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“Twelve? Five,” Gemma suggested.

“How about we meet in the middle—they buy nine and get the tenth free?”

She wasn’t exactly sure that was meeting in the middle, but it could work. It wouldn’t offset the hike in prices exactly, but it would make a difference.

“And we’ll tell people it’s coming. We can put a little leaflet on the table, saying that the price rise will be happening inone month due to the hike in the cost of living. Most places have already done it. I’m willing to bet the customers will be completely understanding.”

Gemma nodded thoughtfully. It was hard to ignore reality. She knew prices had gone up everywhere, but that was why she’d tried to avoid it at the cafe. Even with the loyalty card, there would be people affected by this. People who wouldn’t be able to afford their own drinks. She could subsidise them now and then, the way she did with Mr Jordan, but that wasn’t something she could do long term. Not with Kent, the owner and her boss, permanently on-site. She was still pondering that point when a thought struck her.

“Have you seen those sticky note things?” she said.

“Sticky notes?”

“Yes, not normal ones. They have them in restaurants and places in big cities mainly, so when people pay for their drink, they can also buy one in advance for someone who can’t afford it. You put them up on a pin board, and if someone is struggling, they just pay with one of the vouchers. You won’t be losing any money because the drinks have already been paid for. I can purchase the first dozen or so, so people understand how the system works—if you agree to that, of course. I know it’s usually used for the homeless, but a lot of elderly people are far closer to the breadline than you’d realise. Especially in winter. They come to the coffee shop because they can’t afford to keep the heating on in their own homes. I hate to think of them freezing in their houses, with no company, and nothing to look forward to because they can’t afford to come and get a cup of coffee anymore. I’d really like to do this. If that’s okay?”

Gemma wasn’t sure what response she expected Kent to give. She hoped he’d say it was a great idea and that they could start immediately, though she suspected he might say he wanted to look into it further before he agreed to anything. But as thesilence spread between them, she was almost certain he was about to reject the idea, and a frisson of anger took hold. She drew in a sharp breath, ready to give all the reasons why this was a wonderful idea for the community and why he was just being an arrogant ass if he didn’t agree, when he let out a short chuckle that caught her by surprise.

“You’re remarkable,” he said as his eyes locked on hers. “You know that, don’t you? You’re a truly remarkable person.”

CHAPTER 47

It was the second time that day that his mouth and brain had a sudden communication lapse. Something about Gemma just did that to him; it made him speak without thinking or perhaps stopped him thinking at all. His immediate response was to apologise. After all, it was hardly the most professional thing to say, and despite being in a pub, they were having a meeting.

In truth, she’d disarmed him from the beginning. He’d expected her to put up so much of a fight against everything, but she hadn’t. She might not have fully agreed with his ideas but was willing to meet him halfway, and at the end of the day, all her resistance came down to one issue. She cared deeply about her customers. About people. That was her priority, and in a world where more and more people were only out for themselves, he really did find it remarkable. Unfortunately, from the way Gemma’s cheeks turned fluorescent red, he had clearly overstepped the mark. He coughed, trying to clear the frog that had unexpectedly jumped into his throat.

“I’m sorry. I just mean that’s a remarkable idea. Yes, absolutely. We can look at implementing it straight away. And don’t worry about buying the first few; I’ll do that. And I’m surewe’ll get plenty of people who want to be involved. I think it’s brilliant.”

She smiled back at him and, for what felt like the first time, he knew it was genuine. It was soft and warming and though her lips barely twisted, it had an unexpected effect on his pulse. Not to mention the damn frog that had once again lodged itself into his larynx. After clearing his throat for a second time, Kent picked up his drink, took a sip, and looked at his agenda. He had an agenda to follow. That was what he needed to do. But somehow, it was getting harder and harder to focus on that.

“So, yes, that’s good. I’ll put that down next to the loyalty cards. Now, there’s another thing I want to run past you, and I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it.”

“That sounds ominous.” Gemma’s smile twisted harder, and Kent forced his mind to stay on business. It was easier now he knew that he would have something she would almost certainly disagree with.

“Maybe. I wanted to talk about opening in the evenings.”

“In the evenings? Like a full-on restaurant?”

“Not exactly. That would involve getting far more staff in, creating new menus, etc. What I was thinking was that we could do guest chef nights.”

“Guest chef nights?” Gemma repeated.

Kent nodded, although the way she was looking at him so intently was making it hard to concentrate.

“We’d have them perhaps once a month—go full out, get a liquor licence for the night so we could do tasting menus. Pair with some of the local vineyards. We’d keep the numbers low and the prices high-ish. It would be the type of event where people needed to book in advance to get a table. And when once a month starts selling out immediately, we could move it to fortnightly or even weekly. So?”

It was an idea Kent had been ruminating over since he took over the place, and he had several well-known names who he was sure he could persuade to come out once the cafe had made a bit of a name for themselves. If they got the liquor licence and the vineyard connections, he knew the nights could be a big earner. Exactly what they needed to push up the profits. But he could tell from the look on Gemma’s face that she didn’t get the idea.

“So we just take bookings for once a month?” she said, clarifying his thoughts that she needed something more concrete to understand his vision.

“There’s a place in Burnham that does them,” he said. “A yacht club that opens its doors to non-members once every couple of months, and they’re doing one next Friday. They’re probably already booked out, but I’ve got a friend who works there. I can see if she can get us a couple of tickets if you’d like to go and see what I’m on about?”

It was a business proposition. That was why he was asking her for dinner. It was a business proposition to get Gemma onside with the idea, and yet, his stomach fluttered with nerves as he awaited her answer. He knew from Sophie that she didn’t have a boyfriend. Not that it mattered—it would be an entirely platonic date. Business meeting, he reminded himself. Business meeting.

“So?” he said, hoping she couldn’t hear the way his heart had suddenly started drumming. “Do you fancy it?”

The pause was agonising. Did she think he was coming on to her? No, she had to know he was more professional than that. Even though he had just called her remarkable and this, drinking cider with her at a microbrewery, talking numbers, was the closest thing he’d had to a fun night out in over a year. Finally, she nodded.

“Sounds good,” she said, finally. “I’ll check my diary and make sure I’m free.”