it down and pushed her plate away.
“Have you spoken to Spencer about it?” If anyone could give Liv sage advice, it was him.
“A little. I’m meeting with him tomorrow, but for now all he knows is there’s no money left. I haven’t told him about Marion’s gambling problems. He was the one who suggested Marion lodge the petition.”
“He had no other advice?” Like suing the bitch.
“He mentioned finding an investor to either buy us out or offer a loan. But there isn’t a buyer alive who’d take on our debt, and only an idiot would loan a gambler money.”
James considered mentioning laying charges against Marion, but decided he’d wait for Spencer’s advice. James understood building. Spence understood money. Frustration and helplessness rolled in his gut. “Christ, Liv. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Stop referring people to Beautiful Homes. I know you’ve always done it to help us—”
“I refer clients to you—not Marion—because you’re good at what you do.”
“Thank you.” She nodded at the compliment. “But I have to turn clients away now. Refuse the work. And it’s humiliating, explaining that we’ve run into problems.”
“You have nothing to be humiliated about. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I made a bad decision. And I trusted a woman I shouldn’t have.”
“You’ve known her for six years. She’s never given you reason not to trust her before now.”
“I feel like the world’s biggest idiot.”
“You’re not. Not even close. You made a careful business decision based on your experience in the company and it backfired. That’s not your fault.”
“Maybe, but it’s now my problem.”
The muscles in his stomach clenched tight. His friend’s world was falling apart and there wasn’t a single thing he could do to help her.
“Here.” He pushed her plate back toward her. “I can’t make your problems disappear, but I can promise you everything seems a whole lot harder when you don’t look after yourself.”
She shook her head.
“It’s common sense, pretty one. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Nourish your body, take care of the basics so you’re physically strong enough to handle the rest of the crap.”
Liv opened her mouth to argue, but must have seen the determination in his face. She took her fork and ate another bite.
“I guess you were right,” she said a few minutes later, her plate empty. “I was starving.”
“Feel better?”
She gave him a weak smile. “Not really. But it’s the first time this week I’ve discussed work without crying. That’s a good sign.”
“There’s no hope of saving the company?”
“None. Unless someone miraculously finds a quarter of a million dollars stashed away in the offices somewhere.”
“That’s how much Marion lost?”
“That’s a fraction of it. That figure is the amount we’d need to pay off business debts and salaries. She lost a whole lot more, including her car, her house and her marriage.”
Liv yawned twice, and James signaled for the bill, satisfied she’d eaten enough for now.
By the time they reached their building, she looked as though she might fall asleep at her front door.
“Eight forty-three.” James said. “Just in time to get you tucked into bed by nine.”
“I am so ready for bed.” She patted her stomach. “You were right about the food, by the way. I do feel better. Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He just wished he could help her with her other problems as easily.
Liv took her keys out and fumbled as she tried to find the right one. James took the bunch from her and opened the door.
The flat was quiet and dark. Ava must still be at yoga. Liv flipped a switch and soft light filled the lounge room. “Well—” she turned to him, “—good night.”
James smiled. “I’m not leaving yet. I promised to tuck you in, and I’m a man of my word.”
“You got me home. That’s good enough.”
“Not for