“Those were my dad’s pictures,” Abby said. “My mom never changed anything in here after he died. See how my mom was looking at my dad in that picture?” She pointed to the family picture on the desk. “That’s what true love looks like.”
Aiden was wrong. His heart hadn’t been quite full before, because it just got fuller.
“Do you have more of these pictures of your family?” he asked.
“Yes, at my apartment in New York—which reminds me, I need to talk to my landlord. My lease is up in the fall, and I need to make arrangements to move my stuff here now that I’ve decided to stay. Just a few more things to put on my long to-do list.”
“I’m happy to help if I can. You should get those pictures sooner rather than later and put them up at the house if that’s where you’re going to be. Keep those memories close.”
“I like the way you think, AA. Do you have pictures of your family in your house?”
“Yes, several. I kept them up so Remi would always be surrounded by family.”
She tugged at the hem of his T-shirt. “And so you would be surrounded by them, too, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“At some point, we need to get you to think of yourself as being as important as your sister.”
“You think so, huh?”
She stepped closer and kissed him. “I know so.”
He gathered her in his arms for the millionth time, knowing he’d do it a million more. “You said you weren’t used to having someone look out for you. Well, Abs, neither am I.” He kissed her softly and said, “I think I like it.”
While Abby spent the afternoon sorting through the Bistro’s invoices to see which distributors her mother had maintained relationships with over the years, Aiden analyzed the financials. They were even bleaker than he’d expected when he’d put in the offer on the property. He didn’t know Abby’s financial situation, but unless her parents had had enormous life insurance policies, there was no way she’d be able to turn the property around without some help. His gut twisted thinking about breaking the news to her, but he couldn’t let her continue to put her efforts into a business that would surely fail without proper funding.
“Aiden, look what I found.”
“More recipes?” She’d found her father’s handwritten recipe cards earlier and had been so happy, she’d gone on about them for twenty minutes.
“No.” Abby handed him the Lifestyle section of an old Boston Herald newspaper from twenty-six years ago with a nearly full-page article on the Bistro. There was a picture of her father standing in front of the restaurant and several more of the interior. As he scanned the feature, she said, “I totally forgot about that article. My father told us that the food critic who wrote it had a son who was vacationing here. Remember how I said my dad used to walk around and talk to all the customers? Well, he hit it off with the guy’s son, and that guy went back and raved to his father about my dad and the food here. When the food critic came out, he didn’t tell my dad why he was there, but the way my father told the story, and from the article, which I probably read a dozen times as a kid, he fell in love with the atmosphere, my dad, and of course the food.” She pointed to the pictures of the interior and said, “Look at the rugs, and see the chandeliers and lights? Those are the lights of love. You can’t tell because the photos are in black-and-white, but all those eclectic-looking lights were different colors.”
Aiden studied the enormous chandeliers as Abby went on about the lights.
“Weren’t the chandeliers stunning? I loved how they had a narrow ring of gold at the top and a wider one at the bottom. It’s hard to see them in those pictures, but those things dangling from the top and bottom rings are teardrop-shaped crystals, and those are strings of crystal balls draped between the top and bottom rings. Aren’t they elegant? I loved how the actual lights looked like candles. I used to try to convince my dad to put colored bulbs in them. I loved them as they were, but since we had other colored lights, I always thought they’d be prettier with a dash of color.”
“They’re gorgeous, Abby,” he said, hating that he had to give her bad news on the heels of her excitement.
“What a great surprise that was.” She was positively beaming as she put the article with her father’s recipes.
He tucked the images of the chandeliers away and forced himself to do what he had to. “That article is great press, Abs, but we need to talk about the financials.”
“I know we do, but now I have pictures of the lights and the rugs. Do you know how great this is?” She couldn’t stand still and paced the small office. “I won’t be able to afford them for a while because the chandeliers are so expensive. I think my mom got about four thousand dollars for each of them, and that was years ago. I’m sure they’re much more now. I’ll have to put a trip to France on my bucket list. But one day I’ll buy some that look just like these.”
She planted her hands on her hips and said, “I have a great idea. I’m going to talk to Leni about that article. Maybe if the restaurant does well enough, she can nudge someone important my way and the Bistro will get rediscovered.” She’d texted with Leni about an hour ago, gushing about her and Aiden’s date, how much he was helping her with the restaurant, and how compatible they were. But she’d been careful not to mention Remi. Leni was excited to meet him, and she’d been impressed that he’d signed Abby up for the Best of the Island competition. She’d actually given Abby a hard time for getting on his back about it. “Thank you again for entering me into the competition, which I still have to pay you back for. Don’t let me forget to write you a check when we get home. Or I could send it with PayPal if you’d rather.”
“Babe—”
“If I win the competition, it might bring people from the mainland. You’ve got a pretty good business head on your shoulders, AA.”
“Thanks.” Aiden reached for her hand, drawing her eyes to his, and it took her a second to realize he wasn’t smiling. “I know you’re excited, and I hate to do this now, but there’s never a good time to discuss the financial side of a new business.”
“An existing business,” she corrected him. “We’re just breathing new life into it.”
“Right, and if you don’t mind me asking, roughly how much capital do you have to put toward it?”
“With the money we inherited and my savings, about forty-five thousand.”
He took both of her hands in his. His serious expression made her uneasy. “Abs, I’m afraid this place needs new lungs, not just new breath.”
“What do you mean? You think it’s not structurally sound?”
“No, that’s not what I mean. But depending on what you decide, it might be a good idea to get an inspection.”
“What do you mean, what I decide?”
“I’ve been trying to stay out of your way when it comes to making business decisions.”
An incredulous laugh slipped out before she could stop it. She covered her mouth, then said, “Sorry. The furniture store and the competition . . .” She cleared her throat. “Never mind. Go on. I’m listening.”