The Millionaire's Marriage Proposal

by Joanne Walsh

  “Hey, don’t sound so horrified,” Hannah piped up. “We’re not that bad to work with, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that I’m a bit taken aback by—”

  “Sal, please think about it,” Frankie put in. “It’ll be a modest salary, but if you put it together with your rental income and, in time, the sale of the store, I think you might get by.”

  Sally didn’t really remember much of the rest of the conversation, only the part where she agreed she’d give Frankie and Hannah her decision by the end of the week. Ending the call, she gazed vacantly at the blank screen. Her friends were amazing.

  “More coffee?” She jerked her head up to see Constantine, the café owner, bearing a cloth and an empty tray.

  “I won’t, thanks, I’ve got tons to do.”

  He scooped up her used plate and cup and started wiping down the table. “How long do you think it will be before the store is cleaned up and ready to open again?”

  She hesitated. “Actually, I’m planning to sell up.”

  Constantine stopped mid-wipe. “O agpaite mou, Sally, I’m really sad to hear that. You and the Mini-Mart were an essential part of our little community here in the square and it won’t be the same without you.”

  She mustered a wan smile. “It’s going to be hard, but after the flood… That pastry was delicious,” she ventured, deliberately changing the subject. “Is Yassos still making them?” He was the village baker who she knew supplied the café.

  “He is, although what you had was homemade. I’ve hired some villagers to bake in their kitchens. They like the extra cash, and it is a big hit with my customers.”

  “Really?” She nodded thoughtfully.

  “It is the big thing now. Locally sourced food that is fresh and hasn’t travelled too far and damaged the environment.”

  She watched Constantine’s departing back as he headed off to greet some new customers who’d sat down at an adjacent table. What would have happened if she stocked the Mini-Mart with a greater amount of local produce? Occasionally, she’d sold surpluses for smallholders, such as eggs or chickens, but mostly she’d been too focused on fighting to keep her head above water to think about doing more of it. Had an opportunity to refresh the business been there right under her nose? She pulled a face. What good would it do now, fretting over what she might have done?

  McTavish’s wet nose pressing against the hand she rested on her lap pulled her out of her musings and reminded her that they had a mission to accomplish this morning. Her gaze went to the corner where the store stood; she couldn’t avoid it any longer. Pushing herself away from the table, she bent to unwind the dog leash from around the chair leg, and then set off across the cobbled square, gently tugging when McTavish strained to return to the café and the possibility of more pastry morsels. They came to a stop in front of the rubble that’d been deposited outside by the fire crew across the paved frontage. It was a far cry from the glory days when racks of newspapers and magazines and postcards, beach accessories, hardware and displays of fresh fruit and vegetables used to occupy the area. McTavish started barking. He knew where he was. He’d often accompanied her to work and had been a favourite with customers and passers-by, who’d stopped to pet him as he sat on guard outside or dozed under the shade of the awning.

  “It’s okay, boy, we can do this,” she encouraged. Securing his leash to a large hook on the wall to the side of the entrance door, that had been fixed there decades ago as a tethering place for donkeys, she ordered him to sit. Then, taking a deep breath, she fished the keys out of her jacket pocket, unlocked the door and gave it a shove. Instantly, a rank odour hit her, sunlight penetrating the gloomy interior from behind her to illuminate what was left of the ceiling hanging down in ragged tatters and wooden shelves that had collapsed, spilling their contents, which lay scattered across the thick layer of slime and plaster that covered the floor.

  She slumped against the entryway. It was ruined. How many years had she spent in here struggling to keep things going only for her efforts to be washed away in minutes? Then her despair morphed into something deeper and desperately felt; this wasn’t just the store she’d strived to keep open, but the dying old friend she’d fought tooth and nail to keep alive.

  Standing upright, she scanned the chaotic space once more. What if there were a way of getting it reopened? Pushing herself off the doorframe, she told herself not to be so ridiculous.

