“And how many different types of ice cream do you stock?”
“Thirty, but not all of them sell well.”
“Thirty?” It sounded like a lot to Emily. Her head was crowded with ideas and questions. “We need to start at the beginning. Those figures that kept you up all night. Would you share them with me?” Back in her comfort zone, she knew what was needed. Here, finally, was something she knew how to do. “If you’re willing to share it, I’d like everything you can give me on your business. Turnover, profit, loss—any information you have.”
Lisa blinked. “If you give me your email address I’ll send some spreadsheets to you. There isn’t much profit.”
“Yet.” Emily scribbled down her email. “We’re going to change that.”
“Do you really think you might be able to help?”
“I hope so. Helping businesses used to be my job.” She didn’t add that most of the businesses she’d worked for had been faceless, multinational corporations.
If anything, the small, personal nature of the business made success all the more imperative.
If this business failed, it directly affected a family.
Lisa looked uncomfortable. “I can’t afford to pay you, unless you call free ice cream payment.”
“If it’s blueberry, then the answer is yes. And no payment is necessary, but if it makes you feel more comfortable you can pay me in advice.”
“Advice?”
“I have no idea how to raise a six-year-old,” Emily said frankly. “You have two of them, and they seem healthy and happy, so you must be doing a lot right. And you seem to do it without turning into a ball of anxiety, so any tips would be welcome.”
Lisa gave a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously? That’s what you want in exchange for saving my business? You’ve been a mother as long as I have.”
Emily hesitated. “No,” she said finally, “I haven’t. Lizzy is my niece.” She looked around for somewhere to sit. “Do you know what you need in here? Some stools and a little bar where people can sit indoors if they want to.” But in the absence of seating, she leaned against the wall, and ten minutes later she’d told Lisa an abbreviated version of the story. All she left out was Lizzy’s true identity. That, she hadn’t trusted to anyone except Ryan and Agnes.
“So you’d never even met Lizzy until a couple of weeks ago?”
“That’s right. And I am messing it up.”
“I’m sure you’re not.”
Emily thought about the incident on the beach. Of the number of times Lizzy had asked if they could go and see the puffins and she’d refused. “Trust me, I am.”
Lisa was about to say something when the door opened, and Ryan strolled in.
Emily felt her legs melt beneath her. The sensation of control left her. One glance and she was like a teenager with a serious infatuation, except that she’d never felt anything as intense as this as a teenager.
It was the first time they’d seen each other since that evening at her house.
She knew she owed him an apology but had been too much of a coward to seek him out and say what needed to be said.
He paused on the threshold, his gaze locked on hers. She felt a rush of hunger, an awareness so sharp it made her stomach knot, that same white heat that came when he touched her. It felt as if they were the only two people in the room.
Except that they weren’t.
“Ryan!” Lisa walked across to him, apparently oblivious to the electric atmosphere. “Emily is going to help me think of ways to boost the business.”
“That’s good to know.” He pushed the door shut. “And it relates to why I’m here.”
Emily wondered if he had the same effect on all women and then noticed Lisa’s pink cheeks and decided that, yes, of course he did. Ryan Cooper was a sexy guy. No woman was likely to miss that.
She wiped her fingers on the napkin. “I’ll leave the two of you to talk.”
“Don’t go.” Ryan strolled across to the freezer and scanned the rows of ice cream. “I have a business proposition for you, Lisa. We’d like to start using your ice creams at the Ocean Club.”