“Where were you last night? I called the B&B and your cell phone and got a recording.” Becky eyed her best friend across the antique oak table in the kitchen of The Yellow Rose.
“Sorry. Ford’s friend is staying here. He’s… demanding.” Roseanne picked a potato chip off her plate and snapped it in two. Something seemed off about her friend, but Becky couldn’t put her finger on the change. Usually attentive to every detail, today she seemed… distracted.
“So demanding you couldn’t answer your phone? What if it had been an emergency?”
“Was it?” She jerked her gaze to Becky as if checking for visible injuries.
Becky shrugged. “It seemed like it at the time.” She’d never forget the moment she realized she couldn’t get Ford’s invention out of her body without help. When she hadn’t been able to reach Roseanne, she’d contemplated calling her mother and dismissed the idea as beyond insane. For a brief moment, she’d considered driving to the twenty-four-hour emergency clinic, but scrapped the idea as soon as she realized she’d have to sit in the car in order to get there. Ford had been her last, and only, resort.
“Everything’s okay?”
“Fine. Just fine.” Ford has seen my ass, up close and personal, but, no biggie, I’m good. She’d come over on her lunch hour to vent to her best friend, but for whatever reason, she wanted to keep what had happened the previous evening to herself. The night had been embarrassing, but the way Ford had handled the situation made her want to hoard the moment. Once she’d calmed down enough to tell him why she’d demanded he come over, he’d been wonderful—tender and not at all condescending, as she had expected him to be. After she’d bent over the bathroom counter, he’d inserted the key, disengaged the lock then left her to remove the plug herself. The expression on his face when she found him lounging outside the bathroom door had been… complicated. She’d lain awake most of the night trying to decipher what it had meant, and come up with absolutely nothing. Until she made sense of it, she’d rather keep the incident to herself.
“Tell me about this Scott guy. He didn’t seem like the demanding sort when I met him yesterday.”
“Hon, you have no idea.”
Becky finished the salad she’d brought for her lunch while her friend listed off the demands made by her Yankee guest. None of it sounded particularly out of line to her. Water on the bedside table, turndown service. Other than the request for a specific brand of coffee, it all sounded like things any guest might expect from a Victorian B&B. She didn’t say it out loud, of course. She’d never tell her friend how to run her place of business any more than Roseanne would tell her how to make baby bottle nipples. Instead, she let her friend vent. Scott Ramsey couldn’t be the first demanding guest Roseanne had played hostess to, and he wouldn’t be the last.
Besides, Becky had her own problems, of which she couldn’t speak. She and Ford had yet to tell the employees the severity of the situation, and until they did, she had to keep the details to herself. She trusted Roseanne not to say anything, but the woman clearly had enough on her plate without worrying about the last major employer in town closing its doors. And, lord knew, she didn’t want to talk about what had happened the night before. If Roseanne had answered her phone, it would have been different. Ford’s involvement would have ended with him asking her to try out the plug—something she could explain away as the crazy idea it had been. Even if the plug turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to the adult toy market, she didn’t see how it could to save Adams Manufacturing. How many could they sell, anyway?
As soon as she’d finished her lunch, Becky snapped the lid back on the plastic container she’d used to transport her lunch and pushed back from the table. “As lovely as it is here, I’ve got to. Things to do, you know?”
“What’s Mr. Ramsey doing here, anyway? Is Ford leaving soon?”
Becky couldn’t tell her about the locking mechanism without mentioning Ford’s big idea to save the company, so she settled on a version of the truth. “They’re working on some sort of project together. As to Ford leaving, I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”
“Why not? You were so sure he wouldn’t hang around.”
She shrugged. “He has no intention of staying a day longer than he has to, but things are… complicated.”
Roseanne narrowed her eyes. “Define complicated.”
What the heck? It’ll be common knowledge soon enough. The terms of Mr. Adams’s will would become public through probate proceedings, and the struggle to keep the plant open wouldn’t go unnoticed by the employees. “Mr. Adams left me 25 percent of the company.”
