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Dear Santa

Год написания книги
2019
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“You used personal capital as seed money?”

“It’s not unheard of, Grant. Especially since I couldn’t get a loan to save myself. So you can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m some dumb cluck who had no idea what she was getting into.”

“Did you even have a contingency plan?”

Tamping down the urge to slug the man, she said, “I left Hinkley-Cohen on very good terms. I could have gone back anytime.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Okay, Grant? Hard as this might be for you to believe, I did know the risks going in. I also knew, given time and a long enough lever, I could make it. And I did. Am. But I was already in up to my eyeballs when the whole co-op ball started to roll. Moving then wasn’t an option. So I took another risk, that the landlord’s plan would fall through. Since it didn’t,” she said, turning back, “I suppose I’ll figure something out.”

“In two weeks.”

“Twelve days, actually…. Hey, cookie,” she said softly as Haley approached. “What’s up?”

As much as it warmed Mia’s heart when the little girl wriggled up into her lap, she didn’t miss Grant’s scowl at having not been chosen. Well, bud, she thought, wrapping her arms around Haley’s waist, you’re the only one who can fix that.

“How’s Henry doing today?” she asked, her lips close to the little girl’s ear.

A shrug. “His mommy still hasn’t come back.” A pause. “He’s getting scared,” she said, ruffling the thing’s increasingly matted mane. “He says everybody keeps telling him she’s gone to heaven and she can’t come back, ever. That makes his heart hurt.”

As it did Mia’s. She hugged Haley more tightly. “I know,” she whispered, laying her cheek against the soft curls. “I know it does. So you have to hug Henry lots and lots to make him feel better.”

“I am. But he said it doesn’t help.”

“It will, lamb chop,” Mia said, her eyes burning, not caring if Grant’s were boring holes in the side of her face. “Eventually, it will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. You just have to keep reminding Henry how much you love him.”

“Like you love me?”

Mia thought her own heart would break. “Yep. Like I love you. And Etta and your daddy and your grandma—we’re all going to love you and love you until it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

A moment later, Haley cocked her head, as if listening to the stuffed toy. Then she slid off Mia’s lap and turned to her. “Henry wants to know if you’d push us on the swing.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Mia said, getting up and holding out her hand.

“Mia.”

Grant’s low voice brought her head back around. He’d stood, his hands in his pockets, his mouth a straight line.

“If you want to buy your apartment, I’d be happy to cosign for your loan.”

Her eyes popped open. As did her mouth. When the buzzing stopped, however, she leaned over to Haley and said, “Go on back to the swing, I’ll be there in a sec.” When she was sure the little girl was out of earshot, she looked back up at Grant, standing there looking like the Daddy of all Immovable Objects.

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“To say thank you?”

“Then you can send me flowers. Or give me a gift certificate to Bloomie’s. But I wouldn’t dream of letting you take that risk. Or myself. I really can’t predict my cash flow right now—”

“Not a problem.”

“For you, maybe not. For me, yes. Thank you,” she said softly, when he blew an obviously frustrated breath through his nose. “That’s incredibly generous. But no.” A piece of hair blew into her face; she pushed it back, angling her head. “My mommy always told me never to take financial favors from strangers.”

“We’re not strangers, Mia.”

Man, this dude did not give an inch, did he? “Uh, yeah. We are.”

Apparently accepting that they’d reached a stalemate, he said, “Then I suppose you’ll be looking for another apartment when you get back to the city.”

“That’s the plan, yep.”

“In less than ten days.”

“Rub it in, why doncha?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “There is one more option. If push comes to shove.” He nodded toward the guesthouse. “It’s sitting empty, anyway.”

“Oh! Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

“Think about it,” he said, then turned and strode back inside.

“I take it we’re not talking some rickety old shack you wouldn’t keep your dog in?”

Mia could count on Venus not to mince words, about this or anything else.

“Uh, no.” After Haley went down for her nap, Mia got the key from Etta to check out the guesthouse. Not that she was even remotely considering taking Grant up on his offer, but she figured she might as well know what she was turning down. “Two bedrooms,” she said into her cell. “Wood floors—well, carpet in the bedrooms—a kitchen big enough for a table and more than half a person in it at once—”

“Get out.”

“I know, I know. Of course, compared with the main house, it is a shack. Compared with what I’m likely to be able to afford in Manhattan, however, it’s a palace. But come on—it’s in Connecticut!”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you’re in Washington Heights?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And what’s with the ‘uh-huhs’?”

“Think back. Way back. To the way you nearly broke something trying to get a better look when Grant walked by your office on his way to his appointment with that tax attorney—what was his name again?”
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