Down And Out In Flamingo Beach. Marcia King-GambleЧитать онлайн книгу.
over and playfully tweaked one of Joya’s slender arms. “Hon, those bones could use some meat.”
Joya swatted him with the other arm. “I’ve worked very hard to keep weight off, and I’m not about to undo years of discipline. Where’s your partner?”
“Chet’s minding the store.” Saying his partner’s name seemed to propel Harley into motion. He glanced at his watch. “The construction crew’s going to be here in exactly ten minutes. I’d better go get breakfast.”
Joya waved him off and shut the door behind her. Construction crew meant Derek Morse. She wasn’t sure she was up to seeing him again. But, her feelings about him aside, she now had two things to discuss with Granny J: taking advantage of those interest-free loans and figuring out whether the store was producing a profit.
She finished her coffee and decided that before the shop officially opened, she’d try to do something about the clutter. She was sure Granny J had quilts that she didn’t even know existed stuffed in some places. Maybe she could have a sale and unload some of the merchandise that had been sitting. The problem was that she had no idea what had been here for some time and what was new. She needed the help of the saleswomen. Either that or she’d be forced to call Granny J. And that was something she was reluctant to do. Her grandmother needed her rest.
Half an hour past opening she still had no help. Neither Deborah nor LaTisha had shown up. By then, Joya had cleared off one table and scribbled a sign on a piece of white cardboard that said, Porch Sale. Cash Only! She’d found at least two dozen quilts shoved haphazardly in a garbage bag in the back room’s closet. After running a practiced eye over them and determining that they would normally sell in the range of two hundred and fifty to four hundred dollars, she slashed that price in half.
She found a couple of toss cushions that looked as though they might have seen better days and added them to the pile of sales items. She also uncovered some smaller quilts that might serve as either wall hangings or baby blankets, and some quilted jackets.
It sounded as if someone was using a drill next door. The annoying buzzing put her on edge, but she was determined to ignore the noise.
She needed somehow to maneuver the table and its contents onto the porch. Where were those two lazy workers when she needed them?
Joya was using her hip and both hands to push the table in the direction of the outdoors when a deep male voice came from behind her.
“Would you like a hand with that?” Derek Morse asked.
“Yes, please.” Joya’s relief showed in her warm smile. She’d never thought she’d be happy to see Derek Morse, but he was certainly useful.
Effortlessly, Derek picked up the table, contents and all. He angled it through the doorway and onto the porch.
“Is this good?” he asked, setting it right behind the verandah railing.
“Just a little more to the right. That should do it.” Following her directions, Derek placed the table in the exact spot she’d pointed to.
“How’s this?”
“Perfect.”
He stood silently, his jeans hugging his high butt, the knees threadbare, watching her spread a quilt over the table before folding and arranging the others. Without asking, Derek began arranging the sales items so that they were attractively laid out and could be seen.
“How about I tack the sale sign right up there?” he asked pointing to the back wall that badly needed a coat of paint.
“That would be great. Was there something you wanted?”
Derek took a hammer from the tool belt around his waist and pulled a nail from one of his pockets.
“Actually I came by to inquire as to how your grandmother is? Nana’s been working herself up asking questions about your gran that neither me nor her companion can answer.”
It made Joya feel good that her grandmother had friends who worried about her.
“Tell Belle Granny J’s going to be fine. How did she find out my grandmother was in the hospital?”
“Not much escapes anyone in this town,” Derek said over his shoulder.
Joya’s eyes were fastened on Derek’s wide shoulders and tapered waist. Where there were actual holes in the old jeans, you could see navy-blue underwear. Boxers actually. How many men today could pull off boxers and look sexy in them?
Derek pounded the nail into the wall and positioned the sign.
“What about right here?”
“Yes, that looks good. Thanks for all your help. Want a cup of coffee? I have a fresh pot brewing.” She didn’t know what made her extend the invitation, except that good manners dictated it. Much as she wasn’t looking to start a friendship, Derek had come to her rescue at a time when she needed it.
Derek dusted off his hands. “I’ll take a rain check. Gotta get back to work.” He scanned the porch as if looking for someone. “Don’t you have sales help?”
“Sore subject.”
His words were a reminder that she needed to do something about those two. Granny J had put up with the two unreliable women, but that didn’t mean she had to. They weren’t exactly assets to the business. They weren’t dependable and they sorely lacked customer-service skills. There was nothing like bad service to bring down a business.
Derek headed down the steps and then turned back. “Have you given any thought to what we discussed? You’ve got a pretty tight timeline to get back to us.”
It took a second or two for Joya to figure out what he was getting at.
“I’d been hoping to talk to Gran when she gets out of the hospital, but maybe I’ll do some preliminary investigation myself. What’s the latest I can get back to you?”
“The end of the week. Shore Construction is booking quickly.”
A gruff male voice called from next door. “Morse, where the hell are you? No one said you could take a coffee break.”
“I’d better get back,” Derek said quietly.
In the next half hour several passersby spotted the sales sign and wandered in. Joya sold two quilts and one of the pillows. At around ten-thirty Deborah and LaTisha were still not there.
Joya called both women but neither answered. She was at the end of her patience by then. The tourist with the redheaded children from yesterday came back, surprising Joya by buying one of the more expensive quilts and expressing interest in having one custom made. The woman was from Michigan. Joya took all of her relevant information, found out how long she was staying and promised to be in touch.
Right before lunch there was a brief lull in sales and Joya used that time to move the remaining sales items back indoors. She locked the store and decided to take the money to the bank. It would be a good opportunity to talk to Bill Brown, the loan officer. She might as well be properly informed if she was going to sell Granny J on the idea of applying for a loan.
There were long lines in front of the three tellers when Joya entered the lobby of the Flamingo Beach Credit Union. The credit union had been around forever, and despite another major bank opening up a branch, locals did most of their banking here where they were comfortable.
The three tellers were an institution, women close to sixty who knew everyone and needless to say everyone’s business. Joya scanned the area in front of Bill Brown’s office and was relieved to see that only one other person was waiting.
Joya signed the paper on the clipboard and took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs. Ten minutes later the middle-aged man seated across from her was ushered into Bill’s glassed-in office by his secretary, Marlene Miller, whom no one dared call anything other than Miss Miller. She was an aging spinster, way past retirement age.
“Mr. Brown will be with