She chewed the mouthful of cereal. Chewed and chewed. Then she swallowed the lump. Jessie set her spoon back into the bowl. Dry cereal was disgusting. It was kind of like eating paste. Maybe she could add some water?
Nope. That only made things worse.
"That's fine," she mumbled to herself as she set the bowl in the sink. "I got a few good bites in, and it's fortified with essential vitamins and minerals." She should be covered.
So long as she didn't buy milk, losing weight would be simple. Starting her own business, however...well, that made her blood run cold. She was not a salesperson. Her chocolates sold through sheer luck, and she was okay with that. But see, that was the sign of a person without ambitions. Quinn was not a person who settled. He worked so hard that he even sacrificed his relationships. That was the mark of an ambitious person, and if she wanted him to see how perfectly matched they were, she couldn't afford to be "okay" with anything.
The first thing she needed to do was to work on her sales pitch.
Jessie poured herself a cup of coffee and regarded the silver fox in the corner. Surely her father must have given her some sales genes? "You look like a smart guy, Travis," she said. "So I'm gonna play it straight. I've got this computer upgrade that can process information at the speed of light and quadruple your company's productivity. Some folks get nervous about that kind of thing, because let's face it: increased productivity means increased profits, and increased profits mean growth. Lots of folks aren't ready to grow. They fear it. Do you fear growth, Travis?" She tapped her fingernail against the side of her coffee mug as she thought. "Nope. I definitely don't have Dad's genes."
Also, black coffee was gross. She poured it out into the sink.
As she showered and dressed, Jessie thought back to one of those self-help seminars that Wren had dragged her to one Saturday afternoon. The speaker — a bundle of energy in an ill-fitting black suit and a bolo tie — had shouted at them for three hours straight. "You can't make a change if you don't believe it!" He banged on the lectern after each word. "You've got to believe it first."
"Believing it," they'd learned, required the regular use of affirmations. "Make a deposit. One deposit. Two deposits. A hundred deposits a day, right into the self-esteem bank." Here, the speaker darted his hand straight out, then back again, as if he were jabbing his fingertips against self-doubt's throat.
That morning as Jessie walked to work, she made deposits in her self-esteem bank. "I am ambitious," she whispered to herself as she stepped around an abandoned yellow plastic shovel and pail set. "I have a fire burning inside of me."
Which really made her think more of indigestion. Or a sexually transmitted disease. This would take some work. She considered different affirmations. "I am a chocolate mogul," she mumbled as she waited for a school bus to pull through the intersection onto Alden Street. "I am the answer to the chocolate question." Definitely getting closer.
Jessie was still mulling this over a few hours later as she carried trays of bagels to the Archer Cove Inn. She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the SUV pulling up beside her. "Hey, Jessie."
She didn't even need to turn her head to see the driver — she'd recognized his voice right away. "Nate! Good morning." She smiled.
He was more dressed up than usual, in a light gray sweater and jeans. Normally Nate looked like he was heading down to the track or coming back from a workout. Today he looked kind of hot, to be honest. But she didn't think that, because that was a strange thing to think about your boyfriend's best friend.
Ex-boyfriend. But that was only a temporary situation.
He pulled the SUV over to the curb and rolled down the passenger-side window. "You need help with those platters?"
"I'm taking them over to the inn," she explained, which was not really an answer. "Do you have room in the back?" The order was large that day, and her arms were already getting tired.
"Sure."
He climbed out of the vehicle and walked around the front to lift the trays easily from her arms. "You didn't want to take the van?" he said, referring to the bakery's catering van.
"Not when the weather's nice. It's a good excuse to get outside and get some exercise." She twisted her lips. "You probably think walking is boring."
"We can liven it up. I'll drive them over, and you run after the car. Better yet, you run in front and I'll chase you."
"Nathan, you are hilarious," she said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "And aren't you up awfully early?" It wasn't even eight thirty yet.
"Just had some errands to run," he said as he set the trays carefully into the back.
