Redeemed Hearts Read online

  “So what do you think?” Myra stopped tapping on her phone long enough to look at Chloe. She pushed her reading glasses up onto her short, silver hair.

  “I’m definitely interested,” Chloe said. “But I’d need time to apply for a bank loan to cover the startup costs.”

  Myra frowned. “This is a hot property. How long are we talking?”

  Chloe tried not to laugh. Myra made it sound like the place was a coveted condo in downtown Manhattan. “A couple of weeks should do it.” Paul owed her severance pay, which Chloe expected any day. Still, she would likely need a small business loan to get going.

  Myra considered her for a moment. “I’ll tell my client you’re interested, but if another offer comes through, I won’t be able to hold it.” She tapped a finger on her phone. “I guess I could let you know if that happens.”

  “Thank you so much.” Chloe held out her hand.

  Myra shook it. “I’ll be in touch. Let me know if you get the funding.”

  “I will.”

  Chloe mulled her options as she walked. Her best source of money—the one she’d planned to use for a business one day—was her trust fund. After her mother died, their family home had been sold and all investments reverted to her estate, which Chloe wouldn’t have access to until she turned twenty-five. Almost two years away. But as executor of the estate and guardian of her trust, Nick had the power to overrule that stipulation. Should she ask him for some of the money now?

  Nick would never hand over the money without a detailed explanation.

  Was she prepared to bare everything? Her stomach clenched with dread. No, she wasn’t ready for that type of discussion. A loan seemed her best option.

  Chloe headed home to dig out her business plan. With a few tweaks, it would be ready to present to the bank by tomorrow.

  ****

  Aidan hung up the office phone and dropped his head into his hands. A dull throbbing pulsed at his temples. Mrs. Merriweather couldn’t cook for at least a month. And every replacement he’d called couldn’t fill in.

  Frustrated, he pulled out a drawer and grabbed a bottle of aspirin.

  Mrs. Merriweather had suggested he ask Chloe for help—cheerfully admitting she’d been prompted by a call from Maxi.

  Aidan thought about throttling his meddlesome sister.

  Being around Chloe every day was not a good idea given his unwanted attraction. But other than restructuring the entire Home Economics curriculum for this semester, what real choice did he have? He picked up the phone to call Maxi who was more than happy to provide him with Chloe’s number.

  Fifteen minutes later, Aidan finished the salami sandwich he’d brought for lunch.

  A soft rap sounded on the door.

  “Come in.”

  “Hi. The secretary wasn’t at her desk.” Chloe’s amber eyes held a hint of tentativeness. “Am I interrupting?”

  “Of course not.” He gestured to his guest chair. “Thanks for coming so fast.”

  He tried not to stare at the gloss of her hair, the perfect cut of her jacket, or the swing of her skirt above another pair of crazy high heels.

  “What did you want to see me about?”

  He cleared his throat. “I wondered if you’d given any thought to Maxi’s idea about helping with the home economics class.”

  “Not really.”

  “It turns out Mrs. Merriweather will be side-lined for at least a month.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” Concern flooded Chloe’s features. “Mrs. Merriweather got me interested in being a chef. I can’t believe she hasn’t retired yet.”

  “You can’t keep that woman down. Even this injury won’t stop her for long.” He folded his hands. “Which brings me to her suggestion.”

  “Oh, what’s that?”

  “Have an experienced cook come in to do the hands-on portion. Mrs. Merriweather would be there to supervise the kids, prepare the written lessons and tests, that sort of thing. Any chance you’d be interested in helping out for a few weeks?” Why were his palms sweating?

  Chloe frowned. “I don’t know...”

  She’d been adamant about not wanting to do this. But she was out of work, and a cash incentive might help.

  “I could pay you a small fee for your time. We usually offer a stipend to anyone who comes in to share their expertise with the kids.”

  She hesitated. “Actually I’m thinking of starting a new business venture.”

  “What type of business?”

  A smile lit her eyes. “A coffee shop and bakery.”

