by Ava Miles
“J.T. texted me a picture of her face after he told her what we’re doing.” Quinn fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Clara.
The photo was of Caroline with her hands on her face, mouth open in a silent scream. Clara laughed. “I know how she feels. The de Young is one of the best fine art museums in the world. You all did well.”
“Hargreaves started it,” Quinn said. “This one used to drag me to museum after museum in London so I knew she’d like this for Valentine’s Day.”
“I hadn’t anticipated celebrating,” Francesca said, putting her hand on Quinn’s arm. “It’s not a holiday in my circle of traveling.”
“But it should be,” Alice cried out. “Forget the commercialism. How can you not like a holiday that celebrates love? Growing up, I used to make Valentine’s Day cards in school for my friends and then drop in little heart-shaped candies with phrases like ‘Be Mine’ or ‘Love you.’”
“Then where’s my card?” Quinn teased, something he’d started doing a lot more of lately. “I still haven’t gotten an Alice hug.”
The young woman ran at him, and he uttered a heartfelt, “Oomph,” as she banded her arms around him.
“Since it’s a holiday and you’ve made my girl so happy,” Alice said by way of explanation.
“The cat’s out of the bag,” Quinn said. “She’s made me happy too. And Alice, you give great hugs. I can see why Georges Maroun let you give him one.”
“Actually, it was a European-style kiss. I don’t think he hugs.”
Clara noted Francesca’s grin faded at the mention of her father. There was a new tightness to her brow line. And although Clara knew Francesca was concerned about the virus’ impact on the oil market, this tension was clearly related to her father. Not Clara’s business except she was very fond of the woman.
“You can have a hug anytime from now on,” Alice said. “I’m going to make some tea for me and Hargreaves. Does anyone else want a cup?”
“We need to head back downstairs,” Francesca said, smiling at her friend. “I have a present for Quinn.”
“During work hours?” Alice blurted out and then slapped a hand over her mouth.
Arthur barked out a laugh, and Clara fought laughter of her own. Hargreaves’ shoulders shook with mirth.
“What she said.” Quinn jerked his thumb at Alice.
“It’s business-related,” Francesca said, “but it’s so great… Oh, you’ll understand momentarily. Back downstairs.”
He winked at the room. “I love it when she orders me around. Alice. Hargreaves. I hope you plan on joining us at the museum tonight. We’ve also invited my parents.”
Alice seemed to melt. “When I was in second and third grade, we had a Valentine’s Day dance where you could bring your father or grandfather. My dad worked nights and both my grandfathers had passed. I never got to go. Hargreaves, I would love to have you as my date tonight. We can pretend it’s like a grandfather/granddaughter dance.”
“It would be my honor to be your escort,” Hargreaves said. “After all, I don’t have a granddaughter. I can’t imagine a better one than you, my dear.”
Clara settled her gaze on Hargreaves again. He’d found in Alice what she’d found in the Merriam children. It struck her that Francesca probably wouldn’t be traveling so much anymore now that she and Quinn were shoring up their relationship. Where would that leave Alice and her role in Francesca’s life? Clara would have to do some thinking on it.
“When do the rest of the Merriam kids arrive for the pre-wedding festivities?” Arthur asked.
“They’re arriving over the next couple of days, but everyone will be here by Sunday afternoon. My mother has a big dinner planned for the whole family,” Quinn said.
“I could have told you that, Arthur.” Clara nearly rolled her eyes at him. “I’m up on all of the festivities.”
“Which Francesca and I are going to have to pick and choose from,” Quinn said. “We need to finish the restructuring. J.T.’s going bananas, and it sounds like the rest of our employees are going nuts too, waiting for the plan.”
“Any idea when you’ll finish?” Clara asked.
Francesca gave a mysterious smile. “After today, we might have a better idea. Quinn, let’s go.”
As they left the room, Clara fingered her husband’s present. The scrapbook represented every hope and dream of hers come to life.
She hoped Francesca and Quinn had rediscovered their dreams in each other.
Then she glanced at Hargreaves.
Was it time to help her longest friend find his dreams as well?
Chapter 15
Francesca had finally landed on the solution Quinn wanted with his whole heart.
After they descended down the stairs, she broke her cardinal rule—no mixing work with play—and pulled him down next to her on her couch. Laying her hand on his chest, she gazed into his beautiful green eyes.
The past week had been one of the happiest of her life. For years, she’d tried to make home wherever she went, but there’d always been a hollowness at the center, and now she realized why. He hadn’t been with her. And while the news was bleak, experts were saying the virus’ impact on oil was nearly over. Chinese factories were coming back online; U.S. oil production was up for the second week in a row, and everyone from the Europeans to the Russians to the Saudis were enthusiastic for the future. Had her father been wrong? She was starting to think so. The possibility that he might have tried to sabotage her efforts to help Quinn and his company broke her heart, but she wouldn’t allow it to detract from her joy.
She’d helped the love of her life solve one of his greatest problems to date.
