Return to Love. Yasmin Sullivan Y.

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Return to Love - Yasmin Sullivan Y. Mills & Boon Kimani

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carried his packages back down to his car with a heavy heart. He’d almost had it all back, but now he didn’t have any of it. He could have spent all day trying to convince her to give them a chance, but until she could forgive him, he knew that no effort on his part would make a difference.

      He opened his trunk and put in the packages. There was no need to keep them now. There was no boy, no girl.

      He would have taken the day off if she had been willing to spend it with him. Now he had an hour to get to his place, shower, shave, change clothes and get to the office. Fine.

      He’d gone from ecstasy to despair in less than twenty-four hours, and now she had simply shut him down. But he wasn’t going out like that. He had worked too hard to get this far. He would have to bide his time until he could come up with a new point of entry, a new way to get her to soften her heart to him. It still wasn’t over, not yet.

      Chapter 4

      It had been two weeks since she had seen Nigel, and Regina’s spirits were finally picking up after the emotional turmoil. She had her focus back, and she had an on-site installation to keep her busy.

      “Are you going to take off from your morning job tomorrow to get the installation done?”

      Amelie was at a workstation in the back of the studio stringing an elaborate necklace—one with rows of turquoise and cowrie shells that tapered to a long V. They didn’t have any customers at the moment, so she and Regina could chat across the back of the shop.

      “No, I’ll still need the money,” Regina said. “That’s the only reason I have that secretary job to begin with—steady income until our income here gets steady. Will you be able to stay late next week so that we don’t have to shut down too early?”

      “Yeah, no problem. I’ve already covered all of my evening jewelry-making classes at the bead shop. We’ll only have to close early one day.”

      Regina had a large order to install in a couple of weeks—a custom kitchen backsplash that she’d been working on for most of the last month. It would bring in some much-needed money, so she had to forgo her hours at the store. Half of the money that came in would be going to renovations, so it was worth losing some income at the store.

      “I can’t thank you enough,” Regina said with a smile.

      “No prob. You cover for me enough, and you’re here more hours than I am anyway.”

      “Yes, but right now, your beadwork is bringing in more income than the mosaic pieces.”

      It was true. Amelie was a talented bead artist and sold beadwork supplies as well as her own pieces—mostly jewelry but also hair accents, art objects and even some clothes.

      “Oh, mostly the small stuff. My biggest pieces are still sitting here.”

      “As are mine.”

      Regina made more from her installations than from the studio, but she did mosaics of just about everything one could think of. She had her standing art pieces, but she also did tables, mirrors, planters, sculptures—anything strong enough to stand a layer of tile and grout. For installations, though, she did kitchens, pools, walks, stairs and fireplaces. She’d even done a patio once.

      “You know what we need?” Amelie said. “A showing.”

      “After we finish the renovations, we should have a real grand opening.”

      “And we need to change the name.”

      “Actually,” said Regina, “we need to do that now. I’ve been looking into getting our website back on track, and we should get all the updates done at the same time—save money.”

      “Speaking of which, I got information about the seminars at the community center you mentioned—the ones I signed us up for.”

      Regina looked up from the tiles she was laying out. “Excellent. I’ve been working on the paperwork, but it’s like figuring out tax forms. Why didn’t they teach us this business stuff in college?”

      “At least you went to college.”

      “Girl, you did, too. You just took your classes in different places one by one. Then you taught yourself. I admire you for that.”

      Amelie looked up from her necklace and smiled. “Thank you, sweetie. About the name, we need to get something Black in there, let people know that there are some sisters up in here with some culture.”

      “I agree with you there. I actually want to do some more African sculptures. When the front is redone, we can put them in the window with some of your work that has the cowrie beads. More than half of what we do has a Black flavor. We need to find a way to announce that.”

      “And we need some incense.”

      “No.” Regina groaned and waved her hand in front of her face. “We have enough smells in here with the paints and the clay and your soldering and the hot glue.”

      “That’s why we need the incense.”

      “No, our classes will pass out from all the fumes.”

      The door chime sounded as a couple came in. Amelie winked over at Regina; it was Regina’s turn to see to the customers. She pushed her mosaic onto the table, grabbed a wet rag to get the mastic off her hands and got up to approach the couple.

      “Good afternoon. Can I help you find anything today?”

      Regina showed them her various mosaic pieces and then the beadwork. They stopped for a long time in front of one of her favorite mosaics, a large piece of a woman in a sarong looking over a patio at the ocean and horizon. They seemed interested in it and took one of her business cards from the counter. They even looked over her portfolio of in-home installations, but Regina couldn’t tell if they would come back.

      By the time she was done, Amelie had already begun wrapping up her project and getting ready to leave for the afternoon, as usual.

      Mr. Lundstrum came in just before she left.

      “Regina has our rent check ready for you, Mr. Lundstrum.”

      “I do. It’s under the register,” Regina said.

      Their landlord was an old man and walked with a cane. It was clear that he hadn’t had the ability to look after this place for a long time. But he was pleased with the upgrades they’d made and liked having them as tenants.

      “Come, my dears. I have a bit of hard news.”

      “What is it?” Regina asked, worried that something had happened to his wife, who was also getting on in years and was not as agile as her husband.

      “Well, this won’t be easy for you to hear.”

      He settled down in one of the chairs at Regina’s worktable and sighed heavily.

      “You know I’ve been waiting for you to come up with the down payment on this place. You had first refusal.”

      “Oh, no.” Regina could tell what he was getting

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