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Mitch chuckles. “I feel like a teenager caught behind the bike sheds.”

I press my hands to my cheeks. “And now I have to go back out there. How embarrassing.”

He kisses my forehead. “I’ll see you again shortly.”

“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing up in the flat?”

“Nope. I’ll show you at the end of the day.”

“Aw…”

But he’s going out, leaving me to face the music alone.

I wait for a moment for my face to cool, then, carrying the till rolls, I head out.

A big cheer goes up from my friends around the room, who obviously realise what’s happened. I poke my tongue out at them and take my place behind the front desk again, heart hammering. I thought people might have frowned on me flirting with Mitch, but clearly everyone seems pleased to think we’re interested in one another.

I barely have time to drink my coffee, as I’m busy taking money and credit card payments, and chatting to everyone from behind the desk. From time to time, I spot odd things happening at the back of the shop. There’s a small entranceway with two doors at right angles—one opens out into the shop’s fenced yard; the other leads up the steps to the flat. Early on, I look over and discover Bear pinning up some kind of curtain across the entranceway, hiding the two doorways. This means that when the guys come and go via the back door, I can’t see what they’re doing, but occasionally one of them walks through the shop with paint-covered overalls, so they’re clearly decorating.

At one point, the curtain bulges outwards, and I hear muffled curses and a lot of laughter. Intrigued, I’m about to go over and find out what’s going on when Dad appears with a tall, dark-haired guy in his early thirties and says, “Vix, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

I smile at the guy. “Hello.”

“This is Gabriel Frost,” Dad says. “He’s the owner of 35 South.”

My eyes widen. “Oh, hello. Wow, it’s nice to meet you at last.”

He shakes my hand. He’s wearing jeans and a navy polo shirt with the 35 South logo, a golden compass. He’s hardly dripping with diamonds, but there’s something about him that oozes wealth. Maybe it’s his sharp fade haircut, or the Omega watch on his wrist.

“Your dad was telling me you’re planning to take over the bookshop,” he says. “That’s really good timing, as I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?”

“I’m thinking of setting up a small bookshop at 35 South,” he says. “And I was wondering whether you’d be interested in it being a satellite branch of Evermore Books.”

I blink and glance at Dad, who just smiles.

“In what way?” I ask.

“Well,” Gabriel continues, “we’d provide the space, utilities, and basic fit-out. Maybe a dedicated space near the lobby. You’d own the books and employ staff to run it.”

“In return for…” I’m expecting him to say he wants at least half of all gross sales, and I’m sure the rent he’d want for such a prime position would be too high for me to consider right now.

He tips his head to the side. His eyes are kind. “I’m not interested in making money from your books. I am interested in having something at 35 South that connects us with the island.”

“So… what would you charge me?”

“Nothing for the first six months. After that, we’ll look at the numbers and decide what’s fair. Probably a small percentage of turnover.”

I stare at him. It’s an incredibly generous offer. “Seriously?”

“It’s not necessarily about selling books. It’s about providing an experience for guests. We’d want New Zealand travel and photography books, local histories, Māori history and culture, books about the Bay of Islands, that kind of thing. Maybe some popular fiction for guests who forget their Kindles. We could do signed copies from local authors. I’d leave that up to you. Community is important to me. It would be nice to make that connection.”

“I’d love that,” I say sincerely. “I’d be very interested.”

“I’ll be in touch,” he states, “when you’ve reopened and things have quietened down a bit, and we’ll have a chat.” He looks around. “Now I’m going to have a browse and see if you have anything on military history.”

“Over there,” I say, gesturing towards the table where I’ve placed anything historical. There’s a really nice book on the New Zealand Wars, if you’re interested, and I don’t think it’s been snapped up yet.”