by Pat Amsden
“Mm. The pie man. Where are all these goodies coming from? There’s no kitchen.”
She shrugged. “It’ll work out.”
“You can’t take that to a bank. You have to have a reputable supplier lined up.”
“Mary’s doing the cooking for me. I’ll talk to her.”
“You can’t have a business based on whatever one of your friends decides to cook up that day.”
“You worry too much.”
“Somebody has to,” he growled.
“Oh. And I’ve decided on the name.”
He looked less than impressed. “Our problems are solved. What is it?”
“Elena’s. In simple, elegant, gold lettering.”
He smiled. “I like it.”
A smile washed over her face leaving him momentarily lightheaded.
“Well at least we agree on something.”
“Have you decided which contractor or did you want some advice on that?”
“I’ll take advice,” she said. “Then I’ll make my own decision.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
Her heart hummed as they went over the three contractor’s estimates and ideas, talked about finding a manager.
“So the first contractor has the most expensive quote but he’s doing the most.”
“And he’s got an excellent reputation.”
“It’s a lot of money.” She looked at him. “Are you sure it’s doable?”
His heart did a funny little flip in his chest. “Anything’s doable. And we can go over the estimate with contractor again, see if there’s any way to lower it. I’ll look for financing if you want.”
“But I’ll be bringing in sales from the beginning.”
“That’s the plan,” he said. “But you need operating capital to keep you going for the first little while.”
“I guess,” she said. She hated giving up any control, going into any sort of debt. She liked the direction Elena’s was going in though. Elena’s! She gave a twirl. “Where do I find a manager? In the paper? Word of mouth?”
“Possibly. And we can put something on Monsterjob.com if you want. I was thinking maybe get a grad of Malaspina’s business program.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to get someone with more experience?”
“Depends. Everybody starts somewhere. And someone just starting out will give it 110 percent. That might be better than someone with bad habits.”
“Mm. When you put it that way.”
She stopped in front of him throwing her arms around him. “I can’t believe it. It’s going to happen. Thank you! Thank you so much!” She looked up into his eyes and felt her heart begin to beat faster, saw the desire in his.
He pulled her closer and her arms tightened around his neck. Her mouth found his, hungry for his kiss, for his touch. She felt herself trembling under his touch. He pulled away suddenly.
“I’m sorry. This shouldn’t be happening. I …”
She felt herself jolted back to reality. “Don’t explain. Believe me it’s not what I want.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He looked miserable.
“This is business.” She said.
“Right.” He looked immeasurably relieved. “Just business. And in my experience mixing the two is a …”
“Mistake,” she said hastily. “A huge mistake.”
“Exactly.”
“So we’ll just forget all about - this,” she said, “and pretend it never happened.”
“Forgotten,” he said. “Why don’t we call it a night and I’ll come by tomorrow about ten.”
“Perfect.”
She liked artists. People with ideas and feelings. Although so far she hadn’t met anyone she really wanted a long term relationship with. There’d been Sean at university. But he’d always seemed more worried about his feelings and thoughts. She’d grown tired of nuturing his sensitive side, his budding genius. The boys in high school had always been too geeky and, well - boys - to interest her.
She should’ve sent Brad packing when he first arrived. Present. What kind of present was he?
A pretty special one a small voice inside her head insisted. He was helping her achieve her dreams. And it wasn’t his fault her dad was her – dad. She closed her eyes remembering the feeling of his lips on hers, his arms around her.
No. Now was not the time. Now was the time to achieve her independence. But she couldn’t get him out of her dreams. She woke the next morning tired from a night of tossing and turning. Tired from a night dreaming of Brad.
It didn’t matter. Even if she was interested in pursuing a relationship he’d made it crystal clear he wasn’t. It didn’t stop her treacherous heart from beating faster when he walked in the next day.
Not that she would ever show it. She could be as business like and professional as anyone. “So I called the contractor,” she said. “He said he could meet us at noon.”
“Good. Maybe if we go over the estimates we’ll see somewhere we can cut costs.”
But the only way to cut costs was to give up the environmental solar panels she wanted or use cheaper, less environmentally friendly flooring, a more toxic paint.
“No,” she shook her head. “Besides long term the solar panels will save money on heat.”
“You could give up your living space.”
“If that isn’t done I’ll have to rent somewhere. It’ll cost more in the long run.”
“Might have to anyway if it’s against code.”
“Nobody’s complaining. The wharf rats don’t mind having me as a neighbour and I like being able to get up and walk downstairs to work.”
She could tell he didn’t want her living there and she didn’t care. It was probably because he thought daddy dearest wouldn’t approve. She, on the other hand, didn’t care what daddy thought.
“I’ll see what I can do about arranging a line of credit,” he said. “Let’s go over the business idea and I’ll put it into a business plan.”
As they talked her business began to take a firmer shape in her mind. She could see it as she never had, see herself at the center of it and she liked what she saw. When the contractor came in at noon he gave his opinion.
