Page 83 of Falling for the Bad Boy
“He’s out of town.” One of the part-time bartenders passed on his way to the storeroom.
“Any idea when he’ll be back?” How was I going to convince Wyatt to give me more time if I couldn’t even talk to the man?
“I think he said two weeks. Something about a honeymoon he and his wife never got to take.” The guy propped open the door to the storeroom. “You working today?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not today.” Not any day, thanks to Wyatt’s message. How could he have left town when there was so much going on? It didn’t make any sense.
“See you around, man.”
“Yeah, see ya.” I retreated back upstairs to my apartment. At least it was still my apartment for the next two days. With time running out, the least I could do was try to track down Trinity’s shipment.
Twenty minutes later I hung up the phone, not even a little bit closer to figuring out how to salvage things for Trinity. The woman on the other end of the phone line had been little help. With all of Trinity’s yarn caught up in customs, I had to figure out a way to get her a new stash. If only I knew someone who had bins full of hand-dyed wool that could be shipped at a moment’s notice.
My mum answered the video chat, her hair in the same curlers she’d worn to bed every night since I was a boy. “Oliver? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry for calling so early.”
“It’s not even five o’clock in the morning. You gave me quite the scare.” She patted the row of curlers over her ear. “Are you sure everything is alright?”
Words threatened to spill from my mouth in a verbal outpour. I forced myself to take a breath. No need to freak out my mum. “I’m okay. But I need a favor. A big one.”
“Of course. Are you in trouble?” She glanced to the side. “I should wake your father.”
“No, don’t.” I could picture the bedroom my parents had shared for the past thirty-plus years. Dad would be curled up on his side, probably snoring, his glasses perched on the book he’d probably been reading right before bed last night. “How many balls of merino do you have in stock right now?”
“Wool?” My mother slid her glasses onto her face and squinted at the screen. “I’ve no idea. What’s this about?”
“A friend of mine is having a grand opening in less than a month and her yarn shipment was refused. It’s caught in customs, and she needs inventory to fill the shelves.”
“What can I do to help?” A crease appeared between her brows. She’d never turn her back on someone in need, especially if she knew her son was the cause.
“Do you have inventory you can send? I’ll take the whole line.” My parents had been supplying local shops with small quantities of their hand-dyed, hand-spun wool. They sold the majority of their fleece to a huge consolidator, but had started spinning and dyeing some of their supply for specialty shops. I just hoped they had enough to fill Trinity’s shelves.
“We’ve got quite a bit set aside, but I’ll have to check. Is this friend of yours the woman I chatted with?” She arched a brow.
“Yes, it’s for Trinity. I’ll fill you in later. Right now, I need to get whatever I can because her store is opening soon. Can you let me know what you have? As soon as possible?”
“Of course. I’ll have Isla take inventory. Are you sure everything is alright?” Concern creased her forehead. Even in the minimal glow from her phone screen, I could tell she was worried.
“Not yet. But it will be. Oh, and Mum?”
“Yes?”
“Any chance your knitting group might want to make up some sample sweaters and accessories if I send over some patterns? Trinity could use some in her store to show off the yarn.”
“I’ll check with the group. We’re meeting this evening for tea. Why don’t you send over the patterns, and I’ll see what I can do?”
I nodded. “Thanks, Mum.”
“Of course. We love you, Oliver.”
“I love you, too.” I disconnected and a feeling of gratitude overwhelmed me. My family had always been there for me. I’d get things sorted for Trinity and then head home, back where I belonged.
I’d been a fool to think I could make something out of myself in the States. Everything I’d touched had turned to shit. The plans I’d come up with for Wyatt hadn’t worked out. Now I’d gone and ruined any chance of Trinity’s success as well. I didn’t deserve to have a shot at a place of my own. My parents had told me all along that my life was in New Zealand, carrying on the family business. Why had I ever thought I deserved something more?
While I waited for my family to wake up and get on with their day on the other side of the world, I pulled the patterns off of Trinity’s website that she’d already posted for sale. Knowing my mother and her friends, they could knit up any of these designs in a matter of days. My own dreams had been shattered, but as long as there was a chance for me to salvage Trinity’s, I’d keep at it.
By the time my phone pinged, notifying me of an incoming email, I’d practically worn a rut in the hardwood floor of my living room. My mum had sent a list of what they currently had on hand. It wasn’t as much as Trinity had initially ordered from the other supplier, but it was close. I’d take it all. Now I just needed to figure out how to get it to Indiana as soon as possible.
