Second Chance Girl
Page 8
Now she stared at the man he’d become and wondered what on earth he was doing in Happily Inc. In her store.
“Ulrich! I can’t believe it. Did Nana Winifred send you? I just got a package from her and she never said—”
“Madam, I must ask you not to refer to my grandmother with such familiarity. I don’t know what kind of scheme you’ve hatched to defraud her, but be aware that I’m here to make sure it all comes to an end. I prefer to handle this privately but I’ll have no compunction about involving the authorities. I have friends in the FBI, as well as with the NSA, and I will not hesitate to contact them.”
His tone was so cold and harsh, she almost didn’t comprehend his words. When the meaning began to sink in, she wasn’t sure if she should laugh, cry or throw something at him.
Regardless, the buttons came first. Violet carefully returned them to their plastic bags, then took off her gloves and looked at the hostile man in front of her. A man who had once danced with her and brightened her entire summer.
“I liked you better when you were the Marquess of I-can’t-remember-what,” she grumbled. “Now I have to be sorry I liked you at all. What on earth are you talking about?”
His icy stare cut through her. “Madam, I do not appreciate you presuming an acquaintance when none exists.”
“Stop with the madam crap. If you’re trying to sound like an extra from Pride and Prejudice, it’s working. Although there is the whole stick up the butt element to it. As for—” she made air quotes “—presuming an acquaintance, we’ve met. Twelve years ago, at your house. I was fourteen and had frizzy red hair and braces. You danced with me and were actually really nice.” She frowned. “Something you seem to have outgrown. What on earth are you doing here and why are you threatening me with the police?”
“You are stealing from my grandmother.”
His icy tone was nearly as startling as the words themselves. “Stealing what?”
“Household goods, paintings, objets d’art, silver. I will have to do some research, but I would guess their collective value has placed you in felony territory. You don’t seem to be the type of woman who would thrive in prison.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. She told herself not to be afraid of him or his accusation, but that didn’t stop the shaking that claimed her body.
“I haven’t stolen from anyone,” she said, willing herself to sound as confident and stern as he did. “You’re a crazy man who’s made a huge mistake.”
He pointed at the box sitting on the counter. “I recognize my grandmother’s handwriting. You can’t deny she sent you something. Something that belongs to Battenberg Park.”
He sounded so certain, she nearly doubted herself. Nearly. Violet shifted the box so he could see the contents she’d placed on the protective cloth.
“You’re right,” she said slowly and carefully. “She sent me buttons that she found and purchased at flea markets and estate sales.” She pulled a sheet of paper from the bottom of the box and unfolded it. “This would be the receipt because I pay for the buttons before she sends them to me.”
She handed Ulrich the paper. “That’s what I do. My business here is only a small part of my entire company. I buy and sell buttons from all over the world. I have a network of women—most of them elderly—who find unusual antique buttons. They buy them and bill me. I pay for the buttons and the postage and the ladies send them to me. Your grandmother helped me set up my business several years ago.”
He scanned the receipt, then tossed it on the counter. “You’re not making any sense. No one can make a living selling buttons.”
“Use a dismissive tone all you want. I’ll sell these for a hundred dollars each.” She shook the bag of jade buttons. “The military ones will go for nearly forty dollars. That’s per button, you pompous jerk. Whether or not you believe me about my business, I have a receipt. I also have an entire spreadsheet of transactions between me and your grandmother. So you go ahead and call the FBI or anyone else you want. You’re wrong about me and what I do. You’ve insulted me and totally destroyed a perfectly great memory. I’m only sorry I enjoyed our dance as much as I did.”
She pointed to the door. “As you’re leaving, you ought to think about how disappointed your grandmother is going to be in your behavior. Now get out!”
Violet was pretty proud of herself for standing her ground—mostly because her legs were really shaking. She knew she was in the right, but still, to be accused like that. It was horrible.
The Duke of Somerbrooke hesitated for only a second before turning and walking out. The moment the door closed, Violet sank onto the small stool she kept behind the counter and told herself to keep breathing. That eventually her heart rate would return to normal and she wouldn’t feel so sick to her stomach.
After a couple of minutes, she stored the dowager’s buttons in the walk-in safe that had come with the store. Only then did she sink onto the floor and wrap her arms around herself as she gave in to the shaking and the tears that followed.