  “So you’ll be staying in Rainbow Falls?” Why did that thought both excite and terrify him? The knowledge that Chloe would be going back to Manhattan had been the main reason Aidan refused to think about a relationship. That, and the fact he’d sworn off romance for the next fifty years.

  Chloe’s features hardened. “New York has lost its appeal, believe me.”

  “Sounds as if you left on unpleasant terms.” He softened his voice. “What happened, Chloe?”

  Her eyes widened, and a hint of fear flickered. “I needed a change.”

  He was certain she wasn’t telling him the whole story, but kept his expression neutral. “I’m afraid I’ll need more than that.”

  “Why?”

  “If you were let go from your job, I need to know the reason. I have to be careful who I expose my kids to.”

  “You’ll have to find someone else.” She jumped up.

  “Chloe, wait.” He rounded the desk. “Won’t you reconsider—for Mrs. Merriweather’s sake? She needs your help.”

  Her anguished expression made him feel like the lowest type of heel.

  “I don’t—”

  “She specifically asked for you.”

  Chloe hesitated. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

  “Which is?”

  “What I’m about to tell you is confidential. You have to promise not to tell anyone—not Nick, Lily, or Maxi. When I’m ready, I’ll tell them myself.”

  He held back a barrage of questions and nodded. “Agreed.”

  They both reclaimed their respective seats.

  “So,” he began, hoping to put her at ease. “I take it there were problems in the workplace.”

  She gripped her hands together on her lap. “The problem wasn’t with my work. It was personal. I was seeing one of the co-owners of the restaurant—romantically—and the relationship didn’t end well. Richard forced his partner to fire me.” Color bled into her cheeks.

  “That hardly seems fair. Couldn’t you sue for wrongful dismissal?”

  “There’s no point. They have all the power and the legal connections. It wouldn’t be worth the time, the money, or the frustration.”

  Anger hummed through his system at the lingering sadness in her eyes. But it wasn’t his battle to fight. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, firing someone for something like that is reprehensible.” His dark thoughts spiraled back to his departure from his job in Arizona. It appeared he and Chloe had more in common than he’d imagined.

  “Thank you for saying that.” She seemed to come to a decision. “If you’re still willing to have me, I would like to help Mrs. Merriweather.”

  “You wouldn’t object to having a criminal check done?”

  “Not at all.”

  A wave of relief swept through him. “Great. I’ll have Mrs. Merriweather contact you to discuss the plan.” With a quick prayer that this wasn’t a decision they’d both regret, Aidan rose. “Since you’re here, why don’t I show you where you’ll be working?”

  ****

  The school’s large industrial kitchen wasn’t bad at all. It must have been updated over the years. The stovetops rivaled the fancy ones at Oliver’s. The ovens were functional, but the huge twin refrigerator made her drool. She’d love one like it in her future bakery.

  A couple of students clad in white aprons stood at the sink, washing dishes.

  “Hi, Mr. North.” One girl waved and smiled.

 
; “Girls.” Aidan tipped his head, and then frowned. “What are you doing in here?”

  “We thought we’d surprise Mrs. Merriweather and give the kitchen a good cleaning while she’s away.”

  Aidan’s taut features relaxed. “That’s very thoughtful. It’s nice of you to give up your lunch period.”

  One girl bounded over like an eager puppy. “What’s going to happen now, Mr. North? If Mrs. Merriweather can’t use her hand, she won’t be able to teach us to cook.” Her chemically-enhanced blonde hair fluttered around her face.

  The second girl, tall and slim, with straight brown hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, remained at the sink, but peered over one shoulder.

  “We’ve just come up with a solution to that particular problem. Daphne, this is Miss Martin. She’ll be helping Mrs. Merriweather with the cooking portion of the class. Miss Martin, this is Daphne Sharpe and over there is Lindsay Brown.”

  Daphne’s eyes widened. “You’re a teacher?”

  “No, actually I’m a chef.”

