Love Me Forever. Muriel JensenЧитать онлайн книгу.
can schedule them earlier in the day instead of just afternoons.”
“Great. I’ll keep them on if they want to stay. Think I can learn the ropes in that short a time?”
“Of course you can. But you realize how it is. You won’t officially know it all until you’ve worked it for a couple of months.”
They agreed to meet at her old office the following afternoon as soon as his staffer came on after school.
Sandy had dropped the girls off early at daycare, and went home to take a quiet moment and make a list of all she should do today. At home she sat down at the kitchen table and wrote: “acquire a couple of pairs of jeans and shirts to work in, transfer money out of savings, buy something pretty” (since it would probably be the last thing she’d be able to buy herself for some time to come), “tell Mom and Bobbie that I now own a business and see if Mom will help with the girls, take a long walk and appreciate that freedom.” There would probably be precious little for a while.
For Zoey and Addie, this would be the same as when she worked in an office all day—possibly even a little better, because she’d be home slightly earlier. Of course, she’d have to leave earlier to be ready to open at five o’clock.
A loud knock on her front door startled her out of her strategy planning. She pulled the door open, thinking it might be UPS with the Cars bedspread and pillow she’d ordered for Addie’s birthday.
It wasn’t UPS. It was Hunter.
* * *
HUNTER WASN’T PREPARED for the pretty picture she made against her blue door. Her red hair was caught up in a knot, long, straight strands of it falling to her chin. Her cheeks were flushed, her brown eyes alight as though something had already brightened her day. She wore a white sweater, and white always made her look somehow molten.
“Ah...” He had to think a minute. He’d come over because he required some information from her, but he hadn’t expected her to look so...cheerful. He was getting the distance from her he sought, but it put him in a pit of depression. He really missed her. Why was she happy? “I know I’m the last person you want to see today, but the Food Bank called me at the office this morning and wanted a date for the opening of the Clothes Closet. And the Daily A said they could get us sponsored advertising, but, again, we need a date. We have to talk about these things.”
“I suppose we should.” She sounded halfhearted. “But, I’m sorry, I have a lot going on today, and I...”
“Sandy, come on. I have to be able to depend on you for this. You’re the one who volunteered us. The Food Bank said they couldn’t reach you. What’s happening? If you’re going to pout about the breakup, tell me now so I can make other plans.” He was sure that would get her. She couldn’t stand accusations of a childish display, couldn’t stand being disconnected from the goings-on.
“I am not pouting,” she denied, a little royal indignation in her attitude, “and I’d like to help, but you’ll have to cut me a little slack. I’ve had a slight change of plans.”
“What plans?”
“You know. Life plans.”
“How so? I have another big project I could really use your help on.” He hesitated, plotting how best to approach her about Connolly’s gift. “What kind of slack do you need?” he asked at the same moment that she asked, “What big project?”
“You first,” she told him. “What big project?”
“Astoria has a benefactor,” he blurted, sure it topped her news.
She focused on him more intently, suddenly interested. She even stepped out onto the porch. “What do you mean? Who?”
He explained about his client, the man’s previous visit to Astoria when he’d been treated so kindly, then his sale of the dessert product for big money and his retirement to Astoria. Honoring Connolly’s wish, he kept other details to himself.
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“He wants me to distribute a million dollars to our nonprofits. I thought since you’ve raised money for most of them at one time or other, you’d be a good resource for the project.”
Her mouth fell open. It was a lovely, supple mouth. He could almost feel it on his own. But—then—words would come out of it and ruin everything.
“A million...?”
“Yes. Do you want to help or not?”
She cocked her head and scolded, “Who wouldn’t want to help since you asked so nicely?” Then her look became troubled. “But my situation’s changed a little and I...I’m not sure if I can.”
“So you said. But, how? What’s changed?”
“I just bought Crazy for Coffee!” she said, appearing a little surprised by her own news.
He was stunned. Bjorn Nielsen was his client. So, she was the caller Bjorn had told him was interested in his coffee cart. Hunter had gone into the office at four in the morning to run off reports he then delivered to Crazy for Coffee.
Sandy was changing her life? He was no longer involved with her so that shouldn’t bother him, but he knew how she was—headstrong and impulsive and impervious to suggestion. Small business was a killer of dreams ninety percent of the time.
“Have you thought this through?” he asked.
Immediately her expression turned defensive. She folded her arms. “Of course I have.”
“What if you lose everything?”
“Thank you for your expression of faith in me,” she replied. “It’s so nice to know that after all we’ve meant to each other...”
He held a hand up to stop her. He was a little amazed when it worked. “What I meant was, have you investigated the business?” He knew Crazy for Coffee was sound, but that could change in a month with careless management. She’d never be deliberately careless, but things could happen she might not be prepared for. “There’s a lot to...”
“I saw his tax returns, his P&L and balance sheets.”
“Good. What about lease assignments?”
“What?”
“Lease assignments. Bjorn happens to be one of Raleigh and Raleigh’s clients. I handle his account. As I recall, he leases a few things. You’re responsible for taking those over. That’ll add to your monthly expenses.”
“Oh.” Her eyes narrowed. He suspected she hadn’t thought of that. “We’re meeting at my old office tomorrow. I used to work for lawyers, remember? They’ll make sure everything’s covered.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Used to work for lawyers? You mean you’ve already quit?”
“No, I mean they fired me.”
“What?” His annoyance at that news matched her mother’s and made up a bit for the “what if you lose everything” remark. “Why?”
“It’s a long story that involves the economy, office politics and a new partner’s secretary who can do her job and mine. Hence, the coffee cart.”
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. He knew she’d loved her job and had done it well.
“I’ll survive. I always do.” Deep in her eyes, he saw a suggestion of fear, then she drew a breath and it was gone.
“About the coffee cart. Do you have help?”
“Help?”
“Hired help. Employees. Or do you plan to work seven days a week, twelve hours a day?”
“Yes, I have help. Two high school girls in the afternoon.”
“Do you know how to