Ashley grinned. “It was also ten years ago. You never replied to me either, but I’m not holding that against you. Besides, we were just kids.”
“We were eighteen. Not really kids,” I replied, but I was smiling. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “I hear you’re the new owner of the bed and breakfast.”
“How did you hear that?”
“Your dad called Uncle Tom. Something about a dead fox?”
I grimaced. “Badger. In the kitchen. Smells horrific and looks even worse.”
Ashley shuddered. “I’m sure it does. What are you planning on doing with it?”
“The badger or the B&B?”
“The B&B.” She laughed, reaching for her drink. “I assume you’re not leaving the badger there as a centrepiece.”
“No. Hopefully that’s disappearing sooner rather than later,” I replied. “Grandpa left me some money, presumably to fix it up, so that’s what I’m going to do, I think. I don’t have many other options. Mum and Dad are selling and moving back here to Grandpa’s house, and I don’t feel like getting a roommate just to stay in a place I’m not sure I even like.”
“I feel that.” She bobbed her head. “I still live with Mum, too. I feel bad about moving out and leaving her alone, and it’s not like I have any dating prospects to move in with.”
“Amen to that.”
Her lips quirked up. “In that case, I feel like I need to point out that one over there.” She pointed towards a woman in a blue dress—she was talking to Brandon Burton and Nicole, who worked in her aunt’s hair salon.
“The one with the half brown, half blonde hair?”
“If Nicole heard you refer to a balayage like that, she’d stab you with her hair scissors,” Ashley joked. “Yes. That’s Kayla. She’s been seeing my brother for about… I don’t know, five months now?”
“Good for them,” I said, drawing my eyes away from her. “And nothing to do with me.”
“No, but given what happened between you two, I just thought I’d warn you. I don’t really like her,” she continued. “I’m not sure they’re in the same place in the relationship.”
I eyed her speculatively. “And why are you telling me this?”
“Just making small talk.”
“Most people go for the weather.”
“And how many times have you had that conversation today?”
I opened my mouth to say something, then pressed my lips together with a huff through my nostrils. “All right, fine. But I’d rather not talk about that, if you don’t mind. I was actually hoping he wouldn’t show up.”
“I don’t blame you. I hope the same thing more often than not. Probably comes from sharing a womb with him for nine months.” Ash shrugged. “So, you’re going to stay a while?”
“I think so. I hate my job, I’ll have nowhere to live in Bristol, and it feels wrong to sell the B&B,” I admitted. “It’s been in our family for generations. Even if I can’t run it, I should at least turn it into something functional, if that makes sense.”
“It’s a house if nothing else,” Ash said. “Aren’t all the bedrooms upstairs?”
I nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. It’s a right mess, though, even if you don’t consider the dead badger stinking the place out.”
She grimaced. “It’s been empty for a while, and I think some teens used to go up there. I know cameras were installed at one point to deter them, but I don’t think they work.”
“They don’t. There’s no electricity.”
“Ah. Makes sense.” She finished her drink and looked at my empty glass. “Can I get you another? Be nice to catch up properly since you’ll be here a while.”
I hesitated, but a smile ultimately won over, and I nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that. Just lemonade, please. I’m the designated driver tonight.”
Ash grinned and grabbed my glass, then took it over to the bar, perching on a stool to wait for her turn.
There was something nice about being back here. Reconnecting with old friends was far more enjoyable than I thought it would be, and so far, nobody had really been too upset about how we’d all lost contact.
Granted, I hadn’t spoken to Noah, so I couldn’t make a blanket statement about that.
And even if he was upset, tough shit. It was his fault.
I pulled my phone out of my bag and checked my messages. My best friend had checked in, so I opened the message to quickly reply to Jade and tell her that I was at the wake, I was okay, and I’d talk to her later.
“Sorry, excuse me—I don’t mean to interrupt, but did I overhear that you’re the new owner of that bed and breakfast by the dunes?”
I popped my lips as I looked up and met the gaze of a man I’d never seen before. He had slick black hair that was peppered with greys, and his eyes were a cool blue that almost felt as if they were looking right through me.
And his vibes were… uncomfortable.
He wasn’t leering at me or anything, and he wasn’t invading my personal space, but it was just that feeling that I didn’t like him, and I wouldn’t like him, either.
“Um, yes, I am. Can I help you?” I said slowly.
“Declan Tierney,” he said, holding out his hand.
I looked at it for a second before giving in and shaking it. “Charlotte O’Neil. What can I help you with, Mr. Tierney?”
“Please, call me Declan.” He smiled.
It was the kind of smile that made me want to call him something other than Declan.
Like dickhead.
“That bed and breakfast. I own Tierney Construction Ltd, and I’ve been looking at it for a while. It’s in a rough condition, but it’s still worth a hell of a lot with all that land. Would you consider selling it?”
Jesus Christ, my grandpa hadn’t even been in the ground for twelve hours yet, and this man was already trying to snaffle my inheritance off me.
And, huh. Tierney Construction. I knew all about their shoddy business practices. They were in the news every other week for their new builds falling apart like they were made of cardboard and PVA glue.
Seriously. I’d made school projects with better staying power than their houses.
“You do know this is my grandfather’s wake, don’t you?” I asked coldly. “We buried him this morning. This is extremely rude of you.”
He held up his hands. “My apologies.”
He didn’t sound that apologetic.
“Are you aware of the state of the place? It’s falling down, you know.”
I glared at him. “That’s quite the exaggeration. To answer your question, no. I’m not planning on selling it.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that.” He sighed and reached inside his jacket. He produced a small brown envelope and held it out to me. “Perhaps that’ll change your mind.”
Is this dickhead trying to pay me off?
“I sincerely doubt it,” I replied.
“Humour me and take a look, Charlotte.”
“Miss O’Neil,” I corrected him, taking the envelope. It was against my better judgement, but this man was awfully smug. He seemed completely sure that whatever number was in this envelope was going to convince me to sell and, okay, sue me.