Chapter 19
19
As the melodious jingle of wind chimes announced his arrival at Bev’s Book Nook, Noah gave the shop a sweep. From the wicker swing chair in one corner to the macramé wall hanging, pottery lamps, and wind-sculpted driftwood interspersed among the books on the shelves, the eclectic décor created the kind of ambiance a woman with rainbow-hued hair seemed likely to find appealing.
Ditto for the appeal of the owner, who emerged from the back room. Bev’s colorful caftan-like garment and that hot pink streak in her salt-and-pepper hair fit right in with the shop’s vibe.
It was easy to see why Bren had been drawn to Bev.
“Welcome to Bev’s Book Nook.” She swept toward him in a swish of kaleidoscope color and floral fragrance. “Thank you for coming by.”
He fought the urge to put on his sunglasses as the bright hues assaulted his eyes. “Happy to do it. Bren said you had a question about a business expense.”
“Yes, I do. I’m out on a limb now that my accountant in Coos Bay retired. And the only CPA in Hope Harbor is too occupied with her cranberry business to take on new clients. As a matter of fact, I understand she’s trying to find a home for her existing customers. So I appreciate your assistance.”
“I’ll be glad to help however I can.”
“Come on back to the office while there’s a lull in customers.” She led him to the orderly stockroom at the rear of the store, where the office consisted of a laptop, desk, and filing cabinet in one corner. “Have a seat.” She motioned him toward the chair in front of the laptop and drew up a stool beside the desk for herself. “Before we begin, I want to be clear that I expect you to bill me for your services.”
He waved the offer aside. “There’s no charge.”
“I don’t like taking charity. I believe people should be compensated for their expertise.”
“Consider this a favor for a friend.”
“We just met.”
“I was referring to Bren.”
“Oh.” The corners of her mouth inched north. “You two have become friends.”
Uh-oh. Time to backpedal in case this woman had gotten the wrong impression.
“I used the term loosely. We’re new acquaintances. But I’ve seen her around. I mean, she’s living in my dad’s backyard. It’s hard not to run into her.”
“Of course.” She offered a solemn nod, though the tiny twitch in her lips was suspicious. “She’s a wonderful person, isn’t she?”
“Yes. Very kind and generous.”
“Indeed. It was a lucky day for Hope Harbor when she joined the community.”
“I gather she thinks the reverse is also true.”
“As we all do. It’s amazing the number of people who’ve found their way to this special place. Doctors, an attorney, business executives—even a famous actress.”
Interesting as that was, it had nothing to do with the reason for his visit today.
He motioned toward her laptop. “Was there a question you wanted to ask, or a spreadsheet you wanted me to review?”
“Yes. I can pull up my spreadsheet if necessary, but you may be able to answer my question without reviewing any financials.”
“I’ll give it a shot.”
“You know about the 5K run that’s being planned, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’m helping out in a peripheral role while I’m here.”
“Kudos to you. It’s a wonderful effort. So characteristic of this town. I know Bren is on the committee—not that she has much running experience. Although I did see the two of you running together this morning.”
“Yes.” And that had been a mistake. He should have let her go off on her own instead of offering to accompany her. Would have let her go off on her own if the suggestion hadn’t spilled out before he could stop it. “I was checking out the fun run route with her.”
“Very helpful of you. I’m sure she appreciated your input.”
Keeping this conversation on track was proving to be a challenge. “So is your question related to the run?”
“It is. I opened my shop less than a year ago, and all these months I’ve been focused on getting the business established. But with everything settling into place, I’d like to begin supporting the community in a tangible way. Bren told me the race committee was thinking about lining up sponsors, and that sounded like an opportunity.”
“It could be. Many businesses sponsor charitable efforts.”
“I assumed as much, but I have no idea how such things work. If I support the effort, is that a legitimate expense, or would it be a charitable deduction? And what if I donate merchandise instead of cash? Is there an optimal approach for this sort of sponsorship? Anything you can tell me would be appreciated.”
Now they were speaking his language.
“Why don’t I run you through the basics and then answer any questions you have?”
“Perfect. I’ll take notes as you talk.” She picked up a pad of paper and a pen from the edge of the desk.
He launched into a business donations 101 spiel, covering 501(c)(3) organizations, the IRS guidelines on charitable deductions versus business expenses, and the different rules for various corporate classifications.
“Bottom line, expenses related to charity are deductible as a business expense as long as you can show a reasonable expectation of financial return commensurate with the amount you paid.”
Bev’s brow puckered. “How do I do that?”
“It’s not too difficult. For example, if a sponsorship fee includes advertising in any of the event’s promotional materials, there would be a reasonable expectation that the goodwill generated for your business will win you more customers. A fee like that would be deducted as an advertising expense.”
“What about an outright cash donation?”
“Are you a C corporation?”
“No. LLC.”
“In that case, no. If you want to give cash, it would have to be a personal gift, not a corporate donation.”
