“Plus there’s your boyfriend in Seattle.”
“Not that again.”
“Sensitive subject?” He leaned in.
“I didn’t appreciate Mary Beth mentioning him to Fletcher. I went to Seattle for a visit. Not to move there. Finish your drink so we can get going.”
“Not sure I dare, with the evil eye Theo gave me.” He sniffed the shake. “Doesn’t arsenic smell like almonds?”
She had to laugh. “He knew I wanted to be GM, so he’s upset for me. He wouldn’t poison you—not without my say-so anyway.”
Chase laughed, then removed the straw and took a gulp. Sylvie watched, mesmerized by the swell of his neck muscles as he swallowed. He slammed the empty cup to the table. “There. If I’m going to die, at least I’ll go out with something tasty on my tongue.”
Tongue. The word alone gave her an inner twinge. Ridiculous. Sylvie grabbed her box and they set off.
“How was Mary Beth as a manager?” Chase asked as they walked.
“She worked hard. She cared. She was a bit disorganized, as you saw from her computer, and maybe too social. I filled in where I was needed. We made a decent team, I think.”
“You’d be good on any team, Sylvie.”
“I try.”
He stopped in front of her and touched her arm. “I’m serious. Despite what my father said about loyalty, no one would blame you if you wanted to move on. We’d give you a strong recommendation, of course.”
“What are you trying to say?” A chill shot through her. “Are you telling me to quit?”
“I’m just saying you have options beyond Starlight Desert.”
“I love it here and I intend to stay.”
“Got it,” he said, hands up at her vehemence.
She introduced him to more shop owners and he handed out umbrellas. When they reached the space Marshall had rented to his golf buddy, the jai alai booster, Chase stopped. “Jai alai?” He turned to her.
She shrugged. “This spot’s tough to rent and the president of the booster club is a friend of Marshall’s. They want to bring a professional team to Phoenix, I gather.”
“Sounds bizarre to me. Jai alai’s a big betting game in Florida, right? Those big high stadiums—frontons, I think they’re called.”
“I guess. This is just an office. They hold meetings and making fund-raising calls…. This is Free Arts,” she said, nodding at the space next door. Two heavily tattooed boys in muscle shirts were airbrushing a Virgen de Guadalupe onto the window. She recognized one of them. “Nice work, Rafael.”
He turned, puzzled. “You know me?”
“I saw your b-boy crew perform for Cinco de Mayo. You organized the group, right?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, pleased, but acting cool about it.
“Tell your guys there’s a gig here the day after Thanksgiving. We can’t pay, but there will be tons of people in the mall that day.”
“’Scool.” Rafael strutted a little, then turned back to his work. His friend hissed out, “dawg” to embarrass him for talking to the gringa mujer.
“What’s rent on that space?” Chase asked as they walked on.
“It’s a token amount since that’s a difficult section to keep tenants in. It’s part of our effort to support the community. Starlight Desert is a good neighbor.”
“I noticed a lot of For Sale signs driving here. Lots of boarded-up shops. Is the neighborhood going down?”
“There have been a few problems, but nothing that has affected us. People love Starlight Desert.”
“You love Starlight Desert, Sylvie. Everyone else just shops here. A mall is where you spend money or get a smoothie to escape the summer heat. People aren’t that loyal.”
She felt a stab of outrage. “You haven’t been here long enough to know. Read our surveys and the consultant’s report, talk to our tenants. You’ll see I’m right.”
The man who had stolen her job was trash-talking the place she loved. She would just have to give him the full picture right this minute.
CHAPTER FOUR
CHASE’S HEAD SPUN. The moment he mentioned that the mall was a business not a place of worship, Sylvie went crazy on him. The simple tour of the mall shops to introduce him to the tenants became a lecture on the Wide World of Retail Malls.
He listened as patiently as he could while she explained door-busters, per-foot kiosk rental charges and how Starlight Desert interspersed food venues among the shops to increase the shopper-to-buyer conversion rate due to “improved shopper eye scans,” which evidently was much better than the food-court ghetto at most malls.
In between speeches, he handed out those stupid umbrellas to the store owners, who clearly adored her. Face after face registered disappointment that Sylvie wasn’t the new GM.
Rose of Rose’s Hobby Hut thanked her for locating a cheaper supplier for dollhouse furniture. He gathered Sylvie built dollhouses in her limited spare time. She’d evidently loaned money to the camera store owner and mediated a fight that would have ended the Toy Town owners’ partnership.
Business peaked on Saturday, she informed him. Monday was decently busy due to the weekend’s lookie-loos. Tuesday was the quietest shopping day of the week.
She described the daily changeover: seniors walked the mall in the early mornings, moms with strollers arrived midmorning, followed by serious ladies-who-lunch shoppers. Kids washed through after school, working women breezed in to pick up cosmetics or panty hose after five.
As she talked, he amused himself by taking in her flashing eyes, her kissable lips wrapped around a torrent of words, her energetic gestures, the way she filled out that white blouse, and, of course, her fresh-baked pie scent.
Ya smell good, kid. He couldn’t believe he’d said that, then rubbed her hair like she was ten or a puppy. What a jerk. He was normally pretty easy with the attraction dance.
Sylvie had thrown him. Because of their history? Or maybe just her. She sort of sucked him into her swirling energy, put him in a trance until he acted like a teen with no control over his urges whatsoever.
At least she was no longer pissed at him.
Until he told her about maybe selling the mall, of course. He dreaded that exchange. He’d tell her as soon as he knew enough to confirm the possibility.
After rounds, they headed back to the office where Sylvie buried him in printouts and minutiae about “A Starlight Desert Christmas,” the Black Friday event that evidently was the GM’s responsibility.
Nearby schools would present performances and an art show, stores would give discounts for parents, and there would be raffle prizes and a hidden-coupon scavenger hunt. Chase was impressed with the plan. Even if they decided to sell, banking higher revenues would be smart.
“Sounds good, Sylvie. You’ve put a lot of effort into it.” He started to stand.
“Wait. We still need to discuss the tenant party on Thanksgiving afternoon, when we prep for Black Friday.”
“Okay.” He sat down again.
She explained that the tenant party consisted of food, of course, plus a white elephant exchange. Then the employees shopped in the mall for gifts for a needy family, which they placed under trees decorated to represent each store’s merchandise.
It all sounded nice,