* * *
THE HAPPILY INC Landfill and Recycling Center was a surprisingly clean and happy place. Brothers Ed and Ted Lund had bought the business from the city nearly a decade ago and had transformed it from a smelly, overused disaster into a bustling center of commerce and innovation.
While Ed had always been interested in animal welfare—particularly when it came to animals in the wild, Ted was more of a trash guy. He’d studied waste management in college and had worked for waste management companies all around the world. He believed in every form of reusing, recycling, re-everything.
When a distant relative had left the brothers a shockingly large inheritance, they’d decided to combine their two passions into a single enterprise. Happily Inc was delighted with their proposal and had thrown in the surrounding hundred acres as a bonus. Within two years, Ed had transported massive trees from Africa, along with bushes and grasses, transforming the rolling landscape from scrub to the savanna. Drought resistant in their native land, the new plants and trees required very little from Ed. A year later, the first animals arrived.
For his part, Ted had made equally unexpected changes. Recycling was expanded from average to cutting edge. He partnered with the state’s universities and colleges, offering practical, hands-on work for students of waste management and ecology. No idea was too crazy to be considered. The state’s largest prison in San Bernardino also joined Ted and the colleges and developed a work-study program where inmates could sort through the recycling and earn credits. Those not interested in study could work in the reclamation center where used or broken items were refurbished and sold in the recycling store on-site.
In less than five years Happily Inc had become a recycling leader in the nation. Other cities came to study what worked and why. The store alone had become a huge moneymaker and Ted was talking with several organizations who supported the homeless to see if there was a way to get them involved, as well.
Carol had bought a perfectly good desk at the store. For an extra five dollars, she was able to have it painted candy-apple red—something that made her happy every time she saw it in her small study. As she parked by the dump’s main offices late Tuesday afternoon, she thought that while her family was close and loving, they were a bit...odd. No doubt one of the reasons her parents had divorced. Her mom was simply too normal. After all these years, Samantha Lund still lived in New York City and practiced law. Carol and Violet made it a point to visit her at least once a year and kept in touch via phone calls and texts. Samantha had never visited Happily Inc. If she ever saw the dump, she would be appalled.
“Ulrich! I can’t believe it. Did Nana Winifred send you? I just got a package from her and she never said—”
“Madam, I must ask you not to refer to my grandmother with such familiarity. I don’t know what kind of scheme you’ve hatched to defraud her, but be aware that I’m here to make sure it all comes to an end. I prefer to handle this privately but I’ll have no compunction about involving the authorities. I have friends in the FBI, as well as with the NSA, and I will not hesitate to contact them.”
His tone was so cold and harsh, she almost didn’t comprehend his words. When the meaning began to sink in, she wasn’t sure if she should laugh, cry or throw something at him.
Regardless, the buttons came first. Violet carefully returned them to their plastic bags, then took off her gloves and looked at the hostile man in front of her. A man who had once danced with her and brightened her entire summer.
“I liked you better when you were the Marquess of I-can’t-remember-what,” she grumbled. “Now I have to be sorry I liked you at all. What on earth are you talking about?”
His icy stare cut through her. “Madam, I do not appreciate you presuming an acquaintance when none exists.”
“Stop with the madam crap. If you’re trying to sound like an extra from Pride and Prejudice, it’s working. Although there is the whole stick up the butt element to it. As for—” she made air quotes “—presuming an acquaintance, we’ve met. Twelve years ago, at your house. I was fourteen and had frizzy red hair and braces. You danced with me and were actually really nice.” She frowned. “Something you seem to have outgrown. What on earth are you doing here and why are you threatening me with the police?”
“You are stealing from my grandmother.”
His icy tone was nearly as startling as the words themselves. “Stealing what?”
“Household goods, paintings, objets d’art, silver. I will have to do some research, but I would guess their collective value has placed you in felony territory. You don’t seem to be the type of woman who would thrive in prison.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. She told herself not to be afraid of him or his accusation, but that didn’t stop the shaking that claimed her body.
“I haven’t stolen from anyone,” she said, willing herself to sound as confident and stern as he did. “You’re a crazy man who’s made a huge mistake.”
