by Annie Seaton
“The takeover of the Nebbiton store was really a bonus for me. I’d planned on coming back home for a while anyway. It was time for a change,” Blake said.
“Don’t let Dad hear you say that,” Jack said. “You’re his golden boy.”
“Hear what?” Mike sat back down and grinned. “Don’t use the restroom, it’s made for midgets.” He patted his large girth with a huge hand. “And I’m no midget.”
They all laughed and the atmosphere gradually lightened as they ordered and enjoyed their meals. Jack and Blake caught up on the two years since they’d last met and even Mike appeared interested in some of his son’s stories. After they’d finished their coffee, Mike summoned the waiter again.
“Who’s going to join me in a port?”
Helen glanced across at her son. “Jack, would you walk me back to the Fairmont hotel while these two talk business?”
As they said good-bye, Blake shook Jack’s hand.
“Want to come for a drive with me tomorrow? I’m heading down to Nebbiton to have a look around the area. We might throw the golf clubs in. What do you think?”
“Sure, give me a call in the morning.”
Once they’d left, Mike turned to Blake and lifted his glass of port.
“To success in the latest Home and Hardware venture.”
They clinked their glasses and Mike frowned. “So, how did it go with the guy who was coming to beg to save his department?”
“He didn’t show. He sent someone else to plead his case, but we didn’t have time to talk. I had a bit of a family problem to deal with.” Blake frowned. He still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of the confusion. His secretary hadn’t answered her cell phone and wouldn’t be back in the office until tomorrow. He had a sinking feeling it was another one of her mistakes.
“Oh, well,” Mike said. “He was going to get a big no, anyway, no matter who he sent. Stupid idea running tradesmen from a store. Just the cost of insurance alone would eat into any profits it made.” Mike refilled their glasses. Blake knew where Mike’s huge girth came from—he was a connoisseur of fine food and wine. Even though he was a member of the exclusive golf club, he’d never once seen him out on the course. “There’s no place for softness in our business. If we listened to all the soft hearts, we would never make a dollar. And we can’t have that, can we, son?”
Blake cringed. He hated it when Mike called him “son.” Even though he admired his boss for the successful corporation he’d built up, he thought Mike’s priorities were a bit screwed. Seeing the way Mike treated his own son tonight had shown him how hard his boss could be.
“There’s no place for any personal relationships in business. All those stores we’ve taken over, all those stores that wanted to be family businesses.” Mike shook his head and took a gulp of his wine. “Bound to fail. There’s no friendship in business. You remember that, son. As soon as friendship comes in the door, profit flies out the window.”
Blake thought of Ana and what her reaction would be to Mike’s attitude. She was so giving and she’d always looked out for others. It was one of the things he’d admired about her back in college, and look at the way she’d pitched in and helped him this weekend. Parting on bad terms had filled him with regret and he intended catching up with her as soon as he could. He owed her an apology.
Mike’s loud voice impinged on his thoughts and drowned out the soft conversations in the small room. Blake flinched when he called him son again. A picture flashed through his head. If he devoted himself to Mike’s philosophies, he could end up just like Mike one day
Look what it’s done for him. Mike was distanced from his own son and focused solely on chasing new business and bigger profits every year.
“The restoration guy was probably some old-timer, probably too old to drive himself into the city to see you. Joe, the owner, told me most of the staff is past retirement age.” Mike’s deep laugh boomed out and the restaurant went quiet as conversations paused while everyone looked at Mike. Blake looked down at his wineglass as discomfort crept through him.
“I have a mental picture of all the staff pushing themselves around the store on walkers. They can all be pensioned off and you can hire some fresh, young blood.” Mike slammed his glass down on the table and belched. “But try to keep the payroll as low as you can.”
Blake folded his napkin and stood. He’d heard enough. “I’m going to go down to the store tomorrow. Earlier than I’d planned, but I think I need to get a feel for the place.”
