“You’re kidding, right?” She moved forward another foot and murmured an apology to the first-class passenger who took the brunt of her roller bag in the knee.
“No, I mean, I got to impress you with my natarajasana, met an ex-husband I didn’t know about, and got propositioned by your seventy-year-old great-aunt. How is that not fun?”
Her victim jerked his head their direction at Bryan’s words, and Ana had to stifle a snicker. After this weekend, what some random passenger thought about her was pretty far down on her list of things to worry about.
“To be fair, I really don’t think Lola Ildefonsa meant it that way. Call it a translation error.”
The line moved forward enough to get them to their seats, and Bryan hoisted their carry-ons into the overhead compartment. She settled into her window seat and shoved her purse under the seat in front of her.
“So, would now be the time to tell you that my parents invited us over to dinner tonight?”
Ana whipped her head around. “What? Tonight?”
“They actually invited you last week, but I figured we should see how this went before I sprang it on you.”
Ana just blinked. She hadn’t exactly been worried about bringing Bryan to meet her family because in the grand scheme of things, their approval or disapproval meant very little to her daily life. But the Shaws were different. Bryan lived with them for one thing; for another, Mitchell was close to her best friend’s fiancé. This was far more make-or-break for them.
“You look kind of green,” Bryan said. “I can cancel if you don’t want to go.”
As if she could do that. Not after the family and the ex-husband revelation. Fair was fair. “No, I’ll go. Dress code?”
“Casual. They’re not fancy.”
No, they just lived in a multimillion-dollar historic mansion. She’d definitely dress up for the event.
“So, I was thinking . . .”
Her heart started beating harder at the significant tone of voice. “Yes?”
“Rachel has been so supportive . . . what if we buy out a supper club event for potential customers and distributors, maybe media? Would she be willing to devise a coffee-forward menu for the event showcasing our beans?”
“Oh.” Ana laughed a little breathily when she realized he was transitioning to work. “I’m sure she would. I can ask her and see.”
“It’s an interesting story, so I think if we get the word out about what I’m trying to do with the farm and what Café Libertad is doing in the region, it might drive some interest to Solid Grounds.”
“It’s a good idea. I’ll pitch it to Rachel. She’ll enjoy concocting an interesting menu on Adrian’s dime.”
He gave her a half laugh. “Adrian.” Then he cast her a sideways look. “You really have a type, don’t you?”
“What? Rich, dark, and handsome?”
“Robert’s rich too?”
“Investment banker. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you when you met, considering all the territory-marking.”
“I don’t get involved in battles I can’t win.”
She shot him a look. “You don’t actually think I care about those things, do you?”
“Maybe not consciously. But you forget I’ve been to your condo.”
“Just because I live in a nice place and drive a nice car doesn’t mean I’m shallow.”
“I didn’t say you were shallow, and I never mentioned anything about your car. I’m just wondering . . .” He broke off.
“What? What are you wondering?”
He leaned over the armrest and pitched his voice low. “Ana, those things are never going to be important to me. I spent my life savings on a coffee farm that may never earn me a dime. I’m wondering if that’s the kind of person you could see yourself with. Long-term.”
She lifted her gaze to look him in the eye, surprised. “Are we thinking about the future now? Already?”
“Ana, honey, I’ve always been thinking about the future when it comes to you.”
She sucked in a breath. He was sincere; she had no doubt of that. He didn’t play games. And right now, on a plane, he was asking if he was enough for her.
“I guess that all depends. Can you see yourself with a woman who earns more . . . a lot more . . . than you?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, honestly.”
He flashed an impish smile. “It’s pretty much the ideal arrangement.”
A smile spread across her own face. “You don’t have to be so enthusiastic about the prospect of being a kept man.”
“I prefer the term trophy husband myself.”
“Slow down there, cowboy. No one is proposing yet.”
“You’ll give me fair warning when you do, though, right? I want to make sure my hair looks good on the proposal video.”
Ana threw her head back and laughed, suddenly lighthearted. “If I propose, I’ll make sure you’re camera-ready.”
“Good. I appreciate that.” He flipped up the armrest so he could take her hand and remained that way as the flight attendants started their routine.
Ana listened with half a mind, but really she was watching Bryan out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t joke around because he lacked depth; quite the opposite, actually. He was shockingly perceptive, and he knew just how to defuse tense situations in a way that didn’t make her feel handled or managed. He told her he was in this for the long haul but put the control squarely in her hands.
For the first time, she looked at a man and had no reservations. In some miraculous way, he was perfect.
Somehow, Ana fell asleep on the flight and woke to the bounce of the plane as it touched down at DIA. She lifted her head in confusion to see Bryan beside her, reading a book on the phone held in his left hand, his right still clasping hers. “We’re home?”
“Safe and sound,” he said. “I figured we’d drop you off at your house first so you can nap and get ready and then I’ll just pick you up later?”
