The Tycoon's Proposal

“Possibly. But waiting tables isn’t a bad income, really. Most of our clients are alumni, and the tips are usually generous. Besides, the hours are flexible, and I don’t have to waste any time commuting. I can work an hour here and there and fit partial shifts in between classes. If I had to go all the way across town to a job I wouldn’t make any more, even if I got a higher rate of pay for each hour I worked.”

“Because it would take so long to get there, especially since you don’t have a car. I see. Still, I wouldn’t think you’d have gotten in over your head financially, wizard with figures that you are.”

“It’s hard to pay tuition and medical bills at the same time. Pneumonia’s not cheap, and I didn’t have any health insurance after my dad died.”

“Perhaps some financial planning advice—”

“There you go, problem-solving again. I’m sure your banker would be tickled pink to handle my portfolio, because I’ve usually got about fifty bucks to my name.” She was irritated enough not to stop and think before she went on. “I’d saved up enough to get through a couple of weeks with no income—but then I was robbed last night.”

His eyebrows went up. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes—thanks for asking. I wasn’t held up at gunpoint or anything. I’d left my extra funds in my room—only I obviously didn’t pick a good enough hiding spot.” She knew she sounded bitter, and probably stupid, too. She waited for him to say it.

He didn’t. “Did you call the police?”

“No. It wouldn’t do much good. It was cash, and there’s no way to prove that any specific twenty-dollar bill was mine once. Besides, if I’m right about my suspicions, and the thief is someone else who lives in the house—”

“You think your roommate robbed you?”

Why had she told him anything at all? Of course it had seemed safe, because he’d never been known for tenacity back in their college days. Quite the opposite, in fact—at least when it came to studying. But now he seemed to be like a bulldog with a bone, and it was too late to back out without explanation. “We’re not what you’d call roommates,” Lissa said reluctantly. “Or even housemates, for that matter. It’s more like a boarding house. Seven individual bedrooms, shared kitchen and bath. Reporting it would only make things more difficult in the future. Nothing would be safe.”

He nodded. “You always were pragmatic.”

“You don’t have to make it sound like a disease. In some situations there aren’t any good choices, Kurt. You just deal with it and go on, that’s all.”

He didn’t answer, but he pushed his apple pie away as if he’d lost his appetite.

Puzzled at the response, Lissa went on. “Anyway, to get back to the point—your grandmother got that much out of me and then she went all quiet. The next thing I knew—”

“She’d manufactured a job for you.”

“You mean she made it up from nothing? I don’t think so. If she’s going to move out of that house, she really does need help. There must be closets everywhere. Unless you’re planning to stick around to pack boxes…?”

Kurt gave a little shiver.

Lissa went on coolly, “Yeah, what a surprise. You’re too busy, right?”

“I’ll hire a crew.”

“She doesn’t want a crew, she wants me.”

“Maybe she thinks she does—right now.”

“And what does that mean? If you’re threatening to discredit me by telling her what happened between us all those years ago I suggest you think again, because you won’t exactly come off as Mr. Pure of Heart yourself. Anyway, someone will have to do the work, so why shouldn’t it be me?”

“How long do you think it will take?”

“I have two weeks free until school starts up again.”

“Surely you don’t think that job can be done in two weeks? And if you start dragging things out of dark closets and then abandon her—”

“Hello? What was that you were telling your grandmother earlier about not being able to have things both ways? Neither can you, fella. At any rate, I figure within two weeks Hannah will either have decided that she’s too fond of her house to leave it, or she’ll have gotten tired of sorting and decided to call an auctioneer and get it over with in a hurry.”

He stared at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. “So in the meantime you’re just going to let her pay you for humoring her?”

“I intend to do whatever she asks me to. You know, it might not be a bad plan for you to follow, too. Humoring her, I mean, instead of arguing with her all the time.” And maybe you could see your way clear to cutting me a little slack, too. She’d probably better not hold her breath, though.

She looked at her watch. “I don’t mean to rush you, Kurt, but I have things to do. And, since your hair hasn’t turned white yet, I’m going to assume I passed the driving test.”

“We’re not all the way home yet. And I’m in no hurry to get back in that car. I felt like I was riding around in a tomato soup can.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that your grandmother drives a compact. If you’re used to the Jaguar I saw parked outside the house—”

“Don’t even daydream about driving my car. Buy her some new tires first thing, all right? Give me the bill for them.” He stood up and pulled out his wallet.

Lissa sat very still, her tea mug clutched between her hands. “Then you’re withdrawing your objections?”

“No. But since she seems set on the idea, I’m putting my objections on hold.”

At least he wasn’t still threatening her. Quite sensible of him, she thought. “Fair enough.” Once back in the car, she turned on the radio and hummed along with Christmas carols as she drove. She thought Kurt was looking even more like an approaching rainstorm. “What’s the matter?” she asked finally. “You don’t like ‘Jingle Bells’?”

“Not when it’s played on accordion and banjo, thanks. Where did you find that station?”

“I didn’t choose it, it was already tuned in. Why doesn’t your grandmother have a Christmas tree?”

“Tradition. It goes up one week before Christmas.”

Lissa calculated. “That’s tomorrow.”

“Enjoy the job,” Kurt said. “I’d help, but I’ll be at the grand opening of my new Twin Cities store.”

“Oh, that’s what’s keeping you here.” Lissa parked the car right behind the Jaguar, under the porte cochere.

“The grand opening runs through the weekend.” Kurt walked around to her side and opened her door. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“No, I’m just dropping you off.”

“Wait a minute. You’re taking Gran’s car? Do the words grand theft auto mean anything to you?”

She looked out over the dull red finish on the car’s hood. “Not grand theft, surely? Now, if I was taking your car, then I could understand you saying—” He started to growl, and Lissa thought better of pursuing the argument. “She told me I could.”

“You’re planning to commute using Gran’s car? And what other employee benefits have you talked her into providing?”

“Not to commute, exactly.” Her gloved hands tightened on the wheel, and she looked up at him through her lashes, waiting to enjoy the explosion she expected. “I’m just taking it today so I can load up my stuff.” She paused for just a second to let the news sink in, then added gently, “And of course I need to talk to my landlady as well—to give notice that I’m moving in with Hannah.”

And before he could open his mouth Lissa put the car in reverse and backed out into the street.

The sense of freedom was incredible. Traffic on the outbound streets was a disaster, but nobody was trying to get downtown this late in the day, and the little car buzzed along easily. For the first time in years Lissa wasn’t simply enduring Christmas carols, she was enjoying them. With the dim prospect of two weeks of living on macaroni and noodles now erased from her calendar, life was definitely looking up.