“You can cut the initial investment by giving up the eco features but you get so much back in rebates and reduced energy costs it pretty much evens out long-term care. It’s more a personal value system.
And cutting corners on construction now means paying long-term in my experience. I can go through and trim a bit, maybe cut costs by not working nights and weekends.”
She held up her hand. She like the contractor. Grant Holmes exuded an air of quiet competence and his references had all sworn by him. “It’s OK. We’ll find the money. But I do want it open for business as soon as possible.”
“Kind of figured that,” he said gruffly. “You need the tourist season for a business like this.”
“How long do you think it will take?”
“Conservatively I’d say six weeks.” He saw her wince and held up his hands. “I’m hoping we can have everything done for you in a month.”
A month. And her dream would be a reality. “When can you start?”
“Tomorrow. 6:00 sharp. I’ll need thirty percent upfront, thirty percent half-way through, twenty percent at the end and a ten percent hold back in six weeks.”
“Deal.” She flashed him a huge smile. “Thank you so much.”
Brad was frowning at her as the contractor left.
“What? That’s the contractor you recommended.”
“Pretty confident on arranging a line of credit suddenly aren’t you?”
“It’s what I want. And Elena’s will be up and running in a month.” She couldn’t keep the elation from her voice. “I’ll manage the place for the first year if I have to.”
“You’re sounding a lot like your dad.”
“My dad,” she said, tossing her head in defiance, “would find this place much too small potatoes to waste more than ten mi
nutes of his time on.”
“You don’t seem to mind the idea of hard work to get the business up and running,” he said smiling.
“I’m not a workaholic like my dad. But I’ll work 24-7 to make Elena’s a reality.”
“What’s the difference?” he said curious.
“I don’t intend to do that forever. I want time for family, for friends.”
“And he doesn’t?”
“I can’t count the number of family vacations he missed, Xmas recitals, and birthdays. I won’t do that.”
“Seems to me you lived a pretty nice life growing up. Nice house, good schools, art lessons, dance lessons, whatever you wanted.”
“But I didn’t care about that,” she said passionately.
“You say that now,” he said. “You’ve never had to go without, give up anything.”
“Anything material,” she said bitterly. “I never said I wanted to be a starving artist. I just think – somewhere – there has to be a middle ground.”
“Good luck on that,” he said.
She could almost hear him saying Princess and frowned. Why was he such a passionate advocate of her dad? She knew some of it was his background. He’d gone without, had watched his family struggle. But it sounded as if overall he had a close family. And he hadn’t suffered from what she could see.
So why was he so determined to defend her dad’s workaholic ways. Men, she thought in disgust. Didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate help with Elena’s. Although she wouldn’t have suspected it when he walked through the door. Really the only reason she’d kept him around was because he was cute. But it was a good thing he didn’t want a relationship with her. They were too different. Their values were too far apart.
He lived to be a workaholic business exec, she wanted a life partner to share her life journey with. The man could definitely kiss though.
“You still want me to arrange a line of credit for you?”
She smiled at him. “If you can. I’m just saying if it falls through I’ll do what I have to do to make Elena’s a success without it.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said dryly. “Why don’t I spend this afternoon drafting up a business plan and we’ll meet tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll give you Mary’s address,” she said hastily. “Since this will be a construction zone starting tomorrow.”
“Right.”
CHAPTER THREE
Mary’s place was a Victorian cottage complete with veranda and trailing trellises of honeysuckle and roses.He entered to find the door guarded by two Siamese cats while his senses were assaulted by the smells of cinnamon and vanilla, cardamom and allspice, lemon and lime. He bent down rubbing the tummy of the cat who had sprawled in front of him demanding attention.
“Did I miss something? Is Betty Crocker in town?”
“A sense of humour,” she said. “No. We’ve been baking up new foods for the café and talking coffee and breakfast down to the marina for anyone who wants them.”
“What?”
“I need local customers during the winter. And it’s not fair to turn their regular coffee shop into a construction site overnight without any warning.”
“OK,” he said. “That makes sense. But how?” Apparently she was supported in this lunacy by …Mary?
It must be Mary. He’d never met the lady in person but it made sense. In her late forties to early fifties she was a dark-haired lady with bright blue eyes which danced with laughter. She appeared to be the center of the hurricane.
“Unless you’re prepared to do this on a regular basis wouldn’t it be a better idea just to take down coffee and muffins from the nearest bakery and let them know you’ll be back in business better than ever six weeks from now – four if they’re lucky?”
“Got to develop a line of products for the café. Oh – I’m the new manager,” Mary said laughing.
“You’re what?” He was getting a headache fast. Mary Sunshine probably had zip experience running anything.
“New manager,” Mary said, emphasizing each work to make sure it sunk in to Mr. MBA.
“Isn’t that wonderful,” Elena said. “We started talking last night and – well,” she shrugged, smiling.
