Mothers In A Million. Michelle Douglas

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style="font-size:15px;">      The truth of that hit her with a happy lift of her spirits. Though part of her struggled against it, her mind shifted into planning mode. “And maybe birthday cakes.”

      “And birthday cakes.” He smiled sheepishly. “I ate that whole damned cake.”

      “Wyatt! That much sugar’s not good for you.”

      “I know, but I’m out of food except for cereal, and I couldn’t go to the diner.”

      Her face heated. “You can go wherever you want.”

      “I’ll be damned if I’ll give money to a guy who beat his family.”

      Owen came barreling into the kitchen. “Ready to pway?”

      Wyatt pointed at the door. “You get everything set up outside. I’ll be there in a minute.” Owen raced out the door as Claire and Lainie appeared with their dolls.

      “Are you going outside?”

       They nodded.

      Missy straightened the collar of Claire’s shirt. “Okay. You know the rules. Stay in the yard.”

      They left and Wyatt caught her hand. “So? What do you think? Could you be okay with a line of credit?”

      The warmth of his hand holding hers rendered her speechless for a few seconds, but she reminded herself he wasn’t interested in her romantically, unless it was for an affair. What he was doing now was making up for talking about her to her dad.

      Of course, that was sort of nice, too. If he didn’t think of her as a friend, he’d blow off what he’d done. Instead, he was making it up to her. As a friend would.

      She relaxed a bit. It wasn’t wrong to take advice from a friend. Especially a friend who had business expertise. “It’s a big step. I don’t want to lose this house.”

      “Hey, who yelled at me for not having faith in you?”

      “I did.”

      “Then have some faith in yourself. And diversify. I have a couple of people on staff who could look into markets for your cakes. Or you could just go to the grocery stores and restaurants in neighboring towns and offer them a cake or two. Make the first week’s free. When they see the reaction to them, they’ll order.”

      Warmth spread through her. A feeling of normalcy returned. “You think I can do this?”

      “Hell, yeah.” Wyatt rose. “But it’s more important that you know you can do it.”

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      AT LUNCHTIME SHE FED the kids, wondering what Wyatt was eating. Then she saw him leave on his bike. She wouldn’t let herself consider that he might be going to the diner. He’d said he wouldn’t, but in her life people said a lot of things, then did the opposite. She just hoped he’d respect her enough not to say anything to her dad, not to warn him away or yell at him.

      Twenty minutes later, when he returned with a bag from the grocery store, she relaxed. From the size of the bag, she knew he hadn’t had enough time to shop as well as visit her dad. Maybe he really was a guy true to his word?

      Falling into her normal daily routine, she straightened up the house while the kids napped. She picked up toys and vacuumed the living room and playroom floors. When she walked into the kitchen, she saw Wyatt at the door.

      “How long have you been standing there?”

      “Long enough to know you’re a thorough vacuumer.”

      She laughed and opened the screen door. “Did you get lunch?”

      “I stopped at the store for bread and deli meat. Do you know they don’t have an in-house bakery anymore? They could use some homemade cakes in their baked goods section.”

       “You can stop spying for me. Once I get an assistant I’ll investigate every store in the area.”

      “So you’ve decided to get the line of credit?”

      “Yes. Using the house as collateral.”

      He walked to the table. “Can we sit?”

      “Why? Are you going to help me call the bank?”

      He pulled some papers from his back pocket. “Actually, I’d like to be the bank.”

      She gasped. “I told you I don’t want your money.”

      “And I told you that I feel responsible for the mess with your dad yesterday. This is my way of making that up to you.” He caught her gaze. “Besides, I’m going to give you a point And a half below the current interest rate at the bank, and my people have worked out a very flexible repayment schedule. No matter what happens with your business, you will not lose this house.”

      Her heart tripped over itself in her chest. She wouldn’t lose her house? She didn’t know a bank that promised that. And Wyatt hadn’t gone to the diner. He’d bought deli meat. Even though she knew he was growing tired of not eating well, he’d been true to his word.

      “And it’s a loan?”

      He handed the papers to her. “Read the agreement. Though I promise not to take the house if you default, a new payment schedule will be created. But if you sell the house, you have to pay me the balance of the loan with the proceeds. No matter what happens, you have to pay back the hundred grand.” He pointed to a paragraph at the bottom of page one. “And you have to take out a life insurance policy in the amount of a hundred thousand dollars with me as beneficiary, if you die.”

      Hope filled her. He hadn’t merely stayed away from her dad; he’d listened to everything she’d been saying the past few weeks. “So it really is a business deal?”

       “Albeit with very good terms for you. I know you don’t want any special favors, but even you have to admit I owe you.”

      She licked her lips. Lots of people had done her wrong, but no one had ever even acknowledged that, let alone tried to make up for it.

      “You can take that to an attorney, if you want.”

      She smiled up at him. “I could take it to my former boss at the law firm.”

      Wyatt rose. “Smart businesswoman that you are, I would expect no less from you.”

      That night, Wyatt sat on the big wicker chair on his back porch, once again wishing his mom hadn’t canceled the cable. He’d dug through more boxes, read a few more of his grandfather’s letters and still wasn’t tired enough for bed. Leaning back in the big chair, he closed his eyes.

      “Hey, are you asleep?”

      He bounced up with a short laugh. Missy stood at the bottom of his porch steps, holding two bottles of beer and the papers he’d given her that afternoon.

      “I

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