Wedding Series Boxed Set (3 Books in 1) (The Wedding Series) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Patricia McLinn
had just been widowed, didn't have much anyway, and she left everything behind except the clothes on her back and her two children. She came to Chicago because she had a cousin she could live with at first, though I guess it got pretty crowded."
Bette's lips curved. She could hear her grandfather's rich, deep tones and exotic accent, recounting with pride each step his family had taken toward the American Dream. As if it were a bedtime story, he would tell her again and again, each movement forward in education or position or savings.
"So Mama Artemis started looking around for a job," Paul said.
Like Mama Artemis, Bette's grandparents had lived with relatives at first. How proudly her grandfather had recounted to her how soon they had rented a whole apartment for themselves. Then came moves to a better neighborhood, a bigger apartment.
He would say over and over how proud he was of his daughter - Bette's mother - who had graduated from high school, earned an associate degree, and married a man who owned his own home. She remembered how her grandfather beamed the day she'd graduated from college, and how two years later, sick as he was, he had made her sit on his hospital bed and tell him every detail of the ceremony that entitled her to the initials MBA.
"Are you with me?"
Paul Monroe's touch on her wrist was fleeting, but left behind a tingle of warmth.
"What? Oh. Yes, I'm with you." She wasn't surprised to discover that one level of her mind really had absorbed what he said. Many times in business she'd blessed her dual-track mind. "You were saying Mama Artemis went to work as a housekeeper for an eccentric old man."
"Yeah, and it turned out he had this terrific collection of toys and games and dolls he'd put together bit by bit for decades. When he died, he left it all to Mama Artemis."
"How did you get her as a client?"
"I didn't. At least not if you mean going out and pursuing the account. I hadn't even set up in business at that point. I'd been working for this insurance company - a rising young executive, they said. I hated it."
He said it so cheerfully she could almost doubt he meant it. "You used it as a springboard to establishing your own appraising business?"
"I used it as a springboard to paying my rent," he said dryly. "I drifted into insurance after college."
"You majored in business?"
"No. History. Probably the only history major who never considered going to law school." The sharp note was so at odds with his usual tone that she wondered if she imagined it. Especially when he continued easily, "But that might be because I didn't intend to be a history major. I just liked history. A quarter before graduation, I looked at my courses and figured I lacked one class each to major in psych and history, and I liked the history offering better that spring, so there I was - a history major."
Bette shook her head, thinking of her carefully considered selections, each a plotted step on the road to owning a business, each a piece in the foundation on which to build her future.
He took her gesture another way. "Go ahead and shake your head. You probably already know what I discovered - there aren't any want ads for history grads. That's where insurance came in."
"And then Mama Artemis?" she prompted.
He grinned. "I lucked into that. I'd fallen into being a troubleshooter for the insurance company, getting appraisals for unusual stuff nobody else wanted to bother with. Not the real antiques, but nostalgia items and some oddball collections. It was an excuse to get out of the nine-to-five rut at the office, so I took courses, read a lot, asked questions. A friend of a friend told Mama Artemis about me, and she asked me to help. I was too stupid to know what I'd gotten myself into until I stood waist-deep in one of the finest collections in the country. It was worth a fortune." He gestured to the surroundings. "More than enough to set up a successful restaurant on the Near North Side."
"So you helped Mama
Bette's lips curved. She could hear her grandfather's rich, deep tones and exotic accent, recounting with pride each step his family had taken toward the American Dream. As if it were a bedtime story, he would tell her again and again, each movement forward in education or position or savings.
"So Mama Artemis started looking around for a job," Paul said.
Like Mama Artemis, Bette's grandparents had lived with relatives at first. How proudly her grandfather had recounted to her how soon they had rented a whole apartment for themselves. Then came moves to a better neighborhood, a bigger apartment.
He would say over and over how proud he was of his daughter - Bette's mother - who had graduated from high school, earned an associate degree, and married a man who owned his own home. She remembered how her grandfather beamed the day she'd graduated from college, and how two years later, sick as he was, he had made her sit on his hospital bed and tell him every detail of the ceremony that entitled her to the initials MBA.
"Are you with me?"
Paul Monroe's touch on her wrist was fleeting, but left behind a tingle of warmth.
"What? Oh. Yes, I'm with you." She wasn't surprised to discover that one level of her mind really had absorbed what he said. Many times in business she'd blessed her dual-track mind. "You were saying Mama Artemis went to work as a housekeeper for an eccentric old man."
"Yeah, and it turned out he had this terrific collection of toys and games and dolls he'd put together bit by bit for decades. When he died, he left it all to Mama Artemis."
"How did you get her as a client?"
"I didn't. At least not if you mean going out and pursuing the account. I hadn't even set up in business at that point. I'd been working for this insurance company - a rising young executive, they said. I hated it."
He said it so cheerfully she could almost doubt he meant it. "You used it as a springboard to establishing your own appraising business?"
"I used it as a springboard to paying my rent," he said dryly. "I drifted into insurance after college."
"You majored in business?"
"No. History. Probably the only history major who never considered going to law school." The sharp note was so at odds with his usual tone that she wondered if she imagined it. Especially when he continued easily, "But that might be because I didn't intend to be a history major. I just liked history. A quarter before graduation, I looked at my courses and figured I lacked one class each to major in psych and history, and I liked the history offering better that spring, so there I was - a history major."
Bette shook her head, thinking of her carefully considered selections, each a plotted step on the road to owning a business, each a piece in the foundation on which to build her future.
He took her gesture another way. "Go ahead and shake your head. You probably already know what I discovered - there aren't any want ads for history grads. That's where insurance came in."
"And then Mama Artemis?" she prompted.
He grinned. "I lucked into that. I'd fallen into being a troubleshooter for the insurance company, getting appraisals for unusual stuff nobody else wanted to bother with. Not the real antiques, but nostalgia items and some oddball collections. It was an excuse to get out of the nine-to-five rut at the office, so I took courses, read a lot, asked questions. A friend of a friend told Mama Artemis about me, and she asked me to help. I was too stupid to know what I'd gotten myself into until I stood waist-deep in one of the finest collections in the country. It was worth a fortune." He gestured to the surroundings. "More than enough to set up a successful restaurant on the Near North Side."
"So you helped Mama
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