by Jacie Floyd
“Right.”
Since she’d been pouring over the books for the past two weeks, the incoming and outgoing amounts were disappointing though not surprising. She was no financial genius, but even a novice would know the net income needed to be greater than the expenses.
And that certainly wasn’t the case for Marshall Enterprises.
As she’d been told, her dad had been using his own money to keep most of the businesses afloat. He had enough personal wealth left to keep her in comfort—if she didn’t live in New York or throw large sums into the questionable dream of owning her own restaurant. If she managed the money carefully and chose to live in her father’s mortgage-free Sunnyside house, the money would last her for years. In New York, not so much.
The final sheet listed her father’s supposed “fortune” and his personal expenses from the last five years. Expenses for trips he’d taken with and without her. The kitchen renovation. Donations. Interest. She winced when she saw one of the largest debits had been the investment in her restaurant that might never open. Profits and losses on other investments dominated one final spreadsheet.
“What other investments?” she asked.
Marcus sucked on his butterscotch before answering. “His latest scheme was to make a killing in the stock market. I advised against it, but he was set on it.”
“Who advised him to do it?”
Trudy opened the conference room door and ushered in Liam. Dressed in snug jeans and a plaid flannel shirt over a t-shirt he dropped a white donut box on the table. The sight of him jogged the memory of his rescue of her the night before, and her heart went all squishy. Working to maintain her best poker face, she slammed the door on the lumberjack fantasy that emerged in her head.
“Sorry I’m late.” He took the seat next to Jillian and poured a cup of coffee from a carafe on the table. “The project I was working on took longer than expected.”
“No, problem,” Mick said. “I heard earlier that you were headed out to the farm. Did the Sawyer boy help you out with the roof?”
Jillian’s ears perked up. Liam was working on his grandfather’s farm? She wondered why.
She didn’t ask, and he didn’t explain. “Yeah, that’s done.”
“Good, I hated seeing the property fall into disrepair,” Mick said. “We were just getting to your part in Bert’s finances.”
Shoving the lumberjack image further back in her subconscious, Jillian raised an eyebrow. “Did you play a role in my father’s recent stock purchases?”
“Yes.” After opening the donut box and extracting an apple fritter, he placed it on a small plate and nudged it in her direction. Of course, he remembered her favorite. “I’m restricted from giving investment advice, but I broke that rule and told him to stay out of the market.”
Jillian rechecked the file before reaching for the fritter. “But there are several notations on stock purchases.”
“He didn’t listen to me. And as it turned out, he was right not to. He lost a little on one stock, made a quick bundle on Bitcoin, got out of that, and invested it somewhere else. But since he was going to pour his earnings back into the bottomless pit of Marshall Enterprises, the effort seemed pointless.”
“And he talked to you about this?” Jillian broke off a corner of the fritter and let it melt in her mouth.
“A couple of times.” Liam shrugged and helped himself to a long john. “Just because I don’t have any money and am barred from brokering, that doesn’t mean I forgot everything I learned in business school.”
“Which is what?” Mick asked. “That’s something the rest of the business community here might benefit from learning.”
“All you need to do is offer people something they need or want at a price that’s higher than it costs you to provide it.”
“Are any other businesses in Sunnyside making money?” Jillian jerked her attention away from the fritter and resumed taking notes. “Or are they all losing money like Dad’s? Who has money to spend besides horny guys who want to bulk up?”
Pursing his lips, Mick considered. “Lenore does all right. Most of the farmers do, but they shovel it all back into their farms. Pretty much everyone else is breaking even or losing money, and that can’t go on much longer. But they can’t sell up and leave because no one’s moving in. Barb’s barely getting by with her real estate. She hasn’t sold anything that wasn’t council related in three years. If Grady didn’t help her, she couldn’t manage.”
If there was any way to turn the town around, they’d have their work cut out for them. “How many people do you employ, Liam?”
“Between both businesses? About sixty.”
“And how many people are on dad’s payroll total?” she asked Marcus.
“About a hundred more.”
“So, the strip club and the fitness center support about a third of our workforce?” She wished she felt good about that. “Even though The Kitty Kat employs the most people and takes in the most money, I don’t want to own a strip club.”
Liam nodded and finished off his pastry. “I get that, but I am partial to eating.”
Unfortunately, so was she. Did she have the luxury of standing on principle here? Plus, she really didn’t want to put other people out of work. “Can you buy me out?”
“No.”
Unused to him refusing her anything, she frowned. “Why not?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I put most of the money I made from The Kitty Kat into the health club. Maybe in a year or two.” He lifted a finger to introduce another thought. “Or we could try selling the club to someone else. At least, your interest in it. Surely somebody’s interested in buying a business that’s turning a profit.”
No possibilities sprang to her mind. “Like who?”
Picking up a pen, he tapped it on the table. “Isn’t it possible someone’s sitting on money we don’t know about? Some miser who’s been saving their milk and egg money for the last fifty years. A farmer that wants to keep his son from moving away. Some eccentric who’s related to a dot com millionaire and looking for an unorthodox investment. Or somebody with secret mob connections. The step-daughter of a famous rock-star.”