“Don’t let them know who you are. Just wander in as a customer.” Mike’s hearty laugh boomed out. “Like one of those secret shoppers.”
“Maybe. It’s a good way to see how a place really works.” Blake waited while Mike signed the bill. “Thanks for dinner. I’ll call you after the handover on Friday.”
Mike stood and eased his way around the tables as he followed Blake to the door. “You’ll have no trouble turning it around. Once we do the shop refit and turn it into a proper store, the folks down on the coast will come in droves. It’s all about profit, profit, profit, boy.”
Blake frowned at Mike’s words. He had enjoyed the challenge of working with Mike’s company and had supervised the takeover of several of the other stores, but always from his office in New York. This was the first time he’d actually been out on the front line of a takeover, and he wondered if Mike had taken the logistics of the small-town atmosphere into account, particularly when there were local jobs being shed. It was the sort of thing he and Ana had argued about in college.
“What do you mean by a proper store?”
Mike shook his head and frowned.
“Apparently Joe Hickey has owned it forever—like sixty years. He brags about how he’s kept it looking like something from the last century. Nothing modern, not even checkouts at the front of the store.” He shook his head, disbelief written all over his face. “He’s proud that they’ve never remodeled. They even have a slogan, if you can believe it in this day and age—a store slogan!”
“Which is?” Blake had never seen Mike so stirred up, and uncertainty began to filter through him. It sounded like this takeover was going to involve a lot more changes than implementing policies and updating the storefront. His experience in human resources was limited but he knew he’d be able to handle the personnel side of the business. He’d focused on that in one of the courses he’d done for his MBA, and now he could put all the theories to the test. His gut churned as he wondered what he was going to find down in this small community, and an uneasy feeling crept up his spine as he wondered if it was an old guy Ana was helping out. If he was honest with himself, it was jealousy that had pushed him into being so hard on her. Now it was beginning to sound like the Anastasia of old. Helping out the needy and not worrying about money.
“Whatchamacallits, thingamajigs, and doohickeys for every need.” Mike choked on the words as he laughed, and Blake thumped him on the back.
“Interesting,” Blake said. If he’d known all this about the store, he may have looked for another corporate position in San Francisco. As he always did, he’d looked at the figures and profit margins. Maybe it was time he changed the way he thought, but he’d given his word to Mike and he was determined to make the store an outstanding success. He was looking forward to getting down there and rolling his sleeves up. And if Ana lived down that way, well, that was a bonus. The thought of seeing her again sweetened the deal considerably.
Chapter Nine
Joe had asked them to take inventory of the store so Magda could enter the stock into the computer. The renovation section in the back was the only department waiting to be finalized.
Along with the accounts still sitting in the shoe boxes on my kitchen counter. Ana found it so hard to say no to anyone who needed help, but it constantly put her behind. Balancing the accounts was the job she always put last because she knew the numbers never showed quite as much profit as they hoped to bring in. And definitely not as much as Blake would be expecting
. This afternoon, she’d finish off the accounts. They’d drawn up a business plan and she just had to enter the last month’s figures into her spreadsheet from the paper accounts, and then everything would be ready to present to Blake before Friday.
They’d ended up finishing the bottle of wine last night after they had come up with a great business plan. Ana was feeling a lot more confident. She’d called on every one of the phrases she’d used in college, and now a professional-looking document was sitting in a neat folder next to the computer. When Sienna and Georgie had finally roared off in Sienna’s little red sports car, she’d lit the candles on her bathroom windowsill and soaked in a deep bath. When she’d gotten out, she’d stumbled sleepily to bed.
“Well, looky here,” Sienna drawled.
Ana lifted her head from the box of brass curtain hooks and frowned at Sienna. “What? Oh drat.” She dropped the handful of hooks back into the box. “Now I’ve lost count.” She looked up crossly at Sienna. “Look at what?”
“Three o’clock.”
