Sisters by Choice (Blackberry Island #4)(6)

A small SUV pulled into the parking lot. Sophie stood to greet the real estate agent. Once the key was in her hand, she would feel better, she told herself. She could get started on rebuilding CK Industries and everything would be fine.

Twenty minutes, two signatures and a brief conversation later, Sophie walked into the warehouse and waited for a sense of relief or even elation. The space was huge—nearly double what she’d had in Valencia. There were about a dozen offices, plenty of bathrooms and a massive open area where she could install miles of shelves and have the shipping center of her dreams. It was great. It was better than great, it was...

“Awful,” Sophie whispered, turning in a circle and taking in the emptiness around her.

She’d started CK Industries in the second bedroom of a two-bedroom apartment she’d rented while still in college, although the concept had been born in her freshman dorm room. From there she’d moved to a small space in a Culver City industrial complex. Two years after that she’d needed more square footage. The move to Valencia had come after her divorce and at the time, she’d felt excited—as if she were escaping to a new life.

This relocation wasn’t that. This had been forced upon her by bad electrical wiring. She hadn’t been prepared for the devastation—physical and emotional—of it all and to be honest, she wasn’t excited about the work she was going to have to do. It was overwhelming.

She wanted to stomp her feet and demand a do-over. Or at least a recount. But there was no one to complain to. This was her baby and only she could make it a success.

“Lead, follow or get out of the way,” she reminded herself. “Winners win. I am the champion. It’s up to me. I can do this.”

None of the words seemed to be getting through but at least saying them was better than admitting defeat. She walked over to one of the huge loading dock doors and pushed the button to open it. Cool air blew in. Sophie lowered her backpack to the floor, sank down to sit cross-legged and prepared to get to work.

She needed everything. Employees, product, shelves, shipping supplies, office supplies, office furniture and Wi-Fi. While still in Los Angeles, she’d picked out everything she wanted but had waited to order until she knew the size of all the various spaces. She also had a big, fat insurance check sitting in her bank account to pay for it all.

She got out her computer and, using her phone as a hotspot, logged on to the local internet provider and arranged for service. She would order everything else back in her room at the inn. The house she’d rented wouldn’t be available until the end of the week. Once she was settled there, she could fully focus on the business. In a couple of months everything would be running smoothly and it would be like the fire never happened. Or so she hoped.

“Anybody home?”

She looked up and saw a tall, barrel-chested man walking into the warehouse. He had gray hair and a tanned face and wore a plaid shirt tucked into jeans. He held a folder in one hand.

Sophie scrambled to her feet. “Can I help you?”

“Sophie Lane?”

She nodded.

“Bear Gleason.” He crossed to her and shook her hand.

She was five-five and he was at least eight inches taller. She would guess he was in his midfifties.

“How can I help you, Mr. Gleason?” she asked, hoping he wanted a job and that he had experience she could use.

“Bear, please. I heard you were moving your business to town. CK Industries.”

“That’s right.”

“My wife and I lived in Eastern Washington all our lives. I managed one of the largest fruit storage companies in the country. When we got bought out by an international conglomerate last year, they brought in their own people. Then our daughter turned up pregnant with triplets and my wife wanted to move over here to be close to the new grandkids and help her out.”

Sophie felt a whisper of hope and anticipation. She had a feeling it was the same sense of expectation other women got when they heard about a designer shoe sale. Let them fight over size whatever Jimmy Choo shoes—she just might have found herself a warehouse manager.

“I thought I’d try retiring,” Bear continued. “That lasted two whole months. Truth is, I’m going crazy at home. My daughter is eight months pregnant and on bedrest. My wife is gone all the time and I’m rattling around in our new place like a lost puppy. I’ve done every home project I can think of and my wife swears if I mess with her kitchen, she’ll kill me in my sleep.”

He looked around. “I’m not sure what all you’re buying or selling, but if it needs to be brought in, accounted for and then shipped out to customers, I’m your man.”

He handed her a slim folder. “My résumé and references.”

Yes! Sophie did her best not to break into a happy dance.

“How’d you find out about me renting the warehouse?” she asked.

“In a town this small, it’s all anyone’s been talking about. If I were you, I’d get the date of your job fair circulating real quick. Otherwise, folks are going to be drifting in at all hours.”

“Like you?”

He flashed her a grin. “Exactly like me.” The smile faded. “I heard about the fire. You had insurance, right?”

“Making sure your paycheck is going to clear?”

“I’m sure as hell not working for free.”