Josie

by Beth Gildersleeve

  It wasn’t unusual for Josie and Gabe to bounce business ideas off each other. Several times, Elle, in her capacity as CEO of Jo’s Joe, and Josh, as her director of marketing, had joined them and the four of them had tackled problems for the coffee shops and Woodworks. Most of the coffee shop problems had focused on how Josie could effectively and efficiently continue to grow the business. She now had eleven shops in the area surrounding Haven and the eastern suburbs of St. Paul. In the several years that Elle had been with her, they’d added six stores, but they wanted to ramp that number up to three a year.

  After the second time the four of them met, Josh had teased Josie that she should move her and Gabe’s daily coffee dates out into the real world to see if it worked there, too. But Josie liked it the way it was. She was comfortable with Gabe and comfortable with her life for the most part.

  Maybe someday she’d trust herself enough with men to come out of her self-imposed shell and play the dating game again. Josie wasn’t a naive girl anymore, and she’d learned a lot about men since being duped thrice.

  Her innocence about men had first been battered by Michael. After high school, she’d had no idea what she wanted to do, so she decided not to go to college right away. She had always been interested in food and baking so her father had suggested she move out to San Francisco to work for her aunt, who owned an upscale restaurant there, and learn as much as she could.

  Her aunt was a generous soul but a hard taskmaster. No favoritism for Josie. She’d started by washing dishes and worked her way up the kitchen food chain. It hadn’t taken long for the sous chef, Michael, to notice her.

  Michael was handsome and sophisticated. At ten years her senior, he was a worldwide traveler with exotic tales to tell. It hadn’t taken long for her to fall under his spell and for Michael to take her under his wing. That he’d also seen a naive girl eager to please had escaped her.

  She’d fallen hard and fast for him. It had been exciting and fairly innocent. Long looks. Heated glances. Passionate kisses. The hostess and the head bartender had tried to warn her, but she’d put it down to jealousy.

  Michael had insisted they keep their relationship as quiet as possible; he didn’t want to lose his job. The secrecy had only added fuel to her desire. She’d thought she’d loved him and that he’d felt the same. Who knew? Maybe he had.

  They’d talked and planned about where to open their own restaurant and what they’d serve their eager diners. They’d poured over each other’s personal recipes. They’d dreamed and they’d plotted, but he’d never mentioned his wife. Or his toddler. Josie had been devastated when she’d learned the truth. Even now her stomach turned when she thought about being the other woman. About being played.

  Michael had admitted that he’d hoped Josie could influence her aunt to promote him to head chef at the restaurant she was opening across the bay. Josie knew she couldn’t work with him any longer, and as much as she wanted to complain to her aunt and see him fired, she couldn’t do it. He had a family to support and she only had to support herself.

  So she’d fabricated a story for her aunt about wanting to learn about desserts and maybe train to be a pastry chef. It hadn’t been a total lie. At that time Josie had been very focused on desserts and ice cream, and she had the ten-pound post-breakup weight gain to prove it.

  As luck would have it, her aunt had a friend who owned several coffee shops in the Bay Area that were known for both their coffee and their desserts. Once again Josie started at the bottom and worked her way up. A year later, she was an excellent but uncertified pastry chef, and she’d found her passion—coffee.

  Her boss had connections to a coffee plantation in Costa Rica, and she had been more than happy to arrange an internship for Josie.

  Josie had worked side by side with Silvano, the plantation owner’s son. He’d taught her everything he knew about growing and harvesting coffee beans and the science of roasting and brewing. After several months, she’d started to trust him, and she gave in to his insistent offers of sightseeing and dinners. Josie knew he couldn’t use her because she had no skills or connections of value to him.

  Their romance had bloomed. They’d talked about marriage and buying their own land and how Silvano would do things differently than his father did. He’d modernize and help their growers by providing better pay and benefits. By the time she’d realized that Silvano was a dreamer and a schemer, it had been too late; her heart was already invested.

