Project Love (Cascade Brides Series) (7 page)

After making sure Amy had the counter, Charity went
outside for a breath of fresh air. Thinking deep thoughts never
helped and now she was in a glum mood. Leaning up against the side of
the brick building, she surveyed the sidewalk scene. People walked,
drove, biked all with purpose. Everyone seemed to know where they
were going.

Spying an orange newspaper dispenser, she ambled over to
see what it offered. There were several arts and entertainment and
nickel ad papers in Portland in addition to the
Oregonian
.
Lifting the lid on a stack of free periodicals, she pulled out a copy
of
Willamette Week
and
flipped to the community events section
.
Perusing
the copy—while passing by the pet fostering program and medical
research ads—she saw an entry that piqued her interest. Working at
the local food bank.
That should be easy enough
.
After noting the weekend hours required, she looked up from the paper
to find Daniel staring down at her with a crooked smile.

“
Were you waiting for me?”

Her eyes widened. “Uh...” Suddenly she was aware of
her damp apron and wayward strands of hair after a busy morning.

“
I'm just kidding.” He glanced over at the coffee
shop door. “Just heading over for my daily fix.”

“
Ah, yeah, I think my break's over, so I can grab that
for you.”

He stepped closer. “Um, before you go in, I wanted to
ask if you'd like to come with me again on Sunday?”

A light breeze was blowing a lock of his hair away from
his face and appeared to be tugging a slight smile from him as well.
His amber eyes seemed to put her in a trance. But at the same time,
she was reminded she was out of her league. Charity tucked the
newspaper behind her back. “Oh, gosh, I...have plans. Sorry.”

His expression only shifted slightly. “That's all
right. Let me know if you're ever interested again.”

She nodded, wondering if she was nuts for her reticence.

He went to the shop door and held it open.

Straightening her drooping shoulders, she preceded him
into the shop and went quickly behind the counter. Shoving the
newspaper on a low shelf, she grabbed a tall cup and began filling it
with coffee. Wishing her heart rate would take a damper, she popped
on a lid and pushed the cup across the counter to Daniel. Then she
bit her lip. “You know, I didn't even ask if you wanted your usual.
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have presumed.”

He took the coffee and handed her a five. “Feel free
to presume, Charity.”

She gulped at the look in his eyes.

“
And keep the change.”

Charity watched him go to his table, then she turned
toward the cash register. Making change with nerveless fingers and
dropping the difference in the tip jar, she was thankful for a task
to keep her scrambled thoughts from assembling into anything that
resembled order. Because she just wasn't prepared for that.

***

Home—usually the place that bored her to tears—now
seemed like a refuge. A refuge from Jessie's endless prying and Amy's
artless comments...and Daniel's disturbing smiles. Why had she wanted
to see him smile so badly? Little did she know how a twist of the
lips could upend her world and make it so she didn't know whether she
was coming or going.

Her stomach
rumbled—reminding her she'd been too ruffled to eat lunch.
Have
I gone shopping lately? I must've. I got paid
.

The fact that she couldn't remember her last grocery
trip only confirmed her muddled state. Sliding off the bed, she went
in search of food. The refrigerator yielded sliced turkey and bread.
A sandwich it would be. But as she bit down on the assemblage of
bread, meat, tomatoes, and lettuce, she was forcefully reminded of
lunch with Daniel.

Charity sent a dark look at her sandwich and decided she
needed the distraction of TV. Naturally, that was too much to ask.
Fuzzy snow was the only result of a frantic flipping of channels. She
went to Holly's door and knocked. “Why is the cable still out?”

After a moment, a muffled response came through the
door. “You forgot to pay it.”

“
That's what you said last time, but I paid my half of
the rent, and rent also includes the utilities.” Charity twisted
the door knob and peeked through the crack.

Holly stared at her, a paintbrush in her mouth, while
standing in front of a large canvas covered in some strange swirly
pattern of color. “Go ask the landlord,” she mumbled around the
brush. “Kinda busy here.”

Suppressing an urge to get huffy, Charity headed
downstairs and knocked on the manager's door, located at the ground
floor of the four story building.

The door cracked open and a plume of cigar smoke coiled
out into the hallway, followed first by a nose, then a pair of
glittering eyes under bushy eyebrows. “What?”

“
Mr. Gerald, the cable is out in apartment 408.”

The brows came together. “You don't have cable.”

“
Yes, we do. It comes with our utilities.”

Another puff of smoke.

“
Should I get my rental agreement?”

“
Don't get snippy, young lady. Did you tighten the
coaxial cables? Make sure there was a good connection?”

It couldn't be that simple. “No, I didn't think of
that.”

“
Well, if that doesn't work, come back.”

This time she did huff. “Fine.”

“
Hey, I haven't had any other reports of anyone's
cable being out. It's probably your coaxial.”

“
Thanks for your time, Mr. Gerald.”

His door snicked shut.

Charity stomped her way back to her apartment, hoping
against hope she could figure out what in the world a coaxial thingie
was. Once she was back inside, she looked behind the television set.
The power cord was the only cord she saw. Did that mean she didn't
have a coaxial? Then she saw a black cable poking out from under the
couch.

Charity pulled it out from under the couch and looked at
the end. She saw a small wire protruding from the center of a
threaded metal tube. She peeked at the back of the console. There was
a threaded metal protrusion with a tiny hole in the middle. After
connecting the two parts and twisting it tight, suddenly she had TV.
Which meant she'd had it all along.

