As if undaunted by his statement, she said, “That’s why I’m here.” She laid the envelope on the desk and pushed it toward him. “I purchased this property.”
“You?” Dean asked, unable to hide his shock over that one.
“Well…” Lecie paused. “I bought it on behalf of the Kevin Matthews Foundation.”
“You did what?” Dean asked her again, just to make sure he’d heard right. This was too good to be true.
“Well you said the other day…the place was up for sale.” Her cheeks blushed pink. “Considering all that’s happened lately, I figured Nick might have a hard time coming up with the money. I have plenty of money. And it seemed like a worthy cause.” She looked at Dean, her eyes widening. “You don’t think he’s going to be mad, do you? Maybe we shouldn’t tell him it was me.”
Dean laughed. “The minute I tell him the Kevin Matthews Foundation now owns this center, he’s gonna know it was you.”
“Well, okay.” She looked at Dean. “Can you wait until I’m gone, back to France, to confirm it?”
“Tell you what…” He got up. “I won’t volunteer any information.” He moved around the desk. “But if he asks me point blank, I won’t lie.”
She stood. “Fair enough.”
“I can’t begin to thank you.” He wrapped her in a friendly embrace. “You are an angel.”
“Hardly.” She laughed and they parted.
“You’re definitely an angel,” Dean said. And Nick was going to think she was an angel, too. Maybe this would be the thing that urged Nick to get off his butt and stop this girl from leaving.
Nick checked his watch. 1:30. Chip from Budweiser should be back from lunch by now. He needed to get that order in or Hang Ten was going to be very short on beer this weekend. Things had been far easier when Ginny was around handling all these office-type duties for the restaurant. Course, she was also not paying the bills.
He shook his head and snatched up the phone. Better that she’s gone anyway. Now that everything was straightened out financially, maybe he could hire someone to be his office manager. He’d damn sure keep a closer eye on things now, and he’d never, ever allow someone—anyone—signatory rights to his bank accounts, much less add them as a joint owner. Lesson learned.
He opened up the rolodex to look for Chip’s number. A rat-a-tat-tat at the door claimed his attention. Before he had time to respond to the jovial knock, the door opened and Dean came sashaying in.
“Good afternoon!” He was far too happy for someone who was about to become unemployed.
Nick scrutinized him carefully, not missing the large manila envelope he was carrying. “What’s gotten into you?” he asked, dropping the phone back onto its base. “You find a new job already?”
“Don’t need to.” Dean sat, but stretched out like a proud peacock.
“Ah…” Nick drew the word out. “So you’re going to try the life of a beach bum for a while?”
“Check this out.” He slid the envelope across the desk to Nick.
“What’s this?” Nick asked, looking at it like it might be a booby-trap.
“That, my friend, is salvation.”
“Why don’t you just give me the cliff notes?” He looked at Dean.
“That…” Dean pointed to the envelope. “Is the deed to the community center and the land it sits on.”
Nick pushed it back across the desk toward Dean. “You have to put this back where you found it.”
Dean said, “It was hand delivered to me.” He pointed to the envelope. “Look at the deed. The Kevin Matthews Foundation owns the property now.”
“What?” If this was a joke, Nick didn’t find it funny.
Would Dean do that? Nick had to admit, no. So if Dean was serious, and the center owned the property now…who would do such a thing? Who could do such a thing?
Lecie.
Nick let out a long sigh. “Tell me you didn’t ask her for a loan?” he asked, but it wasn’t the kind of question that asked for a positive response.
“I did not.”
Then how did she know? Nick riffled through his own thoughts. Did he mention it to her? Not that he recalled. “I wonder how much she had to pay for it? And what kind of terms she expects from us to pay it back?”
“She donated it.”
Nick’s mouth dropped open. “What? Why would she do that?”
“You know, you are great at running this restaurant.” Dean shook his head. “But sometimes, you’re dumber than a rock.”
Nick continued to stare at him. He had no clue, no idea what Dean was talking about.
Dean laughed a little, then said, “She did it for you, ya’ dumbass.”
Nick considered it, for about a half a second, and then dismissed the idea. “No way.” He shook his head and kept shaking it, as if that’d shake the nonsense out of Dean’s head too. “She doesn’t care about me. She’s leaving. Besides…girls like her don’t fall in love with guys like you and me.”
That much, Nick was sure of. Their worlds couldn’t be further apart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
NICK MATTHEWS MIGHT NOT HAVE been in the same league with Lecie de Laurent, but he sure was grateful for what she’d done for the community center and he intended to tell her. And maybe they could come to a suitable arrangement regarding how he was going to pay her back.
Walking up to the front door, he saw that the flowers she had asked the gardener to plant along the front of the house had started to bloom. Santa Barbara daisies amid African Irises and the Matilija Poppy added an elegance to the house’s curbside appeal.
Nick was going to miss this place. He was also going to have to put “getting the loft above Hang Ten in livable shape” at the top of his priority list. As soon as their marriage ended he’d wouldn’t be staying here anymore. Nick was going to miss Lecie.
Nick went inside the house, feeling a little sad. “Lecie…” he called out her name, but got no answer. He went through the house, but couldn’t find her anywhere. She had to be here, her car was in the garage.
Standing at the sliding glass door off the living room, he looked out at the terrace. She wasn’t there either. But what about the little patio just down the hill on the other side of the yard? He headed outside because that was the only place left to look.