“I know how to include the skincare line.” His heartbeat, solid and reassuring under her hand, kicked into higher gear at her words. “And it’s going to work even better than I could have hoped.”
“Of course it is!” A quicksilver smile flashed across his face. “You’re brilliant. Can you imagine how brilliant our kids are going to be?”
Words like that inflamed her every sense, like smelling the battery of spices in Istanbul’s famous Spice Market. Their love was opening up so many new possibilities for her—for them—and she was eager to inhale it every day with him by her side.
“We’re going to restructure Merriam Enterprises into two functional areas. Traditional Business Initiatives—TDIs—will be the bulk, and they’ll include oil and gas to start. The other area will be called Speculative Ventures—SVs—allowing you and your team to bring in anything you think will make a profit and might add to your greater long-term portfolio. Once the individual venture starts rolling in profits and adding to your market share, they’ll be rolled into the TDIs.”
“I love it!” he said, kissing her full on the mouth. “Man, babe, you’re so awesome. Tell me more.”
“Let me show you.” Rising, she grabbed a marker and started drawing. “Each business unit will have its own CEO. Let’s take Caitlyn, for example. She’ll be in charge of her perfume and product line. All units will have a controlled budget—set by you and your CFO—but the CEO will have greater autonomy in day-to-day operations. The controlled spending model ensures you can’t—”
“Lose money,” he finished for her, rising to stand with her at the flip chart. “Plus, it reallocates some of the management and budget responsibilities, freeing me up.”
“Yes!” She grabbed a dry eraser and started to draw the new management structure. “It’s a performance-driven model. You’ll have a CEO for oil and a CEO for gas for the TDIs. My pick is Trevor on the oil side since it’s your largest industry, but you need to decide for yourself. Then you will have individual vice presidents under that, one for offshore and onshore.”
She continued outlining the draft management structure, her excitement growing.
“Delegating more authority while holding people to greater fiscal—”
“And operational efficiency,” she finished for him.
Th
ey shared a smile.
“Damn, I love working with you, Miss Maroun.” He put an arm around her waist.
“Back at you, Mr. Merriam. This new model will build in individual profit unit plans that take industry, customer, and employee factors into account.”
“We’ll have to retrain the staff around this new model, but it’ll be a hell of a lot more streamlined and efficient long-term,” Quinn said, massaging her back. “God, this is terrific. It’s so different than what we’ve done before. How did you come up with it?”
“I had to look outside your industries for other models, and I took a little inspiration from a few different sources. Suddenly I could see it. Your investors will expect your SVs to be risky, but they’re not a significant portion of your overall operation, and it’ll be pure bonus if they work.”
“Freaking genius,” Quinn said, shaking his head.
“Thank you. Plus, it shows you’re cutting edge and innovative. With Caitlyn’s growth rate, she could be rolled into the TDI arm in two years. Annie would be on a similar track. I would put her as a CEO of her skincare line with a smaller controlled budget. Someone in the company can mentor her. Your father might be a good person if he’s willing. Clara told me they get along well. You brought him in to do the assessment of her company before she merged with you, after all.”
“Good idea. Dad’s been looking for ways to connect and contribute.”
“And mentoring is a terrific way of doing it,” Francesca said. “Lastly, I think you need to consider making Flynn a CEO of what we’ll call Technology Initiatives. I don’t think you’re utilizing him enough. Tech is a growing market, and if you want Merriam to stay competitive, you need more products and initiatives in it.”
Quinn rubbed his chin, his eyes sparkling. “If I make the other Merriam family members CEOs in this new model, it’ll send a message: we’re as much a family business as ever, but it’s in a controlled fiscal model that respects growth, innovation, and accountability.”
She knew he’d get it. “Exactly!”
“Francesca, you have exceeded all hopes for this consultancy,” he said, framing her face. “God, I love you. Now I have something to ask you.”
From the look on his face, intent and hopeful, she knew it was important, so she repressed the urge to kiss him. “Shoot, as you Americans say.”
“Come work with me at Merriam. Let’s find a way to do this—you and me—every day. Francie, we work so well together. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live together, work together? Tell me you see it. More, tell me you want it.”
Oh, why did he have to bring this up right now? She’d been so overjoyed to give him this gift, knowing how much it would mean to him. “I love that you asked me, but Quinn, it took me three weeks to come up with this new plan. We’ve only been back together for one. Can’t you give a girl a little more time?”
The excited gleam in his eyes receded some, and it hurt to see that, to know she’d caused it.
“You’re right.” He kissed her slowly. “I got carried away.”
“I love that about you,” she said, her throat thick with love for him. And oh, she wanted to soften the hurt she could feel emanating from him. “This news calls for another break in my cardinal work rules. Come to the cottage with me.”
His eyes blinked at that. “Now?”
“Yes, Quinn. Now.” Taking his hand, she led him to the door that would take them to the path to the guesthouse.
When she’d imagined leading him there earlier, the fantasy had shown them running with glee to the guesthouse, awash in excitement, but the reality was different. There was no spring in his step, or hers for that matter.
He feared she would leave him again, and she needed to reassure him that wouldn’t happen.
