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“In the first year, you get cash-in-kind to the value of twelve months rent on this property, so you can establish yourself or prepare yourself, or whatever else you have to do to take on the mentorship in year two.” Her nervousness hid a deeper emotion.

“I’m presuming the foundation is an absolute. My involvement is voluntary?” What the hell had Cam hooked him into?

She pursed her lips. Pretty lips, but they twisted in disbelief. “IassumedGrandpa discussed the project with you.”

“No.” Niall listened to the silence between them. Silence could carry a thousand and one nuances. “What’s the real problem? Do you resent my involvement? Or do you still think I conned him?” Niall asked because her answer mattered for whatever truce they reached.

“I was blindsided the other day. And angry because Grandpa became frail enough for people to take advantage of.” She fingered her pearls again.

With sudden insight, he realised the habit was a tell. She was defensive because she didn’t know what the hell Cam was playing at any more than he did.

Her voice was lower but crystal clear. “I don’t think you took advantage of him. I’m sorry I accused you of theft.”

“Apology accepted.” Niall tasted the bewilderment lurking beneath her apology. “What’s the deal after year one?” He took another bite of sandwich while he waited for her answer.

“If you agree to be the mentor, then you get rent reductions for the following four years, eighty percent off the commercial rent for year two, then sixty, then forty. By year five, you’ll receive a twenty percent annual deduction on the commercial rent as payment for mentoring the scholarship holder.”

“And if I don’t want to be the mentor?” Niall had thought Cam’s questions about his time in Ireland had been idle conversation to distract Cam from his illness. Niall had rabbited on about the sheer joy of being challenged daily by a master cabinetmaker to dig deeper, to be more than he was.

“Grandpa named you as one of the two-person panel selecting the scholarship winner each year. Being the selector is separate to being the mentor. If you choose not to be the mentor, Grandpa asked that you nominate someone to take your place.” She sounded indifferent to his decision, but her body had stilled, straining for his answer.

“Who’s the other person?” Niall didn’t have the reputation to mentor anyone. The idea was preposterous.And yet? Cam had faith he could do it.

“Me.”

“I feel outnumbered here.” The middle of Niall’s back started to itch.

“Because I favour antiques and you’re relentlessly modern?” Her gaze skittered to the picture frames lined up against the wall.

“Something like that. I’m assuming I have some time to think this over.” Think, rather than flail about like a beached whale with a concept Cam had never raised with him.

“The foundation needs to be in place when your initial agreement with Grandpa ends—four months.” She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, having issued her ultimatum. “I’ll get Grandpa’s lawyer to send you the details.”

“Please.”Why hadn’t she asked Henry Dawson to set up a formal meeting? “You didn’t need to bring lunch to apologise. Henry could have explained the foundation,” he said. She wrinkled her nose, revealing she had another motive. “Spit it out.”

“Leopold’s offers their artists a new service. Unique frames made from recycled antique timbers.” She pointed. “Like those. Not to my taste, but there’s creativity in the design and execution.”

“I’m betting Leopold’s was thrilled to get your assessment.”

“Why did you ask Grandpa to source the timber?” She waited several beats. “Ashamed of what you do?”

“This is a short-term project for me.” Shame had driven the search for a project to earn quick cash to repay Liam, but Niall hadn’t learned how to make a second-class product. The profits from Leopold’s frames were paid directly to his brother’s bank account. Niall had set himself a repayment target before his nephew or niece was born.

Part payment for his share of their father’s debts, a down payment in regaining his self-respect. Quinns always paid their way.

“So, you’re calling the business Frames by Niall. That’s not as creative as the actual frames—"

“Well, feck.” Taking a leaf out of his romance author sister-in-law’s playbook on pseudonyms, Niall didn’t use the name Quinn for anything except his own creations.

“—but you’re fetching premium prices.”

“That’s what counts then.” He put his half-eaten sandwich back on the plate, her criticism of his mercenary intent stinging.

“It’s interesting.” She’d dabbed at the pickle at the side of her mouth with one of the serviettes she’d brought to go with today’s sandwich. Pity, when he’d prefer to see her pink tongue take a swipe at them. “My grandpa invested quite a bit in you. You could also say you’re my co-beneficiary. I’ve checked your website. Niall Quinn—Quinn’s bespoke furniture. You’re just starting to get a name.”

“Next you’ll be telling me I’ve won prizes.” Niall bared his teeth, feeling like a caged hound. He hadn’t received any awards for his work since his return from Ireland.

“I assume that’s why he selected you as a mentor.” She looked down her nose at him, royalty dealing with a slow-thinking peasant. “Grandpa bought old frames on your behalf. I didn’t really connect the dots until I remembered Leopold’s.”