“Well.” How to proceed? With caution. Clearly they were caught up in the excitement of the idea, of the moment. “I must say you know your way around a kitchen,” he said sniffing appreciatively. “But you have any management experience? At all? Because a banker just might want some sign …”
He was interrupted by Mary’s laughter, which he was beginning to find truly irritating.
“I’ll put up the money,” she said smiling. “Here, try some of these.” She put an apple strudel in front of him along with what looked like a piece of bundt cake.”
“That’s very generous of you,” he said smiling. “But some experience might be useful too.”
He could see Elena glaring at him and tried to do damage control. “Just to keep things on track.” But if he’d been worried about offending either Mary or Elena his words seemed to be having the opposite effect.
“Not to worry,” she said beaming. “I’ve got a little.”
“Oh good.” He felt himself beginning to breathe again.
“Just a little,” she said nodding.
“Mind if I ask where,” he said thinking perhaps a small coffee shop.
Just Desserts? The name rang a bell. His mind began to whir, catching the hint of a memory, of, of – a headline in the Globe and Mail. Just Desserts – “Hold on. Didn’t they just go public?” After buying out the current owner and founder of the company his brain was telling him. Who was one Mary – Mary Jussak? He looked at her. It couldn’t be.
She nodded, smiling. “The one and only.” She shrugged lightly. “I thought I’d retire and smell the roses for awhile, maybe do some travelling. But this sounds like fun! I can help get Elena up and running, be the manager until you’re on track – and then – we’ll see.”
“Well you’ve definitely got experience.”
She snorted. “Damn right. I started out baking cheesecake in my kitchen and worked up to a multi-million dollar dessert business.”
“You’re sure you want to go back to full-time?”
“For now.”
“We talked for hours,” Elena said happily.
“Great. You probably don’t even need to see the business plan I worked out.”
He started to leave.
“Wait. Brad! That’s not fair. Mary said she could help out until I got going, help me develop the café end of it. I’m still going to need help getting the gallery part of it going. And I still need a business plan.”
“You’ve already got funding in place.”
“That’s only if she can’t find anything else,” Mary said briskly. “On an interim basis. And she still needs a business plan. I learned that the hard way.”
He’d agreed to stay on as business consultant. And somehow he’d been drafted into their little armada of good will bearing trays of breakfast sandwiches and burritos, muffins and fruit along with steaming pots of coffee and pitchers of fresh juice down to the wharf.
An amazing array of people seemed to materialize out of nowhere wanting to sample their wares and find out their plans for Elena’s.
“You’re going to love it,” Elena said enthusiastically, to a boy of about ten as she handed him a burrito and juice.
“Come on Jazz,” a man of about 40 said to the boy, clearly not enthusiastic. “It’ll be another upscale Yuppie hangout.”
Elena just smiled at him. “Steve, you’re not giving us a chance.”
“Don’t need to,” he said helping himself to a cup of coffee and a muffin. “It’s not for me.”
“It’s for everyone,” Elena said as Brad felt a flash of anger at this man. “Bring your guitar up one day and play for us.”
“Not my scene,” Steve said, but he smiled as he said it.
People dressed in suits grabbed muffins and
breakfast sandwiches as they headed off to work in Nanaimo or Victoria. A group of older people formed a small group at the end of one pier talking excitedly while munching on breakfast sandwiches and drinking coffee.
Brad found himself amazed at the number and variety of people who emerged from houseboats and fish boats, yachts and pleasure craft.
There was, he realized, an active live aboard community here. The trays of breakfast burritos and sandwiches, muffins and fresh fruit juice disappeared quickly along with gallons of coffee and juice.
They stopped in front of Elena’s where a huge bin was being filled with old flooring and walls, counters and assorted debris. It was all for the best Elena told herself firmly. She smiled brightly at Grant as he came out to her.
“We’ve got coffee and breakfast for you and your crew.”
“Better if we just keep going for now,” he said. He smiled appreciatively. “It smells good though.”
“We’ll be back at ten,” Mary said brightly.
“No we won’t,” Brad said firmly as Elena looked at him.
“Brad…”
“Mary’s in charge of the food. We need to work on the business plan,” he said firmly.
“Brad’s right,” Mary said unexpectedly. “I’ll do the food with help from Michelle and maybe another local girl if I can find one. You work with him on the business plan. Oh, and I’m going to need you to do testing and decide on the product line.” She smiled at Brad. “You can help with that.”
Elena felt torn. “Maybe just this morning,” she said. “Until Mary gets some help.”
“No,” Brad said firmly. “If she’s going to be the manager she might as well start now.”
Elena looked at him. His mouth was set in a firm line brooking no interference. She looked at Mary. Brad was right she knew. But .. “Come back with us. I’ll help Mary clear up and you can go over the business plan with me at the same time.”
“You’re not going to be able to concentrate,” he said sceptically.
“Try me,” she said brightly. “I might surprise you.”
At that moment his phone went off. “Brad here … oh hi Greg.”
Elena reached out and grabbed his phone. “Hi daddy, Brad can’t talk now.” Then she threw the phone into the water.
