Peppermint Kiss by Kelly McKain Page A

enticingly in front of him.
    â€œDo sit down,” said Mum. “The kettle’s on.”
    Mr. Vulmer sneered. “I’m not stopping. I’m just here to collect my money.” He reached out for the cash but Mum moved it to one side and offered him the plate instead. “Biscuit?” she offered, with a stuck-on smile. “You look like a Viscount man to me. You know, classy.”
    Mr. Vulmer peered at her suspiciously. “I prefer a digestive actually. I can’t be doing with fiddly wrappers.”
    â€œYou could do with staying off
all
biscuits or you’ll be heading for a heart attack,” Saff advised.
    Oh dear. When Mum said “charm offensive”, Saff seemed to have only heard the “offensive” part.
    Luckily, Mum sent her down to the shop sharpish for some digestives, and then started telling Mr. Vulmer about how much we liked the flat, now we’d got used to it, and how well Grace and I had settled in at school here. She also went on about what a wonderful town it was, as though Mr. Vulmer was personally responsible for the gorgeous old buildings, quirky little shops and beautiful open spaces of Totnes. Then she broached the subject of our business idea.
    Usually, Mum can charm anyone – traffic wardens, waiters, shop assistants, you name it – but it wasn’t working on our landlord. And when she said we could only give him a hundred a week for the flat and fifty to rent the shop unit, he actually
snorted
in disbelief. “That’s a prime retail space – I could ask two-fifty a week!” he wheezed. “And as for the flat, we said one-fifty. It’s not up for negotiation.”
    I really started to worry then, and Mum looked panicked too. If
she
couldn’t persuade him, what hope did the rest of us have?
    But there was one force we hadn’t reckoned on: Grace. She’d been silent the entire time, and I thought she’d just been sulking about the whole calling-the-police thing. But no. She’d been listening to every word, and thinking, and now she struck.
    She fixed him with an intense stare. “I know you’re a shrewd man, Mr. Vulmer,” she began. “A man of business. A man of property. A man who is not going to be sweet-talked by biscuits. Not even digestives.”
    â€œOh, what?” cried Saff, as she walked back in, biscuit packet in hand. “So I went all that way for no reason?”
    Grace shot her a
shut up
look and returned her attention to Mr. Vulmer. “The fact that so far you have been uninterested in our offer…well, we obviously haven’t explained the proposition clearly enough, which is our fault and we apologize. If we had, a man as astute as yourself would have given it more consideration.” She leaned forward across the table and fixed him with an intense look. “You say you could rent the shop unit out for two hundred and fifty a week, and yet it’s obviously been empty for a long time.”
    He shrugged. “Yeah, well, hard times, innit?”
    â€œBy accepting our offer, you’ll be getting security for your property against vandalism, and safety from squatters whom, as I’m sure you’re aware, can take months and thousands in legal fees to get rid of.”
    He snorted again. “You lot
are
the bloomin’ squatters. I just want my rent, that’s all, or you’ll be out on the street. Today.”
    Mum and Saff flinched at that, and I felt my stomach flip over, but Grace continued without a flicker of emotion. “Not to mention keeping the place warm, so it won’t fall down with damp or crumble away with dry rot. The shop fit will add thousands in value to
your
property and we’re not asking you for a penny towards it. It’s a no-risk situation. You could have both the shop and this flat secure, with no hassle at all and almost two grand in your pocket, as payment up front for the next three months. Cash.”