“I see.”
She ignored the twinge of concern in his tone. Brooks didn’t hand over the reins often or well. Better he should go to a meeting or work in the wood shop or in the clean room or anyplace other than the showroom while they broke down the winter display and replaced it with Liv’s creativity. Having him on hand would make her the tiniest bit crazy. Just before they got to the door, Rita did an about-face. “Head in with that, Brooks. I forgot something.”
She hurried back to the car, swung open the front passenger-side door, reached down and grabbed the folder she’d brought for his approval.
Her prospectus, the layout of her bakery. Clutched in her right hand lay the career dreams and aspirations she’d kept on hold for years.
Would he laugh at it? Criticize? Advise?
She wasn’t sure. It had been a lot of years since her business classes at SUNY Albany, but Rita understood the basic concepts as well as anyone. Exercise minimal risk to the maximum financial advantage. Guard the pennies, the dollars will come. Sage advice.
Brooks met her as she pushed through the entrance door. He took the mat from her hands, frowned as if thinking too hard, then shrugged. “I’m getting pizza later for everyone. Seven-thirty good?”
Rita surveyed the window, measuring time and space. “That gives us two hours. We should be fine. If not, we’ll finish before the meeting at St. Luke’s tomorrow.”
Brooks shook his head. “I can’t ask you to give up two nights in a row. I know how crazy your schedule is, Reet.”
She waved a hand, already unpacking the tub, setting things out, giving Liv an overall view of what they had to work with. “You didn’t ask, I offered. Whole different thing. And Liv and I don’t do half-baked, Brooks. Really, you should know that by now.”
“And here’s more stuff,” offered Tootsie as she entered from the wood-shop area, her arms full. “These are things we’ve used in the past.”
“I’m totally loving the wooden flowers,” exclaimed Liv. She stepped back, hair swinging, head tilted in a manner much like Rita’s despite their dissimilar coloring, and nodded. “Skeets, can you help Tootsie carry the stuff that was in the window to the back room please?”
“Sure.”
Brooks almost choked. He stared at the little girl, wondering who had taken over her body in the past thirty-six hours, then realized the truth with a full-fledged thunk. Skeeter Slocum had been taken over by a pod person.
All Brooks really knew was that the sweet, smiling kid in front of him offered a welcome respite from her usual prickly nature.
“Brooks, you need to leave,” Rita instructed.
A part of Brooks loved seeing her take charge, get a little bit bossy. Another part fought for total control. He subdued that with effort. “Where would you suggest I go?”
Rita laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that we want to surprise you and if you’re here, I’m going to second-guess myself, which will just annoy Liv. So we’re better off if you work out back. That way if we have questions, you’re available—”
“But not in the way.”
“Exactly.” She beamed up at him, tiny laugh lines crinkling the corners of her pretty blue eyes. A wisp of hair fell across her face as she turned, a tiny strand, just big enough to make him want to reach out, smooth it back.
So he did.
The warm expression his touch inspired threw him off guard. Eyes wide, her look swept up, met his, a flash of awareness ping-ponging between them until he broke the connection by dropping his hand. Stepping back.
She breathed deep, in relief or consternation, maybe a combination of the two, then thrust something into his hand. “If you have time, will you read this over? See if it makes sense from a business standpoint and has all the information a loan officer would need?”
Brooks recognized what he held. He smiled in approval, nodded and tried to pretend the whole sparks thing was a glitch. “You did it.”
“I did,” she admitted. She dropped her gaze to the folder, then brought it back to him. “I think it’s good.”
“Then I’m sure it is, but I’d be glad to go over it, offer advice if needed.”
“Thank you, Brooks.”
Her grateful smile melted another chink in his self-imposed armor. He hesitated, wanting to say more, then noticed Liv, Tootsie and Skeeter were all staring at them.
Time to go.
He held the prospectus up, nodded and headed out back. “I’ll be back here until the pizza comes.”
“Pizza?” Tootsie turned toward Rita and Liv as Brooks disappeared into the workrooms.
“Brooks is ordering some for later. Around seven-thirty. And we should be almost done by then.”
Tootsie paled. Her throat convulsed.
Rita angled her head, concerned. “You okay, Toots? You’re not still sick, are you?”
“I’m fine.”
Her words were less than convincing, but Rita understood the need for privacy. She nodded. “Okay, Liv, take it away. What’s first?”
“I need Skeeter to line up all the flowers and wooden animals we have so I can get an idea of height and balance,” Liv instructed.
Rita smiled inside. Liv was a born creator, and this task would keep Skeeter busy for a while and feel as if she was contributing. Great combination.
“And, Mom, I’m going to reverse-paint window images so that they appear to be moving forward from the outside vantage point. That’s going to take me a while, so if you and Tootsie could paint those flowers there, using bright summer tones, by the time they’re dry I should be able to lay the grass mat behind the painted grass stems.”
“Got it.” Rita handed Tootsie a brush. “If we do this in the clean room, we’re out of the way and have more space to work.”
“Perfect,” Toots agreed.
“You girls are okay out here?” Rita hiked a brow to Liv.
“A-okay.” Liv sent Skeeter a reassuring grin. “With Skeets’ help I can get this done fairly quickly. Right, Skeets?”
“Right.”
Rita blessed whatever combination had resulted in a noncombative evening, but was wise enough to keep her comments to herself. “We’ll be right back here if you need us.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Rita grinned at Skeeter, her earnest expression warm and sincere. This was the kid she’d like to see on a more regular basis. Maybe her strategies were working at long last, but Rita had been Skeeter’s mother for a long time. She wouldn’t be banking on it. Not yet, anyway.
Chapter Six
“This is wonderful, Rita.”
Brooks’ voice jerked Rita out of her work zone. Her brush slipped and scarlet paint daubed his benchtop, the bright tone a standout against the clear, sealed wood. “Oops.”
His easy grin reassured her. “That’s why everything here is washable. Total necessity.”
His gaze canvassed the painted flowers, perky in their newly enameled finish. “Great effect already.”
Tootsie nodded. “Isn’t it, Boss? Talk about eye-catching.”
“As if you needed to catch any more business.” Rita made the observation as she used a fine-tipped brush to accentuate stem and leaf definition. “This place is hopping on a regular