  The girl looped the dishtowel over her shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be working in a restaurant or something?”

  “Daphne.” Aidan’s warning held a ring of authority.

  “I’m out of work at the moment so I have time to spare.” Chloe smiled. “Besides, Mrs. Merriweather taught me to cook. Now I have a chance to do something for her.”

  Lindsay, the quieter girl, came forward, drying her hands on an apron. “You’re a real chef?”

  The girl’s flawless complexion and serious hazel eyes complemented high cheekbones and an upturned nose. Yet an aura of sadness shimmered around her.

  “I am. I used to work for a restaurant in New York. Now I’m planning to open a bakery in town.”

  “I want to be a chef too. Someday.”

  “I promise to share my best tips with you.” Chloe winked. “You’ll be a pro in no time.”

  The hint of a smile hovered on Lindsay’s lips and a new mission bloomed in Chloe’s mind. Maybe helping Mrs. Merriweather with these students wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

  6

  “The new teacher’s hot.”

  Giggles and other adolescent noises followed the declaration behind her.

  Chloe didn’t react as she wrote her name on the white board.

  The culprit had to be one of the five boys in the class. Most likely Dylan, the shaggy-haired Romeo in the first row.

  She turned to face the group, hoping Mrs. Merriweather would return from the office before they noticed Chloe’s knees shaking. “Hi, everyone. I’ll be assisting Mrs. Merriweather with this class for a few weeks.”

  A wolf whistle erupted.

  Chloe needed to gain the upper hand or they’d make tapioca pudding out of her. “Keep in mind that Vice Principal North, or Principal Jenkins, could come in at any time. You don’t want to give them any reason to get rid of me, do you?” She pinned Dylan with a no-nonsense stare.

  A chorus of no’s filled the air.

  “Good. So let’s keep things professional and we’ll get along just fine.”

  A few girls snickered behind their notebooks.

  “I hope you aren’t giving Miss Martin a hard time.” The no-nonsense voice of Chloe’s former teacher preceded her into the classroom. The stout, gray-haired woman frowned at her students. Obviously having her bandaged hand in a sling would not deter her.

  “No, ma’am,” came the sheepish chorus.

  Chloe bit back a smile at the familiar scenario. It was as if she’d never graduated.

  “Good. Now let’s get started.”

  After Mrs. Merriweather’s lesson, Chloe herded the kids into the kitchen. The teacher had chosen a fairly simple recipe of spaghetti and meat balls.

  Soon Chloe had a group boiling noodles, one browning the meatballs, and another making sauce. The appealing scent of onions and garlic filled the room. Chloe kept close to Lindsay, impressed with the girl’s skill. Chloe pulled the metal colander over to the sink so that Lindsay could drain the pasta. “Does your mother like to cook, Lindsay?”

  “Not really.” The girl’s response was tight-lipped.

  “Is your dad the cook in the family, then?”

  Lindsay dropped a ladle into the empty pot with a clunk. “My dad left when I was six.”

  Chloe stilled. “I’m sorry. That must have been tough.”

  “Yeah.” Lindsay’s gaze slid away. “My mom works a lot, so I cook for us.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “A younger brother.” Lindsay reached for a stack of plates on the counter.

  Chloe began to get the picture. Lindsay was responsible for her brother while her mother worked long hours. No wonder the girl looked beaten by the world. Chloe’s father had died when she was twelve. The sense of loss haunted her childhood, as she was sure it haunted Lindsay.

  “I’m sorry things are hard for you at home. But cooking is great therapy. Whenever I feel sad, I whip up a batch of brownies. Guaranteed to make anyone smile.”

  Lindsay gave a wistful smile. “I know. Cooking is the best thing in my life.”

  Chloe hoped to inspire Lindsay with dreams for the future, just as Mrs. Merriweather had done for her.

  After the final bell sounded, Chloe scoured the kitchen. Scrubbing out the deep, stainless steel sink, she realized with a start that she hadn’t thought of Richard in hours. Keeping busy was proving to be the best medicine.

