As Long As I Have You (London Sullivans 1) Read online

  He threaded his fingers through hers, then lifted her hand to his lips. “Thank you.”

  He was surprised when she tugged him closer and kissed him. As soon as their mouths met, her body melted into his. It wasn’t until a passing car honked that he remembered where they were—standing in Elderflower Lane, kissing in broad daylight. Still, it wasn’t easy to let her go. Not when all he wanted was to pull her closer.

  “I should get back to the store,” she said in a voice that didn’t seem quite steady. “If you need anything…you know where I am.”

  Hell yes, he already needed more of her kisses. But she was right that he should talk with his grandmother immediately. A year was more than long enough to have kept the truth from her.

  Mathilda was waiting with a freshly brewed pot of tea when he walked in. “How was the river?”

  “Like glass.”

  “And how was Mari?”

  “Lovely as ever.”

  She put out a plate of biscuits, then two cups and saucers. “I was hoping you would invite her in.”

  “She’d very much like to meet you. But tonight, I’d appreciate the chance to speak with you privately.”

  One brow rose as she poured the tea. “From your tone, this doesn’t sound like it’s going to be about business. Is it?”

  “No.” He ran a hand over his face. “Well, not entirely.”

  She sat, then gestured for him to continue.

  “Over the past few years, several companies have tried to recruit me.”

  “As well they should. You’re the best of the best.” It twisted his gut tighter to see the loving pride on her face.

  “Thank you for saying that, Gran. Although you might reconsider by the time I’ve told you the whole truth.”

  “Whatever it is you have to say, you’ll always be the grandson I love and the colleague I respect.” She took a sip of her tea. “Now, out with it.”

  “Before I say anything more, I want you to know that I never truly planned to leave you, Gran. However…” He blew out a harsh breath. “I wasn’t immune to flattery.”

  “No one is, darling.”

  “The day you had your stroke, I told you I’d gone to Notting Hill to meet with a book binder to discuss special hardcover editions. I did meet with him, Gran, but afterward, I was wined and dined by a major streaming service that wanted to bring me on board to head up their TV licensing division.” They’d ordered oysters that day for lunch. He hadn’t been able to eat one since. “While you were lying on the floor, desperate for help, I was getting drunk on champagne and pretty words about how great they thought I was.” Champagne was at the very bottom of his drinks list now too. “I can’t tell you how much I wish I could do that day over again.”

  “Have you finished beating yourself up?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know that I ever will. How can I stop blaming myself for not being here for you when you needed me most?”

  “You just do.” She made it sound so easy, so final. “First, by knowing that I don’t blame you for anything.”

  “Why wouldn’t you, when I went behind your back at the worst possible time?”

  “Of course I wish you had been honest with me, Owen, but I understand why you weren’t. We both know that family working together isn’t without complications. Sometimes we don’t see eye to eye. Sometimes you want to stretch your wings in one direction, while I want to fly in another. But throughout the ups and the downs of our entwined careers, we always love each other. And though we may spend plenty of hours together looking at book sales figures, or copyeditors’ changes, or a whole host of other business concerns, our love for one another is, at both the beginning and the end of each day, the only thing that truly matters.”

  “Always, Gran. You know I’d do anything for you.”

  “And you have.” She reached for his hand. “I know how many job offers you’ve turned down to stay with me—offers you would be crazy not to listen to. Offers I suspect you’re even crazier to have rejected. Besides, I’m just as driven by ego as anyone.” Before he could protest that she didn’t have an egotistical bone in her body, she said, “Every day that you’re still here with me, working your magic on my behalf, when a dozen bigger and brighter worlds could be your oyster, I’m selfishly pleased. So you see, you’re not the only one who owes an apology. I owe you one for holding on too tightly.”

  “Never too tightly, Gran.”

  She squeezed his hand again, then let go to pick up her teacup. “Now that we’ve had this much-needed heart-to-heart, and you understand that you have absolutely nothing to feel guilty for, I hope that you will no longer feel the need to spend every spare moment at my side, or be in your office around the clock.”

  “I promise to work on the guilt,” he said, “but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop worrying about leaving you alone too long.”

  “I hired you to run my business, Owen, not to make sure I live forever.” His grandmother had always been blunt, but never more so than tonight. “I dearly hope I don’t have another stroke. But if I do?” She held his gaze. “Whatever happens to me won’t be your fault, wherever you are, near or far.”

  Though he knew it would take a while for her words to sink in—and that a part of him would always be compelled to watch over her—he nodded. “Got it, Gran.”

  “Now,” she said as she picked up a biscuit and crunched into it, “I’m planning to visit Mari tomorrow to say hello.”

  “The two of you are going to hit it off,” he said. Then he had to add, “Do you know why Charlie never spoke of her to anyone?”

  “Yes, I do. I tried to talk him out of it many times over the years, but it was no use. As I said earlier, blame never helps anyone, regardless of whether it’s aimed out or in. If Charlie could have forgiven himself, he could have had the chance at a relationship with his daughter.” She gave her head a shake, as though to dislodge the dark mood. “Now, I don’t want to keep you from dropping by the bookshop again tonight if Mari is expecting you.”