"I'm actually glad I ran into you. I could use your help."
"That doesn't sound good." But he grinned as he said it and shut the trunk door. "No offense, but I'm not going to open a baby shower saloon with you. I just don't think it's right for this town."
Jessie raked her fingers through her hair. "You don't let anything go, do you? But listen, we have a two-minute drive to the inn, and I'm going to cram a lot into that space."
"Thanks for the warning." He climbed into the driver's seat and closed the door. "What's going on?"
"I am," she said, pointing to her heart. "I ate my cereal dry this morning, and I drank my coffee black. I'm determined to be the perfect Emerson & Parker wife," she said simply, and smoothed her hands down her skirt. As if to emphasize the point, she added, "I was even practicing my sales pitch on Prince Travis this morning."
"That's not good. What are you selling these days?"
"Computer upgrades." She paused. "I don't know what those are."
"Details. You're just selling them. Should I even ask what that's all about?"
"I figure if I'm going to make a go at owning my own business, I need to know how it's done. Maybe I'll talk to my dad, find out a few tricks of the trade."
Nate fastened his seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition. "Or you could focus on what you're already doing and make a great product."
"Product will get you only so far," she said, sadly. "I just look at all the hours Quinn puts in at the office, right? He's a great lawyer and whatnot, but he's not going to get a promotion without a little gamesmanship. It's just how these things happen. Anyway, I'm working on my diet as part of my self-improvement project. I was hoping we could work on a meal plan. Or some guidelines. I could be flexible."
Nate glanced at her sidelong. "Tell you what: I'll work with you on meal and fitness plans, absolutely free. But there's one condition."
Jessie sucked in a breath. Conditions were scary. "What's that?"
"I'm planning a 5K for the food shelf. I need sponsors and runners."
She exhaled. So he was looking for a charitable donation? Simple! "That's a great cause. You can count on me." Jessie reached over to pat his hand. "Just let me know the different levels of sponsorship. You know Uncle Hank always contributes —"
"No." The car slowed as it reached the gravel drive leading to the inn. "I need sponsors and runners. Two in one."
Her stomach clenched, and she suddenly felt ill. "You want me to...oh, no."
"That's right. You want personal training with yours truly? That's what we're going to work on."
"How many miles is a 5K? Six?"
He smiled. "Close. It's three point one miles."
Good heavens. "That's n-not fair," she stammered. "I'm the client! Don't I set the goals?"
"Seems completely fair to me," he said, pulling the vehicle to a stop in front of the inn. "So what do you say? Oh, and by the way, I'm heading to the country club this afternoon. A buddy of mine runs the activities there." He made a show of checking his fingernails. "I seem to recall you saying something about — what was it? Country club manners?"
Ugh, this was so not fair of him — to turn her objectives against her like that. She groaned and set her head back against the seat so she could stare straight up at the ceiling. "Yes. I need country club manners." Those had been her exact words, in fact.
"Think about the networking opportunities. I can get you access to the country club. And I can get you in shape. But you've got to stretch your comfort zone. That's the price."
Jessie's hands were clenched into tight fists against her thighs. Running a road race? Pros: she would probably get into great shape, and it was for charity. Cons: she could very well die trying.
Damn it. Vanity and charity were going to win.
"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "I'll train for a...road race." Just saying it made her queasy.
"All right then." He grinned. "We start tomorrow morning. Five a.m."
"I'm out the door at five," she said. "We have to run at four."
Seeing the blood drain from his face was revenge enough. Then he recovered. "Four. No problem. Morning runs are invigorating."
"Fabulous." Jessie's seatbelt was unfastened and she had one foot out the door. "Thanks for the ride! I can take it from here."
"C'mon, I might as well help you carry —"
"No, I've got it." She said it in a cheerful but firm voice and swung open the back door. "You should go back to doing whatever you were doing."
More conversation with Nate could lead to him having more great ideas, and she didn't think she could handle it. She'd heard about gyms that forced people to work out by pushing spare tires around. God help her if Nate made her attempt that. Jessie was not that kind of girl.
