He poured his double Americano into a mug he bought. “I hate to drink out of paper, and besides Lydia collects these. Silly, huh?” He slid his chair back and grabbed a pretty green mug handing it to Connie. “One for you, too.” His grin put Connie at ease.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t. I should be buying you coffee and mugs.” Logan shook his head, removed the plastic dome from Connie’s Frappuccino and poured her drink into the ceramic cup.
“Lydia will be thrilled – two more to add to her frivolous collection. Now, tell me all. How did all this transpire? Start at the beginning.”
Connie swallowed her embarrassment with her next sip of coffee. “It was sort of out of the blue. I’ve been frustrated with being one of many designers for Doug’s company. I was belly aching to Natalie when she convinced me to call Mr. Lord Senior. I guess he put some wheels in motion for me to meet with a handsome bank employee, Jaeda.” She paused to make sure he was paying attention. He seemed to be gazing beyond her, above her head. Was she talking too much, too fast?
“Go on. What did this Jaeda say?”
“I was as nervous as a fish out of its tank. I’m not sure I remember every word, or every detail. But, I’m pretty sure he said a group of investors who support young entrepreneurs wanted to back me with ….” She named what to her was an astronomical sum and felt her eyes glisten. Logan Lovejoy nodded. “Then he told me ‘first things first. Find a place for your studio.’”
Logan tapped the side of his mug. “Have you thought about location? Location is all, especially for a business.”
Connie shook her head. She felt so dumb struck, so dumb, actually.
“Where, if you could chose anywhere in Newport, would you want to be?”
“I’m so used to the Peninsula and the Balboa area. But, there isn’t much exposure there. What would you suggest?”
“Do you like Corona del Mar?”
“Oh, love it! Could never afford it. Why?”
“I don’t do many rentals, but an interesting one just came on the market near Love In Bloom, Lydia’s floral shop.” He looked at her face for a reaction. Her smile quivered. “Not totally out of your league, your new league, Connie. It’s a unique situation, and if you want we can scoot by there and check it out.”
Did she ever! She slid into the passenger seat of Logan’s SUV, somewhat surprised it wasn’t a Mercedes. Why had she even thought that?
He parked behind Love In Bloom in a free space in the alley and led her through the back door of the shop. She stopped to hug Braydon who gave her a pink rose bloom. So far, even if this place didn’t pan out, it was a fun mini journey. These folks were like family to her and all the Candy Canes. They chatted for a few minutes, Braydon catching her up on Rob and Cindy in Costa Rica, and she told him the little she knew about Candy and Devin’s honeymoon in Catalina. She held the pink rose up to her nose and followed Logan out the door.
~
Connie sat on her bed shivering. Not from cold, but from excitement. Her whole life, her whole world seemed to be changing almost overnight. She had signed a lease contract for the studio with Logan negotiating. He was so well respected the other realtor never batted an eye, just nodded. She could hardly believe she would not only have her own studio in Corona del Mar, but she would be living above it in a darling apartment. Logan would put her little house in Costa Mesa on the market as a rental which would give her more monthly income.
He told her to make a list. She grabbed a handy piece of paper, then decided to boot up Word on her laptop. That way she could switch items around or delete them.
* Models (need Doreen if she doesn’t have a binding contract with Doug. Need male models. Ugh.)
* Furniture (for apartment and studio)
* Seamstress (es) for measuring models and cutting/sewing the designs and altering – Alice?
* Advertising. That was a tough one. She needed someone with expertise to design print and media ads, as well as someone to do front signage, maybe press releases, too.
So overwhelming! How could she do all this? She needed the advice of the Candy Canes.
~
“How did it go with Connie?” Lydia smiled at the two mugs and put them in the dishwasher. She was thrilled for Connie when Logan explained it all, but a bit worried, too. “She’s pretty green at this, isn’t she?”
“I agree. But, I think if the bank guy, Jaeda, guides her, she will be fine.” He scratched his head. “Do we know him? I don’t remember Bill Lord mentioning his name before. Or, I may have met him briefly once long ago.”