  It was hugely tempting to go to Mari and continue their kiss where they’d left off. But he wanted to make sure his relationship with his grandmother was completely solid. “Actually, Gran, though I know you and I could probably both use some time apart after the past year, if it’s all right with you, tonight I’d quite like to spend some time thrashing you at Happy Families.”

  Mathilda laughed at his sneaky tie-in to her earlier statement about family coming first. “Sometimes you really are too clever for your own good.”

  He winked at her, and as he went into the living room to fetch the game, he sent a quick text to Mari, thanking her for pushing him to finally do the right thing by talking openly with Mathilda and letting her know that it had gone well.

  When she sent him back a smiley face and then mentioned that jet leg had returned with a vengeance, he wished her a good night’s sleep. And realized, as he tucked his phone into his pocket, that already he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mari woke at first light, nearly ten hours after she’d gone to bed. She couldn’t believe how hard jet lag had hit her half a week into her time in England, though Carson had warned her that it was normal for her body clock to swing back and forth as it settled into a new time zone. Her multi-hour stroll around the island, followed by paddle boarding, must have kicked her exhaustion into overdrive. Not to mention her concern on Owen’s behalf while she waited to hear how his talk had gone with his grandmother. She’d been so relieved to get his text confirmation that all was well.

  The thing was, even as she’d told Owen that coming clean with his grandmother would surely lift the weight from his shoulders, she’d recognized her own hypocrisy. All these years, Mari had deliberately kept her secret fascination with Elderflower Island from her parents. Now that she was here, and it was even more wonderful than she’d anticipated, she knew she couldn’t keep it secret for much longer.

  And as she stood at
the bedroom window looking out at the still deserted street below, she could no longer deny the truth: She never should have kept her dreams a secret. Choosing to play it safe by keeping her true desires quiet for so long was only going to make things worse now. Her mother would surely feel blindsided by the news that Mari was seriously considering turning her dreams of living in England into reality.

  The easier choice would be to continue telling herself that she wanted to have all the answers before she sat Donna down for a big, potentially life-changing conversation. It was what she’d said to her mom on the phone, after all, that she needed time to think things through. But Mari knew that was just more of the same avoidance she’d been practicing her whole life. She’d vowed not to do it again. And she’d meant it.

  She walked barefoot out of the flat and into the store to let out Mars. Then she went back upstairs, flicked on the kettle, and brought her laptop over to the kitchen table. Her mother would be asleep in California, but if Mari sent an email now, it would be waiting in Donna’s inbox when she woke up.

  Mari logged into her email, opened a new message window, and didn’t let herself overthink as she typed:

  Mom,

  Hello from Elderflower Island! I know I said I needed some time to think, but I really do want to speak with you about things as soon as you get this email. Life in England has been an adventure so far. I got a chance to explore the island a bit yesterday. I even went out on a paddle board on the Thames with some new friends!

  I’m looking forward to filling you in on all the exciting developments. I’ll look forward to getting your call.

  Love,

  Mari

  She hit send before she could change her mind, given that it was unlikely her mother would be pleased to hear of the exciting developments in Mari’s life since arriving in London.

  Before she closed her computer, she wrote one more email.

  Carson,

  I’d say I hope you’re not working too hard, but I know you are. One day soon, I’d love for you to come to Elderflower Island for some rest and relaxation. You’d love walking the trails and rowing the river. And, of course, you’d have a fantastic flat to stay in while you’re here.

  If you’re wondering if you read that paragraph right, you have. Despite some less than great news about Charlie’s finances, I’m seriously considering trying to make bookstore ownership work. I don’t know yet if the numbers will add up so that I can actually pull it off, but I can’t help wanting to try. You’re probably laughing as you read this, because you always knew what I wanted, didn’t you?

  Big hugs from London,

  Mari

  After sending the email, she closed her laptop, then made a pot of tea and spread lemon curd over a scone. From the kitchen table, she could see the river coming to life outside the window. Though the sun had risen only fifteen minutes earlier, there were already a good half-dozen people on the water in sculls and kayaks. The street was still mostly empty, but there were people biking and running along the riverfront path in Twickenham and St. Margarets. The birds were also out in full force, flying from tree to tree, periodically diving down to capture worms from the shoreline.

  She could never look at this view and take it for granted. The coast of California was stunning, but it had never moved her the way this quintessentially British setting did.

  All the more reason to solve the issue of more unexpected bills. She could cover them with her personal savings, but as an accountant, she knew keeping that money as a cushion would be better. Perhaps Charlie had a stash of money she hadn’t yet found?

  If there was any chance of that, she needed to go through the rest of Charlie’s things.

  Yes, she still had to clean up the rest of the bookstore. But that could wait a little longer while she looked inside the antique chest in the corner of the living room and the boxes in the back of his closet.

  Purposefully, she walked into the living room and moved the hand-thrown bowl from the top of the old wooden chest. It was such an imposing piece of furniture that she would have instinctively used it to store things that were important to her. But the last thing she expected to see upon opening the heavy lid was a stash of file folders. It was the strangest filing cabinet she’d ever come across.