  She’d overheard him bragging to a buddy that he’d soon be exchanging a diamond engagement ring for a green card. As soon as that happened, he’d be moving to the States and leaving the miserable plantation behind him. His soon-to-be-fiancée was smart and a hard worker. He didn’t think she’d have any problem providing for the two of them.

  Josie had never packed so quickly in her life. She’d caught the next plane out and headed back to Minnesota. She was done with men. They were liars and cheats, and she obviously didn’t have enough common sense to tell the good ones from the bad. For her own protection, no more relationships. Not until she trusted herself or had the funds to run thorough background checks.

  While she’d waited for the fall semester to start at the University of Minnesota’s food science program, she’d returned to her high school job, serving customers and making coffee drinks at Haven’s only non-chain coffee shop. The irony wasn’t lost on her or her family. After all her travels, she was right back where she’d started.

  Maybe when I’m done with that silly Paris bet, I’ll try one of the dating apps, Josie thought as she sipped her coffee. While on her annual girls’ vacation with her college roommates, they’d all agreed to focus on their goals and not on men. They’d called it the Paris Bet. Josie rolled her eyes at the memory and then looked down at the cake for her next bite. Gabe had eaten the bottom layer and had tunneled the cake out from the next layer. “You don’t like frosting?” she asked. She was suspicious of anyone who claimed they didn’t like sugar. It was unnatural.

  “Not as much as you seem to,” Gabe teased.

  “To be honest, I don’t think anyone likes frosting as much as I do. It’s the perfect combination of sugar and fat. Just like us,” she proclaimed before scooping up another forkful.

  “Are you calling me fat?” Gabe asked in mock indignation. “Because no one has ever called me sweet.”

  “No.” Josie laughed and shook her head. “Just my lame attempt at making a comparison. We’re like coffee and cream, peanut butter and jelly, coffee and chocolate.”

  “I sense a theme here,” Gabe said and Josie saw the teasing glint in his eyes. She blundered on before she could stop herself. “You’re a good friend, Gabe, and you’ve helped Jamie a lot. My whole family is indebted to you. I know hiring him was a risk, so I’m glad it’s seemed to work out well for both of you.”

  “It has worked out well. Jamie’s a great kid and a hard worker.”

  “I don’t think my baby brother would appreciate his boss calling him a kid.”

  “I know. But when I’m staring down the barrel of thirty-seven, he seems like a kid. If I only knew then what I know now,” he added sadly.

  “Sounds like you’ve got a heap of regrets and a birthday coming up. When?”

  “This Sunday.” Gabe set his fork down and pushed the plate toward Josie. He slumped down in the wooden chair and crossed his arms over his broad chest as he turned his head toward the window. Josie couldn’t help but notice his clenched, chiseled jaw.

  “I’ll get us refills and then you can tell me, okay?” Josie stood and gathered their empty mugs. Concern for Gabe had wiped out her curiosity about the potential roasting space. Gabe turned his head back toward her.

  “You might not like what I have to say.” His words sounded like a warning.

  “I’ll take my chances,” Josie said over her shoulder as she walked back to the barista station.

  2

  Gabe turned his attention back to the street. It was easier to watch Josie’
s reflection in the window. Less creepy. Which was stupid, since he was about to take creepy to a whole new level. Today she had her straight ash-blond hair pulled back off her face. He couldn’t tell if it was a deflated messy bun or a ponytail gone bad. He didn’t mind. It made it much easier to watch her face. She didn’t hide her emotions. Within five minutes of starting a strip poker game, I’d have her naked, Gabe thought as he watched her face break into a huge smile. The corner of his lips quirked up in response.

  Josie’s outfit today was much like any other day: well-worn jeans encasing her incredibly long legs, a casual top, and tennis shoes. Definitely not boardroom material. She was tall with an athletic build. If he was a betting man, he’d guess she’d played either basketball or volleyball in high school.

  She could be the poster girl for the person most parents would want their son, or daughter for that matter, to bring home. The proverbial girl next door who’d give you the flannel shirt off her back and who never said no to a fundraiser.

