Her Husband-To-Be. Leigh Michaels

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Her Husband-To-Be - Leigh  Michaels


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back seat of my car, never mind the Jablonskis’ van.”

      Deke was shaking his head. “If you’re disillusioned and sick of trying and you just want out in a hurry, you don’t hang around to disassemble crystal chandeliers, no matter what they’re worth. You didn’t hear Joe’s message.”

      “But that’s just it, Deke. You didn’t hear it, either. I mean, you didn’t talk to him yourself, so can you really judge his state of mind any better than I can?”

      “Believe me—”

      “What if they decide to get back together just as abruptly as they seem to have decided to split? We don’t have any idea what their fight was about or how serious it really was.” She glanced into the music room, tucked under the stairs, that the Jablonskis had turned into an office.

      “Those smashed-up statues out on the patio looked pretty serious to me.”

      “Oh, really? A little while ago, you seemed to think all that damage was just Kate having a temper tantrum. Which is my whole point, really. What if it was just a silly quarrel and they do work it out? If they come back in time to make the next regular payment and find that in the meantime we’ve sold the property—”

      “Before Tuesday? We should be so lucky.”

      “You know perfectly well what I mean. We’d get hit with lawsuits from about a dozen different directions.”

      Deke didn’t answer, but in his silence Danielle could hear reluctant agreement. Finally, he said, “A formal eviction could take months. So what do you suggest we do, Ms. Layman Lawyer? Just stand around and twiddle our thumbs while the place runs down?”

      “I don’t know,” Danielle admitted. She reached for a leather-bound calendar that lay open on the desk and flipped the pages. Not every square was filled, but a respectable number were. And Kate hadn’t been exaggerating about the list of guests already booked for the strawberry festival, little more than a week away. “It’ll take days just to cancel the reservations,” she muttered.

      Why cancel them? asked a little voice in the back of her brain.

      Danielle frowned. What kind of stupid suggestion was that? Of course they’d have to be canceled. Guests would have to be notified or they’d show up on the doorstep and be fighting mad when they found a Closed sign. And she knew better than to assume the Jablonskis had taken care of that little detail.

      “I guess the trouble is,” she said slowly, “that I just can’t believe Kate and Joe are simply walking away from this.”

      “All this,” Deke drawled. “Yes, how anyone could walk away from this treasure is certainly beyond—”

      “There’s no need to be sarcastic. They have a lot invested here.”

      “Are you certain of that? I suspect they aren’t leaving behind as much as you think.” Deke sat down on the corner of the desk. “The work that’s been done—and there hasn’t been all that much of it—Joe did himself. The grand plans to remodel the kitchen obviously came to nothing. There’s a little new wallpaper and paint, but not more than a few hundred dollars’ worth.”

      “It’s apparent,” Danielle said dryly, “that you haven’t priced wallpaper recently. But go on.”

      “And though they were never late with a payment on the contract, they’d have been paying just about as much in rent if they lived somewhere else. And I have a nasty suspicion any cash that was left over didn’t go back into the business.”

      “Well, they had to eat.”

      “Just brace yourself in case they didn’t bother to pay the property taxes—because I’ll make sure you get your half of the bill.”

      “And what am I supposed to use to pay if?”

      “How about your half of the payments the Jablonskis have been making every month?”

      Danielle bit her tongue.

      “Don’t tell me you’ve been spending every cent on ...” Deke paused. “Now what could you have spent it all on? Not eating out, that’s for sure. You must have nearly every meal at work. Or rent—you are still living with your dad, aren’t you? Or travel. I doubt you’ve been out of town in the past three months. Clothes, perhaps?”

      Danielle tapped her toe on the faded Oriental rug. If he dared take it upon himself to criticize her clothes, she thought grimly, she’d mop the floor with that elegant herringbone jacket of his.

      Deke looked almost sad. “You really should have listened to me, Danielle, about the power of investments and compound interest. If you had, you could have been on the way to financial independence.”

      “Not on half of the payment the Jablonskis were making. And what I spend my money on is none of your business.”

      “Right—as long as you have enough to meet your share of the expenses. Even if we walk out right now and lock the door, there are going to be some bills along the way. We can’t simply turn off the utilities, you know. And if you insist that we just let the Merry Widow sit here and gather dust till we’re absolutely sure the Jablonskis aren’t going to reappear...” Deke pushed his jacket back and put both hands on his hips. “How long do you think that’ll be anyway? A month? Six months? Seven years, till they can be declared legally dead?”

      “Don’t be silly. I’m not suggesting we just let it sit here.”

      “Then what are you suggesting we do, Danielle?”

      She looked down at the reservations calendar, still open to the pages set aside for the week of the strawberry festival. Then she squared her shoulders and said, “Run it.”

      Deke stood absolutely still, while time and Danielle’s nerves stretched longer and longer. Then he threw back his head and started to laugh.

      She folded her arms across her chest and waited, but her patience ran out before his hilarity diminished. “I’d love to stick around a while longer and be jeered at, but I really have things to do,” she said coolly.

      Deke held up a hand. “No, wait. Just give me a minute to recover. The place is already a failure, so you want to run it? And do what? Make the hemorrhage of cash even worse?”

      “The Jablonskis’ marriage is on the rocks,” Danielle pointed out stubbornly. “That doesn’t mean the Merry Widow is a failure.”

      “I thought you said a minute ago that they probably just had a lovers’ spat.”

      “I said... Never mind. Whatever their problem turns out to be, it has nothing to do with the Merry Widow.”

      “I wouldn’t be so certain of that.” Deke sighed. “And you’re splitting hairs, you know. This is not exactly a record-breaking concern. If Kate and Joe couldn’t make it successful, how do you expect to?”

      “They had to make payments for the house.”

      Deke shook his head. “Oh, no. You can’t disregard the value of a capital asset just because you happen not to owe a debt on it. That still has to be figured into—”

      “Will you stop being a financial analyst for half a minute and just listen?”

      “All right. I’m listening. What is there to gain from keeping the Merry Widow open?”

      “I’d never have expected to have to explain it to you, oh great fiscal wizard,” Danielle said crisply. “But then, most of your business experience is in the abstract, isn’t it? Stocks and bonds and mutual funds and things like that?”

      “And since you grew up in the restaurant trade, you know everything about running a business?”

      Danielle refused to react to the irony in his voice. “Being actively involved in a retail trade is a much more practical education than an M.B.A. We’ve already learned that there isn’t much of a market for this house—”


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