But he wasn't listening to her, and what else was new. When she looked up, he was standing beside the back tire, his hands stuffed in his pockets, watching her without moving. His hair was a little longer than usual, and a lock fell into his eyes. Good thing her arms were loaded with trays, or else she would've reached up and brushed it aside, and then he would've been mortified and probably would've accused her of acting like his mother. But she couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for him at that moment, him and his boyish good looks. Then he read her mind and closed the back door so she didn't have to kick it shut with her foot. She said, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning."
He lifted one hand into the air to wave good-bye, and she headed into the inn. She stopped when she reached the doorway and looked over her shoulder. Nate was still there in his SUV, waiting to make sure she made it inside.
Archer Cove Inn was a fixture in the seaside town. Upscale and tastefully decorated with small round vases filled with fresh tulips, inviting couches upholstered in linen, and pillows in soft shades of sea blues and greens, the lobby always gave Jessie decorating inspiration. She thought the stately inn was most beautiful at night, when guests flocked to the sweeping front porch to enjoy live music and drinks across candlelit tables. She often wondered what it would feel like to be one of them: a woman in a beautiful cocktail dress, an adoring partner watching her every move. It was all terribly romantic.
The moment she stepped inside the lobby of the inn, Jessie was greeted by a vision of white and platinum blonde. Anna Tumblesby, the innkeeper, was rushing forward, arms extended. "Tell me you brought chocolate!"
Jessie gratefully unloaded a tray of bagels into Anna's arms. "Just bagels. Are you running low? I can stop by later."
"I've been putting truffles out for cocktail hour, and let me tell you: my guests love chocolate with their gin gimlets."
Jessie grinned. "I'll have an emergency delivery to you before cocktails tonight."
"Thank goodness."
Jessie followed Anna past the front desk and down a light blue hall decorated with white wainscoting and small wrought-iron wall sconces. At the end of the hall they reached a room with two walls of windows and a stone fireplace. Outside the windows were hydrangea bushes that were just starting to sprout green leaves. By the high tourist season, they would be bright green and decorated with large bulbs of blue flowers. Beyond the hydrangeas was a stretch of green lawn and an unobstructed view of the ocean. When guests left reviews of the inn, this was the room they mentioned, almost without fail.
Anna had set a series of round tables for brunch, decorating them with white linen tablecloths and vases of fresh-cut lilacs. Jessie had been making deliveries to the inn for so many years that she didn't need any instruction. Bagels went on the long table set up against the far wall, right in the middle.
"These look delicious, as always," Anna gushed as she removed the plastic wrap. "I always receive compliments, and I tell them to stop at Hedda's Bakery on the way home."
"Thanks, Anna. We appreciate that."
"After what you all did for me?" Anna shook her head, fluttering her long blonde curls. "You and your uncle are saints. This is the least I can do."
Last November, Anna had slipped on a patch of ice and broken her ankle. Jessie and Uncle Hank had fully assumed her meal preparation duties for weeks, catering full breakfasts so that Anna's guests wouldn't know the difference. They did it because it was the right thing to do, that was all. Neighbors should help each other. Jessie's cheeks grew warm and she looked away, embarrassed by the compliment. "I should head back. Uncle Hank was busy when I left."
"Go right ahead, honey. Don't let me keep you. Oh, before I forget! Someone was asking after you. Not you, specifically, but your chocolates."
"Really?" Jessie hesitated. "What did they say about them?"
"She wanted to know where I found them, and I said you were a local girl and a one-woman operation." Anna straightened a glass carafe of orange juice. "I get a lot of inquiries about that. You might want to consider expanding."
"It's funny you say that, because I was just thinking about it." She put her hands in her pockets. "But the cost, Anna. I have to find a storefront and buy equipment —"
"That's all easy enough to fix. You get a business loan," Anna replied, setting one hand on her hip. "How do you think I fixed this place up? The front porch was a hurricane away from falling into the ocean when I took over."
