Page 29 of One Last Gift

Linda said nothing, and Cassie read something in the silence.

“What?” Still nothing. “Linda, what is it?”

A sigh. “The developers—they’ve given me two weeks to take the offer, otherwise they’re going to withdraw it.”

“What? They can’t do that! That’s like…blackmail.”

Linda laughed softly. “Indeed. But that’s their world for you.”

It was wrong, Cassie decided. Wrong that people could manipulate you like that. “You can’t let some random people have it,” Cassie said, her voice on the edge of a plea. “Who knows what they’d do to it.” And she couldn’t bear it—the thought that they’d tear it down, build some crap block of new flats or something in its stead. Linda’s pub was special because it was old. It had history, memories. It needed love, it needed looking after—not tearing down.

“I don’t want to do this, Cassie—that pub has been my life. But when these things happen, they happen, and you sometimes have to know when to give up the fight. I’m fighting a losing battle anyway—all these chains, and whatnot—village pubs are just not making the money anymore.”

Cassie winced. She knew things had changed from when Linda started out, but she didn’t like the thought of it. Somewhere deep inside, no matter how she’d tried to push it aside as the impractical dream it was, she still harbored a fantasy of opening her own place in the countryside. She didn’t want Linda to give up. It felt like it would prove her dream a façade, once and for all, prove to the sensible part of her brain that she’d be stupid to go down that route.

Linda sighed, and Cassie could imagine the swish of her bob as she shook her head. “I’m getting old, anyway—”

“You’re not—”

“And these managers,” Linda carried on over Cassie, “they’re never any good.”

“That’s because you don’t ever give them a chance.” And it was true—Linda didn’t trust anyone with her pub longer than a few days.

“What about a crowdfunder?” Cassie asked suddenly.

“A what?”

“A crowdfunder. You know, there are these websites, and you upload details of your project, and then you get people to donate.”

“Hmmm, sounds a bit mercenary to me, taking people’s money.”

“Well, they wouldn’t give you the money unless they wanted to—you’re not forcing anyone to.”

“Still, I don’t know how I feel about—”

“Or you could give them something in return,” Cassie plowed on. “Like a share in the pub or something? I’d do it!” she continued, talking over Linda’s automatic protests. “Then if the pub made loads of money, they would too, but more than that, the people donating would feel like they were a part of something, you know?”

“Shares.” The way she said it, Cassie could almost see Linda grimacing, the idea of ceding some control there.

“You wouldn’t have to let them have any say in it—like what you do with it.”

“Then what would be the point of being a shareholder?”

Cassie sighed. “Linda, will you just please think about it? If not shares, then we can come up with something else.”

“Fine. Fine, yes, I’ll think about it. In the meantime though, let’s talk about something else, hmm? How are you?”

For now, Cassie thought, she’d let Linda drop the subject—but she wasn’t going to give up on this. “I’m…well, I’m OK, I guess.” She paused. “I opened Tom’s first clue.” She looked down at it, sitting in her lap.

“Did you?” Linda’s voice changed, became more intent. “What does it say?” Cassie smiled a little at the urgency in her voice. Linda had always loved the treasure hunt. Tom had used her pub more than once, sending Cassie there to a beaming Linda, who would hand over the next clue.

Cassie didn’t need to look at the slip of paper—she could recite it from memory.

“We’ll stay close this time, but go up high,

I talked about taking you, but our plans went awry,

Now I’m hoping you’ll brave it alone,