Free From Nanny To Wife by kate hopkins Page A

came here on business. Nothing is going to distract me. Once we're done here I'll call him."
     
    "Okay, Zoe." Hope smiled down at her. "Your Daddy is here for work, so we need to be on our best behavior. Can you be a good girl for Daddy?"
     
    "Yeah," Zoe said, nodding her head.
     
    The car came to a halt. Hope picked up her purse from the floorboard and took Zoe's hand. They got out of the car and moved to Ryan's side. Hope scanned her surroundings and was shocked to see the shipyard was nearly deserted. "Business is slow."
     
    "It's worse than slow," Ryan murmured. "It's dead."
     
    "Can I help you?" a man asked, approaching the small group. He looked to be in his early sixties with white hair and brown eyes. He walked with a limp and used a cane.
     
    "Are you Burt Monroe?" Ryan inquired.
     
    "I am."
     
    Ryan stuck his hand out. "Ryan Kendall."
     
    "Mr. Kendall." Mr. Monroe shook his hand firmly. "I wasn't expecting you until nine-thirty."
     
    "If you're in the middle of something I can wait," Ryan said.
     
    "I have time for you." Mr. Monroe turned and smiled at Hope. "And your name is?"
     
    Hope extended her hand. "Hope Landry."
     
    "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Landry." Mr. Monroe grasped her hand gently and shook it.
     
    "Please call me Hope and it's a pleasure to meet you, too," Hope said. "This little angel is Mr. Kendall's daughter. Zoe, say hi to Mr. Monroe."
     
    Zoe stared up at the elderly man. "Hi."
     
    "Hi," Mr. Monroe said. "Zoe is a pretty name. How old are you, Zoe?"
     
    "Three," Zoe said, holding up three fingers.
     
    "You're getting to be a big girl."
     
    "I know," Zoe said.
     
    Mr. Monroe chuckled. "Let's get started on that tour I promised."
     
    "Lead the way," Ryan told him.
     
    Mr. Monroe walked them through the giant warehouses, introducing them to the crew as they went along. Courteous, Ryan would shake their hand and listen to what they had to say before moving on. Once they left the warehouse, they headed to the painting facilities where a crew was busy painting a boat white. Hope did her best to keep Zoe out of the way of the crew. The little girl was constantly tugging on her hand, trying to get a closer look at what the men were doing. Hope was relieved when the tour was over and they left the building.
     
    Mr. Monroe took them to his office. The air conditioner was on and the room was comfortably cool. It was far more pleasant than being outside where it was humid and miserable. He had a box of toys that belonged to his grandchildren and told Zoe she could play with them. She settled in the corner of his office and began digging through the toys. Glad that Zoe had something to keep her occupied, Hope and Ryan sat down in the old leather chairs in front of a large desk. After offering Hope and Ryan, something to drink Mr. Monroe took a seat behind his desk.
     
    "Burt," Ryan said. "May I call you Burt?"
     
    "Only if I can call you Ryan," he said pleasantly.
     
    "Please do," Ryan said. "I couldn't help but notice that business is slow."
     
    Mr. Monroe sighed heavily. "You don't have to be polite."
     
    "All right," Ryan said. "Business is dead, Burt."
     
    "It has been for some time now." Burt turned his head and gazed out the window. A melancholy look came to his face. "It wasn't always like this. There was a time when business was booming. Ships were being built; there wasn't an empty dock in sight. This shipyard has been in the family for three generations." He shook his head. "I never thought I would see the day when I would have to sell it."
     
    "Why are you selling?" Ryan asked.
     
    "I'm looking at bankruptcy," Mr. Monroe said. "I need the money from the sale of this place to pay off my debts."
     
    "I see. " Ryan rose from his chair and wandered over to the window. He stood there and glanced out at the yard, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. "Three generations, you say?"
     
    "That's right."
     
    "Are you going to buy this place?" Hope