Best of My Love (Fool's Gold, #20)(94)

She glanced back at her phone.

Want to come over for a glass of wine and PB&J sandwiches instead?

I’ll come over for wine and cheese. And I’ll bring the cheese.

Perfect. What time should I drop off Josh?

Let’s say 7. Does that work?

Rachel sent the thumbs-up icon and set her phone back in her locker, then closed the door. Something to look forward to, she told herself. Plans on a Thursday night. Look at her—she was practically normal.





CHAPTER TWO


“MRS. TROWBRIDGE IS DEAD.”

Sienna Watson looked up from her desk. “Are you sure?” She bit her lower lip. “What I meant is, how awful. Her family must be devastated.” She drew in a breath. “Are you sure?”

Seth, the thirtysomething managing director of The Helping Store, leaned against the door frame. “I have word directly from her lawyer. She passed two weeks ago and was buried this past Saturday.”

Sienna frowned. “Why didn’t anyone tell us? I would have gone to the funeral.”

“You’re taking your job too seriously. It’s not as if she would have known you were there.”

Sienna supposed that was true. What with Mrs. Trowbridge being dead and all. Still... Anita Trowbridge had been a faithful donor to The Helping Store for years—contributing goods for the thrift shop and money for various causes. Upon her death, the thrift shop was to inherit all her clothes and kitchen items, along with ten thousand dollars.

Unfortunately, nearly six months before, Sienna had received word of Mrs. Trowbridge’s passing. After the lawyer had given his okay, she’d sent a van and two guys to the house to collect their bequest...only to be confronted by Mrs. Trowbridge’s great-granddaughter. Erika Trowbridge had informed the men that her great-grandmother was still alive and they could take their vulture selves away until informed otherwise.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Seth said now as he pushed up his glasses. “The lawyer gave you the key to the house.”

“Something he shouldn’t have done. You know, it wouldn’t have happened if they’d hired a local lawyer. But no. They had to bring one up from Los Angeles.”

Sienna had apologized to Mrs. Trowbridge personally. The old lady—small and frail in her assisted living bed—had laughed and told Sienna she understood. Great-granddaughter Erika had not. Of course Erika was still bitter about the fact that Sienna had not only snagged the role of Sandy in their high school production of Grease but also had—perhaps more importantly—won the heart of Jimmy Dawson in twelfth grade.

“She was a nice old lady,” she murmured, thinking she would have liked to have sent flowers. Instead she would donate that amount to The Helping Store in Mrs. Trowbridge’s name. “I wonder if there’s anything left in her kitchen.”

“You think the granddaughter took things?”

“Great-granddaughter, and I wouldn’t put it past her. If she had her way, Erika would clean the place out. At least we’ll get the cash donation.”

“I’m meeting with the lawyer in the morning.”

Sienna was the donation coordinator for The Helping Store, one of a handful of paid staff. The large and bustling thrift store was manned by volunteers. All the proceeds from the store, along with any cash raised by donations, went to a shelter for women escaping domestic violence. Getting away from the abuser was half the battle. Over the years The Helping Store had managed to buy several small duplexes on the edge of town. They were plain but clean and, most important to women on the run, far from their abusers.

Her boss nodded toward the front of the building. “Ready to tap dance?”

Sienna smiled as she rose. “It’s not like that. I enjoy my work.”

“You put on a good show.” He held up a hand. “Believe me. I’m not complaining. You’re the best. My biggest fear is that some giant nonprofit in the big city will make you an offer you can’t refuse and I’ll be left Sienna-less. I can’t think of a sadder fate.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. Oh, sure, every now and then she thought about what it would be like to live in LA or San Francisco, but those feelings passed. This small coastal town was all she knew. Her family was here.

“Isn’t David from somewhere back East?” Seth asked.

She pulled open her desk drawer and collected her handbag, then walked out into the hallway. “St. Louis. His whole family’s there.”

Seth groaned. “Tell me he’s not interested in moving back.”

There were a lot of implications in that sentence. That she and David were involved enough to be having that conversation. That one day they would be married and, should he want to return to his hometown, she would go with him.

She patted her boss’s arm. “Cart, meet horse. You’re getting way ahead of yourself. We’ve only been dating a few months. Things aren’t that serious. He’s a nice guy and all, but...”

“No sparks.” Seth’s tone was sympathetic. “Bummer.”

“We can’t all have your one true great love.”

“You’re right. Gary is amazing. Okay then, let’s get you to the Anderson House so you can dazzle the good people who make— Who are you talking to?”

“The California Organization of Organic Soap Manufacturers, and they’re at the Los Lobos Hotel. The Anderson House has bees.”