Ana put the box on the dusty concrete floor. “Are you going to stop talking in riddles? What’s at three o’clock?”
“Eye candy at three o’clock,” Sienna dropped her voice to a husky murmur. “Georgie will be running for the wedding magazines when she sees this pair.”
Ana rolled her eyes. “Are you going to help me count this stuff or do I have to do it all myself?”
“You are getting so boring. I think they might be Navy SEALS or something. Huge and hunky. I wonder if they’d like to be shown around town? I’m just the girl for it.”
“Sienna, you are supposed to be helping me, not planning your sex life.” Ana sighed and pushed herself to her feet as Sienna reached for her phone.
God knew what she was texting. Sienna could be pretty irreverent when the mood took her. A ripple of laughter came from Georgie in the next aisle and Ana craned over to read what Sienna had texted to her sister.
Sex on legs relief for those in need heading your way.
“You are so bad.”
“Bad girls have more fun, don’t you know that?”
Georgie appeared around the end of the aisle with a big grin on her face.
“Yes, I am in need. Where’s the solution?”
She walked on her tiptoes in the direction her sister pointed, and stood behind a pile of plastic wheelbarrows stacked almost to the ceiling.
“Oh. My. God.” Georgie turned to Ana and beckoned her to come over.
She wasn’t going to get any peace until she looked at this eye candy of Sienna’s and made the girls happy. Ana walked slowly to the end of the aisle and put her hand on Georgie’s shoulder as she peered around the wheelbarrows.
“Oh, my God.” She repeated Georgie’s words but her tone was very different as her throat closed up.
Georgie turned to her with a grin that died quickly when she looked at Ana.
Ana’s world was about to come crashing down sooner than she’d planned, unless she got out of there mighty quick. She recognized the jacket, she knew the hair, and more than anything, she recognized the butt she’d checked out thoroughly in the park yesterday.
What the hell is Blake doing here today? He’s not supposed to be here till Friday!
There was no way she was meeting with him today, not in front of everyone. Her beautifully typed-up business plan was still sitting on the table in her kitchen. She’d even added images of some of the big jobs they’d done. The back door was at the end of the aisle where they were standing. If she could get to it before Blake turned around, she could go out and hide until he left.
As she spun around to make a quick exit, her shoulder knocked one of the wheelbarrows and it tipped slowly.
“Georgie, look out,” she whispered urgently. But Georgie had turned to look at the two guys and didn’t see the teetering pile tipping toward her. Ana shoved her out of the way just as the tower of wheelbarrows slid to the right and fell with a huge crash. As soon as she could see through the clouds of dust rising from the floor, Ana checked that Georgie was okay and then she took off back down the aisle toward Sienna, who was standing next to the boxes of curtain accessories with her mouth wide open.
Gesturing madly to Sienna to open the back door, Ana didn’t see the box in front of her, and before she knew it, she sprawled headlong onto the floor. The hard concrete jolted against her ribs and took her breath away. She closed her eyes and buried her head in her arms, praying that no one would notice her spread-eagled on the floor while she tried to get her breath back.
The cold concrete pressed into her cheek and she slowly opened her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Georgie crouched beside her and ran her hands up and down her back. “Ana, talk to me.”
“I’m okay.” She lifted her head and groaned as two pairs of jean-clad legs hurried down the aisle toward her.
…
As he and Jack approached the store, Blake wondered how much research Mike had done into the location. The village atmosphere of the small town seemed to be a real tourist attraction. It was certainly not the right place for a modern hardware store. Other stores surrounding it had been done up to retain the history of the place. Once they entered the dark and musty store, Blake had muttered and sworn under his breath at the mess. Piles of goods blocked fire exits, stock that looked to be decades old lay covered in dust on the shelves, and the staff—God, Mike was right. Blake hadn’t seen anyone under seventy yet.
