by Amy Vastine
But it did. It mattered a lot. And Jase knew, then and there, that he wanted to be a bigger part of her life. Maybe even a permanent part of her life.
If she’d have him.
“Remind me what you do for a living?”
Brant handed him a card, and Jase turned it over, then over again.
“Just between you and me, Lillie doesn’t seem all that interested,” Brant said. “I had to settle for her promise to think about it and get back to me. So far, not a peep. I’m hoping that’s only because of everything else that’s been going on.”
“And this pro you mentioned?”
“Rusty McCoy. A&R rep for the Only Gold label.”
Jase got the message, loud and clear: Rusty was like Only Gold’s talent scout. The guy who found and developed new talent for the label.
“Yeah, Lillie’s had a lot on her plate lately.” He didn’t feel right, giving away any information about how she was trying to get back on her feet. “Her schedule is pretty hectic, and she’s trying to help her folks publicize the reopening of their bed and breakfast, so…”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what she told me.”
“When?” Maybe Brant had made the offer last night, or early this morning, and Lillie hadn’t kept the information from him, after all.
“At the hospital, couple days before Jason…” Frowning, he shook his head.
The reminder put a whole new spin on things. “How’s Sally coping with that?”
“Not great, but as the saying goes, this ain’t her first rodeo. She’s been in and out of Hopkins a dozen times, and knows all too well what can happen to some of the kids.”
“That’s rough. Especially for a kid her age.”
Then the suspicious side of his mind woke up. The way he understood things, Brant was a single dad with a very sick little girl. Yet between work and caring for Sally, he’d taken time to turn Lillie into the next singing sensation?
“If this deal between you and Lillie and McCoy goes through, you’ll get a percentage?”
“No, I keep my ear to the ground and my eyes open. If I run across somebody like Lillie, I arrange a meeting. And Rusty returns the favor by recommending me as the agent.”
It made sense, and yet Jase’s doubts remained. He supposed it was because Lillie knew about all this and hadn’t thought to tell him about it. Correction. She’d thought about it, and decided not to tell him. Was she afraid he’d try to stop her, citing her addiction as a reason not to sign a contract?
Carl returned, and plopped onto his seat as Jase made rudimentary introductions.
Brant stood. “Will you be talking with Lillie today?”
Oh, you bet I will.
“Probably.”
“Ask her to give me a call, will you, so I can fill her in on what happens after I meet with Rusty today?” He glanced at his watch again. “Better run. Good seeing you again.”
Carl watched until Brant disappeared into the bar. “Talent agent, huh? You thinking of tuning up the old git-fiddle, are ya?”
“No.” Guys like Jase, who could hold a tune and act as front man for a band, were a dime a dozen. Women like Lillie on the other hand… Funny, but he didn’t feel envious. Rather, Jase felt left behind. This time for a different kind of addiction: potential stardom. He hoped she’d turn McCoy down flat. Because he knew only too well how things like that worked in the industry. More often than not, no matter how much time and effort singers put into advancing their careers, they couldn’t break into the big time. And a disappointment like that—
“Dessert today, gentlemen?”
“Still serving that warmed-up chocolate cake with wine-infused cherries and ice cream?”
“Yessir.”
“I’ll have that.” He sat back as the young man collected his lunch plate and flatware.
“Anything for you, sir?”
“Just coffee, thanks.”
It was time to get serious with Carl, and Jase leaned forward to outline his plan. As he talked, he opened a folder and showed the CEO color photos of the candle holders, serving bowls and figurines he wanted the company to produce. Nodding, Daniels examined the profit-loss statement, then gulped the last of his wine.
“You gonna drink that?” he asked, pointing at Jase’s still-full goblet.
“Be my guest.” He shoved it closer, and Daniels downed it in one swallow.
“I like your idea, Jase. I think we’d come away with a tidy sum…provided you can charm all the soccer moms who watch that crazy shopping show that they need this stuff in their homes.”
“Carl. Trust me. Soccer moms can’t be so easily dismissed. They know the value of a dollar and quality merchandise when they see it. That’s why of all the companies I could choose for our latest line, I chose yours.”
The man sat back, studying the contents of the folder and nodding thoughtfully. Jase hoped he hadn’t laid it on too thick.
“Yeah, yeah, I like what I see,” he repeated, closing the folder. “I think we can do business. I’ll have Legal write up a contract. How soon do you need it?”
“Yesterday,” Jase said, grinning.
“I hear ya, bud. Okay, soon as I get back to the office, I’ll start the wheels turning.”
He downed his cake in three big sloppy bites, and it was all Jase could do to mask his disgust.
“So,” Carl said around a mouthful of chocolate, “you’re really not interested in a recording contract for yourself?”
He hadn’t been joking when he told Lillie that he didn’t mind performing for small audiences. Working to make a name for himself required opening for established artists…in front of thousands.
“Not even a little bit.”
“That’s a shame. I’ve heard you sing. And so has the little woman. She talked about you for days after she heard you at Three-Eyed Joe’s. If you cut a record, she’d be first in line to buy it. She’d talk her bridge biddies into buying one, too.”
