Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Right,” I say. “But I think we could start small. Like you said, maybe we don’t start with berries. Maybe we look into freezing a different kind of fruit. Something more unusual. And then we just invest in a small way and see if it takes off.”
I turn and he’s looking at me like he thinks I’m the best thing he’s ever seen.
“I’m going to speak to them when we get back. See if I can convince them that your idea could actually change our lives for the better. Dad might be able to retire.” I pause. I’m not sure what it might mean for me. “It could give us choices.”
He nods, almost carefully, like he’s afraid he might break something if he reacts the wrong way. “I’m happy to help where I can,” Jack says. “But I don’t want to overstep.”
I squeeze his hand and we pull up to the curb. I dip my head to take in the smart blue-and-gold flag outside the building that reads “The Alden Hotel.”
“We couldn’t have walked?” I ask.
“It’s way too hot.”
I laugh at Jack’s response. I guess heat hits differently in the city.
Jack slides out of the car and interrupts the doorman who’s about to open my door, so he can open it instead. He’s so cute and sexy, makes me want to fall to my knees right here and now.
Jack takes my hand and helps me out of the car and we head inside.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Alden,” I hear voices say all around us.
“I really should have warned them I was coming,” he mumbles under his breath. “They’re probably scrambling. I’m not here to make their lives more difficult.”
“You’re the boss. They’re always going to be scrambling when you’re around. That’s just life with a boss.” I guess Jack doesn’t know because he never had a boss. In a way, neither did I. Bray tries—and fails—to tell me what to do. And my dad just has certain expectations. I don’t think he’s ever asked me for anything. Ever.
The hostess looks stunned to see Jack and me arrive for brunch, but finds us a table by the window opposite an elaborate flower display full of flowers I don’t know the names of. “Can I offer you some champagne to start?” the hostess says.
I shake my head. “Not for me, thank you.”
Just then, I hear someone call Jack’s name, and then a woman in one of those jackets that looks like the seams are on display appears at our table. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Jack stands and greets the woman, who’s a couple of decades older than him. She’s dressed in white trousers and is carrying a little dog that looks like it could be the cousin of a hamster, it’s so small. Her hair looks like she just stepped out of a salon and her nails are perfect and she has a small scarf knotted around her neck, like I imagine women in the South of France do. Glossy is the best way to describe her.
Shiny and neat and rich.
There’s no doubt—from her confidence to her handbag—that she’s got money.
“Melanie, this is my friend Iris. Iris, this is Melanie Bellingham.”
I don’t know whether I should stand or not, but I stay seated and we smile at each other. “Nice to meet you,” I say.
“And you.” She looks between me and Jack, probably wondering where on earth the two of us met. She probably knows from my outfit that I’m not New York old money. I’m not from one of the “acceptable” families that Jack’s mother has decreed he’s to marry. I’m just Iris Wilde from Star Falls, Colorado.
“We should catch up and have lunch sometime. I was really hoping that you’d step into Lionel’s shoes and take a spot on the board at the Hurst Museum.”
Jack pulls in a breath. “I’m at capacity when it comes to my board commitments,” he says.
Melanie tips her head back and laughs like Jack told the most hilarious joke she’s ever heard. “That’s why I need to take you to lunch. So I can charm you and convince you. Poor Lionel would love it if you could. And you know Phoebe helps me with all the fundraising, so it’s not like you’ll actually have to do anything. And to top it off, you’ll know most of the people around the table anyway.”
Jack smiles tightly, and Melanie takes his unspoken hint. She pats him on the arm. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your brunch. I’ll call you about Hurst. Just think about it. Nice to meet you,” she says to me, smiling. She’s not openly hostile. Not super friendly either. I suppose she doesn’t feel she needs to be. Jack’s a player. She’s probably used to seeing him with lots of different women.
He takes his seat opposite me again and sighs.