Love In Logan Beach. Shirley Hailstock

owned the building and everything that went with it. All that would happen to her would be that she’d be out on the street again. But as for trusting him? That was something she couldn’t do. She could accept changes in the store. She had ideas for the better placement of departments. She’d never written any of them down, but her plan had been that when the Bachs retired and left her in charge, she would restructure some of the areas. The difference between her and David was she would have done them a few at a time.

      David was ripping the bandage off in one swift snap.

      But then wasn’t that how she removed bandages?

      * * *

      Those beautiful eyes glanced up from the computer screen when David knocked on Rosanna’s door. They were light brown and foretelling was the only word he could use to describe them. She wore makeup today, not like when he’d surprised her by pushing into her apartment. It highlighted her eyes to the point of mesmerizing.

      “You must be tired of reading papers and screens.”

      “Some of it is interesting,” she said.

      “Shut it down. That’s enough for today. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

      Her expression didn’t change as she glanced at her arm, looking for the time, but there was no watch there. Angling her head, she checked the clock on the wall in the reception area. He looked in the same direction. It was three o’clock and she’d been at it for hours. Boring hours, if David thought about it, although he didn’t really know her background or her temperament, only that she wasn’t thrilled that the Thorns had taken over Bach’s.

      “Coffee?” he asked.

      “I’d love a cup.”

      “There’s a quaint little bakery not far from here. We could get some coffee there.”

      “I’m familiar with it,” she said.

      Of course she was, David thought as they headed out. She’d worked in this area for years. She probably knew everything about it and the whole of Logan Beach.

      David had known it as a bakery in his youth. Now it was a coffee house with some baked goods. They served at least twenty types of coffee, a variety of teas and a few pastries.

      “What would you like?” David asked as they approached the counter.

      “Plain coffee,” she said.

      “Black? Cream and sugar?” he asked.

      “I’ll add them,” she answered.

      David waited until she’d added a drop of cream and two sugars to her cup before speaking.

      “Don’t think of this as an interview or anything,” he said. “The job is already yours, barring any unforeseen circumstances. I thought we could use this time as a sort of getting-to-know-you exercise.”

      “Getting to know you?” she queried.

      He nodded. “Like the Miss America candidates do. I know you can’t live around here and not know all the details about that contest.”

      Atlantic City was only half an hour from Logan Beach. The annual beauty contestants sometimes spilled into Logan Beach for photo shoots.

      “I’ll start,” David told her. He understood she was apprehensive. He was technically her boss and he knew the dynamics that came into play when a person didn’t know the reason for the meeting.

      “I was a summer resident here. My uncle used to rent a house and bring my brothers and me along with his sons here for a month.”

      “So you’re not a stranger to the area?”

      She gazed at him, cradling her coffee cup in both hands as if she needed it to warm her. Her voice held surprise that he was familiar with the city.

      “I haven’t been here in a couple of years, but I used to come every summer, even while I was in law school.” Logan Beach wasn’t that big, even though it had a long coastline. Yet David had never run into her. He’d been in the Bach’s store. As a member of a family running department stores, he couldn’t go anywhere and not check out the competition. It was a family requirement. He wondered if his reports about Bach’s had interested his parents in the store once it was for sale.

      “Most people come here for the beach. Is that what attracted your family?” Rosanna asked.

      “I think it was just a place to let five boys run wild.” He laughed, but Rosanna didn’t. “How did you get here?”

      “I was born in Logan Beach.”

      No elaboration. David was used to people continuing to talk, more than they should in some cases.

      “Any siblings?”

      “Only child.”

      “Were you a lonely only child?” he asked pointedly.

      Rosanna stared at him. “No. My life was filled with friends and activities.”

      “What kind of activities?” He was trying to get her to talk, to open up. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask about dance lessons, sports, anything young girls would do, but thought that would elicit another one-word answer.

      “The normal ones—tennis, horseback riding at Island Beach, roller blading, gymnastics, swimming, dances, cotillions and proms.”

      “Do you still ride and play tennis?”

      “Sometimes.”

      “Maybe we can have a company league and play regularly.”

      “Would you like me to add that as an employee recreational option?”

      He shook his head. “We’re going to have a lot to do and when our human resources department is up and running, they can work on that. But we’re not here for work.”

      “Yes.” Rosanna’s head bobbed up and down. “The getting-to-know-you meeting.”

      “It’s not a meeting.”

      She took a drink of her coffee. David thought it must be cold by now.

      “Would you like a fresh one?” he asked.

      She shook her head. “We lived across from the beach. My carefree days were spent with friends, swimming and going to parties. I went to college in Atlanta—Clark Atlanta University. I majored in business finance and minored in music.”

      Music, he thought, but didn’t say anything. She’d finally begun to speak in sentences of more than one word and he didn’t want to stop her with questions.

      “When I returned home, I got a job with a brokerage house in Philadelphia. I hated the commute. One day I saw an ad for a job in the finance department at Bach’s. I got it and expressed an interest in being a buyer. Mrs. Bach took me aside and taught me the ropes. From there I advanced to assistant manager.”

      Rosanna had delivered the speech as if she was reciting her résumé.

      “During college, other than being an A student, what did you do?”

      She looked at him. “How do you know I was an A student?”

      “Something about you says it. And the Bachs gave you a glowing recommendation.”

      “Well, I wasn’t an A student.”

      “Then you were a fun student. What did you do for fun?”

      She smiled. She must have remembered something.

      “That’s it,” he said.

      “What?”

      “You smiled. I’ve been hoping you would.”

      “What?” she asked again.

      “I believe that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since we met.”

      “Sorry,