One to Love. Michelle Monkou
Tawny pretended to kiss the photo. “Should’ve seen the pics of him without his shirt. In one magazine spread, he only held a towel in place between his legs. Hello!”
“I didn’t pay attention to the picture.” Liar. “And I don’t plan to waste time drooling at a computer screen.” Maybe later. It still wouldn’t change her mind about what she thought of his skills. “He could have one eye in the middle of his forehead, for all I care. I need someone to make that happen on time.” She pointed at the wall, where various parts of the project still had to be completed. “I need a project manager on-site, someone who can get his team moving and roll up his sleeves, when and if necessary. This is all I care about.”
“Ed won’t have led you wrong. I’m not the only one who believes in you and what you’re doing. You will have a place that is special and a haven for a lot of kids and teenagers. I’m crazy confident that you will.”
Belinda heard Tawny’s loyalty in her voice. As the project passed each milestone, that enthusiasm and co-ownership of the dream were more than welcomed. She needed to stop calling it a dream. The goal was on the verge of reality. The final stage. She felt through every cell of her body duty-bound to protect her project. As the bad news tumbled out, one item after the other, not even Jesse Santiago’s unplanned substitution could put an exclamation point on the sucky morning. By September, Labor Day, the facility would be, should be, opening its full-service programs.
Belinda continued voicing her reservations. “You do realize this write-up of Mr. Sexpot doesn’t explain why he’s here in upstate New York and why he’s now working on his daddy’s business.”
Tawny shrugged. “He suffered a brutal injury while playing. Now it’s too late to do any further digging on the matter. He’ll be here soon.”
“Okay, Grim Reaper. You said good news. It better be darn good.”
“Now I’m feeling pressure to appease your grumpiness,” Tawny groused, before a wide grin spread across her face.
“Spill. I’m going to need a mimosa instead of this coffee in a hot second.” Reluctantly Belinda felt drawn to Tawny’s suddenly upbeat attitude.
“Miss Grace is coming over.”
“When?” Her smile fumbled and disappeared. Her grandmother didn’t do visits.
“This morning.”
“And you’re only telling me now.” Belinda fixed her clothes, leveling a glare at Tawny.
Tawny waved away her protests. “She needs to talk to you.”
“I don’t have time for my grandmother.”
“You never do. If you don’t call her by nine o’clock...” Tawny looked at her watch. “Yikes. It’s nine thirty. Anyway, if you don’t call, then you don’t get to find out what she wants before she visits.”
“Not today. Not in the mood for my grandmother and her commands. And you can stop acting as if you’re the president of her fan club.”
Tawny remained silent. Wisely.
“Any other news?” Belinda hated to ask.
“I bought a box of donuts.”
“That you didn’t bring with the coffee.” Belinda patted her belly. “Anyway, after that double helping of Chinese food last night, I’m on a diet, at least for the day. Let me get to work since my office will have folks in and out all morning. Only one of them, hopefully my new client, is someone I really want to talk to.”
As Tawny left her office and disappeared from view, Belinda yelled, “I’ll take one instead of two donuts, please.”
“More coffee, too?” Tawny shouted back.
“Yeah. Bring it on.” Belinda shifted her mind to pressing matters. She turned on her computer and waited for it to power up. After a series of keystrokes, she pulled up the list of remaining donors. One donor leaving did hurt. Two would cause her to make harsh cuts before the operation manager could start. Contracts with the therapists would be terminated. Training of the horses would be curtailed. And the loss of three donors would cripple her in a matter of months. Who was she kidding? The downfall would happen within weeks. The Dreamweaver Riding Program, her heart and soul, could not be an epic fail. It was the only way she knew how to say sorry.
“Boss, I just saw Miss Grace park her car.” Tawny set down the coffee and donut in front of Belinda and made a quick backtrack to the entrance door.
Belinda slid the plate with the donut off to the side. The cup of coffee could remain. She might need something to keep her hands busy through her grandmother’s visit.
She desperately tried to smooth back the loose hair that hung wildly around her face. After her morning ride on her horse in the June humidity, Belinda knew her ponytail holder couldn’t maintain control over her hair. Normally, her disheveled appearance didn’t bother her. She wasn’t one to fuss over wardrobe and makeup. After all, this wasn’t an office job. But the next few minutes of her life with her stiff and starched grandmother would cause enough anxiety that she’d wished she dragged out a skirt suit from the deep recess of her closet, dug through the underwear drawer for a pair of panty hose and found a tube of lipstick to quickly sweep over her mouth.
Instead, she groaned after quickly surveying her clothing. It was her standard uniform of black T-shirt and black jeans, kind of a night and day contrast to whatever Grace usually wore. The old lady had to have been off her game at one time in her life. At almost eighty years old and still getting front-page coverage on how fabulous she looked, her grandmother was a fashion icon. Deservedly so, but still.
Belinda wiggled her toes. As a rule, when she came to the office, she stepped out of her boots and left them at the entrance door. The treks back and forth, from the office-barn to the stables, the torn-up dirt around the renovated areas near the riding ring, and general outdoor work pushed the necessity for the rule. Not only did it save the brand-new Berber carpet, it cut down on the strong odors of horse urine, manure, and tack that combined with the hay that would be tracked into the office. Usually, her old pair of sneakers was in the office for her to slip on. Of course, today would be the day that she couldn’t find them.
Meanwhile, Tawny, who didn’t have many dealings with the stable, could balance herself while walking around the office in her skinny, skyscraper-high heels and flaunting the latest fashion trends. She belonged in New York City, not in the small city of Midway in upstate New York, working in a barn with horses as their closest neighbors.
“Belinda, are you here? It’s Grace.” Her grandmother’s distinctive elocution shot her musings to pieces.
“Good morning, grandma...er...Grace.” Belinda rose and headed around the desk, but her grandmother had already marched across the room. That was a good thing. She could keep her shoeless feet a secret for a little while longer.
Her grandmother got everyone in the family to call her “Grace” whenever the subject matter concerned Meadows Media. In the case of Dana, she not only called their grandmother Grace, but also boss. Their special bond had blossomed over several years as Dana worked her way up the ladder, culminating in her leading the company. A strategic move that had been met with resistance by business experts, not to mention a few family members, because of Dana’s young age. Belinda’s take on the issue remained in full protective support for her cousin, as long as Grace had Dana’s full buy-in.
“How are you?” Belinda resumed her seat in the safe zone, behind the desk.
“Good as can be. Still busy even though I’m out in the pastures.”
The image of her grandmother whiling away time in a field couldn’t have been further from the truth. Grace was still making business deals and her social calendar hadn’t shrunk. Grandpa