Sunflower Alley (The Merriams Book 4) Page 5
Was it? He suspected not everyone would see it that way. But if finding a new purpose in life helped Connor manage his grief, Arthur was all for it. “Clara and I will need to discuss the secretive nature of your plan before we can agree. If you’ll excuse us… Hargreaves, please join us.”
He led his wife a few yards away, shielding her from the wind. Hargreaves joined them and stood next to his mistress—the term Clara insisted Arthur use even though it seemed ludicrous to call his wife someone’s mistress. Weird butler language.
“The boy seems set on this plan with or without our assistance,” Arthur said, “and I’m inclined to help. He might think he’s over his grief and guilt, but I think we know better. I’d like to be around if and when it kicks back up. Clara? What say you?”
“I agree with you,” she said, shaking her head a little, “but I hate the idea of keeping this from his family—our family. Even if I felt they could forgive me for it, I hate knowing they’ll be worrying. Hargreaves? I value your insights. They’ve been helpful to me for decades.”
Arthur almost said, why do you think I invited him to join us? But he kept his mouth shut. This was serious business, and Connor was tapping his snowy tennis shoes on the snow-packed ground impatiently.
The butler’s ever-calm demeanor didn’t falter. “I believe Mr. Merriam is serious about disappearing. I imagine his family would prefer for us to assist him in a healthy enterprise without their initial knowledge than for him to flee to parts unknown doing God knows what.”
That phrase—God knows what—chilled Arthur to his bones. “A man like Connor needs purpose and work,” he added. “He’s used to it. He’ll wither away otherwise. And this might help him feel like he’s fulfilling his promise to Corey.”
Clara drew back her shoulders, and that slight gesture was all the proof Arthur needed to know she’d reached her decision. “We’re going to back him and pray we can convince him to let us tell the rest of the family. I’m willing to risk their ire, but I’m hoping for their understanding.”
A family disagreement had kept Clara and her brother at odds for decades, but they’d finally made up. Something she was hesitant to risk, especially since she and Arthur had been involved in the family rift between Connor and the others.
“They are inclined to trust you, Madam, and you too, sir,” Hargreaves said. “After all, you have helped the other Merriam children quite admirably. This seems an exceptional situation, yet you are still helping a Merriam.”
“Thank you, Hargreaves,” Clara said with a regal nod. “Then I guess it’s settled. We’ll help Connor with this new project, including this woman who’s managed to impress him so, and keep an eye on his overall well-being.”
And yet, Arthur couldn’t help but worry. In the four months since Corey’s death, Connor had taken to making unilateral decisions in his drive to keep the people he loved safe. It had resulted in increasingly erratic behavior that had ultimately cost him his job as CEO of Merriam Enterprises. Was this new project another manifestation of his ongoing obsession with keeping the people he loved safe?
Arthur feared it might be, but he didn’t see any other choice than to help him and hope they didn’t fail. Perhaps they could do some real good in the process.
Chapter 4
A man she’d met in a snowstorm was going to help her launch her dream training program.
Even more miraculous, she’d mistaken him for a homeless person. A week later, Louisa still couldn’t believe it. After Connor had left in the Uber that had brought the homeless family to her door, she’d concluded one hundred percent: he wasn’t homeless or on his way toward it. No, he was unlike anyone she’d ever met.
He’d dropped off his outline the next morning like he’d promised, an outline so detailed, concise, and freaking brilliant, she’d almost thrown her arms around him when she said, “Yes, I want to see your full business plan.” He’d nodded, given her a make-your-knees-weak smile, and promised to deliver it to her in a week’s time. With that, he’d left.
Of course, she’d immediately raced the outline over to Boxer’s office. His eyes had opened a little wider with each page. “Yeah, this is super impressive,” he’d conceded, “but we still don’t know nothing about him, and he doesn’t seem interested in filling us in.”
Maybe so, but how could they pass up this kind of help? She trusted her gut, and it was telling her to work with Connor. Louisa had been on pins and needles all week, waiting for today. And not only because Connor was delivering the business plan.
He’d been flirting with her via text all week, and she’d caved in a few times and flirted back. His first text had completely shocked her.
Louisa, it’s Connor—the guy you saved the other night. If I didn’t mention it, thanks for that. Low moment for me. You make a beautiful knight in shining armor. I’m sending you a gift as a thank you.
When his surprise arrived, she got a little gooey on the inside. The fleece-lined gloves, a scarf, and a slouchy stocking hat were all in lipstick red, one of her favorite colors.
The price tags had been cut away, but she could tell they were good quality. Where had he gotten the money? But she made herself set aside that concern because he wasn’t one of her clients.
The card was simple yet touching, and she’d tucked it inside her purse for safekeeping. Usually she was the one who wrote the love notes around here. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had handwritten a message to her, much less one like this.
Louisa,
This set is waterproof since you seem to enjoy spending time out in snowstorms. I don’t like the idea of you being cold, but I like the idea of you continuing to help people like you helped me.