“I don’t think so, but Bill must trust him or he wouldn’t have sent Connie to him.”
~
Jaeda settled himself behind his glass-topped desk and felt his face light up. That beautiful designer girl, Connie, sat in the chair opposite. He loved the creative types, especially the ones with flawless skin and sparkling ocean blue eyes. His mother would have a fit if she knew he was attracted to a fair skinned girl, and a designer, yet! Keona was another matter, not that it was any of her business anymore. Their divorce was finalized last month. He had boarded Jake at the vet’s and celebrated with a long ride to Arizona on his Yamaha R1. He fell in love with Scottsdale, so much like Newport. Fancy cars, great restaurants, fun sports and entertainment venues, and that Go AZ motorcycle place. Unbelievable with a huge underground area filled with nearly a thousand cycles. He had splurged on one of the best hotels, The Westin Kierland, just a mile from the Kierland shopping center. More great restaurants and upscale shops. Maybe he should ask for a transfer.
Connie tilted her head. Was Jaeda in this galaxy? He seemed so far away. Finally, he rubbed a palm across his forehead and smiled. “Sorry. Got distracted. Not professional. Now, how can I help you?”
“Not sure. One of my mentors suggested I speak with you for advice. Like maybe how to divvy up this wonderful windfall I came into. How to budget it. Think you can help?”
He looked her account up on his computer and pulled out a calculator. Why was he so distracted? She was just another bank client. Then she smiled, and she was more than that.
CHAPTER FOUR
She hadn’t called Doreen back. Guilt and confusion clogged her mind. What kind of friend was she? She dialed.
“Oh, Con, I was so worried about you.” Doreen sounded like she was about to burst into tears. “Why did you keep driving back and forth in front of the warehouse?”
“I was trying to process something unbelievable and wonderful.” She finally had the gumption to share. Doreen hooted.
“I am doing a Snoopy dance for you. Can you hear me?”
Connie laughed with joy. So special to have another Candy Cane share it. She knew she was getting a bit ahead of herself, and of the financial calendar she and Jaeda had planned, but she couldn’t resist. After all, she had gotten Doreen into this crazy design business, and she was the primary model for the disability line. Without Doreen, that line wouldn’t have existed in Connie’s design collection. Now, it was getting bigger.
~
She needed to call her mom.
Connie envied Candy’s and Noelle’s relationships with their moms. She loved her mom, but she had never felt close enough to share deep secrets with her. Not even joys. Mabel Winfield always reacted the same to sad and joyful news. Eyebrows arched, she would pull her glasses down low on her nose and quote a Bible verse. Usually one about sin. She seldom got excited, and more often seemed to display disapproval. Like when Connie told her after the graduation ceremony from college in design with a 3.8 that she planned to pursue her dream. It hadn’t done any good to explain the less than 4.0 was because of the dreaded science classes she was forced to take. Biology and botany lent little to creativity. She had loved the History of Design, and embraced all the art classes. The information in those easily conveyed to fashion design. Mom had just shaken her head, patted her on the shoulder and said a simple “Congrats.” No “I’m proud of you,” not “You worked so hard.” She hadn’t even given C
onnie flowers or a gift, just a card with a simple pre-printed message signed Mom and Dad. It could have been a card for anyone.
Dad had been great, though, hugging her close, whispering how proud he was of her in her ear, maybe so Mom wouldn’t hear his sentiments. Then right in front of all the robed graduates and their guests he swung her in a dance routine. Onlookers clapped, smiled and cheered. Mom turned and walked away. “Come on, George. Stop being ridiculous.”
She knew her sister Sandra (always pronounced Sawn-dra, Mom insisted) felt bad for her. She had frowned at Mom’s retreating back, touched their dad on the shoulder and said, “Daddy, we had better go.” But, the words were soft and said in kindness. Then she smiled and winked at Connie after she touched her arm lightly.
Connie still felt Sandra’s feathery touch of pride on her arm almost five years later. She touched the place now, and her eyes filled with unshed tears. Blinking hard, she pulled her phone out of her giant purse and pressed the number for Denver. Maybe, if she was lucky, Dad would answer so she could tell him her good news first.