  After pulling the door closed and locking it, she headed back to McTavish, but not before taking another look at the store’s exterior. Stepping a few paces back out of the building’s shadow, her hand raising to shade her eyes from the sun, the events of the past couple of days melded together in her mind. Frankie was right. If she took the job at Ionian Villas, as long as Dimitri could help her get better terms for her debt repayments like he’d promised last night, and Ali’s room was still going spare, most likely she could get by. A curl of excitement rose in her chest. With everything else in place, was it really impossible for a rescue plan to be put together for the store? Perhaps she should go over now and ask Frankie and Hannah what they thought? Her hand dropped back to her side. Scrub that. Her friends would only confirm what she knew. That she’d need a ton of money to get this place fixed up and she didn’t have any way of raising—

  “Kalimera.”

  Spinning around, she found Dimitri standing a few feet away. He looked tired, with dark smudges under his eyes and stubble on his chin. Not that either made him any less attractive, she noted with a prickle of irritation. “Hi,” she said warily, before shushing McTavish’s joyful yaps.

  The little dog’s greeting raised a half smile. “I was on my way to see you at Dionysou Street, but I find you here.”

  “Yes. Um, I was just taking my first look at the damage.” She waved a hand at the shopfront.

  “How is it?”

  “I didn’t get much beyond the threshold. From what I could see, the ceiling’s collapsed and there’s debris everywhere. The freezers and other fittings are wrecked as well as a good deal of the stock. And it stinks.”

  “Floodwater never smells good. May I take a look?”

  “Be my guest.” She handed over the keys.

  Moving past her, he opened up. “Theos,” she heard him mutter, “Nik wasn’t joking when he said it’s a mess.”

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” She followed him inside. She’d been crazy to think she could ever raise enough to get it fixed.

  Squelching over the littered floor, he headed for a far wall and ran his hand over it. “It may look worse than it is. I spoke with Nik and Kostas, the fire chief. They reckon the outer structure is still sound and, once everything has dried out, the damage can be taken care of. Of course, the sale price will need to reflect that it needs extensive interior work.” He gazed around him. “But, for the right person, it’ll be a great investment.”

  She shoved both hands into her pockets. “Well, that’s good to know.”

  He nodded.

  “Why were you coming to see me?”

  “To talk about progress with your debts. I made a couple of calls first thing, and my financial advisor, Selene Koutsopoulous, has agreed to handle the negotiation of easier repayment terms for you if you agree. She will charge a fee, but I can cover that for you.”

  “Oh…” The mention of Selene had bile instantly rising in her throat.

  “I would give Selene serious consideration. She is excellent at getting the best outcomes.”

  Swallowing the bitterness, Sally forced a smile. What alternative was there really? She wasn’t going to sell the store anytime soon, and even if her house was rented out and she took Frankie’s job, those bills still needed paying every month. “Thank you,” she replied, her chin going up. “I would like to accept Selene’s services. But I will pay you back the fee when I’m able.”

  He surveyed her for a few seconds. “Exochos. It is not necessary to repay me, but I know you will do it anyway.�
� He glanced around him. “Okay, we’d better get out of here. We don’t know for sure if it’s safe.” He turned to head for the exit.

  She stayed where she was, taking in her ravaged old friend one last time, her fingers flying to her mouth when she couldn’t prevent a loud squeak escaping, somewhere between an exclamation and a sob. Taking a couple of deep gulps to stop her emotions spilling over, she clenched her hands into tight fists.

  “Hey.” He was right back to her side, surprising her as he encircled her shoulder with an arm. “Don’t be sad.” He gave her a squeeze. “It’s tough seeing the place like this. But somebody will come along who wants to buy it and, like you, it’ll rise again.”

  She stood there stiff and awkward, familiar scents and sensations—the warmth of his solidly muscled, reassuring body, the cologne he always wore—filling her.

  Thankfully, he stepped back to peer at her through the gloom. “I’m thinking this store matters to you very much,” he observed softly.

