Page 32 of The Prince Who Loved Me

“Brandi.” Gerald called form across Belle’s compound. “It’s done.”

She gave him a thumbs up. Once her mom left, she’d see what she could do about the vents. “Give me about half an hour.”

“He’s cute.” Carolann’s gaze lingered on where Gerald was standing. “A little old, but that’s okay. Who is he?”

“Married.” Brandi rubbed the base of her finger with her thumb. It was almost time for her call with Jordan. “Mom, why don’t you head home? Take my car and follow the dirt path, then take a left when you leave.”

“Do you mind if I walk around the grounds?” Carolann asked. “It’s all so rustic and pretty.”

Brandi raised her eyebrows, unable to hide her surprise. Rustic and pretty weren’t part of Carolann’s repertoire. And her wedge espadrilles weren’t rustic friendly. “What’s going on, Mom?”

Carolann’s brown eyes widened and her lip stuck out in the tiniest of practiced pouts. “I don’t know much about you as an adult, Brandi. I want to change that. This seems a perfect place to start. I was so impressed that you knew what to do with that broken machine. Who taught you all this?”

“I’ve been picking things up since I started working here.” A bud of hopefulness blossomed in Brandi’s chest. Maybe her mom realized that Brandi had a brain. That she relied on more than her bouncy blonde hair and perky breasts. “Make sure you stay on the paths so you don’t get lost in the woods. Come back to the office when you’re done.”

“Okay, baby.” Carolann smoothed down her shirt, pulling it off her shoulders.

Brandi refrained from commenting. She made sure she had paper ready to take notes, uncapped her pen, and dialed her friend. Jordan had helped Wendy and Brandi when they first took over Fountenoy Hall, and Brandi fully intended on taking advantage of their friendship to figure out how to hire for Gerald’s position.

“Shoenover Strategic Management,” Jordan answered.

“You don’t have me as a contact?” Brandi demanded.

“Brandi! No! I mean, you are. I have my office phone forwarded to the cell. Want to call back and I can try this again?” Jordan asked.

“You missed your chance.” Brandi flipped the pages of the resumes. “Is this a good time?”

“Yes. Give me a second.”

Brandi heard a door close before Jordan got back on the phone. “So what’s up? How is everyone?”

They chitchatted a bit before Brandi brought up the reason for the call. “I was hoping for some business advice.”

“You were?” Her voice was filled with surprise.

A whisper of unease settled on Brandi’s shoulders. First Sebastien and now Jordan. If her friends didn’t have faith in her, why did she think she could call herself a businesswoman?

“This is great!” Jordan continued. “I’ve wanted to help but didn’t want to overwhelm or rush you.”

Oh. She sucked in a quick breath to steady herself. “Belle’s manager is leaving. The thought of replacing him is so overwhelming. He gave me his job description, but I don’t know where to start.”

“Perfect. This is right up my alley.” Jordan asked her questions about the job Gerald did in relation to what Brandi wanted for herself and the skills of other employees while Brandi took notes. When her friend had stopped talking, she had at least two and a half pages filled with information, and hadn’t thought about her and Sebastien for ten whole minutes.

“The next thing,” Jordan continued, “is to—”

“No. Stop. Please stop,” Brandi pleaded with a laugh. “You’ve given me so much to do and think about that anymore and my brain will fall out.”

“Can’t help it. You’ve gotten me all excited. Hang on. Josh is here with my lunch.”

“Tell him I say hi.”

Muffled voices carried over the phone until Jordan came back. Brandi pictured her needing to reposition her glasses, pushing them up with one finger. “He responded with a nod and smile.”

That sounded like the never-chatty Josh. “Did he cook your food or pick something up in a drive-thru?”

“I think he memorized Eulalee’s biscuit recipe. It’s like I’m back at Fountenoy Hall. Minus the peaches and whiskey, ofcourse.”

“Do you need to go eat?”