The Alphabet Sisters (63 page)

“But I don’t know the first thing about managing a shop.”

“Of course you do. You’ve been working with me for years. You’re so good with the customers, the window displays, everything. I’m sure you know just as much if not more about food than I do now. And I’ve never forgotten that you put your own life on hold for me four years ago.”

Eva felt the familiar stab of guilt. He still thought that. Because she’d never told him the truth. “Ambrose, stop that, please. You’re making me sound like a martyr. You pay me, this isn’t a charity. And I love working here.”

“Oh, I know you do. But the fact is you went full-time to help me out after Sheila died. And thank God you did. I couldn’t see a day in front of me back then and I don’t think I could have kept the place running if it hadn’t been for you.”

He held up his hand to stop her interrupting. “Please, hear me out. I’ve been selfish, I know. Once things settled down for me again, I should have suggested you go back to your studies, back to your music. I could have advertised for someone else to help me. But I liked having you here. And when you didn’t mention your art or your singing, I didn’t either.

“It would make me very happy if you took over the shop. It would make me proud, too. And this isn’t just a spur-of-the-moment decision. Sheila and I often talked about it. How you were the sort of daughter we would love to have had. How we could both see you running this place, modernizing it, making it your own one day. But it has to be solely your decision this time, nothing to do with me or what I might want. It has to be something that you really want to do, not something you’re doing out of family loyalty.”

Eva felt the panic rise in her.
Of course I can’t do it. This is your shop. I’ve only ever been your assistant. I can’t do it on
my own. I wouldn’t know where to start. The customers would leave and never come back. I’d ruin everything
. “Ambrose, I can’t—”

“Eva, you
can
. I’m your uncle, yes, but I’m also a businessman. I know you can do it. You just have to realize that too.” He softened. “I’m not expecting an answer from you now. I thought you could use this holiday with Dermot to think it all over. To decide if you want it. What you’d do with the shop if it was yours. How you’d refurbish it, modernize it, whatever you wanted. I don’t want it to stay as some sort of museum piece. I’ve seen what’s happening along Camden Street these days, new places opening, the old places changing. But I’m too old to be a part of it, Evie. I don’t want to be a part of it. But I’d give you all the help you needed, of course, financially and practically. To get you started.”

He was watching her carefully. “Or perhaps you’ll decide you don’t want it at all. That you’d rather go back to art school. Finish your degree. Start singing again. Pick up where you left off four years ago.”

Eva blinked.
But that’s worse. I can’t go back to art school either …

Ambrose took in her shellshocked expression. “Oh, Evie, I’ve surprised you a bit, haven’t I?”

She managed to laugh. “Well, yes, that’s one word for it.”

He made a sudden decision. “A week’s thinking time isn’t really long enough, is it? Take another week off, Eva, after you get back from New York. You deserve it, you work very hard. I’m sure Meg would be happy with the extra work experience too. Have two weeks off and give it all plenty of thought.”

“Ambrose, are you sure about this? Really? I mean …”

“Yes, I’m sure. Completely sure. About all of it. The extra week off. The shop. Everything.” He stood up and rubbed his hands together. “There it is now. All out in the open. Give it lots of thought, Evie, won’t you? And when you get back from your holidays, we can sit down and hear what you’ve decided to do, can’t we?”

She looked out into the shop, his words still sinking in. She knew every single inch of it—the long glass counter, filled each day with cheeses, meats, smoked fish, olives, and dips. The shelves crammed with exotic oils, vinegars, chutneys, and sauces. The baskets of fresh crusty bread. The handmade chocolates. The coffee, spices, biscuits, pasta …

“Evie? We can hear your decision then, can’t we?”

“Yes,” she said, dazed. Oh God. She certainly hoped so.