  Lifting her head, she nodded slowly.

  “Have you eaten yet?”

  “I had a cup of coffee and a pastry earlier.”

  “How about we go to Spiros’s place at Trapazakia, sit out on the deck and have lunch? You’ll feel better with some fresh air and food inside you, and maybe we can persuade Spiros to give McTavish one of his famous handmade loukanika.” He paused. “And I have another idea to run past you about the store.”

  Chapter Seven

  Spiros arrived at their table with mineral water. While he was pouring it for them, Dimitri asked him, “Could you spare one of your sausages for Sally’s dog?”

  “Of course.” Spiros bobbed his head obligingly and went off to the kitchen.

  “He’s a lucky little devil. He’s already had some almond crème pastry this morning,” Sally commented.

  “And you’ve been feeding him rabbit too. He dines like a king,” Dimitri smiled, peering at her pet snoozing under the table. “McTavish, king of the mongrels.” He fixed his stare back on her. This was his last chance to persuade her to stay. “I suppose you haven’t had a chance to look into what arrangements are needed to take him with you to England, if that is where you choose to go?”

  He watched as she swept a nervy hand through her loose curls to tuck them behind her ear. “Actually, I-I’ve decided to stay. Frankie’s offered me a job at Ionian Villas, and apparently, there’s a cheap room to rent at Alison’s—”

  “I see.” For a few seconds, he was stunned into silence. Last night, he’d thought she was all but gone. Resisting the impulse to punch the air triumphantly, he instead offered up a silent thank-you to the gods that she’d finally seen sense. “That’s wonderful, Sally, I’m really very pleased for you and know you’ve made the right decision.” He lifted his glass and took a sip. This was a good moment to pitch the idea he’d been hatching since the night of the flood. Originally, he’d put it together as one of two last-ditch attempts he thought might get her to change her mind about leaving. But now she was staying, it had potential as a great business proposition for both of them—and a little bit of extra glue to ensure that she did. “There’s an idea for the Mini-Mart that I’ve been thinking over since the night of the flood, and now that I’ve looked at the books—”

  “I want to get the store up and running again,” she interrupted.

  “Okay. Any thoughts as to how you would do that?” he said slowly. This change of heart was more than he could have hoped for, and it could mesh very neatly with what he had in mind.

  “I want to turn it into an artisan grocery store—”

  “Artisan?” he interjected, lowering his eyebrows in a frown. “What’s that? My English is good, but not that good.”

  “Okay.” She took a big breath. “I’ve had this idea for selling sustainable foodstuffs and drink. High-quality, mainly fresh, sourced only from the island, and some of it homemade. I’m thinking that would do well with the tourists and maybe the locals too.”

  He put a thoughtful hand to his jaw and rubbed it. “You’ve taken me by surprise, you really have. It’s an interesting idea. But only yesterday, you were thinking of selling the place. What changed?”

  “When I went inside this morning and saw all the damage, I was devastated. It was like I was looking at my old friend who’d been left for dead, and I knew I just couldn’t abandon it. I also had a conversation earlier this morning that made me think I could do things differently if I only had an opportunity to open up again.” Her face falling, she gazed down at the tablecloth. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t think that.” He picked up his napkin and shook it out, while Spiros—who’d just arrived at the table with a filled tray—unloaded their lunches. “This looks good,” he said to the taverna owner, then glanced at Sally, who was fidgeting with her cutlery. “Let’s eat and then talk more about this.”

  For a while, they sat quietly munching on pitta bread, tzatziki, taramasalata and salad with feta and olives.

  “Let me tell you what I have in mind because it may well fit in with your idea.” He laid down his knife. “Despite the damage, the Mini-Mart is a prime piece of real estate. Also, although you’ve had your struggles, the store is still the hub of our village community and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m interested in buying the building.”

  She dropped her piece of bread. “Buy it? So, you’d be the owner?”