They all laughed at the prospect of the librarian purchasing a strip club, but Marcus adjusted his glasses. “Discounting Harper, I don’t see any of that happening.”
Liam shrugged, then looked from one man to the other. “What about you two? Either one of you interested?”
The accountant ducked his chin. “You know Marcia’s religious principles. She’d cut off my dick before she agreed to putting our money into a jiggle joint.”
The mayor smirked and tilted his head. Jillian held her breath while he considered the idea, but then he frowned. “Claire wouldn’t go to that extreme, but her opinion is similar to yours, Jillian. She wouldn’t approve of a strip-club investment either.”
Jillian swallowed an indignant comeback. Oh, sure, everybody expected her to keep her money in The Kitty Kat, but no one else in Sunnyside wanted to step up. “It was worth asking since you’re both so keen on the idea of keeping the town afloat, if not in actually getting involved in something your wives would disapprove of.”
Mick acknowledged the point. “Buying the Kitty Kat was easy for Bert, since he didn’t have anyone to answer to. I’ll do anything I can to help but keeping the strip club open doesn’t guarantee the town’s solvency. It’s not even enough to keep Marshall Enterprises from going under.”
“How about if we trade out our interests in The Kitty Kat and The Old Barn?” she asked Liam. “I’d be the owner of the Old Barn, and you’d own The Kitty Kat?”
“That wouldn’t be a fair trade for you,” Marcus said to Jillian.
Liam agreed. “The Kitty Kat brings in a lot more than the Old Barn, and you’d still have me or someone like me on the payroll to run the fitness center. I assume you don’t want to run it yourself?”
Even if she did, she wasn’t willing to make a permanent commitment to li
fe in Sunnyside. She groaned and dropped her head in her hands. This wasn’t how her life was supposed to turn out. “On paper, I own twenty-seven businesses. There has to be some way to generate enough income to save some of them.”
Marcus cleared his throat. “I’d been working on a plan for Bert to restructure some of the businesses, combine them, co-op them, offer profit-sharing, other things like that to increase cash flow.”
“That’s a good start,” Liam agreed. “But don’t you think it’s time to get the town involved? They must be fearing the worst. Can you set up a committee to determine what businesses independent of Marshall Enterprises are losing the least, which ones employ the most people, and which ones have the potential to break even or make money in the future?”
“It’s imperative to the town that Bert’s businesses remain solvent, but the town isn’t capable of taking on Bert’s financial issues.” Mick rubbed his forehead. “I don’t think anyone wants me or the town to stick our noses in their business.”
“That’s why you need a committee. Call it Sunnyside Revitalization or something. What’s good for one will be good for all.”
“It could be a Chamber of Commerce effort,” Marcus suggested. “Can you get the ball rolling with Daniel, Jillian? Since you own the most businesses in town, the other owners might take the idea better if it’s coming from you.”
She chewed her lip, searching for a way, any way out of this mess. She didn’t want the responsibility for all of Sunnyside to rest on her shoulders, but it seemed like her dad hadn’t left her much choice. And Mick and Marcus were willing to keep up the tradition. “I’ll do some research and reach out to him.”
Liam squeezed her knee under the table before he pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen. “I can contact some non-profits I know that specialize in small town management.”
“Thanks, Liam, but you know…” Mick cleared his throat. “Bert trusted you, and Zach does, but other people might be more cautious about involving you in this new effort.”
His eyes turned ice cold as he returned his phone to his pocket. Pushing his chair back, he stood. “If you don’t need anything else from me, I’ll return to the businesses that I do run. The only two businesses that are making a sizable income.”
“Didn’t mean to offend you,” the mayor said. “As Bert and Jillian’s attorney, I’m on your side. But as the Sunnyside mayor, I have to look at the bigger picture.”
“I understand you’d want Liam’s involvement to be low-key.” Marcus realigned a stack of papers in front of him. “But I wouldn’t reject his help.”
Mick rubbed the top of his head and nodded. “Put out some feelers, Liam, and then give me your recommendations about who we might consult. We’re going to need some advice to turn things around.” His shoulders slumped. “If that’s even possible.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“We shouldn’t have left so much of the responsibility for the town’s economy in Bert’s hands.” Marcus tucked a stack of files into his briefcase. “Even though it was never a deliberate choice.”
“He was making some progress.” Jillian automatically defended him. “No one could have predicted he wouldn’t be here to continue it.”
“I’ll be anxious to see what you’ll be able to do with this mess,” Mick told her. “I’m here to help.”
“As am I,” Marcus added.
Her heart sank at the possibility of letting everyone down. Her dad included. She gathered her things. “We’ll talk again in a week or two.” She grabbed her purse and tote. “Walk out with me, Liam?”
Holding the door for her, he let her lead the way, remaining silent until they reached the sidewalk. His truck was parked at the curb behind her car.
Down the way, Melvin Dickie and his maintenance crew were moving a cherry picker from one streetlight to another, putting up red and green decorations. “When did they start decorating for Christmas before Thanksgiving?”
