All or Nothing at All
Page 25
“What?”
“I have to drop you off at My Place for a little bit while I run out.” She frantically pushed away catalogs, school bulletins, and Becca’s artwork and found her work folder. Thank God. “We have to go now!”
Her daughter came down with her Nintendo DS and a big frown. “But we have to get ready for my recital!”
“We’ll have time. I promise it’ll be fine. I’ll swing by and pick you up in an hour.”
Becca gave a grumble but began tugging on her pink boots. “Okay. Can I get sweet potato fries? And play darts?”
“Yes, anything you want.” She grabbed Becca’s jacket and her own, then hurried into the car. She dialed Raven’s number on her Bluetooth, praying it wouldn’t be a problem. Raven adored Becca, as did the restaurant staff, and was always happy to babysit when Sydney was in trouble. Raven’s voice came over the line. “Raven? It’s Sydney. Can I drop Becca off for a little while? A work thing came up.”
“Sure, I’ll get a platter of the fries she loves ready. Can’t wait.”
“Thank you. See you in five.”
She hurried to My Place, dropped her daughter off, and drove like a bat out of hell to the granite place. Slipping into work mode, she allowed herself a few seconds of quiet meditation, then walked inside.
In her hot-pink heart leggings.
Anthony greeted her with warmth, shooting her a puzzled look at her wardrobe, but at least he kept quiet. The older man had a clean-shaven head, ruddy cheeks, and a nice belly that screamed of his love for pasta and beer. His networking ability was legendary in Harrington. Thank goodness he displayed pure loyalty to Pierce Brothers.
His only problem was working with “city slickers” who were going to beat him, rob him, and leave him in the gutter to die.
“I can’t go another five percent, Syd,” he said with a worried expression. “It’s not worth it.”
She’d prepped for this battle and was ready. “Anthony, I fought him on this, but it’s the only way to compete with the warehouse. You have to look at the bigger picture for Harrington. For the first time, we’ll be showcasing local suppliers for the bigger jobs. We nail this, and you can pick and choose from projects you’ve never been able to bid on before.”
She knew Anthony was a bit of an egotist when it came to his work. Another reason he loved Pierce—they weren’t the type of builders who threw up cheap houses for cost. “I don’t know.”
“Then let me convince you.”
She spent the next half hour going over design plans, costs, and benefits. Slowly he began nodding his head, beginning to grasp the bigger vision she’d been desperate to communicate.
Then she went for her close.
“Let me be honest. Adam is going to begin building in Harrington whether we want him to or not. He’d rather bring in crappy chain distributors and put up cookie-cutter houses that will eventually insult both of our businesses. This is a way to stop him without a feud. On our terms. You have the ability to make something spectacular happen. But I’m afraid if you don’t bend on this final condition, we’ll not only be cut out but cut up.”
Anthony tapped his finger against the papers, then slurped his coffee. “Bastards,” he grumbled.
“I know. So let’s do this our way.”
A reluctant smile curved his lips. “Ah, hell, why not?”
“Do you think you can get Brenda and Sam on board?” The other two granite, textile, and wood suppliers usually followed Anthony’s lead on projects.
“Yeah, I’ll call them today. But you’ll have to pay them a visit.”
“I will. Monday. I promise.”
“Good.”
She managed to peek at her watch. She was running a bit late, but nothing some deft driving and organization couldn’t handle. Saying her good-byes to Anthony, she headed to her car. She wished My Place weren’t on the edge of Harrington. Easing on the accelerator, she whizzed out of town, until a loud pop exploded in the air.
“What the hell?” Her car pulled to the left, and she angled into the spin. Thank God the road was basically clear, since she spun once, then landed on the side of the road. With shaking hands, she climbed out of the car and walked to the back.
Flat tire.
Completely. There was no saving this one. She must’ve run over something, maybe a busted glass bottle. Good thing she knew how to change a tire, thanks to Christian, who had always wanted her prepared to be safe on the road.
She opened the trunk, pulled off the cover, and stared into the empty space.
No spare.
Holy shit.
With horror, she remembered she’d taken the spare in to get it patched, but she’d never picked it up and put it back in the car. Which meant she was officially stranded on the side of the road with no spare and her daughter’s recital in an hour.
Okay, don’t freak. She had Triple A. She’d call them, and they’d give her a tow, or fix it, and get her home. Not in time for the recital, but maybe Brady or Charlie could take Becca and she’d meet them there. Morgan and Cal were gone for the weekend, so they couldn’t help. Raven always had a fully packed restaurant on a Saturday night, and Dalton wasn’t available. She began dialing numbers and kept getting voice mail.
When she finally reached Brady and Charlie, she discovered they were at a family dinner and over an hour away. Her regular sitter was off for the night. There was no one left to call.
Groaning, she frantically searched for anyone else in her contacts list who’d be able to get Becca to that recital. She’d been practicing so hard, and it would devastate her to miss it. She didn’t have Becca’s friends in her cell phone, or she’d be able to hunt down another mom who’d sympathize with her predicament. Maybe—
Tristan.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t. It was a terrible idea. It could lead to disaster.
God, she’d hated the distant way he’d treated Becca last night. His bumbling excuse of being busy during her recital was a total lie—his left brow always quirked upward—and Becca had sensed his untruth. Not that Sydney wanted them to be buddies, but hurting her daughter’s feelings stirred up her protective instincts. His asking Dalton to drive them home was a secondary punch. It was obvious he wanted nothing more to do with either of them last night, and the rejection stung.