“I can drive myself—”
“Let me. That way I have an excuse to escape the house afterward.” He smiled and she returned it. She’d met Mitchell before and found him to be perfectly pleasant, but she was sure that Bryan thought her family was absolutely wonderful as well. It was one thing to be a guest, another to actually live with your parents as an adult. She shuddered just thinking about it.
They were walking down the long hallway from their gate, dragging their bags behind them, when Bryan said, “I checked my email on the plane. We got a nibble.”
Ana looked at him blankly, still groggy from her nap.
“The beans?” he prompted. “Your samples? From a restaurateur . . . um . . .” He checked the phone quickly. “Caleb Sutter?”
Ana started laughing. “That was kind of a last-minute Hail Mary because he’s a friend of Rachel’s. But I didn’t mention that in the letter. He’s big into local and sustainable, so I suspected the story behind the company would appeal to him. What did he say?”
“He wants to try it in both his restaurants. Sample order of thirty pounds. If it goes well and the customers like it, he’ll give us and our logo a featured spot on his menus and his websites.”
Ana stopped abruptly, causing some grumbling behind her from passengers who were following too close behind. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not kidding. Look for yourself.”
Ana squealed and threw her arms around Bryan’s neck, hugging him tight. “This is amazing!”
“It’s only one order for two restaurants, Ana.”
“No, Caleb is a trendsetter. Everyone watches what he does, especially at Equity. If he picks it up, others are sure to follow. This is a good thing, Bryan.”
He smiled down at her, eyes gleaming, she thought with happiness. He took her hand and waited for her to grab her suitcase, and then they climbed onto the moving walkway down the center of the terminal. “This is all because of you, you know.”
Ana made a dismissive sound. “No, it’s
not. It’s because your farm produced some great beans and you did a great roast. I just got them to the right people.”
“And without that, it would just be a bunch of beans in sacks in my warehouse.” He nudged her. “We make a good team.”
“That we do. We have to capitalize on this, of course. If I can get an in-person meeting with other high-end chefs, I can subtly drop that we’re in Equity and it gives us instant credibility.”
“Why don’t we wait until we’re sure that the customers actually like it?” Bryan suggested.
“They’re going to love it, trust me. We need to take this little bit of momentum and run with it. Don’t start getting all humble on me now.”
The whole way home in the Uber, Ana was making both mental and electronic lists of what they’d need to do next. She wouldn’t say it aloud, but she’d been waiting for the first feedback before she started working on her marketing push. If they didn’t get any interest, it would be a sign that they had to rework either the roast or the marketing message. But Caleb had impeccable taste, so she was sure more emails would be coming in before long. Most chefs and managers got tons of samples every day, and while they usually tried them when they were fresh, it could take weeks for them to actually get back to the suppliers.
The Uber pulled up in front of Ana’s place and the driver hopped out to get her suitcase. Bryan poked his head out of the back door. “I’ll pick you up about six thirty or so?”
“I’ll be ready. Looking forward to it.” She was nervous too, but riding the high from their good news, she had nothing but confidence it would be a successful and pleasant night.
* * *
Ana never managed to take the nap that she claimed she was going to grab. Instead, she sat down with her laptop and worked her way through the hundreds of messages that had come in over the weekend. Most of them were junk until she got to one from Lionel Massey, marked with the little red exclamation point that meant urgent.
Hope you’re enjoying your vacation. I know we said we were going to keep you out on leave for a little while longer, but we have another prospective client, and she says she will only work with you. Think I can convince you to cut your vacation short? Or at least come in to close the deal?
He’d included a link at the bottom to a Washington Post article headlined: Louisa Holliday steps out on Academy Award–winning husband. A photo of the starlet emerging from a hotel wearing dark sunglasses and shielding her face from the paparazzi made her look embarrassed and ashamed, when she probably was just annoyed at the attention.
Ana stared at it as she processed. Everyone knew who Louisa Holliday was, and it was a sign of Ana’s preoccupation with personal matters that she hadn’t even heard of this latest scandal. How had a Hollywood star even gotten Ana’s name, let alone determined that she was only going to work with her?
She considered her words carefully before she clicked Reply. I’m working on a consulting project, so it all depends on what she has in mind. Do I need to fly to New York or is she coming to us?
She clicked Send and then tried to put the thought aside, even though it was rattling around in her head while she emptied the rest of her inboxes of varying spam messages. She was about to shut down when the envelope icon appeared on the tray again, and she clicked it to open it.
Lionel had already responded. She’ll do whatever she needs to do. Are you in?
She sat back in her chair and considered, shocked that it even took consideration. The fact was, after the first couple of restless days, she hadn’t missed her job. She had found an outlet in Bryan’s roastery, a way to use skills that usually took a backseat to the more important strategic planning and image casting that she was paid very well for. She’d always expected to go back, but now that she was faced with the reality of it . . .
She must have sat there for ten minutes, staring at the message. Finally she closed the lid of her laptop without responding and went into her bedroom to change for dinner. But the presence of the email, what it could mean, nagged at her.
Lord, is this Your doing? Are You handing me a way back into a job I thought was gone? What about Bryan? What about the roastery?
What am I supposed to do here?
