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A smile curved across her face. “You made it.”
“You sound surprised.”
“A little, yes.”
“Don’t be. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it. I’m not one for spontaneity.” Though he was having a lot of spontaneous thoughts about her right now. It had to be the surprise of the sundress, the expression on her face, the scent of the ocean in the air, because he was having trouble thinking about anything other than her. “And for me, this—” he waved at the glorified pile of wood that was passing as a restaurant “—is a semitruck full of spontaneity.”
“Hey, who knows, Mr. Barlow, in the process of you helping me with the company, I might end up being a bad influence on you.”
He laughed. “That I doubt.”
“Come on. Let’s get a table out back before the sun sets.” She waved at him to follow her down a shell-lined path that circled around to the back of the Sea Shanty. The path led to a small deck topped with white plastic tables and chairs and framed by lattice panels on either side. Clearly, it wasn’t the ambience that drew people to this place.
It was definitely the view.
“Isn’t this amazing?” Savannah said as they slipped into two chairs. She waved toward the ocean lapping at the rocky shore below. “Every time I look at this view, it... Well, as silly as it sounds, it reorients my soul.”
Reorients my soul. Mac considered those words as he took in the panorama before them.
A vast blueness stretched before him, further and broader than his eyes could see. It rippled with tiny peaks of whitecaps, like a dusting of stars in the water. In the distance a sailboat cut through the water quickly and easily. Above his head a trio of seagulls called to each other before one dropped down and scooped a fish out of the shallows. Mac’s heart slowed and his chest expanded as he drew in one deep breath after another like a man who had gone too long in stale air. The salty, tangy breeze was refreshing. Restoring.
The same ocean was right outside his offices in Boston, of course. But he rarely saw it heading into work early and leaving late. The air there was filled with the smog from commuters and the stink of diesel from the busy harbor.
Across the bay he saw one lone house, a two-story white Georgian style with a long wooden dock jutting out into the water, topped with chairs to catch the view. It was a peaceful image, like a painting spread across nature’s canvas.
A sense of something Mac didn’t recognize settled in his chest. Then it hit him—he felt calm, relaxed. When was the last time he’d felt like that? With no worry over an impending deadline or stress about a deal falling through?
The sound of the water lapping over the rocky shore seemed to whisper relax, relax, and every cell in Mac’s being ached to do that very thing. For a moment, he imagined himself at that house across the way, sinking into one of the two Adirondack chairs facing the ocean and just...being.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Savannah said. “My dad loved this place. He and my mom would come here as often as they could. It was just a short boat ride for them, so they’d pop over for dinner all the time.”
“Short boat ride?”
“Yup. That’s my dad’s house over there.” She pointed to the Georgian he had noticed a moment ago.
“That’s where your dad lived? How did he afford a waterfront home?” The moment of relaxation flitted away. Mac made a mental note to take a second look at the company’s finances. If the CEO had been financing a big mortgage, that kind of practice would have to stop. “Because I thought Willie Jay had a house a few miles from Stone Gap, too. In Juniper Ridge.”
“We do. The house in Juniper Ridge is small, the same house I grew up in and that my parents bought when they first got married. My mom and dad never really wanted or needed a big house. The one on the beach has been in our family for a long time. My dad was frugal in other parts of his life, so he could afford to keep this house.” She brushed her bangs off her face and wistfulness filled her features. “It means a lot to our family. Almost everything important in our lives happened over there. And someday I’m going to find a way to get all that back.”
Her eyes clouded and grief settled over her like a cloud. Then she worked a smile to her face and turned away from the view. “Anyway, I’m starving. Do you want to order an appetizer?”
“No,” he said, before he got too distracted by that look in Savannah’s eyes, and how much it made him want to leap in and fix whatever was bothering her. He was trying to buy her business, not build a relationship. No smart decisions could come from connecting with Savannah on a personal level. “I think we should get to work as quickly as possible.”
Because if he didn’t, Mac had the distinct feeling he’d get off track by the curiosity to know what Savannah had meant when she’d said she wanted to find a way to get all that back.
And why it mattered so much to him to see that she did just that.
Chapter Four
By the time the steaks arrived, Savannah had lost her appetite. Everything Mac had told her about running a business in the short space of time since they had sat at the table sent one clear message—she was in over her head. He’d given her his CEO 101 talk, and she’d realized pretty fast that he was right—a degree in history and some experience remodeling homes didn’t qualify her to sit in Willie Jay’s chair. Not that she hadn’t known that from the first day, but talking to Mac cemented the truth in her heart.
She understood the basics of what Mac said, about receivables and payables, about the impact of sales on their bottom line, but as he started delving into the minutia of the monthly general ledger—deviating from their no-business talk the instant dinner was set on the table—her eyes began to glaze over and the hope she’d had that she was up to turning Hillstrand Solar around began to dim.
He ran a finger down the screen of his laptop, skipping over the figures he’d downloaded earlier. “If you shift to a just-in-time inventory system and reduce the production workforce by two, you should be able to implement additional lean manufacturing—”
“Wait,” she said, putting up a hand. “Did you just say I should fire two people?”
“I said reduce the production workforce.” Mac pointed at a number on his screen, flanked by a percentage on the right. “You have too much overhead.”
“Reducing the workforce is just a fancy way of saying fire people. I’m not doing that.”
“Part of doing business is separating the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, and getting the most return on your investment. By eliminating two of these positions—” he pointed to a line item for the shipping and receiving department “—you can increase your monthly cash flow by several thousand dollars, which will help tide you over until sales increase.”
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