Intrigued, he maneuvered through the undulating body of elegantly clad attendees. Once at the double doors, he hesitated.

  Exactly what had he planned to do? Follow her into the kitchen? For what?

  Peering into one of the doors’ small, rectangular windows, he saw her framed behind the glass as she finished fastening on an apron and slipped on a pair of the same style of clear, thin, plastic gloves that the workers wore. A small crowd of individuals were gathered on both sides of her, watching as she demonstrated something. She then seemed to look on as they fanned out and repeated her steps with the same ingredients.

  With a nod, she turned to speak with another individual as she pointed out toward the ballroom. Her eyes skidded to a stop at the small window, her brows knitting together as she stared directly into David’s widening eyes.

  He gaped. What was he doing?

  He spun on his heel and plunged into the undulating crowd, hoping it would camouflage his form before a certain woman’s curious eyes might seek him out.

  Minutes later, though, David had fought his way back to the table.

  After all, he might as well grab something to eat before he left.

  He busily loaded up a small plate with parts of the edible landscape, his eyes ever scanning the length of the table and the staff attending to it.

  And his ears alert for the hint of a certain woman in black.

  Chapter 3

  “Mr. Lin, Miss Williams is here to see you,” his assistant alerted him, poking her head into the door.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Travis.” David’s eyes flicked up to the clock set above the door. “Your grandson’s communion starts soon, right? Miss Williams is my last appointment today. Why don’t you take off early.”

  Mrs. Travis smiled, “You really are a dear, aren’t you? I do hope you’ll find an assistant worth your while.”

  “I’m still hoping I can convince you not to retire, Mrs. Travis.”

  She waved the idea down. “Oh, Pshaw. A young man like you needs a young assistant who can keep up. No, Howards and I have worked together for so long, been through a lot of ups,” she snorted, “and downs together throughout his career. We know each other. We understand each other. You should have that, too.”

  “If you say so, Mrs. Travis. Would you go ahead and invite Miss Williams in?”

  “Of course, Dear.”

  Mrs. Travis left the doorway. Moments later, another woman took her place, a small smile on her face as she rapped lightly on the wooden door frame.

  David stood and walked from behind his desk, striding toward the woman.

  He shook her hand, “Miss Williams, thank you for coming.”

  Extending his hand outward, he waited until she’d cleared the threshold, something feeling oddly familiar about the scene as she walked away from him toward the chair.

  Brushing the thought aside, he closed his office door and rounded his desk, assuming his own chair opposite the seat she’d already taken.

  “Mr. Lin,” she began, shifting in her seat as she straightened her back. “I’ll get right to the point. I’m assuming you attended the bank’s banquet a couple weeks ago.”

  David nodded, his brow puckering.

  “Howards invited me to provide the grazing table. Did you get the chance to visit that space?”

  His mouth gaped, slightly.

  He recognized the mahogany skin, the dark braids that were now swept up into a french roll.

  The voice.

  So this was the artist behind that evening’s affair.

  He clamped his lips together and offered one sharp nod. But he couldn’t seem to stop his eyes from consuming every aspect of her face.

  “It was lovely,” he said, his tone more hushed than he’d intended. He cleared his throat. “You provided a marvelous array of dishes. And some of the most unique hors d'oeuvres I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. It was, truly, fantastic.”

  She blinked, seemingly lost for words.

  Nodding her acknowledgements, she exhaled and began again. “Thank you. My hope—and Howards’ belief—was that the evening might provide a platform from which I could gain clientele who could afford that level of service on a regular basis. And this meeting was intended to consist of my updating Howards on any new projects that resulted from that evening.”

  She opened her walnut colored leather satchel and pulled out a thin binder, setting it on his desk.

  “In there,” she said, pointing at the binder, “You’ll find commitments for two more upcoming engagements. And that doesn’t include the events that I’ve discussed with a backlist of other clients who are merely in the very early phase of pre-planning. With funding to help me secure the staff and product needed for my first few engagements, I foresee myself having a very busy, and fiscally positive, year.”

  David laid his hand on the binder and slid it to him. Opening it, his eyes scanned the first document and each subsequent work order and specifications detailed with each turn of the page.

  He exhaled loudly.

  “Miss Williams, this looks very promising. But unfortunately, I do need to rely on your current and historical fiscal state. While I appreciate Howards’ enthusiasm, I am not in the position to offer as much latitude as he. Do you have any additional paperwork regarding your current fiscal state that might help me justify reassessment of your application?”

  Her eyelids shut for a brief moment. When they opened, her chin rose slightly. “I don’t. I have my work history. I have my referrals from past clients. Though I understand those were smaller clients, I would think that their word, coupled with your experience from the bank’s event would mean something.”

  "If it were up to me this loan would go through. However, by the bank’s standards, your numbers show a risk. But after experiencing your creativity and the care with which you present it, I smell a sure thing and I'm usually right."

  "Isn’t it up to you? A little? I don't understand why Howards was able to help but you can't. You're in the same position.”