  Given her generous heart, it always surprised Gabe how successful Jo’s Joe was. If his information was correct, and it should be given the cost of it, she’d bought this store from her boss on a land contract a few years after college. She’d been the shop’s manager after graduation. Her parents had fronted her the money for the down payment. She now had eleven stores and employed her best friend as her CEO and her brother as her marketing director. Josie may not have curves but she had chutzpah, and Gabe couldn’t help but admire her.

  Gabe groaned. What he was about to do would be so much easier if he didn’t respect and like her. He didn’t want to ruin her life, but if he didn’t ask, it would ruin many more, including his. Maybe he could find a way to protect her from his family. From their acidic comments and cruelty. They could stay in Haven, away from them. Josie would be shielded here and it would be easy to explain to his family. They’d understand the need to live close to work.

  Technically, Haven was a small city but her inhabitants lovingly referred to her as a town. Even the newer residents who commuted to the Twin Cities called this blip-on-the-map a town. It had a good, old-fashioned feel to it. Everyone was friendly, helpful, and up in each other’s personal lives. Gabe had been shocked by how many people had asked him how Jamie was doing when he’d first started at the Woodworks. It was the opposite of what he was used to, and it had taken him a while to adjust. Now he appreciated how the neighbors looked out for one another. Josie would be safe here. The people of Haven would make sure of it.

  A small part of him hoped that she’d say no, but he didn’t think she would. Not when Jamie’s ongoing recovery was at risk. And he could solve her roasting-space problem. Gabe reached into his shirt pocket and popped a few antacids to douse the fire in his stomach. He was no better than his grandfather. He had been the master at using people. At pitting them against each other. Such an ass, Gabe thought, but he didn’t know if he was referring to his grandfather or himself.

  Gabe focused back on Josie. On the warmth of her smile and her relaxed confidence as she made her way toward their table. He closed his eyes as she neared. He heard the soft thuds as she set down their mugs but he didn’t turn toward her until he heard her chair scrape against the hardwood floor. It sounded like a firing squad to him.

  Josie didn’t say anything. She nudged his coffee toward him and then touched his hand. He didn’t know if it was for support or to get his attention. Gabe turned his hand over and captured hers. He noticed small scars and what looked like a recent burn on the base of her thumb. An occupational hazard, he’d guess. He reached for her other hand, too. These were not the hands of a lazy person. These were working hands. Her nails were trimmed short and were unpolished. Her palms were rough and chapped. He didn’t think he’d ever held hands like hers before and he liked them, just as he liked the person they were attached to.

  Josie didn’t pull her hands away even though he sensed she was uncomfortable. She just let him continue with his weird hand study. He finally let go and she quickly wrapped her hands around her mug. If he was her, he’d have left the table in retreat, but Josie leaned forward and engaged. “Gabe, you’re starting to worry me. What’s wrong? You’re acting like the world is going to end.”

  “That’s because it is,” he said.

  “Come on, Nostradamus, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,” she teased. He felt the corner of his mouth tick up. Leave it to her to make light of their dire situation. “Tell me and we’ll work through this together.” Together was a new concept for him. Sure, he had people who gathered the data, analyzed it, and made recommendations, but, at the end of the day, he was the final decision maker and it was his signature on the important documents. He took a deep breath and started the biggest negotiation of his life.

  “You know my family owns the Woodworks, right?” Gabe asked as he reclaimed her hands.

  Josie sat up and he heard her slight gasp. “All of it? I thought there were several different owners.” Gabe shifted in his seat as he remembered his deception. When he’d started at the Woodworks, the head foreman had asked if he was from one of the families that owned the company. Gabe hadn’t felt the need to correct him, to tell him there was only one family.

  “All of it.”

  “Okay, but I’m still not seeing the problem.”

  “According to my grandfather, if a man can’t settle down by the age of thirty-seven, he’s not mature enough to run the plant. He has a stipulation in his will and in the corporate charter that whoever runs the plant has to be married by the age of thirty-seven. If I’m not married by then, the plant closes.”