Connor
Okay, she’d admit it: he was charming and had a serious way with words. No cute little emojis for this man. Sitting at her desk, anticipating their meeting, she pulled up their message chain and reread it for the tenth time, like some pathetic schoolgirl.
Working on your plan, and it’s like you’re in my head, Louisa. I can almost hear you telling me what you want and what you don’t want. Of course, I push back a little because there are some things you don’t know you want yet.
Connor, you’re terrible. Send me your draft as is, and I’ll tell you if you’re on the right track.
Louisa, you are as impatient as you are tenacious, both qualities I admire. I’m savoring the anticipation of seeing you again and sharing my ideas with you. Both are going to be really, really good.
All right, that text made her want to combust. She knew she wasn’t reading too much into his words—he’d been thinking about sex. Hadn’t he said he might ask her out? The gift seemed a slam dunk on that score. She still wasn’t sure what she was going to do about that, but maybe today’s meeting would help her decide. She eyed the last series of texts from him.
Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Your plan is fresh off the presses. I’m wondering if I’ll still hear you talking to me once I deliver it to you. Not sure I want it to stop. That isn’t meant to sound crazy. Despite appearances at our first meeting, I am quite sane. Obviously eager for a real conversation with you.
You should probably delete that last text. I just read it again, and I do sound a little crazy. About you.
Okay, I’m going to stop texting you right now.
It didn’t sound crazy to her, but it suggested the man approached everything with the same brand of intensity, something that intrigued her. Each day, she’d found herself checking her phone multiple times for texts. Usually, she’d found one. Connor might not have told her much about himself, but he wasn’t the type to play games.
She checked the time. He was supposed to be at her office in five minutes, and she fought the urge to rush to the bathroom and check her appearance.
Someone rapped on her doorframe,
and she looked over to see Boxer standing there in navy sweats. “You still going gaga over those texts from Connor? Girl, I’m worried about you. You need to get out more if a few texts are enough to turn your head.”
He’d caught her re-reading Connor’s texts yesterday, twice, and had grabbed her phone and started reading them out loud. Thankfully, he hadn’t made it all the way back to the part about the gift, so he hadn’t teased her about it. Hadn’t given her any of his brooding looks either.
“Don’t you have someone else to harass?”
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “It’s obvious you want to meet with this guy on your own so I’m heading to the gym. But in all seriousness, are you one hundred percent sure you want to open this can of worms?”
“We both size people up quickly,” Louisa said, setting her phone aside. “Have to, right? What’s your take?”
“Well, he’s not dangerous, he obviously likes you, and he sure as hell is smart.” Boxer tapped the side of his head. “One night of work, and he came up with an entire outline full of ideas we’d never considered. Hell, he even identified various classes of homeless folk and made individualized suggestions for industry placement. Yada, yada, yada. I get it.”
“We can’t pass this up.”
He sighed. “I know this looks like one of your miracles.”
“Our miracles,” she reminded him. “Who saved my dog in a fire and turned his life around?”
“I miss that dog.”
She’d cried when he had passed away. So had Boxer.
“Who would have imagined you and me could look back on that day in a positive light now?” he asked.
She grabbed a paper and pen and wrote, “‘Your worst day may one day end up becoming your best day.’ How’s that for a love note?”
Chuckling, he said, “You really are a greeting card wrapped up in one cute little package. All I ask is you use your heart, which is the biggest I know, and your head. Perhaps tell your girl parts to cool it.”
She’d ignore that last comment. “If his business plan isn’t good, I’ll reevaluate,” she told him. “But I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
He waved at her. “I don’t either, but I still want to look it over when I get back. Speaking of… Connor is gracing our hallway. Hey, man. You got past our reception desk?”
She heard a robust laugh in response.
“I’m running out for a while, but I’m looking forward to reading this plan of yours once Louisa gets through with it.”
Connor extended his hand to Boxer, who shook it. “Here. I made you a copy.”
Their gazes met and held—they looked like two giant pillars of testosterone sizing each other up. She couldn’t stand it, so she hummed “wa-wa-waaaah” from The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly. “Take your Clint Eastwood impressions outside.”
Boxer dropped the challenge first. “Eastwood? Please, I’m taking my Denzel impression to the gym. See you later, Connor, and thanks for the copy. I’ll read it after I lift weights. Be good with my girl here.”
“Boxer!” Louisa called out, throwing a pen at him, which he deftly caught.
Connor didn’t move so much as an inch, only locked eyes with her. “Hello, Louisa.”
The way he said it almost made her gulp. She could almost hear him saying, Both are going to be really, really good. “Hi, yourself.”
Connor’s mouth twitched. “Boxer, don’t worry. Your girl is safe with me.”
As Boxer left with an indelicate sound, Louisa pointed to the chair in front of her desk and nodded to the gray slacks and black sweater he was wearing. Again, she wondered where he’d gotten the money. But goodness, he was handsome with that strong bearded jaw and those arresting eyes trained on her. “Still no coat?”