  "Not exactly," he said, averting his gaze.

  Her lips pinched together.

  “May I have my binder back?” she bit out.

  He handed it to her, and she took it, stuffing it in her bag. Standing, she held out her hand.

  “Well, I won’t waste either of our time any longer.”

  He stood, not yet taking her hand. “Perhaps we could discuss other options for you.”

  Her hand dropped to land on her bag and she shook her head.

  “I don’t have time. I have an interview and I’m already cutting it close with my time.”

  "Oh, you're interviewing for another loan?"

  She huffed. "No, a job. I'm nearly out of my savings. I had just enough to bridge the gap until these new orders came through. But I needed the loan to ensure I could secure the resources I would need,” she muttered. “And obviously, this isn't going to work out!" She ground her teeth, turning her profile to him as she swallowed. Folding her lips inward, she turned her face further away from him.

  He fought the urge to round his desk and…do what, he didn’t know. Do something.

  Lord help him. He already hated his job, and it’d been less than a month.

  Her fingers quickly swiped at her eyes. Turning just the side of her face toward him, he caught the angle he’d seen that night. The softly rounded nose, defined high cheekbones and full lips of the woman who’d disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Good day.” She said, hoarsely. She walked to the door, her back straight and chin up.

  Away from him, again.

  "Miss Williams,” he said, the words spilling from his mouth. “If you don't mind my asking, what kind of role are you looking for?"

  "The kind that pays my bills," she replied, flatly, turning to face him fully this time. “In my dream world it’d allow me time off to fulfill these requests I’ve received. And enough money to pay for all the supplies…not to mention rent. Not that that will ever happen, of course.” The corners of her lips dipped downwards. “I should just kiss this business goodbye.”

  "We have a few roles here. At the bank. If you have a copy of your resumé—"

  She rolled her eyes. "Really?” she said with a laugh. “Mr. Lin, I understand you’re just doing your job. And I am trying my best not to take my frustrations out on you. But honestly! What could be more tragic than spending hours I could invest into something I love—something I’m freaking amazing at—what could be more tragic than squandering my time, instead, at the very place my dream died?” she spat. “I've banked here my whole life. And now that I need support I get nothing. After today, this bank won't even have my account, let alone my time."

  Hand on his desk, he leaned toward her. "It's a job. And one thing I can say about the CEO of these banks is that he's a stickler about paying his employees competitively.

  "Also, it won't hurt to build relationships with people here. I'm sure I don't have to relay to you how beneficial the right relationship can be when applying for a loan. Leave your resumé. And I'll see what I can do about getting you a foot in the door.” Shrugging, he added, “You never know the kind of role that could open up."

  Her eyes bore into his. Looking away, she chewed on her lower lip.

  He straightened, resisting the urge to bite his own lip. Instead, he sunk balled fists into his pockets and shifted from one foot to the other behind the large, oak desk.

  “It’s—the best I can do for you right now,” he added, quietly.

  Chapter 4

  “Okay, so we’ve got your fundraising page set up. These prizes are amazing. Girl, you’re going to be rolling in the money, I promise you.”

  Therese’s cousin sat beside her and Nyla’s enthusiasm bubbled over into each of her movements. Every excited jerk and gesture translated into Therese bouncing on the cushions as they sat closely on the sofa together.

  “I think the self-serve grazing table for two for five grand is really going to peak some interest,” Nyla went on. “Especially with the pictures from that big event we have, now.”

  It’d been a week since Therese had met with Mr. Lin.

  A week since she’d swallowed her pride and left a thin sheet of paper balanced between his fingers.

  This morning, his assistant had called and left a voicemail with an offer. The woman, retiring at the end of the month, had phoned her to offer up her own position.

  Therese had yet to return the call. She wondered if the woman was retiring because of Mr. Lin. Maybe he was a tyrant to work for? Could Therese really look into the eyes of that man everyday? Work for him?

  “You're still thinking over that job offer, aren’t you? ‘Cuz your head sure isn’t here, right now,” her cousin accused, her head cocked to one side as she stared at Therese.

  “Yeah. I mean, if it weren’t for who and where I’d be working, the offer would be perfect. She said he’d work with me on my hours and use of time-off; and the pay is phenomenal.” Therese lowered her brow. “If it’s a legit offer, how could I even think of turning it down?”

  “Because you’d have to face that man every damn day. And get his coffee, too.”

  Therese’s jaw clenched. She felt her cousin’s hand slide upon her own, which lay balled up on her knee.

  “I get it, Therese. I do. And I wish there were better choices,” she said softly. “But if it is legit, between your new clients and our fundraising, maybe it wouldn’t be for long. I mean—it’d provide a much straighter road to your goals than a semi-decently paying job that wouldn’t be flexible with your time and vacay.”

  Therese nodded. “Not to mention the opportunity to build relationships with people who can make the decisions that, apparently, Mr. Lin cannot.”