“What?!”
“Calm down.” Becky held up a staying hand.
“How can I calm down? You’re rich!”
“Whoa! Whoa.” She shook her head. “I’m on the brink of losing everything, and so are Ford and his mother. The company is broke.”
Her friend’s enthusiasm hit the proverbial iceberg. “What’s going to happen to all the people who work there?”
“Unless Ford pulls a miracle out of his hat, we’re all going to lose our jobs, but I’ll also be on the hook for my share of the debt. I know Mr. Adams intended to do something nice for me, and, a few years ago, it would have been. But for the last year or so, we’ve been holding on by a thread. I only found out yesterday how thin the thread really is.”
“And there’s nothing you can do?”
Becky explained the terms of the will and how she had no choice but to go along with whatever idea Ford came up with. “Ford has an idea for a new product he thinks might at least keep us in business for the next year, and he asked Scott to help him with it. If we survive the year? Who knows?”
“Wow.”
“Tell me about it. My life’s become one long, crazy roller coaster ride.”
“That’s what you wanted to talk to me about last night? I’m so sorry I wasn’t available to you. I feel like a jerk.”
“No, please. Don’t give it another thought. I was just feeling a little down last night.” She pasted a smile on her face. “I’m better today. Talking to you helped.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No. Just keep this to yourself for a while, okay? No need upsetting everyone in town until we’ve explored every avenue open to us.”
“My lips are sealed.” Roseanne stood and began to clear the table. “Any idea how long Mr. Ramsey is going to be here?”
“As long as it takes, I guess.” Becky stood. “I’ve got to get back.”
Roseanne wrapped her in a warm hug. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
~~~
Becky sorted through the stack of message slips she’d picked up from reception on her way in. They couldn’t hold off telling the employees much longer. It had been weeks since they’d shipped out the first batches of their new product to suppliers around the globe, and they hadn’t heard a peep out of any of them. She’d put off everything she possibly could to cut costs to the barest minimum, including ordering the mulch for the parking lot dividers. The spring bulbs had done their thing and been replaced by knee-high weeds. If not for the cars parked there daily, passersby would think the place abandoned. Great curb appeal. She pitied the Realtor who had to sell the place looking the way it did.
Something had to change—soon.
The first three messages were from suppliers they’d delayed paying, no doubt wanting to remind her the three-week deferral they’d requested would end soon. She’d have to ask Ford about providing more funds. Confident orders for his toy would come in, Ford insisted on continuing to produce the item, in an attempt to save face with their employees and the town, she’d named the Safeguard Backdoor Locking System. As a result of the aggressive production schedule, they were running desperately low on materials, and unless they paid their suppliers, they’d be shutting down all production soon.
She set the dun calls aside and read the last of the messages. Recognizing the name of one of the largest wholesaler’s they’d mailed product samples to, her heart tripped and her skin tingled. Could this be it? Could they have actually made a sale? Ever since the night she’d had to ask Ford to help her remove his invention, she’d known he was right—it would revolutionize the butt-plug industry. If they could get anyone to buy it, and so far, she’d had no success in that area.
It had to happen. Ford had poured money into the project for additional molds and to retool several of the machines no longer in use to churn out their new product. Everyone but a skeleton crew assigned to complete the last orders of baby bottle nipples were assembling and packaging products for which they had no orders.
Scott, Ford’s friend and business partner from New York, had sunk a lot of money into the project, too, providing the locks free of charge in hopes of making his money back, and then some, once the product began to sell. He’d offered to train the people on the assembly line, and for reasons Becky couldn’t fathom, remained in town. Probably waiting to see if any orders are going to come in.
Becky read the short, uninformative message again. Maybe they just wanted to ask questions. She opened a file folder, pulled out the sheet she’d prepared with all the talking points for their new product. “There’s no time like the present.” Lifting the receiver, she dialed the number listed on the pink message slip.
~~~
“Ford?” Becky knocked on his open office door then stepped inside. “Got a minute?”
