by Nancy Naigle
“Sounds good to me. Maybe I should add more stuff to that list.”
She swept the paper off the table and put it into her purse. “Let’s get to work, mister.”
Ford held the door to Glory Glassworks open, and she slipped under his arm to enter. A woman in a blue blazer manned the front desk. “Are you interested in purchasing the property? I’ve got the floor plans and some detailed information right here.” She patted two stacks of paper.
“Thank you.” Flynn grabbed two sets and handed one to Ford. “Have you had a lot of interested parties come through here this morning?”
“Some,” the woman said.
Flynn and Ford turned and walked toward the door. She tilted her head toward him and whispered, “That translates to not many.”
He gave her a hopeful look and then began touring her through the facility, while she followed along on the paperwork.
“What makes this particular location so appealing to you?”
“You mean besides the fact that it’s already pretty much set up, even with the missing equipment? And that it’s close to my house?”
“Yes. Besides that.”
Ford rubbed his hands on his temples. “That’s pretty much it. Well, that’s not entirely true. I feel inspiration here. I’ve done my best work to date right here in this shop.”
“But I’m looking at these numbers—his cost per square foot is really high. Do you know how it compares to other buildings in the area? If you could find another location that was maybe not right here on the water, you could probably build out exactly what you need, buy the equipment, and still come out ahead.”
Even though he didn’t say a word, he didn’t look too pleased with her suggestions. “Ziegler had this place overmortgaged. I’m sure the bank is trying to cover the loan. It’ll be tight, but I can make it work.”
“What’s the process for shipping out of here? Have you compared dollar-to-dollar from other locations?”
“I’ve done that, but it’s worth it to me to live here. I love Alaska. It’s not necessarily a dollars-and-cents decision.”
She knew how that was. She felt the same way about the B&B, despite the difficulty with the renovations. “I understand.”
“Do you really?” His head cocked to the side.
“I think I do.”
“I’m going to walk through here again. I know they’re taking sealed bids, but would you mind checking up front on the specifics of how we need to submit our bids while I have another look around?”
“Sure. I can do that.” It seemed like he really just wanted to have some time alone with the building, with the practicality of his dream. She should’ve kept her mouth shut. Unfortunately, she’d never been good at that.
He caught her hand as she started to walk away. “Don’t get me wrong. I understand what you’re saying. I asked for the advice. It’s just hard to hear when my heart has been so set on it. You have some valid points. Thank you for being here. I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad I’m here.” She felt the connection, like a partnership with him. She wanted to help him, and she felt even worse for opening her big mouth now. “I can just meet you out front when you’re done.”
“Yeah, that’ll work,” he said.
Flynn usually had a great sense of direction, but somehow backtracking through the building, she made at least one wrong turn, because she ended up on a loading dock. This certainly would make it easy to load freight on a barge from here. Probably not a huge asset to a glass shop but for someone. A good selling point she hadn’t seen mentioned on the listing, but then maybe the loading dock wasn’t part of the parcel Ford was planning to bid on.
She caught snippets of a conversation downwind from her.
“It’s the perfect place to put the cannery. We can also process smoked salmon and ship it all from right here. No more middle man.” The voice was gruff, like one wrought from years of smoking, but when she turned around, the man, probably midfifties at best, was dressed in work clothes, standing with three other men, two wearing suits and looking out of place. Probably the money.
Flynn stepped back out of their line of sight. So, Ford did have serious competition for the building. She turned the ringer off on her phone and pretended to be talking on it just in case anyone did see her hanging around.
“I don’t care if they think they can keep the artsy-fartsy stuff going.”
Her protective side flared at the dig.
“This is prime real estate and we’re a fishing community.” The man sounded belligerent . . . drunk, really. “This is what Alaska is meant to be known for.”
“Sealed bids, man. It’s anyone’s game,” said one of the suited men. “Unless we bid high.”
“Bull. I’m telling you, sealed bids ain’t sealed all that tight. They can still get us information just before closing time and let us know where we need to be. That woman with the black hair is going to leave a number on the calendar for me. We’re in, man.”
They were going to cheat? She hated a cheater, but was it really her place to get involved? Or was she protecting herself? On paper this purchase wasn’t really in Ford’s best financial interest unless he could get the cost per square foot down to a reasonable number.
Leaning back, as if an inch closer would make a difference, she listened intently, hoping for some discussion that would include a ballpark number that she could feed to Ford to help him, but the men had switched topics.
She lowered her phone and stuffed it into her purse. When she turned around, the four men were walking outside onto the dock.
Of course, if Ford didn’t win the bid . . . maybe he’d end up back in North Carolina at PRIZM.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ford checked his watch again. Where had Flynn gotten off to? He texted her again and then turned as the door to the building opened and out walked Flynn.
“I was beginning to think maybe something had happened to you,” Ford said, lifting his phone.