  “Of the building.”

  A frown wrinkled her delicate features. “What about the business? You’d be my boss?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I know how much you value your independence. What I’m suggesting is, I’ll be your landlord and lease the premises to you.” He wiped his fingers on his napkin. “This is how I see it working. I’ll give you a fair price for the building, on the understanding that the capital is re-invested solely in the shop, for repairs and refurbishment, new stock, and then any other running costs going forward. We can write those terms into the contract of sale. Although, I’ll be leasing the building to you, I won’t be charging you rent beyond a token sum to secure the agreement. Which leaves you to keep the business and manage it how you please. The profits will be yours to plough back into it and pay yourself a wage.”

  Leaning back in her chair, she huffed out a breath. “Oh, wow, today is turning out to be unbelievable! Gosh, Dimitri, I don’t know what to say.” Wrinkling her nose thoughtfully, she leaned forward again. “But what will you actually gain from it? You’re putting in a whole lot of money but not asking for rent or a share of the profits—”

  “I see it like this. I get to own the building and keep the grocery store in the centre of the village. I also get to help you, which I want to do very much. It’s how I can make amends for failing to see what was happening with Manos. If I could go back and change things, I would, but I can’t. So, this seems the best way to do something positive. I know how much the place means to you.”

  She gave an abrupt nod, her features briefly taking on a tightness that he guessed had to do with Manos’s name being mentioned. But then her expression brightened. “What do you really think of my idea for an artisan grocery?”

  “I like it.” He smiled. “Now that we all have to think about the planet, I’ve already been looking into sustainable trading at Skalos.” He picked up an olive. “So, I feel you could be onto something very exciting.”

  “You do?” Suddenly, she was sitting up straighter, enthusiasm spreading two dabs of pink across her cheeks. “Oh, that’s fantastic!”

  “Tell me more about what you’re planning,” he encouraged, thinking how pretty she looked flushed like this, then glanced at her plate. “And make sure you eat too.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m eating.” She forked up some mouthfuls of salad before taking her napkin and dabbing at her mouth. “So, earlier this morning, I was talking with Constantine at the café, where I had breakfast, and he mentioned he has a team of home bakers, and their stuff is going down well with his customers. It d
awned on me that if I do something similar, stock the Mini-Mart with fresh, local produce, I could have that unique selling point I’ve been looking for, instead of going up against the supermarket and losing. I can talk to the farmers and smallholders around here.” She stopped her breathless explanation and gave him a shy glance from under her lashes. “In fact, I could sell anything that you and the Skalos Estate might have to spare as well—”

  His smile grew because he couldn’t recall when he’d last seen her so keen. “As you know, we deal mainly with big distributors. However, I’d certainly be interested in seeing how we can supply the Mini-Mart as one of our steps towards responsibly sustainable trade.”

  She nodded. “Someday, I’d love to explore setting up an online ordering service and have an electric van do the deliveries—”

  “Hey, one thing at a time!” He held up his hands. “First, you need to get the place up and running again, and then you must push it back into profit. Do you still want to call it the Mini-Mart?”

  “Choose a new name for the store? Oh, goodness, I haven’t even begun to think that far ahead.”

  “Sally’s would be very nice,” he offered.

  “Sally’s,” she repeated, her own mouth curving upwards. “I like it too. It makes it sound…”

  “Friendly and welcoming,” he finished for her. “It says to expect personal service.”

  “You’re right, it does, and that’s important. It always has been.” She grew pensive. “I’m not sure how Manos’s family will take the news that I sold the building though. It’s been with the Soulis for generations, and I’ve been dreading telling them—”

  “But surely this plan has to be better than selling it to a stranger?”

  “I guess.” She said slowly, “Still, there’s no way it’ll be easy speaking to Theia and her husband.” She grimaced. “Not least because I’ll have to reveal I’m selling because Manos gambled everything away.”

  “Of course, they don’t know.”