She tapped her pen against her notebook. “I’m thinking the sponsorship idea, with an ad, may be best.”
“That would be my recommendation. Merchandise is also fine, or a gift certificate to the shop, if either of those would be used by the organization as part of its fundraising effort. Like in a raffle basket or as giveaways for participants. In those cases, you can deduct the fair market value as a business expense.”
“My goodness.” She blew out a breath. “I had no idea it would be this complicated to do a good deed.”
“The IRS doesn’t make it simple, I’ll grant you that, but those kinds of rules keep people like me in business.” He hitched up one side of his mouth.
“Well, you certainly know your stuff. This town could use someone with your expertise.”
He let that pass. “If you have any other questions, give me a call. I’ll be here another few days.”
“Thank you. I’ll do that.” She stood. “Since you won’t let me pay you for your time, let me give you some cookies to take with you.”
“That’s not necessary.” He rose too.
“Yes, it is. No one leaves Bev’s Book Nook without a sweet treat.” She led him back to the front of the shop and over to a clear cookie jar on the counter. “Today’s offering is your dad’s favorite. Chocolate chip oatmeal. You can share your bounty with him.” She began taking cookies out of the jar with a bakery paper and slipping them into a bag. “I have a book for you too.”
“The cookies are more than sufficient.”
“I insist. I know you said you don’t have much opportunity to read, but maybe this will keep you entertained on the plane ride home.”
She finished with the cookies and pulled another stapled-shut bag from under the counter. “Enjoy.” She handed everything over.
“Thank you.” The bag with the book was on the light side, suggesting the tome inside was a paperback rather than a pricey hardcover. Not that he wanted either, but if it made her feel better to give him a token of appreciation, it would be ungracious to refuse. He could always pass it on to someone at the office.
“You’re welcome. How’s Fred doing?”
“He’s adapting. Not asking for as much help as he should, but that’s Dad.”
“Ah yes. The blessing and the curse of independence.”
Noah grimaced. “I’m in the cursing phase right now—figuratively speaking.”
“Fred’s making it difficult for you?”
“Let’s call it challenging.” Like Dad’s attempt to shave left-handed this morning that had left him with a slice in his chin. They’d had a spirited discussion at breakfast about the downsides of stubbornness.
“I can imagine. People who are used to being on their own can have difficulty letting anyone get too close or too involved in their life. They’re afraid to rely on someone who may not be around long term, or who doesn’t live up to their obligations. But often those are the people who most need a caring touch.”
Were they still talking about his dad?
The speculative glint in Bev’s irises suggested otherwise.
Was she sending him a message about Bren?
But what did it matter if she was? In less than a week he’d be gone. Bren would be history. He’d be back on familiar territory.
Even if that prospect didn’t thrill him as much as it once had.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He crimped the top of the cookie bag in his fingers.
“You do that.” Bev patted his arm. “Give your dad my regards. I’m on the casserole brigade for next week. If he’s up to it when I drop off the food, I’ll pop in and say hello.”
“I’m sure he’d enjoy seeing you.” The wind chimes tinkled, giving him an excuse to exit as two customers entered. “Thanks again.” He hefted his bags.
“My pleasure. And thank you for all your assistance.”
As Bev greeted the newcomers, Noah escaped out the door. Stopped on the other side. Exhaled.
That had been a curious encounter. A meeting with two agendas, unless his instincts were off. One related to him and Bren, and one related to the charitable business deductions premise Bev had used to get him to the shop.
No matter. He’d fulfilled his promise and helped out Bren’s friend. He could put this meeting behind him and focus on work for the rest of the day.
As long as thoughts of a certain hazel-eyed barista didn’t sabotage his concentration.
Fun run route should work fine for beginning runners and walkers. Sent course suggestion for serious runners to committee members’ emails. Also met with Bev.
As Bren read Noah’s text, she frowned, finger poised over the keypad on her cell. His clipped, businesslike report didn’t invite conversation. A one-word response would suffice.
Thanks.
She opened her email. Found the promised note from Noah, with an attachment. Opened it. Scanned his suggested route.
Very nice.
He’d managed to incorporate an impressive number of the landmarks and Helping Hands projects from the options they’d provided him.
It ought to be a stellar event.
Setting her phone aside on the dinette table in the cottage, she resumed her work on the latest batch of wedding invitations, response cards, and peripheral material, using the elaborate Spencerian hand the bride had chosen.
This was going to be a profitable job.
She let the pointed nib of her pen flow over the surface of the paper, falling into the smooth rhythm she’d developed over the years, her mind free to wander as she created the beautiful letters that would summon guests to a vineyard in Virginia to watch the happy couple exchange vows and celebrate the beginning of their new life together.
It was satisfying to contribute to someone else’s fairy tale, even if she’d never experienced one firsthand.
And perhaps never would.