  Voices echoed from the hallway, and the door squeaked open.

  Chloe turned, expecting to see Mrs. Merriweather.

  Instead, Aidan strode toward her.

  Her heart thumped a hard beat in her chest. Handsome and authoritative in his navy suit, his presence dominated the room.

  He leaned one hip against the counter and smiled. “So how was the first day?”

  She continued to wipe the counters. “Better than I expected. So far the kids are well behaved.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Even Dylan Moore? He can be a handful.”

  “I think we’ve reached an understanding. For now.” She hung the cloth over the sink to dry.

  “How are you getting home?”

  “I planned to walk. It’s a beautiful day.” Her pulse skittered at his intense gaze.

  “Can I give you a ride? There’s something I’d like to show you on the way. A project I have in mind for the kids.”

  The pull of attraction quivered along her nerve endings like a living, breathing being. Chloe pushed a piece of hair behind one ear, wishing she could push her feelings away as easily. The need for caution warred with her curiosity. What kind of project did he have in mind? Could it help her get to know Lindsay better? Although she wanted—no, needed—to keep her distance from Aidan, the ride would give her the chance to ask him more about the girl.

  “Wait one minute and I’ll get my purse.”

  ****

  Aidan pulled into the lot adjacent to the abandoned building. Nerves, along with his afternoon coffee, churned in his stomach. Getting Chloe on board with this project would mean spending more time around her, a potential problem unless he could get his feelings under control. He didn’t need a romantic involvement with any woman, much less a co-worker and his sister’s best friend.

  But to get his venture underway, he needed someone with Chloe’s energy and enthusiasm. Most of the teachers on staff were more interested in retirement than in taking on any extra-curricular activities with the kids.

  “Isn’t this the old YMCA?” Chloe asked.

  “It is. Come in, and I’ll show you my plan.”

  The run-down building would need a fair bit of work, but Aidan could envision the end result with perfect clarity. He unlocked the front door. The rusty hinges groaned.

  “How come you have a key?” Wariness swam in Chloe’s brown eyes.

  “The owner is a friend of mine. He let me have the key to see if the space would suit for a teen rec center I want to open.” Aidan flipped the light switch, illumi
nating a swarm of dust motes.

  In the large room that functioned as a gymnasium, basketball nets hung on either side of the area. A set of bleachers took up one wall. A faint odor of old gym shoes hung in the air.

  “This space would be great for all types of sports.” Aidan led the way to a door at the far end, pushed it open, and turned on the light. “And I thought I could turn this into a games room, where the kids could read, watch TV, or play video games. I’ll add a couple of couches, maybe an area rug. I’d want to paint it and make it brighter, more welcoming.” He stopped rambling long enough to gauge her reaction. “What do you think?”

  She scanned the room. “It’s a great idea. Who would supervise the kids when they’re here?”

  Aidan shrugged. “That’s one of the details I haven’t worked out yet. I was hoping to get input from any teachers or parents who may want to volunteer their time.”

  Chloe walked around the perimeter. “You could get a Ping-Pong table in here. Kids would love that. And ask for donations of used games and books. You could have a table and chairs on this side. And maybe an Internet station.”

  He smiled. She was getting enthused about the project, just as he’d hoped. “Exactly. Somewhere they can kick back and relax, without getting into trouble.”

  “Reminds me of the youth group Nick used to run in the church basement when I was a teen. Nick forced me to go—for my own good.” She grinned. “I went through a rebellious period.”

  His heart stuttered at her mischievous expression. With considerable effort, he pulled his attention back to the conversation. “My plan is to expand on the idea of a youth group and incorporate more physical activities, like basketball, volleyball, maybe some floor hockey. Something to keep the boys off the street.”

  “That should work.” She stuck her head out the door. “Is there a kitchen in here somewhere?”

  “I think so. A small one in the far corner.”

  “Let’s check it out. I could get the kids making snacks. Or maybe offer cooking lessons.”