Page 19 of The Fiancée Farce
Gemma’s eyes bounced pointedly between the doorknob and Tansy’s face, brows rising as if daring Tansy to walk out.
Tansy had come this far... was she really about to let the scraps of her pride stand in the way of saving the store?
She dropped her hand and sighed. “I stand by what I said. I’m not calling you crazy. But you have to admit that this? This is crazy.”
Gemma’s lips drew to the side, her smile wry. “Tell me about it.”
Tansy realized Gemma was being sarcastic, but she took a deep breath, preparing to launch into her explanation of what had driven her to take the plunge and reach out. Now was as good a time as any. “This morning, my stepmother, Katherine, told me she wants to sell Belltown Books.”
“Belltown Books.” Gemma frowned. “She wants to sellyourbookstore?”
“It’s mine. I just don’t technically own it.” She winced. “When my father passed away, everything of his went to Katherine by default and now she wants to sell to Scylla and—I grew up in that store. My parents raised me in the apartment above it, the apartment I live in today. The store is my entire world. It’s myhome. It’s who I am, and I don’t know what I’m going to do without it.” She wiped her clammy hands against her thighs. “I convinced Katherine to hold off on accepting Scylla’s offer because I’d like to buy the store from her myself.”
Gemma nodded. “Sounds like a solid plan.”
“It would be”—she cringed—“if I had enough money.”
Gemma stood and crossed the room to her desk, chuckling under her breath. “Guess I don’t need to dust off my ice skates.”
Tansy faltered. “What?”
“Hell’s still toasty, is what I’m saying.” She opened a drawer and withdrew a checkbook and a pen, whose cap she proceeded to tug off with her teeth and spit across the room. “How much?”
“How—how much?”
Gemma nodded. “How much money would you like?”
She said it as if the sky was the limit.
Tansy’s mouth opened and shut. “You’re going to write me a check, just like that?”
“I don’t see why not. You need money; I have money. I need a wife”—Gemma gestured to Tansy with a sweep of the hand holding the checkbook—“and there you are.”
Right time, right place, apparently. “And you can’t afford to be picky.”
But she could afford to bankroll the bookstore, and that’s all Tansy should care about. All Tansydidcare about.
Gemma’s frowned. “What’s with the long face?”
Tansy quickly schooled her expression. “Hmm?”
“You were frowning,” Gemma needled.
“It’s nothing.”
“It made you frown, so clearly it wassomething.”
“It’s not—”
“Tell me.” Gemma huffed. “Tell me so I won’t do it again.”
Tansy couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you always this stubborn?”
“Are you usually this evasive?” Gemma countered. “And for the record, yes. I am.”
Tansy knew when she’d been bested. “I know I’m not exactly your type.”
Gemma set her checkbook and pen down on her bedspread. “No, you aren’t.”