She hadn’t truly expected a voice from heaven in reply, but she’d hoped for . . . something. An insight. A feeling. A nudge in one direction or another. Maybe she should talk it over with Bryan. He would walk through all the pros and cons with her, regardless of whether it worked out in his favor. Which was exactly why she loved him. He wasn’t trying to make her into his own image of what he wanted in a girlfriend; he took her exactly as she was.
That thought put a smile on her face as she chose her clothes for dinner. He might have said it would be casual, but in this case, she didn’t quite trust his judgment. Instead she picked a slim purple skirt, one of her floral chiffon blouses—so she’d succumbed to a sale as soon as the spring fashions came out—and a pair of neutral pointy-toed flats. She looked cute but put together, casual but still elegant. Ready for whatever might get thrown her way.
She was just fashioning her hair into a loose fishtail braid when a knock came at her front door. She grabbed her earrings and her watch from the bathroom counter and made her way to the door, putting on the jewelry as she walked. Sure enough, Bryan was standing there waiting for her, already changed—she suspected more for her benefit than his parents’.
“Ready?”
“Let me grab my purse. You can come in and have a seat if you want.” She turned and went back to her bedroom, where she quickly shifted her wallet and makeup case from her travel shoulder bag into a fold-over clutch. When she came back, Bryan was standing near the windows, looking out onto the twilit city.
“Another purse?”
Once she got over the surprise that he actually paid attention to her handbags, she shrugged. “I have a substantial collection. Silly not to use all of them.”
“No offense,” he said, accompanying her to the door, “but do clients actually care about those things?”
“Clients come to me wanting me to fix the mess they’ve made of their lives. They might not consciously notice whether or not my purse and shoes complement my outfit, but subconsciously, they’ll register that all the parts work together. There’s nothing in the image that makes them doubt my ability to put everything to rights. And when we’re talking about people who are facing at least the loss of their careers, if not jail time, that’s reassuring. If they think anything at all is off, they’ll go somewhere else.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.” Bryan stepped outside and waited as she closed the door behind her, the electronic lock automatically latching. “Doesn’t that ever get to you?”
“Sometimes. But it’s part of the job.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Ana let the comment pass. She’d been about to tell him about the offer she’d gotten from Lionel, certain that he would push the decision back to her, but now she wasn’t so sure. Given the way he felt about authenticity, it wasn’t so far-fetched that he would urge her to get out of a profession that put such a premium on image and into something in which she could be herself.
And she might not have the ability to resist that logic.
Bryan escorted her to his battered hatchback parked a couple of blocks down the street and held the door open for her like the gentleman he was. When he climbed in, he looked over at her. “Ready for this?”
He was just pulling away from the curb when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen, but then sent it to voice mail. “My mom. We’ll be there in a few minutes and she can tell me whatever she’s calling about in person.”
A text message beeped in next, and he glanced at the phone quickly. “Mom again.”
“Don’t you think you should call back? It could be important.”
“I just saw her ten minutes ago. How important could it be?”
Ana didn’t say anything, but as the messages and calls piled up, her usually
accurate instincts started poking at her. She’d spent a lot of time with Bryan in the last few weeks, and never once had his mom been so insistent on getting ahold of him. The occasional phone call or text, yes. Five in as many minutes? Never.
But they were pulling up the driveway of the Shaws’ house now, so there wasn’t much point in calling back. Bryan pulled into his usual spot and frowned. Ana followed his gaze to a sporty gray sedan parked at the opposite end of the driveway. It had California plates.
“Did your parents invite other guests?” Ana wondered aloud.
Bryan seemed just as baffled as she felt. “Not that I know of. Could be an employee dropping something off for Dad.”
He turned off the ignition and moved to open her door, but she climbed out before he could. Then they walked to the front door together, Bryan pushing the door open and gesturing for Ana to go ahead.
She tried to keep the awe off her face, but it was difficult when she stepped into an ornate art deco entryway, complete with extensive wood carvings and stunning crystal chandeliers. The Shaws might use the space casually, but it was easy to imagine the balls that would have been held here in the Prohibition era, probably serving bootlegged liquor to elegantly dressed flappers and their dashing escorts.
“This is all original?” Ana asked.
“Most of it. And what isn’t was reproduced using original methods. My dad was very exacting in his preservation efforts.”
“Bryan?” Kathy Shaw’s voice came from the adjacent parlor and they moved toward an equally beautifully decorated room. Kathy broke off when she saw Ana, a stricken look on her face.
A queasy feeling hit Ana’s stomach. Had they gotten it wrong somehow? Was she not expected? Had something terrible happened, a family emergency?
While she was trying to work out the situation, she noticed that Mitchell and Kathy were not alone. A dark-haired woman sat in one of the armchairs near the fireplace. Her head swiveled toward Bryan and she slowly rose from her chair.
“Vivian?” Bryan breathed.
Ana’s mind shifted gears abruptly, first registering that Vivian meant Bryan’s first love, the one who had broken his heart and ended his career.
The Solid Grounds Coffee Company Page 31
