“There’s more,” he prodded.
“Of course there’s more, and it’s none of your business.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to share your problems with a stranger.” Dermot shrugged. “I’ve a willing ear.” She gave him a skeptical look. “And, I live an ocean away.” He smiled and nudged her with his elbow. “Tell me.”
“I don’t think so, MacKay. It’s personal and I don’t know you.”
“What’s the harm? I swear no’ to share it with a soul, and if you like, I’ll share something equally as personal with you.”
She seemed to ponder his offer for a moment, and then the tension in her body eased. “Okay, but it has to be something really mortifying.”
“I already shared my most mortifying secret. Do you think I tell everyone my father gave me away like a pair of unwanted shoes?” The truth of his statement struck him between the eyes. He had told her. Why had he done so, and why had it been so easy?
“Yes, you did, and I’m still having trouble believing that story.” Sidney glanced up at him through her long lashes.
“Ask any of my men. They’ll confirm it’s true.”
Sidney sighed. “All right. Like my mother said, I lost my father two years ago.”
Dermot couldn’t help himself. He put his arm around her shoulders, careful not to hold her too close. His heart soared when she didn’t move away. “May I ask how he passed?”
“A freak accident. He slipped on a patch of ice, went down hard and hit his head on the sidewalk. He suffered an embolism and died.” She paused, swallowing a few times before continuing. “I hold a Masters in fine art. I attended the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, and then the University of Minnesota. When I first started school, my father never let an opportunity pass to tell me what he thought of my plans.”
“I’m sure he was proud.”
“Hardly.” She shook her head. “He referred to my career choice as an artsy-fartsy waste of time and money. His money. He urged me to go into something more legitimate, like marketing or business. My dad said I couldn’t make a decent living in the arts.” Sidney studied the store front they passed. “He didn’t believe in me.”
“I’m sure he was only concerned for your welfare, Sidney.”
“Like I said, he didn’t believe in me. I got tired of hearing it, so I stopped letting him pay my way, and I started taking out student loans. Let’s just say I have some debt.”
“Aye, that’s no’ so uncommon is it?” Where was she going with this?
“When my father died, Mom wanted to sell the hardware store, building and all. She had a buyer lined up.” She started to twist a strand of her hair around a finger. “Neighborhood hardware stores can’t compete with Home Depot, Menard’s, or any of today’s large chain stores. My father had mortgaged the family business to the hilt to keep it going. My brother and I didn’t know any of this until he died. The building and the business have been in the family since the St. Georges settled here. Selling didn’t seem right.”
She shrugged. “I talked my mother into letting me and Zoe turn it into a boutique. Grand Avenue has changed over the years. It’s trendy and upscale with some very distinctive shops. I believe we can be profitable, and because most of our inventory is consignment, overhead is low. At least it will be once we’ve paid off the mortgage.”
“Seems like a very sound move. So what’s the problem?”
“What if it fails?” She shrugged. “What if my father was right, and it turns out to be an artsy-fartsy waste of time and money? What if my mother is right, and people don’t need watercolor paintings and handmade soaps?”
“It seems to be doing well.” He didn’t like seeing her upset. Every cell in his body urged him to protect her, to fix the problem immediately. He wanted to see her smile.
“Does it?” She sighed. “Not nearly as well as it needs to. Don’t you see? I have way more debt than
“Of course there’s more, and it’s none of your business.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to share your problems with a stranger.” Dermot shrugged. “I’ve a willing ear.” She gave him a skeptical look. “And, I live an ocean away.” He smiled and nudged her with his elbow. “Tell me.”
“I don’t think so, MacKay. It’s personal and I don’t know you.”
“What’s the harm? I swear no’ to share it with a soul, and if you like, I’ll share something equally as personal with you.”
She seemed to ponder his offer for a moment, and then the tension in her body eased. “Okay, but it has to be something really mortifying.”
“I already shared my most mortifying secret. Do you think I tell everyone my father gave me away like a pair of unwanted shoes?” The truth of his statement struck him between the eyes. He had told her. Why had he done so, and why had it been so easy?
“Yes, you did, and I’m still having trouble believing that story.” Sidney glanced up at him through her long lashes.
“Ask any of my men. They’ll confirm it’s true.”
Sidney sighed. “All right. Like my mother said, I lost my father two years ago.”
Dermot couldn’t help himself. He put his arm around her shoulders, careful not to hold her too close. His heart soared when she didn’t move away. “May I ask how he passed?”
“A freak accident. He slipped on a patch of ice, went down hard and hit his head on the sidewalk. He suffered an embolism and died.” She paused, swallowing a few times before continuing. “I hold a Masters in fine art. I attended the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, and then the University of Minnesota. When I first started school, my father never let an opportunity pass to tell me what he thought of my plans.”
“I’m sure he was proud.”
“Hardly.” She shook her head. “He referred to my career choice as an artsy-fartsy waste of time and money. His money. He urged me to go into something more legitimate, like marketing or business. My dad said I couldn’t make a decent living in the arts.” Sidney studied the store front they passed. “He didn’t believe in me.”
“I’m sure he was only concerned for your welfare, Sidney.”
“Like I said, he didn’t believe in me. I got tired of hearing it, so I stopped letting him pay my way, and I started taking out student loans. Let’s just say I have some debt.”
“Aye, that’s no’ so uncommon is it?” Where was she going with this?
“When my father died, Mom wanted to sell the hardware store, building and all. She had a buyer lined up.” She started to twist a strand of her hair around a finger. “Neighborhood hardware stores can’t compete with Home Depot, Menard’s, or any of today’s large chain stores. My father had mortgaged the family business to the hilt to keep it going. My brother and I didn’t know any of this until he died. The building and the business have been in the family since the St. Georges settled here. Selling didn’t seem right.”
She shrugged. “I talked my mother into letting me and Zoe turn it into a boutique. Grand Avenue has changed over the years. It’s trendy and upscale with some very distinctive shops. I believe we can be profitable, and because most of our inventory is consignment, overhead is low. At least it will be once we’ve paid off the mortgage.”
“Seems like a very sound move. So what’s the problem?”
“What if it fails?” She shrugged. “What if my father was right, and it turns out to be an artsy-fartsy waste of time and money? What if my mother is right, and people don’t need watercolor paintings and handmade soaps?”
“It seems to be doing well.” He didn’t like seeing her upset. Every cell in his body urged him to protect her, to fix the problem immediately. He wanted to see her smile.
“Does it?” She sighed. “Not nearly as well as it needs to. Don’t you see? I have way more debt than
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