Liam laughed. “When Harper’s mother told them her husband would pay for new decorations if they’d put them up before the wedding. She said the jewel-tones went better with the wedding colors than the gold and orange fall décor.”
“I wouldn’t argue about color with one of the country’s leading stylists.”
“The town council unanimously agreed with that opinion.”
As he went to open her door, the first feathery white flakes of snow drifted out of the steel gray sky.
Jillian held out her hand to catch one on her palm, but Liam looked up and groaned. “Oh, crap. If we’re going to get accumulation, I hope it’s here and gone before Saturday, or Zach will be trying to hatch some scheme to have heaters on every street corner.”
Laughing, she pulled on her gloves. “He is a little obsessive about the wedding plans.”
“They all are.” He grimaced at the understatement. “I’m almost sorry I agreed to participate.”
She doubted that. “Were you guys out late last night?”
“Yep. How about you?”
“I rolled my way home about two, not too much the worse for the wear.” She’d quit drinking right after the visit from the guys, even though Harper had arranged with Jimbo to have the deputies provide taxi service for anyone who didn’t live close enough to walk home.
“You didn’t let Natalie and Brianna ruin your fun, did you?”
“No, but the encounter reminded me I’m not at my most sensible after I’ve had a few.”
“Who is?” He leaned against her car, ankles crossed, relaxed and unhurried even with snowflakes dusting his hair.
“Are we still on for tomorrow? Don’t feel like you have to come for dinner just because you agreed in a weak moment last night.”
“A weak moment? Is that what it was? I thought it was me being nostalgic about having a turkey dinner at your house once more.”
“Great.” She lowered herself into the driver’s seat. “Then I’m off to Mickelson’s farm to get a fresh turkey.” She’d have to hurry if she wanted to go on to Springfield to get all the fixings.
“Don’t go to any trouble for me.”
“What time’s good?” She peered up at him, the gray clouds framing and highlighting his large form with dramatic flair as he hunched his shoulders against the cold. Her heart skipped a beat, and she put her gloved hand over his bare one. “Are you still planning to volunteer at the shelter?”
“Yeah, I’ll be back home about three. After that, I want to go by and see Pops, so any time after five works for me.”
He’d always been good to his grandparents. “How’s Pops doing?”
“His body’s failing him and the dementia’s getting worse. Sometimes he talks about Gram like she’s in the next room, other times he doesn’t remember her name.”
His grandmother had died about a decade ago. “Does he know who you are?”
“Not always, but I go to see him a couple of times a week.”
“He’d be pleased about that if he knew.”
“Tomorrow they’ll have a turkey dinner for the patients, there’ll be a lot of visitors, and the staff will be overworked, so I want to stop in and make sure he doesn’t get overlooked.”
“Take as long as you need. Six o’clock should be perfect. Let me know if you need more time. And I’ll call the shelter today to see if they can use my help.”
“If you’re volunteering, too, I’ll stop by to pick you up.”
A little zing squiggled into her heart. The idea of making plans with him for the next day was just like old times. But spending the morning with him and tomorrow night, too? Was that smart? Probably not, but she had enough other stuff to deal with right now. She didn’t need to dissect her every little reaction to him. They might be going to Peoria together to help the less fortunate. That was a good thing for them to do. It had nothing to do with her crazy desire to see him again.
But she worried that inviting him to her house for Thanksgiving dinner was all about that crazy desire she was tryi
ng so hard to deny.
Chapter Ten
Waiting on the back steps with her hands jammed into her pockets the next morning, Jillian surveyed the inch or two of snow that covered the yard but had failed to stick to the ground. Glad she hadn’t had to shovel the walk, she stifled a yawn when the white pickup rolled up her driveway.
The intimacy of riding with him to Decatur twisted her stomach into knots. Since she’d been up most of last night preparing their Thanksgiving dinner, maybe she’d doze off on the way. If not, what would they talk about on the thirty-minute drive?
And who knew how many hours they’d spend together for dinner that night? Maybe she should invite someone else to join them. But who? Everyone else had pretty much turned her down.
Relief surged through her as she noticed the outline of another passenger in the truck. Doors opened on both sides of the cab. Liam emerged from the driver’s side. Tall, fit, tense and brooding. Gorgeous. The other guy was equally tall, but younger and broader with a shaved head, brown skin, wide smile, and piercings in his earlobe and eyebrow.
“Ready for a day of fun?” Liam’s eyes caressed her face before he picked up the bags of groceries at her feet. “If you want to back out, now’s the time.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” To keep from reaching for him, she tossed her scarf around her neck. “The director warned me what would be in store for me today.”
“Will you be cooking?” the other guy asked. “I can’t wait to see that.”
“I’m there to help out as needed. According to Slim, their kitchen manager, I might make the dressing and a couple of other things, but the crew has been there since o’dark thirty doing most of the prep work.” She rounded the truck and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Jillian.”
“I’m Tyrell Bennett,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to meet you.”
She climbed into the middle of the bench seat, right next to Liam and all his luscious warmth. “Why?”
“Let me know if you need more heat,” Liam said, adjusting the vent.
Their eyes met for a second, and she gulped. “It’s as hot as I can handle already.”