chic.”
Emma laughed, amused by his accurate description. “Fish & Stream be all right?”
“Yep.”
“I definitely like the idea of the sitting area.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if we find a fireplace walled up in the shop, as well.”
“Really?”
“The age of the building tells me it should have a fireplace. The furnace is a later addition.”
“A fireplace could be a great focal point,” she mused.
“What would you think of enlarging the front windows?”
She looked at him with wonder. “That was on my list. Now that I’m doing window design as well, my own displays should be an advertisement.”
“I was thinking bay windows.”
Ooh. Emma loved bay windows. “I can see the curve of the glass, almost like a Victorian curio cabinet! Is that what you mean?”
Surprise lit his eyes. “That’s exactly what I meant.”
Emma warmed beneath his appraising gaze. “I told you I get all caught up in design.”
“So what else is on this list of yours?”
She explained the nook she envisioned for her drafting table.
“That should be situated somewhere quiet. What if it’s part of your office?”
“But I don’t have an office.”
Seth pulled out a second sketch. “The attic isn’t being used for much more than your furnace and duct work. It’s a waste. But I can’t see it being used for display or dressing area. It’s a half story higher than your main level. If we close off the furnace room, we could open up the other part, section off an office/design area for you and a second smaller office.”
“A second office? I don’t even have one now!”
“You’re extending your business, which means more receipts, more records. If you plan ahead, you won’t be crowding yourself into one office, especially if you end up hiring more help.”
She was quiet, reflecting on his suggestions. “Actually, you’ve given it more thought than I have.”
“I’ve designed enlargements for a lot of growing companies. The hardest part for the business owner is to visualize just how much expansion is needed. Most underestimate it. Then you’re looking at another expansion, which doubles the cost. My mother had an expression for it: penny-wise, pound-foolish.”
“I can see that.” She lifted her gaze. “I’m fortunate to have found you.”
He didn’t move a muscle.
“To remodel the shop,” she added quickly. “You clearly know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve had a lot of experience. A good designer gives you options.” He pulled out a third sheet of drawing paper. “Here’s another way to go at it—adding only the storeroom you requested, along with moving the dressing rooms. We can add or take away any of these elements.”
The options were overwhelming. Emma glanced from the scaled-down version to the one she instinctively knew would work best. “I like your original. When you have an estimate, I’ll talk to the bank, make sure they’ll finance the addition.”
He nodded, then withdrew a materials list. “I assume you want to use good materials, but you don’t want to pay for a Jag when a Chevy will do.”
“You read my mind. If the price gets too high, I won’t be able to expand.”
Seth pushed back a bit on his stool. “Have you considered buying or leasing another property? A building that’s already large enough?”
“I don’t want to move. I have a good location—which is the reason I chose it. Why? Are you having second thoughts about the job?”
“No. But you ought to consider every option, whether it means a job for me or not. I’ll firm up the figures. I should have them by tomorrow.”
Emma felt herself deflate. “Wow.”
“Some people agonize over choosing a design for weeks, even longer. Consider yourself ahead of the game.”
“The game’s moving faster than I expected.”
“Emma, it’s your decision. At this point you aren’t committed to anything.”
Commitment—something she would never be ready for. But this was business, not personal. “Let’s go for it. Your estimate, my visit to the bank.” She took a breath, hoping what she was about to say was true. “I’m ready.”
Seth met her gaze and Emma wondered if she saw doubt in his expression. No wonder. She wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence. Change. Maybe this time she didn’t have to run from it.
Randy Carter clicked off his cell phone, then stared at the dull green living-room wall. The pair of faded, bucolic pictures were the same ones his mother had hung nearly thirty years ago. The tired landscapes were the closest his family had ever come to the country.
It wasn’t sentiment that kept him from changing the dreary decor. His mother had died long ago, but Randy didn’t particularly miss her. She had been a misery, always carrying on about his father, a man who’d left them when Randy was ten, Ken still in diapers. Randy didn’t miss his father, either. The old man hadn’t wanted the burden of a couple of kids.
There was only one person Randy cared about—his younger brother. No one had messed with Ken when he was growing up, shielded by Randy’s heavy fist. And he had passed on a lot of his street sense, but not enough to keep Ken out of trouble.
Ken was young, too young to be sent to a federal pen. But that D.A., that woman D.A. wouldn’t listen. And now…
Abruptly Randy stood, stalking over to Ken’s empty room. Now Ken was hurt. Beaten. And it was bad. Bad enough to put him in the infirmary, the warden’s assistant had told him. Bad enough that Ken had been rushed to surgery because of internal bleeding.
No one did that to Kenny and got away with it. Randy didn’t blame the inmates. They were burning off the anger being behind bars caused.
It was her. Emily Perry. She was to blame. Curling his fingers into a fist he pounded the wall. White dust flew from the destroyed sheetrock. She’d gotten away once. She wouldn’t again.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив
