little wicked. “That ought to be interesting.”
“Meanwhile, since we’re both here, why don’t we take my notes and sketches of the first-level sales section and go through it on the spot? You can see better what I have in mind, and it’ll be simpler to explain.”
Simpler? Roz thought as she hopped down. She didn’t think anything was going to be simpler now.
But it sure as holy hell wasn’t going to be boring.
four
EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT. SHE WORKED LONG hours, but much of it was planning at this stage. There was little Stella loved more than planning. Unless it was arranging . She had a vision of things, in her head, of how things could and should be.
Some might see it as a flaw, this tendency to organize and project, to nudge those visions of things into place even when—maybe particularly when—others didn’t quite get the picture.
But she didn’t see it that way.
Life ran smoother when everything was where it was meant to be.
Her life had—she’d made certain of it—until Kevin’s death. Her childhood had been a maze of contradictions, of confusions and irritations. In a very real way she’d lost her father at the age of three when divorce had divided her family.
The only thing she clearly remembered about the move from Memphis was crying for her daddy.
From that point on, it seemed she and her mother had butted heads over everything, from the color of paint on the walls to finances to how to spend holidays and vacations. Everything.
Those same some people might say that’s what happened with two headstrong women living in the same house. But Stella knew different. While she was practical and organized, her mother was scattered and spontaneous. Which accounted for the four marriages and three broken engagements.
Her mother liked flash and noise and wild romance. Stella preferred quiet and settled and committed.
Not that she wasn’t romantic. She was just sensible about it.
It had been both sensible and romantic to fall in love with Kevin. He’d been warm and sweet and steady. They’d wanted the same things. Home, family, future. He’d made her happy, made her feel safe and cherished. And God, she missed him.
She wondered what he’d think about her coming here, starting over this way. He’d have trusted her. He’d always believed in her. They’d believed in each other.
He’d been her rock, in a very real way. The rock that had given her a solid base to build on after a childhood of upheaval and discontent.
Then fate had kicked that rock out from under her. She’d lost her base, her love, her most cherished friend, and the only person in the world who could treasure her children as much as she did.
There had been times, many times, during the first months after Kevin’s death when she’d despaired of ever finding her balance again.
Now she was the rock for her sons, and she would do whatever she had to do to give them a good life.
With her boys settled down for the night, and a low fire burning—she was definitely having a bedroom fireplace in her next house—she sat on the bed with her laptop.
It wasn’t the most businesslike way to work, but she didn’t feel right asking Roz to let her convert one of the bedrooms into a home office.
Yet.
She could make do this way for now. In fact, it was cozy and for her, relaxing, to go over the order of business for the next day while tucked into the gorgeous old bed.
She had the list of phone calls she intended to make to suppliers, the reorganization of garden accessories and the houseplants. Her new color-coordinated pricing system to implement. The new invoicing program to install.
She had to speak with Roz about the seasonal employees. Who, how many, individual and group responsibilities.
And she’d yet to corner the landscape designer. You’d think the man could find time in a damn week to return a phone call. She typed in “Logan Kitridge,” bolding and underlining the name.
She glanced at the clock, reminded
“Meanwhile, since we’re both here, why don’t we take my notes and sketches of the first-level sales section and go through it on the spot? You can see better what I have in mind, and it’ll be simpler to explain.”
Simpler? Roz thought as she hopped down. She didn’t think anything was going to be simpler now.
But it sure as holy hell wasn’t going to be boring.
four
EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT. SHE WORKED LONG hours, but much of it was planning at this stage. There was little Stella loved more than planning. Unless it was arranging . She had a vision of things, in her head, of how things could and should be.
Some might see it as a flaw, this tendency to organize and project, to nudge those visions of things into place even when—maybe particularly when—others didn’t quite get the picture.
But she didn’t see it that way.
Life ran smoother when everything was where it was meant to be.
Her life had—she’d made certain of it—until Kevin’s death. Her childhood had been a maze of contradictions, of confusions and irritations. In a very real way she’d lost her father at the age of three when divorce had divided her family.
The only thing she clearly remembered about the move from Memphis was crying for her daddy.
From that point on, it seemed she and her mother had butted heads over everything, from the color of paint on the walls to finances to how to spend holidays and vacations. Everything.
Those same some people might say that’s what happened with two headstrong women living in the same house. But Stella knew different. While she was practical and organized, her mother was scattered and spontaneous. Which accounted for the four marriages and three broken engagements.
Her mother liked flash and noise and wild romance. Stella preferred quiet and settled and committed.
Not that she wasn’t romantic. She was just sensible about it.
It had been both sensible and romantic to fall in love with Kevin. He’d been warm and sweet and steady. They’d wanted the same things. Home, family, future. He’d made her happy, made her feel safe and cherished. And God, she missed him.
She wondered what he’d think about her coming here, starting over this way. He’d have trusted her. He’d always believed in her. They’d believed in each other.
He’d been her rock, in a very real way. The rock that had given her a solid base to build on after a childhood of upheaval and discontent.
Then fate had kicked that rock out from under her. She’d lost her base, her love, her most cherished friend, and the only person in the world who could treasure her children as much as she did.
There had been times, many times, during the first months after Kevin’s death when she’d despaired of ever finding her balance again.
Now she was the rock for her sons, and she would do whatever she had to do to give them a good life.
With her boys settled down for the night, and a low fire burning—she was definitely having a bedroom fireplace in her next house—she sat on the bed with her laptop.
It wasn’t the most businesslike way to work, but she didn’t feel right asking Roz to let her convert one of the bedrooms into a home office.
Yet.
She could make do this way for now. In fact, it was cozy and for her, relaxing, to go over the order of business for the next day while tucked into the gorgeous old bed.
She had the list of phone calls she intended to make to suppliers, the reorganization of garden accessories and the houseplants. Her new color-coordinated pricing system to implement. The new invoicing program to install.
She had to speak with Roz about the seasonal employees. Who, how many, individual and group responsibilities.
And she’d yet to corner the landscape designer. You’d think the man could find time in a damn week to return a phone call. She typed in “Logan Kitridge,” bolding and underlining the name.
She glanced at the clock, reminded
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