He put down his pencil and rocked back in his chair. “Sure. What’s up?”
He’d been working on a new design the last few days, and seemed to have lost track of routine things—like shaving and combing his hair. He looks like he just climbed out of bed.
She had no business thinking about a sleep-tumbled Ford. They had a purely professional relationship that, due to the nature of the business, included him seeing her naked ass on one occasion—but it had been a one-time occurrence, and an emergency to boot. Nothing remotely similar would happen again. Becky wouldn’t be seeing his adorable disheveled countenance across the bed, so best to quit imagining it. Besides, as soon as they put Adams Manufacturing back on an even keel, Ford would start looking for a buyer for the share of the company he controlled. He’d been clear from the beginning about his desire to go back to his life in New York, and she couldn’t blame him. Butte Plains didn’t rate a dot on most maps. The nightlife here consisted of high school football games in the fall and catching lightning bugs in the summer. The pace of life was two steps behind slow and getting slower with each passing day.
She closed the door and approached his desk. “I have good news and bad news. Which would you like first?”
“Might as well start with the bad.” He sighed and held his hand out for the paper she extended to him. “Don’t make me read it, just tell me.”
“We’re running extremely low on raw materials. If we don’t pay some of our suppliers, we’re going to have to scale back our production of the Safeguard Backdoor Locking System.”
“Bottom line?”
She named a figure that made him whistle. He dropped the paper on his desk. “And the good news?”
“We need more raw materials.”
His brows knit as he stared up at her. “Isn’t that the same as the bad news?”
“No. It’s the opposite of the bad news.” She could barely keep the smile off her face, but she loved turning the tables on Ford. “See?” She handed him another sheet of paper. As he read, his face relaxed then his lips curved upward in a tentative smile.
“Tell me this isn’t a joke.”
“No joke. I just got off the phone with the head buyer. They want fifty-thousand units as soon as we can ship them. I promised ten thousand a week for the next five weeks with a promise to fill the order faster if we could manage it.”
A giant smile split his face. “You did it, Becky Jean. You really did it!” He jumped up, rounded the desk, and threw his arms around her, lifting her off the ground with a whoop they probably heard in Dallas. She laughed right along with him.
After printing out the purchase order the buyer had emailed to her, she’d danced around her office until she’d been able to control her expression. Seeing Ford this happy filled her with joy. She laughed and hung on as he spun her around until she became dizzy.
“This calls for a celebration.” He set her down then went back to his desk. Chest puffed out, he produced a bottle and two glasses from a lower drawer. “Tennessee’s finest,” he said, removing the top.
She laughed and accepted the tumbler with a splash of amber liquid.
Ford lifted his glass in the air. “Out with the old, in with the new,” he said. “And, to the latest incarnation of Adams Manufacturing.”
They tipped their glasses together until a crystal-clear clink rang out. Becky sipped at her drink while Ford finished his in one gulp, then refilled it and downed the second helping. They were a long way from being out of the woods, but this first order did warrant a celebration. She tipped the rest of her drink back. Coughing as the liquid burned its way down, she held her glass out for a refill.
“We did it, Becky Jean.” They’d done significant damage to the bottle of Tennessee’s finest. Ford had called Scott to let him know, then drank a toast to his best friend whose locking mechanism was the true success behind the new product. Never mind it had taken Ford’s genius to marry his design with a lock with no other practical application. Several drinks later, he’d waxed poetic about Becky’s marketing skills.
If anything reeked of donkey doo-doo, his statement did. She’d named the product, slapped a bunch of them into boxes, and shipped them off to adult toy suppliers then prayed they’d see what Ford saw—the chance to make a fortune.
She still didn’t believe more orders were imminent, but Ford thought differently, and for the time being, she chose to believe him. For the first time since the reading of Mr. Adams’s will, the doom of bankruptcy seemed less certain.
“To butt-plug wearers everywhere,” she said, lifting her glass.
“Here! Here!”