Free The Chocolate Pirate Plot by JoAnna Carl Page B

“Jeremy who?”
    â€œMattox.”
    He paused for at least thirty seconds before he went on. “I don’t know. I haven’t had any other employees this summer, and I wasn’t here last year.”
    McGrath folded his arms and leaned against the van. His shoulders drooped. He was the picture of discouragement.
    â€œIn fact, as you may have guessed, this whole project has turned into a flop.”
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that, Jack.”
    â€œI’m sorry to say it. Actually, my uncle is a retired coach, and he bought the place, then hired me to run it. But he’s undercapitalized.”
    â€œOh, dear.”
    â€œOh, yeah. I’m a coach myself. I thought this would be a great summer job—maybe turn into a full-time deal. But the place is far too run-down to open without a major renovation, and my uncle just doesn’t have the money to update. And he can’t get a loan, on top of the mortgage on the property.”
    â€œOh, gee! Jack, I sympathize completely. When I came to Warner Pier four years ago to work for my aunt at TenHuis Chocolade, I faced the same situation, in a way.”
    He grinned. “You look prosperous now.”
    â€œWe’re doing better. But for the first two years I lived with my aunt, taking room and board as part of my pay—”
    â€œSame deal with me.”
    â€œAnd my aunt and I both took big salary cuts. Luckily, her plant didn’t need an upgrade, but she’d let her deliveries get unreliable, so her business was going downhill fast. It took a lot of work to get the business back on track.”
    I smiled. “And now I’ll make another pitch for the chamber of commerce. We can refer you or your uncle to people who can help. No, we can’t give you a loan, but we can put you in touch with groups who help with operations, or with accounting practices. This could make a difference.”
    Jack nodded glumly. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I think my uncle is just going to put the property on the market.”
    â€œEverything on the water is valuable around here.”
    â€œProbably not valuable enough to pay off his mortgage.”
    I nodded sympathetically. “Thanks for showing me around. I appreciate your sharing your time.”
    â€œTime’s all I’ve got.” McGrath yawned. “I think the sale’s over. I may take a nap. Bed sounds good.”
    â€œYes, it does. It’s such a lazy afternoon, I could join you.”
    It wasn’t until McGrath’s eyes widened that I realized what I had said.
    â€œI mean . . . a nip sounds good. I mean a nap! I mean, it’s a lazy afternoon but I’d better go back to work.”
    I yanked the van’s door open and leaped inside.
    McGrath was right beside the van’s window, grinning. “All I can offer you is a beer,” he said. “But it’s cold.”
    â€œNo, I’ve got to get out of here. I mean, I need to get home.”
    McGrath extended his hand in a way that made it hard to refuse. I shook it. He didn’t let go. None of that namby-pamby touch of the fingers he’d offered the first time we shook hands. This time I got the full-fledged, strong-guy, macho handshake.
    It was almost painful. His palm had rough calluses, for one thing. I pulled my hand away, but it wasn’t easy.
    â€œMy husband repairs and restores wooden boats,” I said. “He’ll be interested if you decide to sell your equipment.”
    â€œYour husband? I was hoping you were single.”
    â€œNo. I’m married.”
    I was still getting the eye contact and the frisky mustache. I kept smiling as I started the motor and backed up. Jack McGrath stepped out of the way so I wouldn’t run over his foot. We gave each other friendly waves as I drove off.
    I’m used to saying the wrong thing, but I’d really done it that time. I could only hope that I never saw Jack McGrath again as