“I have to drop you off at My Place for a little bit while I run out.” She frantically pushed away catalogs, school bulletins, and Becca’s artwork and found her work folder. Thank God. “We have to go now!”
Her daughter came down with her Nintendo DS and a big frown. “But we have to get ready for my recital!”
“We’ll have time. I promise it’ll be fine. I’ll swing by and pick you up in an hour.”
Becca gave a grumble but began tugging on her pink boots. “Okay. Can I get sweet potato fries? And play darts?”
“Yes, anything you want.” She grabbed Becca’s jacket and her own, then hurried into the car. She dialed Raven’s number on her Bluetooth, praying it wouldn’t be a problem. Raven adored Becca, as did the restaurant staff, and was always happy to babysit when Sydney was in trouble. Raven’s voice came over the line. “Raven? It’s Sydney. Can I drop Becca off for a little while? A work thing came up.”
“Sure, I’ll get a platter of the fries she loves ready. Can’t wait.”
“Thank you. See you in five.”
She hurried to My Place, dropped her daughter off, and drove like a bat out of hell to the granite place. Slipping into work mode, she allowed herself a few seconds of quiet meditation, then walked inside.
In her hot-pink heart leggings.
Anthony greeted her with warmth, shooting her a puzzled look at her wardrobe, but at least he kept quiet. The older man had a clean-shaven head, ruddy cheeks, and a nice belly that screamed of his love for pasta and beer. His networking ability was legendary in Harrington. Thank goodness he displayed pure loyalty to Pierce Brothers.
His only problem was working with “city slickers” who were going to beat him, rob him, and leave him in the gutter to die.
“I can’t go another five percent, Syd,” he said with a worried expression. “It’s not worth it.”
She’d prepped for this battle and was ready. “Anthony, I fought him on this, but it’s the only way to compete with the warehouse. You have to look at the bigger picture for Harrington. For the first time, we’ll be showcasing local suppliers for the bigger jobs. We nail this, and you can pick and choose from projects you’ve never been able to bid on before.”
She knew Anthony was a bit of an egotist when it came to his work. Another reason he loved Pierce—they weren’t the type of builders who threw up cheap houses for cost. “I don’t know.”
“Then let me convince you.”
She spent the next half hour going over design plans, costs, and benefits. Slowly he began nodding his head, beginning to grasp the bigger vision she’d been desperate to communicate.
Then she went for her close.
“Let me be honest. Adam is going to begin building in Harrington whether we want him to or not. He’d rather bring in crappy chain distributors and put up cookie-cutter houses that will eventually insult both of our businesses. This is a way to stop him without a feud. On our terms. You have the ability to make something spectacular happen. But I’m afraid if you don’t bend on this final condition, we’ll not only be cut out but cut up.”
Anthony tapped his finger against the papers, then slurped his coffee. “Bastards,” he grumbled.
“I know. So let’s do this our way.”
A reluctant smile curved his lips. “Ah, hell, why not?”
“Do you think you can get Brenda and Sam on board?” The other two granite, textile, and wood suppliers usually followed Anthony’s lead on projects.
“Yeah, I’ll call them today. But you’ll have to pay them a visit.”
“I will. Monday. I promise.”
“Good.”
She managed to peek at her watch. She was running a bit late, but nothing some deft driving and organization couldn’t handle. Saying her good-byes to Anthony, she headed to her car. She wished My Place weren’t on the edge of Harrington. Easing on the accelerator, she whizzed out of town, until a loud pop exploded in the air.
“What the hell?” Her car pulled to the left, and she angled into the spin. Thank God the road was basically clear, since she spun once, then landed on the side of the road. With shaking hands, she climbed out of the car and walked to the back.
Flat tire.
Completely. There was no saving this one. She must’ve run over something, maybe a busted glass bottle. Good thing she knew how to change a tire, thanks to Christian, who had always wanted her prepared to be safe on the road.
She opened the trunk, pulled off the cover, and stared into the empty space.
No spare.
Holy shit.
With horror, she remembered she’d taken the spare in to get it patched, but she’d never picked it up and put it back in the car. Which meant she was officially stranded on the side of the road with no spare and her daughter’s recital in an hour.
Okay, don’t freak. She had Triple A. She’d call them, and they’d give her a tow, or fix it, and get her home. Not in time for the recital, but maybe Brady or Charlie could take Becca and she’d meet them there. Morgan and Cal were gone for the weekend, so they couldn’t help. Raven always had a fully packed restaurant on a Saturday night, and Dalton wasn’t available. She began dialing numbers and kept getting voice mail.
When she finally reached Brady and Charlie, she discovered they were at a family dinner and over an hour away. Her regular sitter was off for the night. There was no one left to call.
Groaning, she frantically searched for anyone else in her contacts list who’d be able to get Becca to that recital. She’d been practicing so hard, and it would devastate her to miss it. She didn’t have Becca’s friends in her cell phone, or she’d be able to hunt down another mom who’d sympathize with her predicament. Maybe—
Tristan.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t. It was a terrible idea. It could lead to disaster.
God, she’d hated the distant way he’d treated Becca last night. His bumbling excuse of being busy during her recital was a total lie—his left brow always quirked upward—and Becca had sensed his untruth. Not that Sydney wanted them to be buddies, but hurting her daughter’s feelings stirred up her protective instincts. His asking Dalton to drive them home was a secondary punch. It was obvious he wanted nothing more to do with either of them last night, and the rejection stung.