His mouth turned up as he took a seat and set the business plan between them. “I told you I run warm, but yes, I have a coat now. If I need it, I’ll wear it. Okay, Ms. Evans?”
He was teasing her for being bossy, she knew, and yet her name sounded downright sexy on his lips. “Speaking of being warm, thanks again for the present. I’m pleased to see you have something beyond running clothes to keep you warm.”
“Are we going to talk about my wardrobe? Maybe you’ll also be glad to know I’ve rented a furnished apartment on a month-to-month basis?”
“I’m relieved to hear you’re out of Ferguson’s.” Bad things went down there.
“What else can I tell you?” he continued. “What I ate this morning? Who I met with after my run? I would have texted you the play-by-play if I’d known you were that interested.”
Actually she was, but it wouldn’t be wise to push his limits this soon. “I’ll introduce you to our in-house chef later, and if you’re hungry, we can find you something.”
“I’m not one of your projects, Louisa. I’d hoped we could move past your misperceptions about me.”
And yet she couldn’t get the picture out of her mind of him sitting in the snow in the park drinking out of the bottle like he had nothing to live for. Be careful, Louisa. This one could break your heart. “Fine, I’ll stop. Now give me that file. I’m dying here.”
His smile was as slow and sexy as the way he slid it across her desk. “I meant what I said. This is going to rock your world.”
She wanted to purr in response but acted all casual as she picked it up. “I sure hope so. This is a pretty heavy business plan for only a week.” So thick, her mouth was salivating as she held it up as if weighing it.
“I’m thorough, and when I agree to do something, I do it well,” was all he said.
“On that we agree. I can’t wait to dig into it. You must have worked on it all week.”
His mouth tipped up. “No, I had something else to see to, but I had plenty of time to research, craft, and refine my thoughts for the business plan. After reading about all of your programs and plans, my main takeaway is that you’re thinking too small.”
She leaned forward and drummed her fingers on the plan. “No one has ever told me that. This shelter was supposed to be impossible, and yet—”
“You did it,” he said, “and now you want a bonafide job training center. But what does a successful one look like, the kind that trains people and helps them find good paying jobs?”
Oh, she wanted to bounce in her chair in excitement. “Talk to me.”
“Fine, you have some interesting people you’re helping. Some have records. A history of mental illness. Disabilities too, right? It won’t be easy to get those types stable, well-paying jobs.”
“I know that. The food industry has been good for hiring a few of the people who have records, so long as we vouch for them. I can’t guarantee people with mental illness will continue to take their meds.”
“Exactly! I’m glad you’re thinking about these issues already. As I understand from your website, your in-house chef and your brother train some of your people for food service. Impressive, but still too small. Three people a year.”
Placing her elbows on the desk, she said, “Trust me, to those three people, it’s not too small.”
He nodded quickly, drawing her attention to the crisp line of his jaw beneath his facial hair. His presence was more potent today, and it moved her to see the change in him. “Point taken. However, we’ll have to diversify. Most people in food service can’t make enough money to live in a safe, no-cracks-in-the-sidewalk kind of neighborhood.”
“You’ve done your homework,” she said, picking the plan up with the reverence someone might show a special holiday present. “I knew you were going to hit a home run. Your initial business outline was way too detailed and thoughtful. Are you finally going to tell me your last name and who you really are? Obviously you’re in some kind of major transition. You aren’t homeless.”
“I’m glad you’ve finally accepted that,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’m not ready to tell you anything else about me. Is that going to be a problem?”
She began to leaf through the first few pages.
“No, we’re good. But I might need a minute. Dying of curiosity here.” She scanned the table of contents. “Holy—”
“You can read that later,” he told her, pulling it out of her hands and standing up, waving it in the air—inasmuch as a person could wave such a massive document. “You promised me a tour. Tonight, maybe you’ll let me take you out for pizza. I know a great place.”
She stopped trying to grab it out of his hand as the enormity of the situation settled on her. This was her dream. “Connor, your business plan is everything I could have hoped for. And that creates a problem for our…back and forths. I’m not comfortable dating an employee.”
He made a deep sound in his throat, almost like amusement. “There’s no problem here. Louisa, I’m volunteering my services. Any assistance I provide is strictly pro bono. Like a consultant.”
She was sure her mouth was gaping open. “But you don’t have a job.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have money, Louisa.”
She thought of the gloves and his wardrobe today. His assertion only drove home how little she knew about him, and her gut instincts wavered in the face of it. “I don’t even know your last name. Don’t take this wrong, but some drug dealers are less mysterious than you.”
“Know some drug dealers, do you?”
It was time he stopped seeing her as some goody two-shoes. “When you work on the streets you come across them. I also know gang leaders, community and religious leaders, and some politicians thrown in for dessert. Actually, almost all of them put together are less mysterious than you.”
His compelling eyes studied her, and then he said, “Louisa, I know you’re tough. You went a couple rounds with me and won. No one does that. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all week. Like I told you in my texts, which you answered by the way.”