Flynn pulled her phone out of her purse. “Oh goodness. I silenced my phone. I forgot. I’m sorry. I got all the information you need for the bids, along with the paperwork.”
“Thanks. I’d like to work through some numbers with you tonight if you don’t mind.”
She sucked in a breath, and for a moment he thought she was going to say no, but she didn’t. “Sure. I’ll do whatever you need.”
“I’m sorry about back there.”
“Don’t be.” She smiled pleasantly and grabbed the arm of his coat. “Let’s get this shopping done or you’ll be dealing with a cranky roommate in the morning.”
He got in the SUV and started the engine. “That’s motivation.”
She pulled her seat belt across her. “It should be.”
When they got to the market, they worked like a well-practiced SWAT team. He drove the cart. She went down the list calling out the items as he plucked them from the shelves.
“Do you want salmon tonight? I make a couple of great salmon dishes and we have five different types of salmon that we can get fresh.”
“I’d be crazy to pass that up.”
He spoke with the guy at the counter and asked him to select the best pieces. “These look great. And do you have any nice filet mignon back there? I’m thinking surf and turf one night. Good?” He looked to Flynn.
“Sure.”
He watched her closely. She was being amicable, but she wasn’t herself. Had he pissed her off earlier? He hadn’t meant to, but that glass shop was his dream. Her questions were valid. He knew they were, but they were also like a wet blanket on his excitement.
“I’m going to walk over there and get a few breakfast items on the list and then we’ll be about done here.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll meet you over on the dairy aisle as soon as I get done here.”
She stood holding an armful of items by the time he wheeled up next to her. “Perfect timing. I was running out of fingers.” She let the groceries slide from her
arms into the basket, then she picked out a couple of different types of cheeses. “Wine and cheese one evening?”
“That would be nice, and I have some really good stuff in my wine chiller.”
“Perfect.”
Her smile seemed genuine. He could tell because of the little wrinkle that formed near the bridge of her nose. A real smile. The quiet nagged at him, though. That wasn’t like her and it worried him. He didn’t want to screw this up.
She insisted on paying for the groceries, since he’d bought her plane ticket, and he gave in reluctantly.
In the parking lot he hit the button on his key fob to open the hatch of his SUV.
Together, they loaded the groceries into the back. She leaned inside to push one of the bags in farther to make room for more and he couldn’t stop himself. As she slid back out he caught her by the shoulder and spun her around, taking her into his arms. He placed a safe, closed-mouth kiss on her lips but sweet and tender. He needed her to know what he was feeling.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he said.
Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything, and in that moment his heart felt as if it dropped to the bottom of his gut. She wasn’t feeling it?
Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, and there was no holding back this time.
“I’m falling in love with you, Flynn. I want you to share this place with me.” He pulled her closer. “Please tell me you’re feeling the same way. Or even just tell me I’m not crazy. We’ll figure it all out later.”
“I am definitely feeling something. The last couple of weeks . . . Ford, these have been the best days ever.”
He kissed her, and his smile had to be bright enough to make a rainbow somewhere, if only in her heart.
There hadn’t been many words on the drive home. Mostly just hand-holding and smiles. Her lips still felt bruised from the kiss. Not because it had been rough, but he’d caught her by surprise. The kiss sent tingles through her body and her heart jumping to conclusions. On one hand she was so excited and on the other, terrified that she’d let something happen in an impossible situation.
They put the groceries away and, while Ford showered, Flynn made a breakfast casserole that they could just slide in the oven in the morning. It didn’t take her long to get it put together and into the refrigerator. She walked through the house, looking at it through a new lens. Could she live in Alaska?
His dreams were here. It was beautiful. The people were nice. He was amazing.
She went upstairs, lost in thought. She resisted the temptation to interrupt his shower. Instead, she stepped into the nursery.
The bright moonlight glowed through the cutouts on the back wall—the blue crescent moon, orange sun, and purple shooting star.
She sat in his grandmother’s rocking chair. The fresh, glossy white paint stood out against the worn soft edges on the arms. Signs of loving hours spent in it. She picked up the blue cloth box from the small table next to the chair and set it in her lap.
Carefully, she lifted the lid. Inside there were small blown-glass figurines . . . those three shapes again. A folded piece of paper was tucked into the lid of the box. She took it out and unfolded it carefully. It was an article from a magazine that chronicled research about children and the positive effects of the bright colors of a blown-glass mobile.
The mobile pictured in the article was constructed of twisted metal that scrolled into pretty curlicues. Each tiny glass figurine hung from the metal. The mother, a well-known movie star, stood next to a child in her crib with the mobile hanging above it. Ford was quoted in the article as saying, “These are back-to-the-basics mobiles. No fancy music. No motors turning the designs. They hang from the ceiling and are so light that a gentle breeze will move them, or air from a standard fan. There’s nothing wrong with keeping things simple.”
These pieces must have been set aside to make a mobile for his own children one day. This room felt magical. It was small but well organized.
