Sealed With A Kiss. Mae Nunn

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      “After the second chance she’s given him, he’ll forgive her anything, don’t you think?” Lacey insisted.

      Forgive anything? Tara hadn’t mastered that herself.

      No matter how distant, she would never forget the angry words that still resonated in her grandmother’s elegant dining room.

      “How could you hurt him that way? How could you do this to me, Grandmother?”

      “Listen to reason, child. You have your whole life ahead of you and I won’t have you waste it on the son of my housekeeper.”

      “That’s so unfair! He’s respected in his position at the college. The kids love him and I love him, too. But you’ve ruined everything.”

      “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve simply steered you both in different directions. If, as you insist, it’s God’s will for you to be with Sam, you’ll find one another again one day. But you’ll both spend time growing up first.”

      “I’ll never forgive you for this!” Tara had swept her arm across the oak sideboard, sending silver and porcelain crashing to the hardwood below. She’d stared through hot tears at the shattered treasure, turned and run up the stairway.

      Now Tara’s gaze sought the gouged floor where the hand-sculpted Asian vase had met its demise. “How can I expect Sam to forgive her when I spent the last nine years punishing her myself?”

      “You have to find it in your heart, Tara. I watched Miss Miriam volunteering so much of her time, giving away so much to charity, trying to atone. And I was the one person in town who understood why she did it. Don’t let regrets steal your joy, too. Promise me you’ll pray about it, okay?” Lacey asked.

      “I’ll put that on my prayer list along with the funds for the books I have to order.” Tara changed the subject.

      “Is that what you decided to add to the antiques? Books?” She narrowed her eyes as she thought it over. “I like it.” Her head bobbed agreeably.

      “Thanks.” Tara smiled, grateful for some encouragement. “I stopped at Shoppers’ Mart to get some magazines this afternoon. Standing in that dark little aisle it suddenly occurred to me it was the only place in town to buy something to read.”

      “There’s the campus bookstore,” Lacey reminded.

      “And as long as I want a textbook or a paperback those two places are fine. But to thumb through a special-event cookbook or a gardening guide or a biography of a musician I’d have to drive to Dallas,” Tara pointed out.

      “What do you think Frieda Walker will have to say about you taking business from the college?”

      “Oh, I wouldn’t dare compete with the textbooks and classics she sells on campus. I’ll carry contemporary genres, popular magazines and international newspapers. Maybe even a computer or two for research and online chatting.

      “And here’s something else I’m considering.” She clasped her palms together beneath her chin in nervous anticipation of her only friend’s reaction. “What if I set up a coffeehouse in one corner of the store to give the students someplace new and trendy to hang out?”

      “That’s perfect! They’ll love it.”

      Tara’s heart lifted at the thought of something that would bring the younger crowd into her business. “We’ll serve all those great flavored coffees and they can visit with their friends like the kids do in the big chain stores. I’ll use the antiques as display background for the books and collectibles and everything will be for sale.”

      “I’ve got to hand it to you, girl, you’ve thought of something for everybody,” Lacey enthused.

      “Now I’ve just got to think of a way to make up the difference between my savings account and the cost of inventory.”

      “You ought to consider selling some of the antiques Miss Miriam left you.” Lacey surveyed the room. “Your own auction house could find you a buyer, Rusty.”

      “First, promise you won’t call me that anymore?” Tara pleaded. “That name belongs to another lifetime, agreed?”

      Lacey nodded.

      “And second,” Tara continued, “I’m not interested in selling anything in this house.”

      “This stuff is the only solid collateral you have.”

      Tara leaned elbows on the table and rested her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to do, Lacey,” she mumbled through her fingers. “If my grandmother thought for a minute I’d sell her things, she’d have donated them to charity herself.”

      Lacey shook her blond head in disagreement and thumbed through the will. “She didn’t have any problem placing restrictions on your ownership of the Elliott Building or Sycamore House. If she hadn’t meant for you to sell the antiques she’d have done the same with them. It says right here ‘to dispose of as she chooses,’ and that means she gave you her permission and her blessing to do whatever you have to do.”

      “What if I borrow against some of the most rare pieces? If I fail I can always sell them. But if my idea is a success, I’ll still have my grandmother’s things.”

      Lacey munched a potato chip and wiped the barbecue residue on her jeans. “Makes sense. Okay, let’s make a few calls and see who’s offering the best line of credit against collateral. By the time your inventory starts to arrive you’ll have the money to pay for it.”

      Tara felt a smile of relief curve her mouth for the first time since learning of her grandmother’s death. Already organized, she reached for her folder marked Stock and thumbed through the publishing printouts. Tomorrow she’d order books, place ads in surrounding counties for antique consignment pieces and begin the marketing research on coffee houses. Remodeling and advertising came next if she intended to meet the self-imposed grand opening in four weeks.

      “What’s going in on the first floor?” Lacey asked.

      Tara froze. She’d been so wrapped up in her own plans that she had no idea what Sam had in mind for the ground floor of the Elliott Building. She tried to recall their conversation. He had said he was going to make the most of this opportunity, but she’d never asked him how he intended to do it. He’d agreed to anything she wanted to do and now she was committed to doing the same for him.

      “Tara?” Lacey nudged her. “I said, what are Sam’s plans?”

      “He didn’t tell me.” A chill ran up Tara’s spine at her vulnerable position. “But Sam knows this town and we’re right on the square, so it’s bound to be something conservative.” She hurried on, trying to sound convincing. “He may appear rough around the edges, but he comes from a respectable background. Surely he won’t do anything foolish and risk this chance to make something of himself….” Her speech faltered as she caught sight of her friend’s eyes rolling upward. “Would he?”

      Lacey took a short break from popping chips into her mouth. “Better hang on to your fancy pants, city girl. I think you’re in for a wild ride.”

      Chapter Three

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