Must Be Wright (The Wrights 3)

“The most important question is,” Belle said, “do you like Fifth of Jack?”

Caity’s brows shot up. “The band? I love them.”

As if brandishing a wand, Belle gestured toward Caity. “You’re hired.”

Gypsy had to choke back an all-out laugh. Belle was intelligent and precocious, and she easily lightened Gypsy’s mood. “Thank you for that vote of approval, Belle. I just have a few more questions.”

The bar door opened, and Wyatt slinked into the shadows, surreptitiously moving toward the table. Hands in his pockets, shoulders slouched, his body language screamed defeat. Clearly, things hadn’t gone well with the attorney.

Caity glanced that direction. Her expression showed recognition, but she returned her attention to Gypsy the way a professional used to dealing with celebrities should. Another point in Caity’s favor. The woman had turned out to be as amazing as her résumé, and Gypsy was leaning toward Belle’s decision to hire her. Gypsy could taste the relief this would bring to her life.

“You seem like a perfect fit,” Gypsy told her. “Would you mind just watching Belle a second while I talk with—”

Belle had spotted Wyatt and she lifted a hand to wave. “Hi, Uncle Wyatt. We’re interviewing managers. Be very quiet.”

Gypsy stood, searching Wyatt’s expression for answers.

“I’m sorry?” Caity said, not so pleasantly surprised. Her gaze darted to Belle and back. “You want me to watch her?”

“Just for a minute. I need to talk with my friend, then we can continue.”

Gyps

y only got two steps toward Wyatt before a chair scraped the floor. She turned back to find Caity slinging her purse strap over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Wright,” Caity said. “This isn’t going to work out for me.”

Gypsy faced Caity, confusion and concern tightening her stomach. “What? Why not?”

“After years of being undervalued and overlooked by men in this industry, I was excited to work for a woman who has been so successful, even if it meant a pay cut. But I’m not interested in babysitting my boss’s kid or being sidelined so she can clear up personal issues. I made this interview my top priority and planned my day accordingly, but you clearly don’t see this position as importantly as I do.”

“I’m so sorry,” Gypsy said. “I didn’t mean to make you feel—”

“I believe actions, not words. Your actions tell me everything I need to know. Good luck to you.”

Gypsy stood there dumbfounded as Caity left the bar. She wasn’t sure how to process her sudden departure and cutting words. She couldn’t exactly qualify having a five-year-old in on the interviews as professional, but it wasn’t like she’d planned for this. Then again, if she’d just stood her ground and told Wyatt no, she would have been putting as much value on this position as Caity obviously had.

“Why is she mad?” Belle wore a worried frown. “Did I do something wrong?”

Gypsy ran her hand over Belle’s dark hair. “No, sweetie, she’s just looking for something I can’t give right now. Go say hi to your uncle.”

Belle skipped to Wyatt, chattering about helping Gypsy with the bar and the interviews, but Caity’s exit reminded Gypsy of just how hard it was to find the manager she needed. And she’d just let the most experienced candidate walk out. Pressure renewed, Gypsy turned her glare on Wyatt.

He took one look at Gypsy’s expression and crouched in front of Belle. “If you can line up all the bottles of beer behind the bar in alphabetical order, I’ll give you ten bucks.”

Her eyes went comically wide. “Ten bucks?”

“Ten bucks. And after I finish talking to Gypsy, we’ll go anywhere you want to spend it.”

“Deal.” Belle ran around the bar, and the clink of glass sounded as Belle pulled bottles out of the boxes Gypsy had hauled from the back earlier.

“Goddammit, Wyatt.” Gypsy had a hard time keeping her voice lowered, angrier with each step she took toward him to get out of earshot of Belle. “I told you just last night to call if you’re going to be late. I also told you to be back in two hours. I need a fucking manager, and I can’t say I blame her”—she gestured toward the door—”for seeing me as unprofessional when I brought a five-year-old to her interview.”

“I can go after her,” he offered, serious and apologetic. “I’ll explain everything. I’ll get her to come back in.”

“Forget it. I didn’t like her attitude—” about Belle almost slipped out of her mouth, but the girl wasn’t all that far away. “This isn’t a hobby. I’m running a business here, and this business is supporting my kid. You may have all the money in the world to cover your ass, but I don’t. I’m trying to do a juggling act with work and Cooper, and it feels like he’s always the ball I drop. I need a manager who can keep this place going so I can spend more time with him. He’s only three, and I already feel the years melting away. You have no idea how time-consuming and expensive it is to raise a kid. Especially on your own. There’s babysitting and activities and schools and sports. And shit, maybe colleges like Cornell.”

Expressing her frustrations and worries acted like a release valve and her fury fizzled into annoyance. “Who the hell goes to Cornell for a Hospitality Management degree, anyway? That’s like walking into Baskin Robbins and asking for a diet soda.”