~
Jaeda squeezed the bridge of his nose. He was worried about the budget he and Connie had done. Land O’ Goshen, he hoped he was wrong. The ancient phrase his grandmother used to use popped into his head unbidden and made him chuckle. Hopefully, there was some humor in his concern. He gestured to Rita the manager in the glassed cubicle across from him. He’d always thought he was more than decent in math, but Rita had the reputation among the other bank managers as “The Whiz.” She pulled a chair up next to him while he explained.
“Right here,” she said pointing a blue-tipped finger at the entry line about housing. He hoped she couldn’t see the blush on his dark skin, but she must have. “Don’t be embarrassed, Jae. It’s a common mistake. But, I do think you should get in touch with her before she overextends herself in that area. Unless she already has.”
He hoped not. He dialed Connie’s number right away. Busy. He guessed she probably saw she was getting another call, but couldn’t interrupt the one she was on. Text.
Need to talk. Important. Call me, please. ASAP
It would have to do. Then, another idea. He dialed Bill Lord’s cell number and waited while it rang and rang and rang, then went to voicemail. Not his lucky day. Last idea. Should have been his first. Pray. He’d understood from things Connie said that she is a Christian. He knew the Bible was chock-full with references about money. Pulling the leather bound copy from his desk drawer he used the Concordance. Easier, faster in some ways than using the cell phone ap first.
He was flipping the thin pages to the word money. Then, he looked the passages up on his cell’s Bible ap. That way he could try different versions. Most of them were to his surprise in the Old Testament. Only one that came up in the New Testament was in 1 Timothy. He tried the different versions on the ap. He had always like the Amplified Bible and pulled that one up.
For the love of money [that is, the greedy desire for it and the willingness to gain it unethically] is a root of all sorts of evil, and some by longing for it have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves [through and through] with many sorrows. 1 Timothy 6:10
It wasn’t exactly what he had hoped for. He didn’t believe he, nor Connie, was greedy, nor had she gained it unethically. It was a gift to her. He knew the bank would receive a percentage, a small one, for orchestrating the donation. That is what it was called because the group who gave it to her was a non-profit. He was pondering that when his cell rang.
“Hi, Jaeda! I am so excited. I just talked with my mom, and for the first time in years she was enthusiastic for me. Actually, blessed me with the Jabez prayer.” She sighed so loudly he almost put the phone down. “Now, what’s up?”
~
Jaeda pinched his nose again, and this time wiped his brow. It was his mistake, but how could he tell her? Bill Lord hadn’t returned his call yet, so he was on his own.
She sat across from him again and stared, her azure eyes wide, still reminding him of the ocean. Why couldn’t he escape that vision? He wanted to dive into them, those pools of blue.
“W – well,” he stammered. “Seems there is a glitch in our budgeting for your windfall.”
“Oh?” She blinked rapidly, and he was sure he saw mist under her eyelids. It would kill him to disappoint her. She was so trusting. How could he rectify this? Be honest, confess. He pinched his nose.
“The mistake was mine. But, not only will I figure it out, but I will correct it.” He wiped his brow again. How would he correct it? He didn’t have that kind of available cash. Maybe he would lose his job.
~
Connie was shocked. How could this have happened? She would have to give up the new design space. Hard to blame Jaeda because she was there doing the numbers with him. Still, he was the expert. Maybe not. She tried as the Bible taught in 1 Thessaloniansto “give thanks in all circumstances” and focus on the overall blessing, the support of the group that funded her. She needed advice. Again.
Logan Lovejoy was delighted to meet with Connie again. She waved to him from the same little round table, but she didn’t look happy. A latte was sitting in front of her, and so was a balled up paper napkin. He ordered a venti Americano with an extra shot of espresso. He guessed he would need it. He was right.
“How did this happen, Connie?” His brows rose in question. “I thought you and that banker guy did a budget.”
She shrugged. “We did. I thought he was an expert. Guess not.” She looked miserable.
