ellery want to thwart him.
“That’s very generous, but no.”
Trevor glowered. “Yes, it is generous. And it’s a limited-time offer.”
Ellery shrugged.
“You can’t be serious.” Trevor’s voice rose. “This place is practically falling down around your ears. You don’t know the first thing about running a bookstore. And for all your talk about second chances and loving life in a small town, we both know you’re not going to stick around for long. You don’t belong here.”
Wow. Really? Trevor was one step from telling him, We don’t take kindly to your sort around these parts!
Maybe he was right. Maybe it was true. But as much as Ellery didn’t like confrontation, he had a stubborn streak, and the more Trevor insisted he had to sell, the more certain Ellery became that no way was he selling to Trevor.
“Sorry. I really don’t know what else to tell you. The Crow’s Nest is not for sale. Not now. Not ever.” Not to you. Ellery managed not to say that last aloud, but it was probably in his tone.
Trevor stared at him for a long moment. “We’ll see,” he said finally. He even smiled. It was not a nice smile. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to change your mind. I suggest you think long and hard about the future. Especially if you’re planning on spending it in my town.”
The threat was hard to miss. Ellery said nothing. He was thinking Trevor was like the villain in a bad movie—maybe a Hallmark movie because there was no physical threat and even the nonphysical threat was vague. Clearly Trevor believed he had the election in the bag.
Snidely Whiplash, a.k.a. Trevor, knew better than to waste a good exit line. He turned and headed for the front entrance. The bell tinkled cheerily as he opened the door, and then again as the door banged shut. The antique cutlass hanging above the frame slipped off one of its hooks, and the blade swung down, slicing through the air in a deadly arc.
Chapter Two
Ellery stared at the dangling sword and gulped.
Talk about a lawsuit waiting to happen.
He left the counter and went to find a hammer and nails, sparing a glance behind the rows of bookshelves. The customer of earlier was gone now, no doubt slipping out unnoticed as Ellery and Trevor’s argument had grown more heated.
Ellery located a hammer in the office desk drawer, but no nails. He dragged the stool behind the counter out, climbed up to study the hooks over the door. One had nearly worked its way out. Ellery gave it a couple of solid bangs, rehung the cutlass, and jumped down from the stool.
The rusty blade of the sword was a reminder of how much work still needed to be done in the shop. Never mind the big barn of a house he had inherited along with the business. At least Great-great-great-aunt Eudora had made an effort—however unsuccessful—to maintain order at the Crow’s Nest. The house, a smallish Victorian mansion a few miles outside the village, was literally falling down. In fact, the night before last, a window in the master bedroom had slid right out of its frame and smashed to pieces in the overgrown jungle that had once been the rose garden.
Maybe he should consider Trevor’s offer. There was no guarantee he could turn the business around, and if he failed, what then? He’d have squandered this windfall on a pipedream. His friends back home in New York all thought he was crazy to take this on—and had had no hesitation in telling him so. And there was no question he missed his old life. He missed his friends, he missed the theater, the city, he even occasionally missed Todd.
Well, maybe not Todd himself, but no question Todd’s absence left a hole in his life. It had been nice at the end of the day to have someone to share all the ups and downs with, even if he’d spent the other ninety percent of the time arguing with that same someone. He didn’t miss the arguing, that was for sure.
Anyway, if he abandoned ship now, he would feel like a failure. A real failure. Because there was a big difference between not succeeding and just giving up. He needed this change. He needed a fresh start. As much as he loved New York, the city had become a giant dead end for him. Whereas Pirate’s Cove, small as it was, contained endless possibilities.
Ellery gazed around at the towering wooden bookshelves and sea-themed oil paintings lining the walls, and felt a flicker of satisfaction. He’d spent a lot of time painting walls, washing windows, sanding floors, and polishing furniture, and if you didn’t peer too closely at all the wear and tear from years of damp ocean air, the Crow’s Nest looked cozy and quaint.
All he really needed now was for the store to sell enough to keep it afloat.