Kincaid’s first instinct was to say no. She wanted the house and business to be hers. Taking money or gifts from someone meant letting them have some amount of control over her. She’d seen that dynamic play out over and over again with her mother. “That’s not my preference, but I don’t see how I can finance all of it on my own. Not if I want to get it up and running anytime in the near future.”

“Do you have anyone you can think of who’d be interested?” Rebecca continued. “Any connections to someone looking for a business investment? What about the Lowells?”

The Lowells. Graham’s parents. They were her family in so many ways, but the thought of asking them for anything at all made bile burn in her stomach. She felt selfish enough accepting their kindness and love when it should’ve been Graham in that place instead. They’d already given her so much, helping her with school costs and being there for her after her mom left town. “I think the Lowells already have too much invested in their bookstore. I get the sense the store isn’t doing as well as it used to. I have some business contacts I could call.”

Taryn nodded. “All right, let’s do some brainstorming. But let’s do it over breakfast because I’m about to go all hot-dog-eating-contest with that tray of hot biscuits if we don’t start eating soon.”

“Amen, mama,” Rebecca said, stepping past Kincaid and grabbing another biscuit. “Let’s do this the right way—with all the calories.”

Kincaid laughed, the image of her two pregnant friends shoving as many biscuits as they could into their mouths lifting her mood. “Well, I guess my first note for my new business should be ‘Make sure to feed the guests biscuits.’”

“Oh, that’s a given,” Liv said, sliding into her spot at the table. “These things are gold, chica.”

Kincaid sighed as she joined her friends, sinking into her chair. “Too bad the bank doesn’t take deposits in biscuits.”

Taryn reached out and gave Kincaid’s hand a pat. “You’ll figure this out, girl. If anyone can pull it off, you can.”

“And hey, if you can’t sell the biscuits, you can sell your soul. I bet you can find the devil hiding in the basement of that farmhouse and make a deal,” Liv said.

“How many times do I have to tell you? It doesn’t have a basement,” Kincaid declared, tossing her napkin at Liv.

Liv ducked and laughed.

“Notice she didn’t say that it doesn’t house the devil,” Taryn pointed out between bites.

Kincaid narrowed her eyes at her friend. “I hate you all.”

“We love you, too,” Liv said.

Well, at least Kincaid had that. The love of her friends. Because after this contract went through, she might not have much else to her name.

Three

Ash’s head was pounding from lack of sleep and absence of coffee as he stepped out of the tiny shower in the apartment above the bookstore. The hot water had helped wake him up some, but the headache was going to take something more drastic. Like a double shot of espresso from the coffee shop on the corner. Maybe a triple. It wouldn’t taste like his usual from his favorite shop in Brooklyn, but he couldn’t be choosy.