Logan turned his paper cup around in his hands several times wishing he had bought a ceramic one for Lydia. Think, man, think. How can you help her? Maybe the banker calculations were not as off as Connie thought.
“Can you get a copy of the budget? I’d like to see it. I should have asked for it before we went real estate shopping. I just trusted how much you said you could spend each month on rental for a studio.” He slapped the table, and both cups jumped. “Some realtor I am.”
“No, Mr. Lovejoy, not your fault. I’m not good at budgeting, and certainly not at math. But,” she continued with a sigh, “I am good at trusting.” She stared off into space. “Not so much anymore.”
“Still, it sounds like a glitch, an oversight. Maybe made in haste and too much excitement. May I see a copy of it?”
“Of course. I will text Jaeda right now.” After sending the message she laid her phone on the table, and it started to vibrate. “Still on silent.” She grinned. “I hate that bing sound.”
“Me, too, but if I don’t have it activated, I sometimes don’t hear it. Like over the car engine noise. I do have Bluetooth, but I don’t use it much. Unless I’m talking business with a client. I -”
She interrupted him. “Wow! Guess he does feel guilty. He’s sending a copy over with a courier.” Her eyes were wide, and she finally took a sip of her latte. “Ugh! Cold. Sorry I interrupted you. Guess we should wait for the courier to appear.”
He nodded, had the barista refill their cups and said a silent prayer, hoping for the best. Maybe if he looked over the entire budget he could find a solution so she wouldn’t have to renege on the studio rental. She had already signed the contract.
Ten minutes later Logan slipped a wad of papers out of the envelope the young man with the unruly hair had handed to Connie. He brought up the calculator on his phone and started punching in numbers. He used the realtors’ formula for the percentage of income one should spend on housing. Although Connie’s windfall wasn’t exactly income, he thought of it that way. Then, it hit him.
“Connie, estimate for me how much you make net each month.” His mouth went dry, hoping. He added that number to the windfall number.
“Now, tell me how much you spend on models and seamstresses. What their salaries are, approximately.” She did some finger calculating and explained it varied. He ball-parked it and deducted that as expenses.
“If you had to, absolutely had to, what could you eliminate or cut back on?”
/>
“Well,” she hesitated. “Doug wants to send me a new male model.” She bit her bottom lip and made a face. “I hate male models! So into themselves. Always scrawny and egotistical, no fun to design for.”
“What about if you found one to do it for free, or minimal compensation?”
She rolled her eyes. “Good idea, but who?”
Logan took an audible deep breath. Now he remembered he had seen the man he had in mind once in passing when he was standing in line at the bank. Considering his error in the budget, maybe … “What about Jaeda?”
“What! A buff black model? Mmm.” Her expressive face broke into a wide grin, then she giggled. “That could be fun.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Jaeda shook his head hard. No, no, no! What would the bank think? Or, did anyone have to know? He texted Connie. “I will pray on it.”
“You pray? You Christian?” was the text she sent back. “You did say you’d find a way to compensate for the error.” She added a smiley face and an emoticon of praying hands.
He asked what it would involve. He obviously couldn’t do it during banking hours, couldn’t risk his job. Especially, when he was planning to apply for a transfer to Scottsdale.
They decided to meet and discuss. He wanted to see some of her designs, maybe meet the Doreen she’d told him about. The one with the shorter leg who is her model prototype for disability designs. Had she designed for any male clothes? It was important to him to keep his image, not be subjected to attire that smacked of non-gender. He tugged at the knot in his tie. It had to be all male clothes, nothing else.
The next afternoon he stood on a raised round thing while a petite older woman named Alice took his measurements. He was uncomfortable with some of them, but she assured him it was necessary. “How can Miss Connie know what size to tell the seamstress to make?” She glanced up through foggy glasses to admonish him. At this moment, Alice was in charge. “Stay still, mister. Stop wiggling. Inseams are important, especially on men.” Yep, she was in charge.
Connie's Silver Shoes (The Candy Cane Girls Book 4) Page 2
