Blame It on Chocolate. Jennifer Greene
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Название: Blame It on Chocolate
Автор: Jennifer Greene
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
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“Yes, but you’re the one who took it on. Who brought it to fruition.”
“Only because Ludwig was such an incredible teacher.” She hadn’t forgotten the old man—Orson’s horticulturalist—who’d brought her into the fold, made mincemeat of her botany degree, and then taken the time to give her the intensive, practical education that mattered.
“This is no time to be modest, Lucy. I know what Ludwig did. But I also know what you accomplished on your own in the last few years. More important yet, we know that we can completely trust you, right, Nick?”
Lucy glanced at Nick, only to feel uneasiness stir. Whatever was on Orson’s mind, Nick clearly didn’t agree with his grandfather. His handsome face went still, his expression cool. “Yes. We trust you, Lucy.”
He didn’t say but, but she mentally heard it. Orson continued on.
“When we take all this public—several years down the road—I don’t know what kind of management setup we’ll need. Or what part you’ll want to play in it. But right now, we want to expand and yet stay private. Put serious money into more extensive experiments and yet not take untoward financial risks.” Orson leaned back and crossed his leg over a knee the same way his grandson did. “Lucy, I wonder how much you feel you could handle.”
“Me?”
“I’d like you to manage the project. Handle the labor to get the additional greenhouses up and running. Plan the planting program. All of it.”
“Me?” she echoed.
“I don’t know why you’re sounding surprised. The staff already thinks you’re a terrific boss.”
“But I’m not exactly a boss,” she objected. “I never thought of myself that way. Once Ludwig left…well, we all function as a team. Reiko’s older than I am. And Fritz and Fred…well, they’re more like puppies than employees. I mean, I’ve never actually given anyone orders to do anything—”
Orson smiled affectionately. “Actually, you do, Lucy—but in a way that everyone appreciates. And I have total faith you can handle the promotion. In fact, there is absolutely no one else I want to do it.”
When he mentioned the salary that went with the promotion, she almost fell off the chair. She wanted to. Actually, she wanted to leap on the couch whooping and screaming, but of course she didn’t.
“Mr. Bernard, I’d love a chance at this. I can’t tell you how hard I’ll work and try to deserve your trust in me.” She tried to sound her subdued best, but her head was still yelling ohmygodohmygodohmygod. New car, here we come! Hell’s bells, she might even move up to an Accord.
Here she’d been so sure this day was doomed for a nosedive because of that ugly bout of stomach trouble. Had she ever been wrong. And really, she should have known. She’d worked hard and long to make a life plan come together. Her life wasn’t going so perfectly by accident, but because she’d fought so hard. Darn it, she deserved it.
But just then, she glanced at Nick again.
CHAPTER TWO
NICK STARED out the sunroom window, jingling the change in his pocket, watching Lucy charge across the lawn back to the greenhouse. The dogs had found her—no surprise. The only shock was that they hadn’t found her before this.
Baby was a full-blooded Great Dane, where Boo Boo—well, Boo Boo’s name was self-explanatory. Baby had been bred with a ribbon-winning sire and dutifully stood for him, but the minute she’d been brought home, she took off and found her own choice of lovers. Boo Boo was the result. The dog’s coloring and size were pure Great Dane, but the ears drooped and the tail was wrong and his expression was downright dopey.
Either way, both dogs were bigger than Lucy. The faster she ran, the more they appeared to be chasing her, but that wasn’t really true. They simply bounded and leaped around her, thrilled to have their favorite female visit. They adored her. When Boo Boo latched on to her wrist, he never left a mark. When they lavished kisses on her face—and she screamed—they just wagged their tails, understanding that she wasn’t remotely annoyed.
Nick wanted to shake his head.
Lucy—whose creative horticultural talents could potentially bring in a multiple seven-figure windfall for Bernard Chocolates—had a red nose, a dog-licked chin, a silly flower hat that had fallen in the snow, and jeans with a hole in the knee.
“She’s too young,” Nick said to his grandfather.
Orson stepped behind him, carrying a fresh mug of coffee. “I know she looks young. But she’s just under thirty. You were running the manufacturing operations at that age.”
“But that was only because I had to. Because Mom and Dad died. Because you were ill. And because Clint couldn’t tell a balance sheet from a bowling ball.”
“Your brother is just as smart as you are. He could have taken the ball if he’d just had the interest, the ambition. Once he got that young woman pregnant, everything went downhill for him. The point being, when your parents died, you were both too young to run a company. Technically. But you grabbed hold of the challenge and made it happen.”
Nick had heard the refrain of this story too many times before. It was Orson’s gospel. Gramps would have forgiven his grandsons all kinds of goofs—car wrecks, losing a few million, run-ins with alcohol or drugs, probably even a bank robbery—but he was ancient-old-school as far as women. A man didn’t get a woman pregnant and leave her. Period. Unfortunately, Clint had made exactly that mistake. Orson had never forgiven him, no matter what Clint had said or done since.
Every once in a while, Nick tried playing go-between. It always worked the same way. Trying to intercede always resulted in his head getting kicked from both directions. But right now, his older brother’s problems weren’t on the table. The situation with Lucy was.
“Lucy isn’t me. It’s not the same thing.”
“No, it isn’t, but we’re not asking her to run an international manufacturing operation, either.”
Nick heard the stubborn note in his grandfather’s tone and knew the old man was spoiling for a fight. Orson loved to fight and most of the time Nick gave in. The Bernard Experimental Station was one of Orson’s wild-haired follies, which in itself didn’t bother him. Orson, after all, had turned Bernard Chocolates into the multimillion-dollar operation it was. If he wanted to fritter away some money, God knew, he was entitled. This situation, though, was different.
“Lucy knows that new breed of cacao is potentially worth a fortune. She’s not used to pressure. She’s not trained for it. It’s not a fair thing to put on her shoulders.”
When Orson didn’t immediately argue, Nick focused again on the view below.
She was almost out of sight now, but not completely. A copse of tall blue spruce formed a privacy barrier between the house and experimental station. She had almost reached the woods.
Her hair looked more silver than blond, especially in sunlight, and was finer than filament. She wore it chin-length and simple, but it whished around her face every time she moved.
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