The Playboy (Chandler Brothers 2)

“You do beautiful work.” Charlotte traced her finger over some of the photos of intricate wire designs. “I can honestly say I wouldn’t take in something that would jeopardize the quality of the merchandise I carry. Not only do I think these will sell, but I think we’ll make a nice profit. I need to see them in person of course, but I doubt that will change a thing, except maybe to convince me to buy one for myself.”

Charlotte smiled and the fist that had tightened around Kendall’s heart from the moment she’d seen Crystal’s dilapidated house finally eased. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Hey, don’t thank me. You’re obviously talented and this arrangement is good business. I have a glass case by the register in the front of the store. I can display them there and you and I can work out a percentage split.”

“Wonderful.”

Izzy arrived, plates in hand. Charlotte handed back Kendall’s book and she tucked it safely back into her bag, then she slid her business card across the table. “My cell phone’s on here so you can reach me at your convenience,” she told Charlotte.

“Sounds good.”

Izzy placed their food down in front of them and the aroma of pancakes filled the air. Kendall’s stomach grumbled. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. But Charlotte glanced down at the food and paled slightly. “You know what, Izzy? I changed my mind. Make it a decaf tea and some dry toast, please. I’m really sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Kendall asked.

“Depends on your definition of okay,” Charlotte muttered. “I’m fine, really. Just not a breakfast person but your order sounded so good, I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“No problem, honey,” Izzy said, then leaned closer. “Samson’s outside. I’ll just pack him up a bag and not tell Norman. Those two don’t always hit it off.”

“Thanks so much. Charge me, okay?” Charlotte said. Izzy waved a hand.

“Who’s Samson?” Kendall asked when Izzy had walked away.

“The town eccentric,” Charlotte explained. “He really doesn’t have any family or friends. He may or may not have money, no one knows but he seems to need the handout. I let him do favors for me so he doesn’t feel like he’s taking charity. I think he’s more misunderstood than anything.”

Kendall nodded. She glanced at Charlotte, still concerned at her odd reaction to the food but with the plate taken away from her, the other woman looked better. “We had our share of people like that in New York City. Difference is, no one seems to look twice. It’s sad.”

“D.C. too. Thank goodness Yorkshire Falls is different. More compassionate. At least some people are.” Charlotte glanced at Kendall’s plate and inhaled deep. “You go on and eat before it gets cold. I’ll just talk business until mine gets here if you don’t mind?”

“Well . . .”

“Eat,” Charlotte insisted. “And listen.” She grinned. “Something for you to keep in mind. I’ve made some contacts in Washington, D.C., and I’m considering opening up a boutique there. If your designs sell here, would you be interested in taking your work to the city?”

Kendall’s heart began to beat faster in her chest. “Are you kidding? I’d love the opportunity. Thank you.” She’d thought starting in Arizona would give her a more solid résumé and background. Never had she considered starting in a big metropolitan city first, but Charlotte was offering her that chance.

Kendall had come to Yorkshire Falls with no expectations except to sell the house and be gone. In less than a week she’d gotten herself a lover in name as well as fact, more than one friend, a sense of family, and the beginning of a stable career. If Kendall didn’t know better she’d think she was settling down.

* * *

Raina glanced at the timer on her treadmill, then slowed her pace. Less than five minutes left for her brisk daily walk, something she looked forward to more than ever now that her so-called illness limited her activity. But as she looked out the window, she noticed a car pull up to the curb and her youngest son climbed out.

“Darn.” Roman had the worst timing. She yanked the safety plug out of the treadmill and dove to the couch, covering herself with a blanket. Picking up a magazine, she made sure she had the telephone close by. Her phone served as an intercom and she could instruct Roman to come in without having to get the door herself. All in the name of the charade, she thought.

To her surprise, no doorbell rang but instead she heard Roman call out. “Mom?”

He’d obviously let himself in which surprised her since all three of her boys normally rang the bell before coming inside, even if they used their key instead of making her walk to the door. “I’m in the basement,” she called back.