Part 3 (2/2)
But Blake was made of sterner stuff. Of course he'd do all he could to support Samantha. He'd buy chocolates even though he was allergic to chocolate. Gram had a birthday coming up soon and he'd get her the biggest box of candy they had, and when his mother and sister were in town he'd send them to the Sweet Dreams gift shop to go crazy with his debit card. He'd even be willing to help Samantha brainstorm ways to raise funds-private investors or a loan from some of her cronies at the Chamber of Commerce. He'd have told her all that if she hadn't had a meltdown and stomped off. But he couldn't change bank policy just for her. He'd already gone out on a limb by extending her loan to the end of February.
It's not your business to fix other people's mistakes, he reminded himself. You can't save every failing business in the state. Still, it seemed a shame to let this one die. He was well aware of the company's history and it was the stuff of movies. Except right now the Sterlings' story wasn't looking like it was headed for a happy ending.
He forced himself to focus on the papers in front of him. It was impossible. All he could think about was what a villain he felt like. Sweet Dreams was Samantha Sterling's baby and she was trying desperately to save it. If he had to lock the company's doors and sell off its a.s.sets he'd be a baby-stealer and everyone in town would hate him. Almost as much as he'd hate himself.
Elena took one look at Samantha storming into the office and muttered, ”Mierda.”
Samantha set the basket on Elena's desk. ”Take it home to your family and enjoy.”
Elena's eyebrows drew together. ”That is a lot of money there.”
”Consider it a bonus,” Samantha said. ”G.o.d knows it's probably the last one I'll be able to give you.”
”You mustn't talk like that,” Elena scolded. Sixteen years older and forty pounds heavier than Samantha, she sometimes forgot she was an employee and morphed into an office mother. ”And why are you back with this?”
”Long story,” Samantha said, ”and one I don't want to tell.” Having shut the door on a fresh lecture, she then shut her office door on the world, plopped down at her desk and stared bitterly at the array of pictures on the wall.
Generations of successful family smiled at her. Great-grandma Rose and her husband, Dusty, wearing their best clothes, stood in front of the newly purchased building that would house Sweet Dreams Chocolates. Then there was Great Aunt Fiona and Grandma Eleanor posing in their ap.r.o.ns behind the counter of the retail gift shop in the fifties, and Grandpa Joe, smiling over his shoulder for the camera while he worked the line in the factory with a young Jose Castillo and George Loomis. There was a shot of Mom before she married Dad, sitting at the receptionist's desk. And one of her and Grandpa, displaying the logo Mom had created for the seal on the candy boxes. There was Dad in front of the store, posing with his three daughters, the whole Sweet Dreams team gathered around and beaming. A caption beneath it read Success, How Sweet It Is!
She felt sick. She laid her head on the desk and closed her eyes.
A moment later Gwen Stefani started singing on her cell phone. Cecily again. Head still on the desk, she fumbled the phone to her ear. ”Tell me you're calling because you had a vision of money falling from heaven.”
”Sorry, no pennies from heaven. I had a feeling you might need to talk.”
What she needed was a rewind b.u.t.ton. ”I blew it at the bank.”
”What, did you walk in and shoot the new manager?”
”Worse. I gave him chocolate.”
”Bribes are good.”
”And then took it away.” What the heck was wrong with her, anyway? Was she having a psychotic break? Maybe she had multiple personalities and didn't know it.
”Oh,” her sister said weakly. She could imagine Cecily falling into a chair in her little pink office at Perfect Matches.
”I started out charming, I really did,” Samantha defended herself. ”But then he just sat there looking all smug, repeating that he couldn't help me-like a big dumb parrot in a three-piece suit-and...I blew it, pure and simple.”
A sigh drifted over the phone line. ”What would Dad say if he was here?”
He'd say, ”What were you thinking, princess?” Or maybe he'd say, ”You should have punched the guy's face in.” Okay, probably not that.
”I don't know,” Samantha said miserably.
”He'd say temper...”
Oh, yeah, that. ”...and good business don't mix,” Samantha finished with her. He'd told her that often enough, especially when she was young and impetuous.
And now she was so mature. Ha!
There was a long moment of silence before Cecily asked, ”Maybe you should apologize to him?”
”Apologize! As in, 'Gee, Mr. Dragon, I'm so sorry I got mad at you for breathing fire and devouring my village'?”
”He's trying to save the bank like you're trying to save Sweet Dreams.”
Ever the mediator, Samantha thought sourly. ”He's just trying to save his b.u.t.t.”
Her sister heaved another sigh. ”Well, you're the business major. You know best.”
”Oh, that was cute.”
”Sorry. It's just that, well, when it comes to business, you're usually more in control than this.”
Samantha scowled. She hated it when her sister was right. Samantha was the oldest. She was supposed to be the most mature, the one who always knew what to do. Except when it came to Sweet Dreams, she seemed to lose all perspective.
”I wish I was up there to help you.”
”I'll be okay,” Samantha said with a sigh. ”No more meltdowns, I promise.”
”Call me if you need to.”
”Thanks I will. Meanwhile, go make some money.”
”Yeah, I should go. I've got a match-up c.o.c.ktail party to plan and a client coming in ten minutes.”
Finding rich men for beautiful women, throwing parties at sw.a.n.ky restaurants-no wonder Cecily had opted for L.A. over Icicle Falls, Samantha thought as she hung up. Who would want to live in a small town when she could have the big city and beautiful people?
Samantha, that was who. She loved her mountain town with its picturesque setting and its friendly people, and she was proud that her family and their company were part of the town's history.
She wanted them to continue to be part of its present, too. She drummed her fingers on her desk. What options did she have other than robbing the bank? Think, Samantha.
After an hour of thinking she had a headache and one last option-Waldo's life insurance money. She wanted to go hit her mother up for a chunk of that about as much as she wanted to stick a knife in her eye. But it was for the good of the business and all their employees, she reminded herself, and she'd pay the money back. So get up and get over there.
She laid her head down on the desk again. Tomorrow. Like Scarlett O'Hara, she'd think about it tomorrow.
Except the clock was ticking and she couldn't afford the luxury of waiting until tomorrow. She took a deep breath, stood and strode out of the office.
Chapter Four.
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