She’d never met a man so eager to have a family. It wasn’t hard to picture him as a father. She’d seen him with Billy.
Her fingers grazed the smooth wooden handrail as she walked down the stairs. She hadn’t noticed before that the house was fairly childproof too. Simply decorated. Tasteful. Colorful. His glass art had been housed in niches in the wall or up high, where little hands couldn’t accidentally tip them over.
She made herself at home in the kitchen, making a salad to go with dinner, and then she showered while he cooked. After dinner they lay on the couch together, watching television. She must have fallen asleep in his arms, because when she woke up, the television was off and she was on the couch alone with a crocheted afghan over her. She wished she could crawl into bed with him now, and part of her was tempted to climb the stairs and do just that. But there hadn’t been any more of those seductive kisses since they’d arrived. Maybe he was cooling to the idea now that he was back home. She walked into the guest room and sprawled out on the bed. Don’t overthink it, Flynn. It had been a tiring trip. A good one, but tomorrow was another day. She’d just have to trust that the right thing would happen.
The sky was still dark when she awoke. Her phone showed it was six thirty. The sun wouldn’t rise for a few hours, but she was finding the shorter daylight hours weren’t really a bother.
Coffee brewed as she preheated the oven to cook the casserole. Still in her winter pajamas—black yoga pants with red bows on them and a black T-shirt—she set the timer and went out to the living room. She felt relaxed sitting here in his space enjoying the quiet.
Ford came walking down the stairs, hair all a-muss, in sweatpants and no shirt.
Who knew a glassblower would have a six-pack like that? He raised his arms high above his head, stretching with a loud groan. Wait a minute. As the front of his pants dipped slightly she realized there was clearly an eight-pack. And that was making her feel a little drunk.
She wished she hadn’t fallen asleep last night. Alaska was looking better by the moment.
Flynn got up and followed him into the kitchen. She took the casserole out of the oven and served it up while he poured a cup of coffee. At the table there was a comfortable quiet as they enjoyed breakfast together.
“This breakfast casserole is great.”
“Good. Eat up else I’ll be spending my last day in Alaska stuck in your kitchen.”
“That was your deal.”
“I know. I should’ve thought that through better.”
“Can’t say I’m going to mind getting stuck with some of your cooking in my freezer. It would be nice to come home to.”
“And I never mind getting stuck in a kitchen, so it’s a win-win.”
“Speaking of winning, I was thinking we’d go out today, then swing by and submit my sealed bid at the end of the day.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Flynn fidgeted—something he’d never seen her do before. “They aren’t closing bids until Friday at four o’clock, right?”
“Yeah, but they are accepting bids until six tonight. We’ll have time to play and stop by.” But her expression didn’t change. Maybe she wasn’t enjoying spending time with him as much as he’d thought.
“That’s not what I was worried about,” she said, then shook her head, clearly flustered. “Worried isn’t the right word, but what I was thinking is that you should wait until Friday toward the end of the day to place your sealed bid.”
“Why? I know what I have to spend, and I know what’s fair market for the place. I’m not trying to take advantage of Ziegler’s situation. He’s a friend. I don’t want to capitalize on his misfortune.”
“I admire your loyalty to your friend, but you want to win the bid too. If we can find out how many other people are bidding, maybe we can factor in a predictive variance to make a better bid. You said yourself this is a small town. We might even catch wind of the ballpark of those other bids.”
“I love the way you think.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Sure. I told you I respected your advice.” He rubbed his hands together, excited about the possibilities. “So, now that that is settled, I thought I’d take you on that whale-watching trip.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Now, I’m going to be honest with you. The best time to see humpbacks or orcas is usually like May through September, so we’re out of that window, but my guy said that because the weather has been mild he’s still seeing a few. He’s going to take us out on a private ride, but don’t get your hopes up too high.”
“Still. Fun. Thank you.”
“He’ll take us to see some glaciers and eagle nesting areas too. I haven’t been in forever. It’ll be fun to go with someone who’s never been before.”
“This might be the best Thursday of the week.” She grinned.
Ford stopped and then laughed. “Yeah, guess that’s a safe bet.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bidding on the Glory Glassworks Gallery building had opened an hour earlier. Ford drummed his fingers on the leather steering wheel. His dream was so darn close he could practically feel it.
He gripped the wheel tightly as he pulled up. Several people milled around the building this morning. He’d hoped not many people would bid on the property, but there was no question it was prime real estate. The reality of his chances made him nervous.
“What’s the matter?” Flynn asked.
He’d always thought he’d buy it directly from Winston Ziegler. He’d been certain he could work a fair deal with Ziegler, but a sealed bid was a whole other ballgame.
Ford had looked at other buildings in the area and none seemed as perfect. He’d hate to have to start over. He’d based everything on what he knew about production and revenue at this location, and building out a new space would change his budget dramatically.