Part 33 (1/2)
”Don't think this isn't tearing me up inside,” he said.
Then why can't you help me? She didn't voice the thought. He'd just told her why. He had obligations of his own, other people to answer to, other people depending on him. It wasn't his job to save her and clean up her mess. She'd known that all along, deep down, where she didn't want to look.
She should say...something. But it was hard to talk around the lump in her throat so she simply nodded.
”I wish I could help,” he said. ”If anyone deserves a break it's you. If I owned the bank we'd be having a very different conversation.”
She stood wearily. ”We still have sixteen days.”
He stood, too. ”Anything can happen in sixteen days.”
Yes, she thought as she walked out of the bank. Anything could.
And something would, she told herself, determined to be positive. They'd get their eleventh-hour rescue. Bailey's new friend would pa.s.s on the chocolates and Mimi LeGrande would love them. How could she not? Samantha's dream had been a sign and a gift. They were going to pull out of this.
On that upbeat note she went to the office to catch up on calls and prepare for success.
Blake stared unseeing at his computer screen. He wished he'd told Samantha about the things he'd done behind the scenes to try and help her. Then maybe he wouldn't have felt so useless when he looked into those big tear-filled eyes.
Except he'd probably have come off as an incompetent braggart. So what if he'd moved things along for the permits? Big deal that he'd gone to Seattle and done some schmoozing with the paper and that producer. None of it had paid her loan. He was all talk and no action.
”I hate being impotent,” he muttered.
He heard a nervous cough and the rustling of papers and turned to see his secretary, Sheri.
”I know a good doctor,” she said, her cheeks pink.
Great, just great.
”Que bonita!” Elena exclaimed when Samantha gave her a sample. Elena tasted the chocolate rose truffle and closed her eyes in ecstasy. ”Ah, chica, this is going to sell like crazy.”
”That would be fine with me,” Samantha said. All they needed was a nod from Mimi LeGrande. And how could they not get it once she tasted those chocolates?
Samantha went into her office, sat down at her desk and looked over at the family pictures on the wall. ”We're going to make it, everyone,” she a.s.sured them. Then she booted up her computer and got to work.
She was still there when Bailey called.
”Oh, Sammy,” her sister wailed.
This was not the way to announce good news. Samantha's stomach tensed.
”I'm so sorry.”
”Sorry about what? What's happened?”
”The...the...candy,” Bailey sobbed.
Oh, no. Samantha braced herself. ”What happened to the candy?”
”I-I... Ohhhh.”
s.h.i.+t. ”You what?” Samantha prompted. Did she really want to hear the gory details?
”I dropped them.”
”You...dropped them.” Surely one or two had survived. ”Well, brush them off and-”
”And they got run over.”
”They what?” Samantha asked weakly.
”I was on my way to baggage claim and showing them to this nice older man I met and, well, I just don't know how they fell.”
With her sister the klutz it wasn't hard to imagine.
”Anyway, they kind of skidded across the floor and before I could get them...” Bailey started wailing again.
”It's okay,” Samantha lied. ”What exactly happened?”
”You know those carts they drive people around the airport with?”
Samantha was glad she was sitting down. ”One of them ran over the chocolates,” she said dully.
”Squashed them flat. Oh, Sammy, I'm so sorry.”
”It's okay,” Samantha said even though it wasn't remotely okay.
”Send down another box,” Bailey begged. ”I promise I won't drop it.”
Samantha heaved a pained sigh. If you wanted anything done you had to do it yourself. ”Never mind. I'm coming down,” she decided. ”And we're skipping the middleman. Find out where Mimi LeGrande eats. We're bringing her chocolate for dessert.”
”Okay,” Bailey said, and sniffed. ”Sammy, I really am sorry.”
”I know you are,” Samantha said, and thought, Never send a girl to do a woman's job.
She had barely ended the call when Cecily's ringtone started.
”What are you, psychic?” Samantha answered.
”Are you okay?”
”Bailey called you?” She couldn't have already. They'd hardly finished their conversation.
”Yes.”
And then it dawned on Samantha. ”She called you first.”