Peppermint Kiss by Kelly McKain Page B

She picked up the wodge of money and wafted it in his face. He stared at it, like a snake being charmed. She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Frankly, Mr. Vulmer,
you
should be paying
us
.”
    Saff’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Well, hang on, why isn’t he then?”
    Grace shot her another
shut up
look and fanned herself with the bank notes, trying to look nonchalant. We all waited, hardly daring to breathe.
    â€œFine, okay, deal,” he said gruffly.
    Grace shouted “Yes!”, then composed herself and added, “I’m so pleased we could come to an agreement.” Mr. Vulmer reached for the money but she drew it back. “There must be contracts first, of course,” she said imperiously. “I’ll get a standard Assured Shorthold Tenancy agreement off the net for the flat, and find out what we need for the shop.”
    For a second it looked like he was going to argue, but he was defenceless against the force of Grace Green.
    â€œAnd if you could just pop the keys for the shop over later that would be great,” Mum said, stepping in again. “We need to get in and look at the state of everything, so we can start planning the refit.”
    â€œI’ve got them here,” he said, rummaging in his pocket and dropping the keys into Mum’s hand. She looked at them in disbelief, lying in her palm just as her ring had been last night – as if she’d magically transformed one into the other.
    â€œExcellent,” said Grace, taking over again. “Mum,
and Liam
,” she added pointedly, “can drop the contracts in to you tomorrow and settle up. Nice doing business with you.”
    â€œAnd you, ladies,” grunted Mr. Vulmer. He reached for the digestives but Saff whipped the packet away and Grace bustled him out the door. Mum and I just stood there, staring at each other and grinning.
    As soon as my sisters came back in we all hit the roof with excitement, jumping round the kitchen in a huddle and screaming, “YEEEEEEEEEEES!”
    Grace was absolutely glowing as we all went on about how amazing she’d been. We got into complete hysterics when Saff whipped off Grace’s glasses, put them on and did an impression of her leaning across the table and saying, “Frankly, Mr. Vulmer,
you
should be paying
us
.”
    â€œI can’t believe it!” gasped Mum, when we’d finally got our breath back.
    â€œWe’re really doing it!” I cried. “It was just an idea, but now it’s going to be real. We’re actually creating our own business! We’re making our dreams come true!”
    I could see it in my mind: the gorgeous treatment rooms, thick soft towels, vases of bright flowers. I could hear the relaxing music…smell the luxurious fresh face masks and body creams…taste the delicious juices and smoothies…
    Five minutes later, we were all stood under the single fizzling light bulb in the filthy, dingy shop unit. It felt less like we were making our dreams come true and more like we’d made the worst mistake of our lives.
    Mum picked her way through the broken dust-covered desks and swivel chairs that filled our reception/shop/smoothie bar to remove a faded (and, as Grace pointed out, extremely sexist) calendar from the wall. The torn, yellowed posters of people with perms and big shoulder pads sipping cocktails on exotic balconies told us that it had once been a travel agency. Our gorgeous luxury treatment rooms were two vile back offices with curled-up brochures strewn all over the stained, fuzzy carpet and striped eighties paper peeling off the walls. The little kitchen was beyond unhygienic and as for the loo…urgh, I didn’t even want to
think
about it.
    I mean, we’d known it would need work, but
this
much work? I started to wonder whether Mr. Vulmer
had
got the better deal after all. Were we mad, taking this on? How could we possibly transform somewhere so