  “That’s crazy!” Josie’s hands flew up in the air and smacked down on the table. “It can’t be legal.”

  “I’m afraid it is. I’ve been fighting this for the last five years and I’ve got the legal bills to prove it.”

  “Can’t someone else in the family take over?”

  “No one wants to. They’d rather see it close. They don’t want to own a business.”

  “It’s like a modern-day Game of Thrones,” Josie said, her voice filled with disgust.

  “But without all the sex,” Gabe said, hoping to lighten her mood. Josie crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “Is that why you man-whored your way through the eligible female population when you first came to town?” From the tone of her voice and the glare on her face, Gabe saw that she hadn’t been happy about his “man-whoring.” Good. That might work in his favor. Maybe she was jealous?

  “Yes, I dated a lot when I first got here, but most of the women never made it to a second date, and I think only one made it to a third.” Josie looked unimpressed by his admission.

  “Can the town or the workers buy the Woodworks from your family?”

  “Not enough time, and I know this sounds bad, but the other members of my family don’t want the hassle of owning a business. They’d rather close and move on.” Gabe shrugged his shoulders as if it was an everyday occurrence.

  “And this would happen when?”

  “By the end of the month.”

  “During the holidays?” Her question sounded more like an accusation. Gabe nodded his head. “What about the employees? These are good people and you pay a good wage. Haven needs this.” Realization dawned and her face paled. “Oh, Jamie.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head. When she looked back at him, he saw the tears gathered there. “You saw him. He was so happy. He’s doing so well. He has plans. You can’t take that away from him! It’ll destroy him.”

  Gabe didn’t think it would destroy Jamie. It might derail him, but it wouldn’t destroy him. He didn’t want to argue with Josie about it though. Not if it motivated her to go along with his crazy scheme.

  “My birthday is this Sunday. My aunt told me that a press release is set to go out on Monday afternoon but the employees will be told first. Final paychecks will be handed out on Friday.”

  Josie buried her head in her hands.

  Gabe didn’t clari
fy that the press release wasn’t only about the Haven Woodworks closing. It would also announce that his cousin, Duncan Murray, was the new CEO of Witz Holdings, Inc, the family-run corporation that owned the Haven Woodworks.

  Duncan and Gabe had very different visions for the future of Witz Holdings. Gabe thought Duncan’s plans were more like a nightmare than a vision. But if Gabe wasn’t the CEO, he wouldn’t have the power to stop Duncan’s plans. He’d have to sit on the sidelines and watch his cousin destroy the business their great-grandfather had started.

  His great-grandfather, Joseph Kanowitz, and his wife had immigrated to Minnesota. They’d started a grocery store on the Iron Range for the miners and their families. By the time Joe “Witzy” Kane had passed the business on to his son, William, there were several more grocery stores.

  William grew the grocery business and added a few others, like the Haven Woodworks, which his wife’s family owned. By the time the business had passed to Gabe’s dad, Kyle, Witz Holdings was one of the biggest privately held companies in Minnesota, and the Kane family was one of the wealthiest in the Midwest.

  Kyle had continued to acquire more businesses and diversify the family’s portfolio until his heart attack seven years ago. After a full recovery, Gabe’s father and mother had relocated to Napa Valley to oversee the wineries. Gabe had continued with his rotation at each of the businesses hoping to find a bride along the way. And, Gabe’s soulless, penny-pinching Aunt Sandra, Kyle’s sister, had stepped in as interim CEO. The company had floundered during Aunt Sandra’s tenure, and Gabe knew he was the company’s only chance for survival.

  “This is the end of the world,” Josie moaned into her hands.

  Gabe leaned in for the kill. “It doesn’t have to be. You can save it. Save Haven and the plant. Save Jamie,” he whispered as his stomach churned and his heart raced. Manipulating her with guilt is such a dick-move. Dear ol’ Grandfather would be so pleased, he thought bitterly. Gabe could almost hear the old man snickering in his ear not to worry, that the ends justified the means.