Pinch of Naughty by Gem Sivad Page B

divorce. Grandfather’s attorney has petitioned the courts to drop the case. The current expectation is that I will return to Hartford and fight with the Laceys over inheritance issues.”
    “So you’re hiding here until they catch up with you and make you go back?”
    “No, I have a plan.” Her eyes sparkled and she inched her bottom down a step, leaning toward him with enthusiasm.
    “I’m working here to earn start-up money for my shop.” And then, realizing that she’d revealed her need for the housekeeping job, she scowled and said tartly, “If my current employment ends precipitously, I’ll find other means. But my plans do not include Hartford.”
    He walked to the bottom of the stairs, squatted on his heels and looked up at her. It was a posture he used to lure a recalcitrant mare to the halter. He figured it was worth trying on a skittish housekeeper.
    “This business you’ve started,” he asked gruffly, “are you earning any money? Is it worth your time? Did you make a good deal or did Mable see how green you are and tie you up in a bargain where she makes all the profit and you do all the work?”
    “We shook hands on our agreement.”
    “Well, is it a good deal?”
    “Mable is an honest woman.” She lowered herself another step.
    “That’s not what I asked.” He stood, walked back to the table to pour a cup of coffee and sat down.
    “Have you done your figures? Do you know how much each of these costs to make?” Sipping the lukewarm bitterness, he chased it with a bite of pecan sandy, waving the half-eaten cookie in the air before consuming it.
    “Mable gave me the start-up ingredients and deducted their cost from the confections she sold. Then we split the profit.” She came down the steps, sat on the chair next to him.
    “You payin’ wholesale or retail for the ingredients?”
    “I don’t know. I assumed… I don’t know.” She considered his question slowly, her brow puckering into a frown.
    “And how will you use this money you’re earning?” Cyrus reined her back in the direction he wanted to go.
    “When you pay my wages at the end of six weeks, and I add in the money I make from my mercantile contract, I’ll be able to rent that little empty building I mentioned before.”
                  “What makes you think you’ll have enough money then? Shoot, Eleanor, you’ve never even asked how much I’m paying you.”
     
    Cyrus didn’t tell her he owned the flimsy shack she was dreaming about. Hell, it would probably get flattened by a good wind before Eleanor raised enough money to rent it.
    Lavender eyes darkened to purple as she sputtered, “Of course I’ll earn enough for all this work I’m doing.” She demanded, “Won’t I?”
    Cyrus squirmed inside and his voice came out gruff when he finally answered.
    “Business is business. If you’re planning on making your livelihood from a store, you’d better know how much you’re spending on your ingredients.” He suddenly didn’t want to douse the hope shining in her eyes, so slid past the building topic and centered on the one at hand.
    “I’ll do the arithmetic.” She nodded eagerly.
    “You might be better buying the fixins from Mable wholesale before you set your price next time.”
    “Oh I don’t set the prices.” She frowned. “Should I?”
    “I’m not saying Mable Smyth isn’t an honest woman. Hell, I’ve known her since I was a boy—she’s as straight as an Indian lodge pole. But she’s not above lettin’ a fool be a fool.”
    “But we’re both making money,” Eleanor protested.             
    “She’s making a sight more than you if she’s charging you retail for her ingredients. Besides, you’re doin’ all the work.” Cyrus pointed out the obvious.
    “Even if I make nothing, the introduction of my pastries to the marketplace has given me an enormous start. I prefer to think that neither Mable nor I are fools.” Her jaw squared, she flushed pink and her