Much as she loved Hope Harbor, it wasn’t teeming with eligible men. Definitely none who’d piqued her interest enough to take a second look.
Except one who was a temporary visitor and not at all suitable for her.
She added a few flourishes—for which the bride was paying extra—to the lettering on the envelope and moved to the next name on the address list.
Paused as a wave of melancholy swept over her.
Funny.
Working on wedding invitations had never depressed her in the past.
Maybe she should put this job aside and switch to the place cards for the high-end dinner in New York that were next on her to-do list.
That might be—
The knob rattled, and a moment later Emma entered, glancing over as she shut the door. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You didn’t. I’m about due to stand up and stretch.” She rose as she spoke, tipping her head side to side to get the kinks out of her neck. “Did you stop in at Sweet Dreams?”
“Yes.” A smile transformed her face. “They’re considering hiring me.”
Bren propped her hands on her hips. “For real? I thought it was a two-person show.”
“It is. This would be only a temporary position, but it would give me cash flow while I search for a more permanent spot.”
Bren listened as her houseguest gave her the lowdown, waiting until she finished to speak. “That’s fantastic, Emma. The timing of your arrival here seems almost providential.”
“That’s what Alice said.” The younger woman dropped onto the arm of the sofa. “Justin was bummed by the delay this could cause in my effort to get guardianship, but the experience would beef up my resume and should open more doors. I could also start looking for a place to stay.”
“You don’t have to rush out of here on my account. I’ve enjoyed having a roommate.” Which was surprising, after more than a decade of contentedly being on her own.
“But I’d have to go to bed super early for this job. Like by eight o’clock. That would be a huge inconvenience, with me sleeping in the living room.”
Oh yeah. There was that.
“I imagine we could work something out.”
“That might be difficult. Besides, I have to establish a permanent address before I can apply for guardianship. The sooner the better, so I have some tenure there and don’t have any delays once I land a permanent job. You mentioned an apartment complex once that was nearby.”
“Yes. Sea Breeze. Bev at the Book Nook lives there. I’m not anxious for you to leave, but I see your point about getting an address on record. Let me ask her for the contact information for the manager.”
Twin furrows creased Emma’s forehead. “Do you think they’ll want a big deposit? I don’t have much in reserve after the car repairs, and I won’t have a paycheck for a week.”
“If they do, I can give you a brief loan to get you over the hump.”
A sheen appeared in Emma’s eyes. “I don’t know how I got lucky enough to cross paths with you, Bren, but I’ll be thanking God for that every day for the rest of my life.”
“Just pay it forward someday, okay?” Bren walked over and gave her a hug.
“I will.” Emma squeezed back. “Now I’m going to run over to St. Francis and share the good news with Father Murphy. Let him know his prayers for me may be on the verge of being answered. That will also give you a chance to work without further distraction.” She motioned to the stacks of envelopes on the table.
Bren surveyed the pile.
She did need to hunker down and pick up the pace. Her calligraphy schedule was full, and her customers were counting on her to get the elegant lettering for their special events done on schedule.
Yet as she waved Emma off a few minutes later and returned to her chore, it wasn’t her young houseguest who proved to be the biggest distraction to the task at hand.
The blame for that fell on Noah.
Because from her seat at the table, she had a clear view of him as he followed his father out the back door, retrieved a shovel from the garage, and proceeded to dig up what appeared to be a dead rosebush in the corner of the yard while Fred supervised.
Setting her elbow on the table, she propped her chin in her palm and watched as he effortlessly took care of the job. Shared a laugh with his father. Rested his hand on the older man’s shoulder, his deep love and affection evident in his touch and his expression.
Her throat constricted.
How different her life could have been if she’d had a father like Fred.
How different it could still be if she had someone in it who looked at her like Noah was looking at his dad.
When the two men at last strolled back inside, Noah hovered close as Fred navigated the uneven stepping stones, ready to steady him if he stumbled.
That’s what love should be all about. Caring. Protecting. Lending a hand and offering support. Sharing a laugh. A touch. A life.
Fingering the imperial jasper earring that symbolized the power of companionship, Bren exhaled.
For years, she’d told herself she was fine going it alone.
And she was. She didn’t need a man to survive or to make her life complete.
Yet thanks to Bev’s insights—and the arrival of a handsome CPA—she was beginning to admit she might want a man in her life.
It wasn’t going to be Noah, however, despite the sizzle of attraction that made her respiration go haywire whenever he was near. Even if they had far more in common than she’d initially thought, he’d be gone in a handful of days, back to his demanding job and big-city lifestyle.
She considered the next stack of envelopes for the vineyard wedding in Virginia. Hesitated. Set that project aside and moved on to the place cards for the black-tie event.
It wasn’t that she begrudged this bride and groom their happy ending. Not at all. And she’d return to their job in a day or two.
After she came to terms with her sudden case of romanceitis—and figured out how to deal with it when an actual romance was nowhere in sight.