He pointed at the box sitting on the counter. “I recognize my grandmother’s handwriting. You can’t deny she sent you something. Something that belongs to Battenberg Park.”
He sounded so certain, she nearly doubted herself. Nearly. Violet shifted the box so he could see the contents she’d placed on the protective cloth.
“You’re right,” she said slowly and carefully. “She sent me buttons that she found and purchased at flea markets and estate sales.” She pulled a sheet of paper from the bottom of the box and unfolded it. “This would be the receipt because I pay for the buttons before she sends them to me.”
She handed Ulrich the paper. “That’s what I do. My business here is only a small part of my entire company. I buy and sell buttons from all over the world. I have a network of women—most of them elderly—who find unusual antique buttons. They buy them and bill me. I pay for the buttons and the postage and the ladies send them to me. Your grandmother helped me set up my business several years ago.”
He scanned the receipt, then tossed it on the counter. “You’re not making any sense. No one can make a living selling buttons.”
“Use a dismissive tone all you want. I’ll sell these for a hundred dollars each.” She shook the bag of jade buttons. “The military ones will go for nearly forty dollars. That’s per button, you pompous jerk. Whether or not you believe me about my business, I have a receipt. I also have an entire spreadsheet of transactions between me and your grandmother. So you go ahead and call the FBI or anyone else you want. You’re wrong about me and what I do. You’ve insulted me and totally destroyed a perfectly great memory. I’m only sorry I enjoyed our dance as much as I did.”
She pointed to the door. “As you’re leaving, you ought to think about how disappointed your grandmother is going to be in your behavior. Now get out!”
Violet was pretty proud of herself for standing her ground—mostly because her legs were really shaking. She knew she was in the right, but still, to be accused like that. It was horrible.
The Duke of Somerbrooke hesitated for only a second before turning and walking out. The moment the door closed, Violet sank onto the small stool she kept behind the counter and told herself to keep breathing. That eventually her heart rate would return to normal and she wouldn’t feel so sick to her stomach.
After a couple of minutes, she stored the dowager’s buttons in the walk-in safe that had come with the store. Only then did she sink onto the floor and wrap her arms around herself as she gave in to the shaking and the tears that followed.
* * *
THE HAPPILY INC Landfill and Recycling Center was a surprisingly clean and happy place. Brothers Ed and Ted Lund had bought the business from the city nearly a decade ago and had transformed it from a smelly, overused disaster into a bustling center of commerce and innovation.
While Ed had always been interested in animal welfare—particularly when it came to animals in the wild, Ted was more of a trash guy. He’d studied waste management in college and had worked for waste management companies all around the world. He believed in every form of reusing, recycling, re-everything.
When a distant relative had left the brothers a shockingly large inheritance, they’d decided to combine their two passions into a single enterprise. Happily Inc was delighted with their proposal and had thrown in the surrounding hundred acres as a bonus. Within two years, Ed had transported massive trees from Africa, along with bushes and grasses, transforming the rolling landscape from scrub to the savanna. Drought resistant in their native land, the new plants and trees required very little from Ed. A year later, the first animals arrived.
For his part, Ted had made equally unexpected changes. Recycling was expanded from average to cutting edge. He partnered with the state’s universities and colleges, offering practical, hands-on work for students of waste management and ecology. No idea was too crazy to be considered. The state’s largest prison in San Bernardino also joined Ted and the colleges and developed a work-study program where inmates could sort through the recycling and earn credits. Those not interested in study could work in the reclamation center where used or broken items were refurbished and sold in the recycling store on-site.
In less than five years Happily Inc had become a recycling leader in the nation. Other cities came to study what worked and why. The store alone had become a huge moneymaker and Ted was talking with several organizations who supported the homeless to see if there was a way to get them involved, as well.
Carol had bought a perfectly good desk at the store. For an extra five dollars, she was able to have it painted candy-apple red—something that made her happy every time she saw it in her small study. As she parked by the dump’s main offices late Tuesday afternoon, she thought that while her family was close and loving, they were a bit...odd. No doubt one of the reasons her parents had divorced. Her mom was simply too normal. After all these years, Samantha Lund still lived in New York City and practiced law. Carol and Violet made it a point to visit her at least once a year and kept in touch via phone calls and texts. Samantha had never visited Happily Inc. If she ever saw the dump, she would be appalled.