Jessie stopped. "Huh." Of course. Why hadn't she thought of that? She suddenly felt a burst of optimism. "Thank you, Anna. That is a wonderful idea."
Anna waved her hand. "Honey, I've got plenty of them. You just come back any time and I'll tell you everything that's wrong with the world and how to fix it."
Jessie smiled. She didn't doubt that was true.
"I'm going to get a business loan," Jessie announced to Emily as they were closing for the afternoon.
Emily was wearing her long brown hair in a braid that she'd rested over one shoulder. The effect was very romantic, but she was scrubbing at the floor with a little brush while wearing yellow gloves that extended to her elbows, which kind of ruined the entire thing. "You're getting a loan today?"
"I'm going to apply for one. I wasn't going to, but I think that I need to be realistic. If I want to strike out on my own, then I need to make sure I'm properly capitalized." The importance of capitalization was something Quinn went on about all the time. "I don't think it should be a big deal, though. Getting the loan, I mean."
"I think it's very brave of you to take that risk and open your own shop. I don't know that I'd be able to do it. I'd probably only get approved for a loan from the Bank of Mom and Dad."
Jessie went silent as she counted the money from the till. Her Bank of Mom and Dad was so closed. They were barely a part of her life. Sure, she heard from them. They called weekly — more or less — but otherwise they were too busy. That's why she'd come to live with Uncle Hank and Wren, because her parents were going to be moving to Germany for a few years for her dad's work, and they felt Jessie would be better off staying behind. A few years turned into most of high school and college, and then when they finally returned to the United States, they'd moved to Colorado for a few years before settling in the neighboring town of Spencer. Sometimes it bothered her a lot that her parents had basically abandoned her. Often she didn't even think about them, because it's hard to miss people who are never there.
She shuffled the money from the register into a bank deposit bag and zipped it shut. "I'll take the deposit with me. Be back soon." Uncle Hank would need h
elp preparing for the next day, but he wouldn't miss her if she snuck out for a little while.
The First Bank of Spencer was a short block from the bakery, and Jessie had been going there for so long that she knew all the tellers. Sherry gave her a big smile as she approached the window. Her hair was rusty orange again, recently colored. "How are you doing today, Jessie?"
"Great. I have a deposit, and I was hoping to speak with someone about a business loan."
"I'm sure Mr. White can sit down with you. He's just finishing up with a customer."
"Super."
Jessie folded her hands patiently and waited while Sherry processed the deposit. This really was such a nice, friendly bank. Practically family. In a way, she kind of was borrowing from the Bank of Mom and Dad. Sort of.
Sherry smiled and pushed the bag and deposit slip across the counter. "You're all set, Jessie. You can sit right in that seat over there, and Mr. White will be right out."
"Thanks."
There was no need to feel nervous, but her palms were a bit clammy. She swept them down the front of her skirt as she took a seat in an oddly patterned purple-and-mauve chair. Were the circles on the fabric supposed to be bubbles? She considered the question for a bit. Beside her was a round wooden table on which a series of brochures was fanned out invitingly. Her eyes glazed over at the titles. Securities, trust instruments, blah blah. Banking was so painfully dull. How could anyone even stand this stuff?
"Are you waiting for me, Jessie?"
In her mind, Fred White had always seemed miscast as a loan officer. He should really have been a middle school math teacher, what with his reddish, thinning hair and his friendly eyes. She'd never seen him wearing anything but striped, button-down short-sleeved shirts and khakis in varying shades of clay. He favored earth tones.
"Hi, Mr. White." She rose eagerly to her feet. "Yes, I'd like to talk with you about a business loan, if you have a few minutes."
He waved her into his office, and she took a seat on another ugly chair. She folded her hands in her lap and reminded herself not to slouch. She was applying for a business loan, and that required her to exude confidence.
A Sweet Possibility (Archer Cove Series Book 2) Page 8