He sighed. If Daniels’s company didn’t have a reputation for turning out top-rate products in record time, he’d take his business elsewhere. Still, Jase pitied any female in his life, especially those who worked for him. The guy was the stereotypical chauvinist pig, and didn’t even have the good grace to hide it. It made him glad Lillie had met him only in passing.
Lillie.
Whose kisses had told him she’d missed him, that she’d missed them.
And who’d kept her interaction with Brant a secret. Jase knew if he didn’t get to the bottom of things, soon, it’d drive him to distraction. Signaling the waiter, he requested the check.
“Good seeing you, Jase,” Carl said, pumping his arm. “I’ll have the paperwork delivered to your office by morning at the latest. You still over on Aliceanna?”
“Yup.”
Daniels said his goodbyes, and while the waiter rang up the order, Jase dialed Lillie’s cell number. He hoped, as he counted the rings, her voicemail would pick up. He needed time to sift through what Brant had told him.
“Lill,” he said after her recorded message played, “it’s Jase. Give me a call when you get a minute. I need to run something by you.” He decided against providing more information. She’d thought nothing of lying to him during her addict days. Why force her to tell another one, now? “Talk soon,” he said, and hit End Call.
It felt good, he thought, signing the tab, having made a deal that would nearly double Colette’s Crafts’ annual income. The only thing that could make this day better? Hearing that Lillie hadn’t mentioned Brant because she had no intention of signing with McCoy.
While buckling into his seat belt, his phone rang, and he answered without even checking the caller ID screen.
“Yeager…”
“Jason, hello!”
“Hey, Whit. How’s Hollyweird?”
“San Francisco
, silly, and it’s fine. Better than fine, actually. The weather is glorious, and I love, love, love my condo. I’m sure once our clients see the office suites, they’ll feel we’re worth our fees.”
“Good. Great. Happy for you.” And he meant it.
“My house sold for the asking price. So did my car.” Whitney rattled off the dollar amounts, and Jase was glad they were on opposite coasts. Even with his limited knowledge of real estate, Jase knew her town house was worth at least fifty grand more than she’d accepted. And that little puddle jumper of a car? These days, with every parent looking for a well-maintained vehicle that was easy on gas for their teens, she could have easily pocketed an additional three thousand. Guess she was more anxious to get out of Dodge than she let on, he thought.
“Glad to hear it. So tell me, how’s the new staff?”
“It’s too soon to tell, really. But there’s one woman who’s already on her way out. I don’t trust her, and if I’m going to be in charge of these people, I need to trust them.”
Trust. The word was getting a lot of use these days.
“I’m thinking of getting a dog,” she said, giggling. “A Yorkie, so I can bring it to work with me.”
“They allow dogs in court?”
“No, of course not. But I’ll have assistants. Associates. And a secretary. Plenty of people to take it for walks.”
The telltale ding of call waiting sounded in his ear.
“Somebody’s calling, Whit. Can you hold, or should I call you back?”
“I should go. I only wanted to say hi, see how you’re doing.”
“All’s well here, and I’m glad you’re doing well out there.”
She promised they’d chat soon, and he clicked over.
“Yeager…”
“Hello, my hardworking son. How did things go with that big blowhard? You kicked him to the curb, I hope.”
Chuckling, Jase said, “It went well. Great, actually. Carl left with a promise to draft a contract and have it delivered by morning.”
“Uh-oh…”
“What does that mean?”
“I never expected him to agree to your terms. Not that they were unreasonable. It’s just, well, he’s Carl.”
“What does that have to do with your uh-oh?”
“I invited Bill Reeves over for coffee yesterday. We had a lovely visit. And I signed a contract with him, instead.”
Jase ground his molars together. “You did what? Seriously, Mom? Reeves, the guy who routinely distracts people from the fine print in his contracts?”
He heard her disapproving sniff.
“His offer was more than fair.”
Yeah, right. Fair according to Bill. Jase couldn’t believe she’d close a deal this big and important—one that affected her and him—without letting him look over the paperwork first. Too late now, he thought. He’d blame the stroke for this latest off-the-cuff decision, but she’d been doing things like this for years. He only hoped he could iron out all the wrinkles. And if history was any predictor, there would be wrinkles.
“Oh, guess what? Dora sold that rare book you gave her.”
Nicely played, Mom, he thought of her distraction.
“Sold it?”
“Yes, to one of the partners at the firm.”
It had been a gift, so it shouldn’t bug him. Jase remembered how, after hearing his sister-in-law wish for a copy of Charlotte Brontë’s Shirley to add to her collection, he’d spent weeks searching for a copy online. He’d found one in mint condition for $350. And he’d snapped it up. Dora had been overjoyed on Christmas morning, although, even as she unwrapped it, he hadn’t understood why, in this day and age, she wanted to read a book that questioned men’s power over women in the workplace. Now, however, the question brought Carl to mind, and Jase admitted that her interest in the subject might not be so far offtrack, after all.