“Why the hell did your father buy this place?” he whispered to Jack as they’d moved half a dozen large garden forks completely blocking one aisle. “He’s got rocks in his head.”
Jack grinned. “You’re not telling me anything new there, buddy.”
“It needs demolishing.” Blake ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “How the hell—”
The crash of the wheelbarrows and the woman lying on the floor were all Blake’s nightmares about this store coming to life. He and Jack took off at a run, and were soon lifting the wheelbarrows to clear a space to the aisle.
Jack followed him, and in the middle of the aisle, a woman was leaning over a prone figure facedown on the ground with a silver-blond ponytail poking through a baseball cap. He hurried down past the piles of garden tools and crouched beside her.
He groaned. He must be hallucinating.
“Ana?” She rolled over on to her back and looked up at him. Her jeans were filthy and her dark jacket was covered in fine gray concrete dust. A small bruise was darkening on her chin and he prayed she had no broken bones or concussion.
“Help me up, please.”
“No, we have to make sure nothing’s broken.”
“I’m okay.” She put her hands on the filthy floor and pushed herself up.
Blake looked around and spoke to the young woman crouched beside him. “Call an ambulance, please.”
Before the woman could answer him, Ana interrupted crossly, “No, I’m all right.” Blake took her arm to steady her as she stood.
“Thank you. Now I’m in a hurry—I was just leaving.” She pulled her jacket closed and stepped away.
“Wait, you can’t just go. You have to give your details to the store so they can do a report.” Blake held tightly to her arm. “You might have a concussion.”
“I’m all right, Blake. Now I really have to go. I have more shopping to do.”
The young woman beside him made a peculiar noise and he turned to her.
“Are you with Ana?”
“Er, yes. You could say that.” The woman frowned at him. “I’m Georgie. And you’re Blake?”
Blake nodded absently as he watched Ana hurry down the aisle toward the entrance of the store. “Tell her I’ll call her.”
Georgie waved to a woman standing at the other end of the aisle. “We’ll pick you up later, Sienna…after we finish our shopping.” She hurried out the door after Ana, while the woman she’d called Sienna sauntered up to them.
“Gentlemen, is there something I can he
lp you with?”
“How about a drink after work?” Jack smiled at her and Blake frowned at him as he noticed the writing across the front of her T-shirt. “Whatchamacallits, thingamajigs, and doohickeys for every need.”
“You work here?”
She nodded and stared at him. “Surely do. Now what can I help you gentlemen with?” She flicked an interested glance at Jack. “Besides a date. You must be in the store for a reason?”
Blake shook his head. “Ah, nothing. We were just leaving.” Before he turned away, he cleared his throat. “You know Ana?”
“Yes, I do.” She frowned as she turned back to him and he could have sworn she was scowling at him.
God, are they all crazy in this town?
“So you know where she lives?” he asked.
“Yes, I do.” She refolded her arms across her chest.
“Will you give me her address? So I can go check on her?”
“No, I won’t. She’s fine.”
Blake shrugged and walked away. He rolled his eyes as he could hear Jack asking for the woman’s number.
If she wouldn’t tell him where Ana lived, he might be quick enough to see her red BMW parked outside and catch her before she left. He strode down the cluttered aisles as quickly as he could and stepped out into the spring sunshine. It was a pleasure to take in a deep breath of fresh air after the mustiness of the dark, cluttered store. He looked up and down the street and turned around as Jack caught up.
“Come on, Jack. I need a drink. I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”
There was no sign of Ana or her car, so they headed toward a bar on the corner. While Jack found a table, Blake bought them a couple of beers from the bar and ordered a bowl of deep-fried onion rings.
He joined Jack at the table by the window, pulled out his phone, and sent a quick text to Ana’s number, asking her if she was okay.
“Who’s Ana?” Jack asked curiously.
“An old friend from college. I actually caught up with her over the weekend.”
“Well, you must have made a great impression, buddy. She couldn’t wait to get away from you.”