  “Yeah. Sweetie, I think this guy’s really trying to help you out. I think he’s just the messenger.”

  Therese gave a small laugh. “So don’t kill him, huh? Then who should I aim at, Nyla?”

  Her cousin released a long breath. “I don’t know. Look, I know it’s rough right now. But I hope you might also see that you have options. You’re in a much better place than you were when you first started out. You’ve got high-paying clients lined up, possibly a job that’ll be both flexible and provide you with enough to get your first client’s order started—”

  “If I add my own savings to the pot and don’t eat, that is,” Therese interjected.

  “Like either of us haven’t had a Ramen kind of month before,” Nyla said, her eyebrow raising as she smirked at her cousin. “The sacrifices you make today will be the anecdotes you tell tomorrow. And we’ve planned the fundraiser’s end date to land before you need the money for your second client. If all goes well, you’ll have enough for whoever you’ve signed up to be your third client by then—or you’ll have collected the balances from your first two. Wash, rinse, repeat a few more times, and Baby, you’ve got a business! With or without a loan.”

  She leaned into Therese, bumping her shoulder. “You can do this, Cuz. If anyone can make this happen, you can.”

  “You’re the one driving this, Nyla. I feel like I’m just going along for the ride, right now. I’m so—tired.”

  Nyla shrugged. “We all need encouragement and a hand now and then. I don’t mind driving this for a couple miles…but you're the one that’s got to take it home. Okay?”

  Therese bobbed her head, worrying her bottom lip.

  “I should probably call his office back. Let his assistant know I’ll accept the role.”

  Nyla reached toward the table, picked up Therese’s phone and extended it toward her.

  Therese straightened. “I meant tomorrow morning. Not now,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Am I driving right now, or are you? Because I thought I had the wheel for a little while. Here.” She turned Therese’s hand over to lay palm up, and stuffed the phone into her grasp. “I don’t want you talking yourself out of it. Call while I’m here. You won’t regret it.”

  “How can you be so sure everything will work out?”

  Nyla chuckled. “I’m not. But you needed to hear that.”

  Therese let out a soft laugh and sighed, her shoulders dipping.

  Sucking in her lips, Therese redirected her gaze to her phone, gripping it tightly before repositioning it in her other hand. Her shoulders relaxed as she stared at the screen for several beats.

  Finally, she scrolled through her call history and hit redial.

  Glancing up at the clock over his door, David’s eyes widened.

  He had not intended to stay as late as he had. However, it was nearly an entire second job attempting to figure out ways to assist Howards’ remaining cases.

  He could see why the man had decided to help each: first time business owners, often the applicants had been first to graduate from college in their family; while some were graduates of the school of life, having built up a skill that’d warranted accolades from those in their community. There were even a couple ex-offenders who were now giving back to their community in different ways and were trying to be role models for those in their shoes.

  As far as David could see, they were all good bets. Just not any bets that might yield as quick, or as high, of a return as the bank would like.

  He slumped back in his chair.

  He missed the latitude he’d had to help others while in his prior life. Sure, the income from his job hadn’t allowed him to offer nearly as much help as he’d’ve liked, but at least he’d had his freedom to choose whom he’d invest in. And he’d had his dignity.

  And he’d done some good hadn’t he? Why did he leave it?

  He clenched his teeth.

  He’d left it to make a larger impact. He’d wanted to be able to help more small business owners, first-time business owners Not just one or two a year. While those were extremely worthwhile, he’d longed to help more of the individuals who don’t show up on the radars of traditional financiers.

  For years, David had observed his own parents’ failures and triumphs as they’d struggled to build their own business. They’d always said that, had it not been for helping hands, their success story could have turned out very differently. In turn, they’d extended help where they could.

  His old college-buddy, Jerry, had reminded David of his parents.

  As freshmen, they’d been one another’s best competition and had soon become best friends. As much as it’d devastated David to lose his running mate when Jerry had had to withdraw from classes, he’d known it’d torn his “brother” apart even more. But it wasn’t like Jerry had had much of a choice. How could he turn his back on his mother who required care?

  Several years later, he’d met Jerry again…where he stood behind the counter of a gas station.

  David still remembered how Jerry had turned what David thought would be an awkward exchange into something warm and encouraging. The man had been so excited for David’s burgeoning accounting career and had been just as diligent with attentively serving customers as he’d once been at tackling his studies; all while revisiting memory lane with David.

  When Jerry had mentioned the business he did on the side, it’d sparked something in David. One dinner later, David had become an investor in Jerry’s small company. Years later, he was only one investor of many. And Jerry, his “brother-from-another-mother”, was fully operating in his element—and still upholding the amazing customer service that’d shined so brightly behind the counter those years ago.

  There were other stories like Jerry’s. Like his parents. David had known it. He just didn’t have the funds, personally, to advocate for them all. He’d helped who he could. And maybe he should have been fine with that.

  But when his grandfather had called and made him that offer…it’d been too compelling to resist.