“Dora traded it with the partner, you mean.”
“No, no, she sold it. For $125.”
During his book hunt, he’d learned a thing or two about rare book collectors. Just as a philatelist is always on the lookout for his next great stamp, and baseball card collectors were in constant pursuit of Babe Ruths or Mickey Mantles, people like Dora were never satisfied with the tomes on their shelves. She’d known its value, because weeks into January, she admitted having looked it up, and what she discovered had led to a whole new flurry of hugs and thank-yous aimed at Jase. If she’d traded it for something of equal or greater value, he would have understood. But to accept less than half what he’d paid for it? Without checking to see if he’d mind?
“You’re awfully quiet. You’re not angry, are you, son?”
“Angry? Me? Why would I be angry? It was her book, and it’s your company.”
What was it with the women in his life, striking deals without his input and keeping secrets from him!
His mother began to ramble, repeating that for all intents and purposes, Jase was the boss, and had been since he’d first made the deal with the cable shopping network. She went on to explain that with everything else on his plate, the agreement with Reeves had one purpose: to spare him the trouble of hammering out a deal with Daniels.
So he’d just spent $300 on a lunch intended to soften up the arrogant gasbag, and now, thanks to his mother’s reckless move, he’d have to call and renege on the deal. Worse, Reeves’s reputation couldn’t compare to Daniels’s. Jase leaned into the headrest and clapped a hand over his eyes, wishing he could say something like, You want to control stuff like this? You call him!
Jase sat up and started the truck.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were on the road.”
“Just leaving the lunch meeting with Carl, remember?”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
If she thought for a minute that he believed she’d forgotten about the meeting, she had another think coming. His mom was a lot of things, but absentminded wasn’t one of them, despite the stroke. It was only because of the TIA that he chose not to pursue it. At least, not right now.
“Are you coming by soon?”
“Not tonight. I have some things to take care of.” He’d deal with Reeves later. But he needed to call Carl. And Lillie.
Jase had a sinking suspicion that the first conversation would be a whole lot easier than the second.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LILLIE WANDERED AROUND the used-car lot, inspecting SUVs, sedans, coupes and small pickup trucks, but nothing in her price range appealed to her.
“Have you seen the vehicles on our south lot?” the salesman asked.
“Didn’t even realize there was a south lot!” she said, following him. Once there, Lillie saw dozens of cars. They all looked good to her.
“Do you have a particular make or model in mind?”
The guy reminded her a little of her dad, but she knew better than to let her guard down.
“My criteria are pretty simple. Good gas mileage, easy to parallel park, one owner, no accident history.” She named her price range, then waited for him to roll his eyes.
He patted the hood of a gray sedan, and after a quick trip around it, Lillie saw no evidence of damage.
“Want to take her for a spin?”
Yes, she’d like that very much. But first things first. “It comes with a warranty?”
“All our vehicles do,” he said before listing what it covered.
“And verification that it hasn’t been in any accidents?”
“That’s our policy for everything we sell.”
“How much do I need to put down?”
He told her, then said, “We have an excellent payment program for first-time purchasers…”
She’d never owned a car before, thanks to being on the road, then accepting jobs that allowed her to use public transportation or her own two feet.
The salesman gave her a quick rundown on gas mileage, then they took it out for a test drive.
She quickly made up her mind. And when all was said and done, there was still enough left in her savings account to pay for taxes, registration and insurance. Best of all, she didn’t need to finance the vehicle. Now if only she could summon the patience to return her mom’s car and ask one of her parents to bring her back to the dealership. When she explained the problem to the salesman, he waved to two mechanics on the other lot.
“This young lady needs someone to follow her home so she can return her mother’s car,” he hollered.
The men headed over to a huge pickup truck.
“Maury, here, will drive your new car,” the salesman explained as one hopped down from the passenger seat, “and once you’ve delivered your mother’s, he’ll ride back with James.”
An hour later, when the men left the inn, Lillie stood in the driveway, admiring her car. She waited until four o’clock, then called Jase. She knew he’d had an important lunch meeting today, and she was bursting to tell him her news.
He picked up on the second ring. “Yeager…”
“Rourke,” she replied.
“Hey, Lillie. What’s up?”
She could have said “You told me to call.” Instead, she blurted, “Guess what I just did!”
“Who knows,” he growled.
That must have been some lunch meeting, she thought.
“I bought a car. Can you believe it? I’ve never had my own car before.”
“Nice. Real nice.”
Something—anger, perhaps?—simmered in his tone. Lillie chose to ignore it.
“If you aren’t busy, c’mon over. I’ll take you for a drive. We can ride into Ellicott City, try out that new soft ice cream place.”
“I dunno, Lillie. I won’t be very good company.”
“If a hot-fudge sundae doesn’t sweeten your sour mood, a ride in this baby will.” She reached through the open driver’s side window and tooted the horn.
No response. What could it hurt to give it one last shot?
“I know you’re tired. I won’t keep you out long. Twenty minutes to, twenty minutes back, fifteen to eat. You’ll be home before it gets dark, I promise.”