“I have a digital camera,” Cyndi exclaimed. “Momma gave it to me for Christmas.”
“Good, so you can take plenty of pictures and get the hang of how you want them to look. You can also get books at the library about composition and how to frame a shot.”
In the back of his mind he was hoping the conversation would be a distraction from his less-than-tactful remark about Jessica’s customers. He admired her respect for others and wished he’d voiced the same respect.
Since he wanted to conduct his business with Jessica in private, he went back to his office and spent the next hour evaluating the photos he’d taken of clients that morning down by the lake. Now that he was in the Seattle area full-time, Moonlight Ventures wanted to improve their clients’ portfolios. There was a distinct difference between a standard head shot and a more creative approach that might excite a prospective advertiser.
It was late afternoon when he headed over to the Crystal Connection, the copies of the real estate listings still in his pocket.
Jessica looked up from where she was unpacking a large box. “I’m sorry. We stop making coffee at three thirty and there aren’t any leftovers.”
“I understand.” He glanced around and was glad to see she was alone. “But there’s something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you. It’s about the space you’re leasing from Moonlight Ventures.”
Her eyebrow lifted. “Is there a problem? Grams told me she’d paid the rent for three months ahead.”
“No, that isn’t it. It’s just, well, you may not have realized that the lease isn’t transferable.”
Her soft complexion went pale and Logan instantly felt like a villain in an old melodrama, threatening the beautiful heroine with eviction.
* * *
JESSICA STRAIGHTENED HER shoulders and injected steel in her spine. She’d survived setbacks before and would again. Besides, there was an option.
“If the lease isn’t transferable,” she said, “I’m sure my grandmother will be happy to continue renting the property. I’ll work it out with her.”
“Please understand, we aren’t trying to throw you out,” Logan said hurriedly. “It’s just that we need to expand the agency.”
“The lease is for another three years.”
And Kevin McClaskey promised we could stay as long as we liked, Jessica wanted to tell him. She was quite certain that Uncle Kevin wouldn’t have had a problem with transferring the lease to a family member. He’d be horrified to learn the new landlords had even mentioned the matter.
“I know what’s in the lease,” Logan said, “but no matter whose name is on it, we’d hoped to discuss an accommodation that might work for all of us. This issue would have been raised, whether or not the ownership had changed. After remodeling we thought our space was adequate, but we’ve realized it isn’t. We planned to bring the matter up before, but given what happened with your grandfather...it seemed best to wait.”
Jessica fought a renewed stab of panic and reminded herself that Grams’s name could remain on the paperwork. She’d known the lease agreement wasn’t permanent, but in the past it had always been renewed automatically. Granted, she’d questioned whether the situation would change now that Uncle Kevin was no longer the landlord, but she’d figured she had three years to talk with the new owners and sort things out. Now, no matter what Logan claimed, it sounded as if he and his partners wanted the Crystal Connection gone much more quickly.
He said it was because they wanted to expand the agency’s space. But she had to wonder. His earlier comments had given her the impression that he had a low opinion of the shop and its customers. Perhaps he felt it wasn’t as highbrow as his talent agency and didn’t want her next door.
Some people thought it was ludicrous to be passionate about crystals, particularly when metaphysical beliefs were part of the attraction. But she knew folks who thought modeling was a skewed and ridiculous business.
“What do you mean by accommodation?” she asked warily.
“For one thing, this is a very large building. It covers the better part of a city block. There’s space down around the end, off the smaller road. The Crystal Connection could move into one of the available rentals for the same rent, with over twice the square footage.”
“Except we have easy parking here. More importantly, the street out front is a busy thoroughfare. Our visibility nets a huge amount of drop-in business.”
The expression on Logan’s face didn’t flicker. “It isn’t a big deal for someone to park and walk around the back of the building. And there are ways to minimize the impact of moving. Signs, advertising, that sort of thing. You must have a contact list for your regular customers.”
Jessica seriously doubted advertising was the solution. She’d already heard new customers saying it was the large display windows that had enticed them into visiting. The back of the building bordered on a one-way street so narrow it almost functioned as an alley. The store would come off like a hole in the wall, hiding from the world. She shook herself and remembered that Logan was waiting for an answer.
“We don’t have a contact list. Not yet. My grandparents didn’t do mailings or promote on the internet. I put out a sign-up sheet last week, but it’s just a start.”
“The move wouldn’t have to be done immediately. If you’re interested, I found rental listings for other locations, too.”
Jessica wasn’t interested; she was insulted. So he’d found a few available rentals. How very patronizing of him. Not to mention presumptuous. It was as if he expected to snap his fingers and have the whole situation resolved to his satisfaction. Moreover, with either solution, the Crystal Connection would be neatly tucked out of his tender sight. He might not even lose sleep if she went out of business altogether.
She gave him a tight smile. “It’s early to be looking at other rentals, and if needed, I can certainly find them on my own.”
His cool brown eyes were unreadable. “Yes, naturally.”
“As for a contact list,” she continued, “while I think it’s a good idea, it has no relationship to walk-in traffic. Location is everything.” Still annoyed, Jessica felt another wave of anxiety. She had three years before she had to do what Logan and Moonlight Ventures wanted, but they could make life miserable for her in the interim.
Her gaze fell to the counter by the cash register. The wood was warmly burnished from years of use and polishing, and there were various dents and grooves. Decorators would likely call it “distressed.” It was a part of her childhood. As a little girl she’d perched on it and watched her grandparents unpacking merchandise. Sitting on a stool, she’d leaned over its wooden surface and drawn pictures or strung crystal necklaces with her grandmother.
On one of her summer-long visits with her grandparents, she’d written numerous letters to her parents on that counter. Back at home, she’d found them with the junk mail, never opened. Her folks hadn’t meant to be uncaring—from their perspective, they’d been working for their family’s security, providing a large home, putting money away for college and building a diversified financial portfolio. Though hurt, she’d gathered up
