The words and grappa swirled around Lucy’s brain. She’d heard the story before. But this retelling…hit different. Or maybe it was the grappa.
“Noemi died three months before you were born. Your father said you inherited her spirit.” Ella patted Lucy’s hand again. “You understand what I’m telling you, Luciana?”
“I think so?” Lucy wasn’t sure she understood anything anymore.
“See, you’re a bright girl. You’ll always find the solution. Now, I’m going back to bed.” Ella rose and cleared their glasses from the table. “Tomorrow I’ll call your mama. Flu or no, she will come to Portland for her daughter’s engagement party. I’m sure of it.” She kissed Lucy on top of her head. “Don’t stay up too much longer,bella.There will be much to do tomorrow.”
Lucy sat at the table, thinking about her eighteen-year-old great-grandmother and the grit it must have taken to get through that time in history as a young woman with few opportunities. What lessons could she pull from Noemi’s story? Lucy was the opposite in almost every way. Older, college educated, living a life filled with privilege.
You’re a bright girl,her aunt had said.
In the dimly lit room, Lucy looked down at her real-estate notepad and the words she’d written next to Colton Rodrigues’ beaming face.
Problems for another time:
#1—Joel Morgan
CHAPTER FIVE
This is a very bad, horrible, no-good idea, Lucy thought as she walked up to the brick building on the corner of a busy street in the Pearl District. The stylish neon sign above the big double doors readBowie’s.
This was the place? She checked her phone’s maps app. Earlier, she DM’d Hope and asked where she might find Joel. Since he didn’t have much of a social media presence—and she’d deleted his number from her phone during a particularly lonely night with too many glasses of Chianti a year ago—his sister seemed like the most logical starting point.
Hope had immediately DM’d her the address of the apartment Joel rented in Portland, which was how she now found herself standing at the corner of Hipster and Trendy looking up at a building that was the farthest thing from what she’d ever imagine a man like Joel, heir and CEO of Morgan Construction, would live in.
The structure was gorgeous, no doubt about that, but it lacked the sleek, ultra-modern look of the properties Joelbuilt and lived in. Not to mention height. There would be no posh penthouse suite here.
Nevertheless, this was the address Hope had sent her, and she was on a mission, so she marched down the side of the block to the entrance to the apartments.
Her finger hovered over buzzer #2, her heart picking up speed. This morning, everything had been so clear. Her plan had seemed perfect. Now her feet tingled and her fingers trembled. Could she do this? Was this the right path? Would Joel Morgan agree to help her become the head of Barone & Sons?
Only one way to find out. The strip next to the number read,Occupied. Time to find out if Joel had really left his San Francisco penthouse for an apartment above a bar in Portland. Taking a deep breath, she punched buzzer #2 with her index finger. A loud buzz filled the air in a jarring sound.
Enough seconds passed that she was about to double check the address, then a promisingclickand a gravely “Hello?” came through the speaker.
God, did he have to sound sexy even through an intercom? Her palms broke out into a sweat and her voice stalled in her throat when she opened her mouth to talk.
“Anyone there?” Joel demanded through the intercom.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Here went nothing.Or everything, her brain taunted. “Um, hi, Joel. It’s—”Shit.What was she doing? “It’s Lucy.”
“Lucy?” He sounded so utterly dumbfounded that a blush inflamed her cheeks.
She was such an idiot. “Never mind, this was stupid. I’m going. Sorry to bother you.”
“No wait—” There was static and a bang, then a curse. “Lucy?—”
A long buzz sounded behind her, but humiliation had her hoofing it down the street.
There had to be other ways to get through to her father. Maybe she could land a bigger client outside of San Francisco and convince him the company had what it took to grow. Or she could try talking to him again—although the last time she’d done that, Nico had showed up three weeks later and crushed the progress she’d made. Not that she’d made much. Her father had all but laughed off the idea of her as the boss.
Still, there had to be an option she hadn’t thought of yet. Faking an engagement with her estranged husband was preposterous.
She was halfway down the block when Joel called out, “Lucy!”
Please, ground, crack open and swallow me whole.She blamed no one but herself. She’d come here on a grappa induced hair-brained idea that held zero weight and even less potential.
“Lucy, stop!” Joel called again, but this time from much closer—like right behind her closer. Strong fingers curled around her hand. Together, they slowed. “Please.”