Back to Holly's door. “You forgot to reconnect the
cable TV the last time you moved the furniture.”

“
No, I'm pretty sure I connected it.”

Charity glared at the door and resisted an urge to kick
it. She needed to save her strength for the often protracted episode
of Finding of the Remote. There was no point in asking Holly. She
wasn't a fan of TV in general and probably hid the remote and
unconnected the cable in a fit of artistic passive-aggression.

Charity eventually located it behind a potted plant.

Standing in front of the now-working TV set, she made
her way through a series of channels and decided there was a
conspiracy where all stations aired commercials at the same time.
Desperate for a channel that wasn't selling miracle cookware or male
enhancement medication, she ended up at a local news station.

The news anchors began
a story about some company contracting with Metro for a new water
treatment plant. Charity wondered if the miracle cookware commercial
might be more interesting. Until she saw Daniel. She blinked and
leaned closer.
No way
.
Some interviewer had a mic shoved in his face as they stood outside a
building under a sign that said Applied Innovations. His building.

“
Has your company addressed the issues that came up
the last time they did a project for the city?”

“
Applied Innovations met all the requirements on that
project, finishing not only early, but under budget as well.”

Charity blinked again and sagged into the chair.

Except it wasn't there. She crashed onto the floor
instead.

“
That sounds like spin, Mr. Tabor. Taxpayers footed
the bill for overages caused by faulty plumbing couplers. Have your
engineers addressed that issue?”

Rubbing her bottom, Charity slid toward the TV on her
shins, too preoccupied to find a chair at the moment.

“
No project goes off without a hitch, as I'm sure you
know. When problems present themselves, they're dealt with. All bids
have contingencies built in and the last contract was no different.
All changes were signed off on as we went, and in the end, we came in
under budget, all things considered.”

“
I'm sure you can appreciate the taxpayers' concerns
for government waste in a down-turned economy.”

“
Absolutely. And let me remind you Applied Innovations
is just one of many private business contracted out by the city for a
variety of projects. All tax concerns should be directed to Metro.”

“
We'll be keeping an eye on this project, Mr. Tabor.
Thank you for your time.”

Daniel disappeared,
replaced by a woman anchor, who went on to explain more details of
the story. Charity wondered why she was so surprised to see him on
TV.
I supposed it would've helped to actually ask him what
he did for a living
. So, he was
a spokesman for a company who made water treatment plants. That was
pretty cool.

But what worried her was the fact that he looked good on
TV. Really good.

Too good for a coffee shop girl.

“
Hey, Holly,” she yelled. “Quit moving the
furniture!”

Chapter Six

“
You did pretty good, I have to say.”

Pretty good
.
Daniel waited for the rest of the critique as he sat in his boss's
office. He was thankful for the air conditioning because he'd
definitely worked up something of a sweat during his first on-camera
interview.

“
Not bad at all for your first run.” Haversham
rubbed his forehead, his Rolex glinting in the light slanting through
the window blinds.

But...

“
But we heard from the mayor's office. He didn't care
for the comment about contacting Metro over tax questions.”

Daniel tried not to let
his frustration show. “I believe Metro
is
where
tax issues are addressed.”

“
Oh, you're exactly
right. It wasn't the words, so much as the
tone
.”
His boss pocketed his hands. “The tone. As in, 'hey that's not our
problem'. It smacked of deflection in a tit-for-tat kind of way.”

“
It
was
deflection. That interviewer is counting on the ignorance of his
viewers to think A.I. has any control of how taxpayers' money is
spent.”

Mr. Haversham offered a grim smile. “Welcome to
politics.”

It was Daniel's turn to
rub his forehead. “The thing is, I'm not
in
politics. I don't even like them.”

His boss raised his hands to ward off further comment.
“You just got your feet wet this time. You'll be more prepared for
the next time.”

“
Mr. Haversham, when you said I would be on the water
treatment project, I thought I'd be working with Auto-Cad.”

“
I understand your concerns, I do. But for now, you're
our point man on this with the media.”

“
Does that mean you're considering professional public
relations?”

Haversham checked his watch. “What? No. Look, I have a
meeting in a few minutes. Marcy at the front desk has a new packet of
information to go over before your next interview.”

Daniel suppressed a sigh. “Which is when?”

“
Daily. At ten.”

“
Are you serious?”

“
The media wants tape in case they need something to
run on Metro. Keep it boring and scandal-free and you won't have to
worry about making the nightly news.”

With that, Daniel knew he was dismissed. He left his
boss's office and dutifully headed to the front desk to see about
that packet. His phone rang. When he checked caller ID he saw that it
was his mother.

Daniel pressed the connect button, already having some
idea about the nature of the call. “Hi, Mom.”

“
Daniel, what's going on? Your father said he saw you
on the news yesterday involved in some city council dispute or
something. I don't understand. I thought you got a job in
engineering.”

Me, too
. “Uh,
how is Dad, by the way?”

“
He's fine. Please explain what's going on.”

Daniel ducked outside for a semblance of privacy. “Mom,
my firm has me working as a spokesman on a project. It's no big
deal.”

“
I'm surprised you'd go anywhere near politics after
what happened.”

He gripped the phone, staring at the street scene before
him with unseeing eyes. “Like I said, I'm acting as a spokesman for
my firm. I'm not involved in politics.” He closed his eyes. “I
have to go.” Daniel disconnected the call before she could respond.
With heavy steps, he headed to the front office and retrieved the
packet.