Inside, the welcome scent of jasmine brought tears to her eyes. She undressed down to her matching black bra and panties and kicked off her heels. Approaching him, she lifted his shirt off him, unbuckled his belt, and slowly slid it out before she unzipped his pants. Taking him in her hands, she caressed him lovingly, wanting him to understand what her words couldn’t convey.
They had a future together.
He just needed to give them time so the details could take shape.
“Trust me,” she finally whispered.
His eyes locked with hers. “I’m trusting you all the way, babe.”
Her heart squeezed, and then he was arching into her hands in total surrender. She understood the message, and her earlier joy took shape inside her.
Yes, they would figure it out. They were stronger and wiser than they’d been in their youth, and they would find a solution.
Wanting to express her love and her gratitude for having him back in her life, she sunk to her knees in front of her and took him into her mouth. He groaned and threaded his hands in her hair as she loved him.
When he was nearing the edge of release, he lifted her head. “Come. I want to be inside you.”
Turning, she let him unhook her bra and undress her the rest of the way. And then he took her by the waist and pulled her on top of him.
Again, she knew the message he was sending. She would always be his equal and he respected her.
Lowering herself onto him, she began to move. She closed her eyes as he filled her, again and again. God, it was so good. How had she been without him all these years?
He pressed his hand to where they were joined, and she picked up the pace, feeling the urgency between them. Opening her eyes, she found him watching her. They held each other in their sights as they both came.
The love on his face as he gazed at her took her to new heights, and she leaned forward and gripped his shoulders, wanting to be closer to him as the tide rushed over them.
Panting, she kissed him in short, quick, loving bites. His arms caressed her back and encouraged her to find a place on his chest to rest.
As she fitted herself onto him and let the warmth spread through her, she nuzzled his neck and said, “I love you.”
He responded quietly, “I know, and I thank God for it.”
They lay there for long moments, not talking, only caressing. When he turned them onto their sides, his carefree smile was back. He’d pushed aside his disappointment about his business proposal, and she was grateful for it.
“About the museum visit,” he said, kissing her cheek with lingering emotion. “I’m driving my own car, and we’re leaving early. I know you. You’ll fawn over every damn painting in the place, and after hearing you talk to J.T. about art at my parents’ house, I can already envision you talking to him—and Caroline, whom you’re going to love—more than me. I’m heading it off. Call it your Valentine’s Day present to me. I know you already gave me a terrific one, but I hope you’re feeling extra generous. Especially after I give you mine.”
He untangled from her and rose from the bed, crossing to the closet. When he pulled out the large rectangular present, she pulled up the sheet and inched toward the edge of the bed.
“I thought this might help you imagine our future,” he said, resting the present by her side.
She tore away the wrapping and her breath caught. The painting was in her favorite style—Impressionist—and it showed a family walking on a beach holding hands. Their backs were to the viewer, allowing one to imagine being in the scene. The sun was setting in a bold orange, and the water was brilliant blue, but it was the way the family held hands that captivated her. The couple’s clasp was strong and seamless, as if nothing could come between them. And the way they were holding the two children’s hands hinted at playfulness and whimsy.
“I love it,” she whispered, lifting her eyes to his.
“This is us, babe,” he said in a deep voice. “When you need more clarity about the future, you can look at this. Or ask me to draw what I see for us. I can’t draw as well as Alice, but I’d draw stick figures of a family surrounded by a bunch of hearts.”
Oh, how she loved this man. They very act of drawing would be humbling for
him—he only liked to do things he excelled in—but he’d do it for her.
“I’d love to see that,” she said. “Perhaps that’s the drawing I would frame and put across from my bed.”
His mouth tipped up and he leaned over and kissed her deeply. Her heart turned over in her chest.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” His expression serious, he said, “There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for you.”
“I know that.”
Now she had to show him there was nothing she wouldn’t do for him.
She prayed the solution she found for her future work was as brilliant as the one she’d landed upon for Merriam.
Chapter 16
The week leading up to Michaela’s wedding was one of the best of Quinn’s life.
In fact, he was basking in a sea of positivity. The rest of the restructuring had fallen into place quickly after Francesca’s brilliant solution, which had made their night at the art museum feel like even more of a celebration. Spending time with his siblings and introducing the rest of them to Francesca had only added to his good humor. They loved her, of course, and teased him good-naturedly about having held out on them by not introducing her fifteen years ago. Having her by his side at the evening get-togethers with his family felt right, and from her ease and ever-present smile, he knew she felt the same way.
The news about the virus continued to be alarming, but he wasn’t going to let it spoil his mood. There still hadn’t been a single case in San Francisco, but fear was swirling locally, just like it was in the global market.
Still, he was nervous as he stood by the bay window in his parents’ living room and waited for his family to join him. He’d left a copy of the restructuring plan with his father and siblings last night, wanting to give them time to review it before the wedding, which was tomorrow. Surely they’d all read it by now. Uncle Arthur and Aunt Clara had been given their own copy, although neither had commented on it this morning.