me, and I couldn’t reach him. His cell phone was taking messages, and nobody at Superior Apparel seemed to know where he was. He had to realize I'd be trying to reach him, but there was no contact for two entire days. I kept leaving messages, but there was no response.
Was it my fault? I’d done everything he asked of me. I’d loved him completely and honestly. As the hours passed, I allowed my restless brain to consider seriously the possibility that Gregg was indeed after the company, not the boss’s daughter, and that the hot loving was just a ploy to win me over, to brainwash me. He was the bait, and I fell for it. Me — the pathetic love-starved woman who managed the sewing department in her father’s business. Just another in Gregg Monsell’s long string of conquests. Could it be true?
I knew I stood to lose my lover and my company. But unless I heard from Gregg, and soon, there was nothing I could do about either sad mess.
I was desperate.
Our employees were edgy because there were no new jobs coming into the shop, and I had nothing good to tell them. They knew what had happened to Pa, and now they looked to me for all the answers.
Creditors were dunning us, and threatening to close us down. If we declared bankruptcy, our lawyer told me, they'd have to leave us alone, at least for awhile. Bankruptcy — that would be admitting we'd failed. No, I decided, not yet. Not till my last gasp.
Pa was doing as well as Dr. Sabin said I should expect, and they moved him out of the intensive care unit into a standard patient room. I couldn't bring myself to tell him the merger plans were disintegrating. I kept my visits short, and avoided the bad tidings.
Returning to my apartment, I discovered what I thought was yet another reason to worry. There was a letter waiting for me from Lucien Goodhue, mailed from Birmingham. Would you believe it? After being knocked cold on my bedroom floor, he had the gall to start harassing me again. I ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter. There were only two words scrawled on a sheet of notebook paper: "Sorry," and "Goodbye."
Thank goodness. One problem solved, I thought, but where is Gregg?
I hadn't prayed since I was a little girl, but when my cell phone began playing its tune, I thought it would be a good time to start again. As I dug for the phone in my purse, what I prayed was: Please, let it be Gregg.
And it was.
" Where have you been?" I blurted out.
"I'm on my way back from Lake Wiley," he said. "You know, where I used to own all that waterfront land."
"Used to? You mean you don't own it any more? You sold it?"
"I'm about twenty minutes from your place," he said. "I'll tell you the whole story when I get there."
I wasn't about to wait to buzz him in. I took the elevator down and went outside to wait. I felt my heart thumping in my chest.
I started running toward his car as soon as I saw it turn into the driveway. Gregg parked and ran to meet me, holding his arms out for a long embrace. It was a kiss to remember, a kiss of victory, and of love — a kiss that told me I was wrong ever to doubt him.
The first thing he said after our epic smackeroo was, "You were right. Dad would have sold the land and saved the business. He'd be proud of me." He took me by the arm, and we headed into the building, as he related what had happened. "At first I was devastated when you told me Aaron took the money. I just couldn't deal with it. I knew you were right about selling the property, so I called everyone who had ever asked to buy it — the ones I knew, and the ones Dad knew. I said I'd decided to sell it. Everyone I talked to wanted it. Right away there was a bidding war going on. Turned out the place was worth much more than I thought."
"But doesn't it take time to close on a property? What will we do till you get the money? "I said.
"I told the buyer why I needed the money, and that he'd have to make a down payment of twenty percent. He went along with it
Was it my fault? I’d done everything he asked of me. I’d loved him completely and honestly. As the hours passed, I allowed my restless brain to consider seriously the possibility that Gregg was indeed after the company, not the boss’s daughter, and that the hot loving was just a ploy to win me over, to brainwash me. He was the bait, and I fell for it. Me — the pathetic love-starved woman who managed the sewing department in her father’s business. Just another in Gregg Monsell’s long string of conquests. Could it be true?
I knew I stood to lose my lover and my company. But unless I heard from Gregg, and soon, there was nothing I could do about either sad mess.
I was desperate.
Our employees were edgy because there were no new jobs coming into the shop, and I had nothing good to tell them. They knew what had happened to Pa, and now they looked to me for all the answers.
Creditors were dunning us, and threatening to close us down. If we declared bankruptcy, our lawyer told me, they'd have to leave us alone, at least for awhile. Bankruptcy — that would be admitting we'd failed. No, I decided, not yet. Not till my last gasp.
Pa was doing as well as Dr. Sabin said I should expect, and they moved him out of the intensive care unit into a standard patient room. I couldn't bring myself to tell him the merger plans were disintegrating. I kept my visits short, and avoided the bad tidings.
Returning to my apartment, I discovered what I thought was yet another reason to worry. There was a letter waiting for me from Lucien Goodhue, mailed from Birmingham. Would you believe it? After being knocked cold on my bedroom floor, he had the gall to start harassing me again. I ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter. There were only two words scrawled on a sheet of notebook paper: "Sorry," and "Goodbye."
Thank goodness. One problem solved, I thought, but where is Gregg?
I hadn't prayed since I was a little girl, but when my cell phone began playing its tune, I thought it would be a good time to start again. As I dug for the phone in my purse, what I prayed was: Please, let it be Gregg.
And it was.
" Where have you been?" I blurted out.
"I'm on my way back from Lake Wiley," he said. "You know, where I used to own all that waterfront land."
"Used to? You mean you don't own it any more? You sold it?"
"I'm about twenty minutes from your place," he said. "I'll tell you the whole story when I get there."
I wasn't about to wait to buzz him in. I took the elevator down and went outside to wait. I felt my heart thumping in my chest.
I started running toward his car as soon as I saw it turn into the driveway. Gregg parked and ran to meet me, holding his arms out for a long embrace. It was a kiss to remember, a kiss of victory, and of love — a kiss that told me I was wrong ever to doubt him.
The first thing he said after our epic smackeroo was, "You were right. Dad would have sold the land and saved the business. He'd be proud of me." He took me by the arm, and we headed into the building, as he related what had happened. "At first I was devastated when you told me Aaron took the money. I just couldn't deal with it. I knew you were right about selling the property, so I called everyone who had ever asked to buy it — the ones I knew, and the ones Dad knew. I said I'd decided to sell it. Everyone I talked to wanted it. Right away there was a bidding war going on. Turned out the place was worth much more than I thought."
"But doesn't it take time to close on a property? What will we do till you get the money? "I said.
"I told the buyer why I needed the money, and that he'd have to make a down payment of twenty percent. He went along with it
Similar Books