  Somehow, though, this fit the Charlie she was coming to know to a T.

  Pulling out the dozen folders, she thumbed through the papers inside. The good news was that they contained local and national company licenses, which would certainly be helpful to have on hand. Unfortunately, there was no buried treasure beyond that. Certainly no stash of cash to pay off his bills.

  Okay, then, she’d have to look in the beaten-up boxes in the back of his closet. Though it seemed an unoriginal hiding place, it still couldn’t be overlooked.

  Despite having already spent an evening with Owen clearing Charlie’s things, it wasn’t easy to go back into his room. Though she had only faint memories of her father, the scent of his cologne from the bottle on his dresser—a brand she now knew was called Green Irish Tweed—was one that immediately made her think of him.

  Mari pulled the two cardboard boxes out of the closet and set them on the bed. Lifting the cover of one, she was surprised to find several smaller boxes inside.

  What had she just discovered?

  Carefully, Mari opened the biggest box. Inside was a porcelain doll, wearing a pretty outfit complete with hat, gloves, and shoes, almost exactly like the one she’d gotten for her fourth birthday.

  In another box was UNO, one of her favorite card games. She’d started playing it when she was five.

  The next box held Twister, which she and Carson had played endlessly when she was six.

  One after the other, she laid the contents of the boxes on top of the bed. Each item was exactly what she would have wanted for her seventh birthday, or her tenth, or her thirteenth, or her eighteenth. All the way down to the final gift: a signed copy of one of her favorite stories, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.

  Her father hadn’t seen her since she was three…and yet, from all these birthday presents that he’d never sent her, he’d still known her so well.

  Grief at all the time they’d lost—not only the birthdays they hadn’t celebrated together, but also the normal, day-to-day moments—warred with another bloom of hope inside her chest.

  Yesterday’s bills had been a blow. But though nothing inside these boxes would help pay them, they were exactly what she’d needed to find to give her another much-needed boost.

  She still didn’t understand why he’d stayed away, but at least she was beginning to see a path to forgiveness.

  * * *

  After making her big discoveries, Mari decided to take a little breather by burying her head in the History section in the bookstore. The hours flew by as she transformed it into an enticing area for history buffs to browse for hours on end.

  It wasn’t until her stomach let out a massive grumble that she realized it was two hours past noon. She should really find something to eat soon, perhaps even popping into the pub across the street. But just as she was about to head up to the flat to grab her purse, she noticed that a side table with a red wool throw over it was actually a small file cabinet. She had overlooked it several times already. Only the fact that the throw was slightly askew and showing a full metal base had made her wonder what kind of table could be beneath the cloth.

  Mari had given up hope of finding a filing cabinet anywhere in her father’s place of business. On the one hand, she could appreciate all he’d managed to accomplish with his easygoing business management style. Not only was the store clearly well respected and well loved, it had also been in business for twenty-five years. On the other hand, one of the reasons Mari enjoyed her work at her stepfather’s accounting firm was because she was innately organized. She loved lists—making them, and checking things off them. She also appreciated order. Making a plan could be nearly as much fun as executing it. Tonight, once she’d exhausted her search o
f the store and flat, she would sit down and start making a point-by-point business, marketing and promotion plan to reopen the store.

  It hadn’t escaped her that the only people to come by since she’d arrived had been Owen, Alice, and the mail carrier—there was not a customer in sight. Once she’d paid off the bills and assessed her finances, she would list each and every thing she could do to get the word out that the bookstore was open for business, with word-of-mouth, social media sharing, and other inexpensive marketing methods at the top of her list.

  The wool throw was dusty, and she sneezed as she took it off. She carried it out the back door to a narrow cobblestone alley and snapped the blanket in the air several times to shake off the dust.

  A few fluffy clouds moved slowly overhead in the bright blue sky. Birds sang as they flew between treetops. And yet, when she breathed in deep, she could smell a hint of coming rain. Everyone in Southern California believed they had the best weather, that blindingly bright sun was all it took to be happy—but Mari would take London weather any day of the week. True, she hadn’t experienced a rainstorm or impenetrable fog yet, but she had a feeling she was going to enjoy them both.

  When she was satisfied that the throw was dust-free, she folded it up and went back inside. With the blanket on a nearby chair, she opened the top drawer of the filing cabinet. But instead of holding files, it was stuffed full of black hardcover notebooks. The kind artists drew in.

  Curious, Mari lifted one out and opened it.

  On the first page was a drawing of a little girl holding hands with her father. They were walking in a grove of chestnut trees. At the top of the page, in dark lettering, were the words Playing Conkers with Mars.

  Even if she hadn’t seen her nickname, she couldn’t deny that the little girl looked remarkably like her as a young child. And the man had to be Charlie.

  Mari’s hands shook as she turned the page and realized the drawing on the first page had been intended as book cover art. Within the journal was a beautifully illustrated and written children’s story about a man and his daughter collecting conkers to play a game together.