Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 (43 page)

“We do. The house in Juniper Ridge is small, the same house I grew up in and that my parents bought when they first got married. My mom and dad never really wanted or needed a big house. The one on the beach has been in our family for a long time. My dad was frugal in other parts of his life, so he could afford to keep this house.” She brushed her bangs off her face and wistfulness filled her features. “It means a lot to our family. Almost everything important in our lives happened over there. And someday I'm going to find a way to get all that back.”

Her eyes clouded and grief settled over her like a cloud. Then she worked a smile to her face and turned away from the view. “Anyway, I'm starving. Do you want to order an appetizer?”

“No,” he said, before he got too distracted by that look in Savannah's eyes, and how much it made him want to leap in and fix whatever was bothering her. He was trying to buy her business, not build a relationship. No smart decisions could come from connecting with Savannah on a personal level. “I think we should get to work as quickly as possible.”

Because if he didn't, Mac had the distinct feeling he'd get off track by the curiosity to know what Savannah had meant when she'd said she wanted to find a way to get all that back.

And why it mattered so much to him to see that she did just that.

Chapter Four

B
y the time the steaks arrived, Savannah had lost her appetite. Everything Mac had told her about running a business in the short space of time since they had sat at the table sent one clear message—she was in over her head. He'd given her his CEO 101 talk, and she'd realized pretty fast that he was right—a degree in history and some experience remodeling homes didn't qualify her to sit in Willie Jay's chair. Not that she hadn't known that from the first day, but talking to Mac cemented the truth in her heart.

She understood the basics of what Mac said, about receivables and payables, about the impact of sales on their bottom line, but as he started delving into the minutia of the monthly general ledger—deviating from their no-business talk the instant dinner was set on the table—her eyes began to glaze over and the hope she'd had that she was up to turning Hillstrand Solar around began to dim.

He ran a finger down the screen of his laptop, skipping over the figures he'd downloaded earlier. “If you shift to a just-in-time inventory system and reduce the production workforce by two, you should be able to implement additional lean manufacturing—”

“Wait,” she said, putting up a hand. “Did you just say I should fire two people?”

“I said reduce the production workforce.” Mac pointed at a number on his screen, flanked by a percentage on the right. “You have too much overhead.”

“Reducing the workforce is just a fancy way of saying fire people. I'm not doing that.”

“Part of doing business is separating the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, and getting the most return on your investment. By eliminating two of these positions—” he pointed to a line item for the shipping and receiving department “—you can increase your monthly cash flow by several thousand dollars, which will help tide you over until sales increase.”

“These are people, Mr. Barlow, not stalks of wheat. And not just numbers.”

“These
people
are one of the things keeping you from being profitable. Sometimes, you have to sacrifice one thing in order to gain everything.”

Gain everything. Like a successful company again. Like a thriving legacy to her father. Savannah's gaze went to the Georgian house across the water. From here it still looked elegant, almost regal, but she knew up close that the family home was in a serious state of disrepair. Inch by inch it had decayed in the years since her father had started his company, when he'd poured himself into building that solar business one panel at a time. He'd go to the house on the weekends, but he'd relaxed instead of worked on the house, procrastinating on the damage wrought by the relentless ocean breezes. Someday, he'd said. Someday he would restore the place to its former glory.

Just before her father died, she'd secretly started working on it for little bits of time here and there, thinking she could renovate the house and get it ready as a surprise for her father. It would have been the crowning achievement of her remodeling career so far, and a way to show Willie Jay that Savannah could indeed make a living from rehabbing historic properties. Then her father had died and left her the company, along with a heavy, solemn promise to keep it running.

She stood at the proverbial fork in the road. She could sell the company to Mac Barlow right now, walk away and have the money she needed to fund her home-renovation-company dreams. Or she could do what it took to keep her father's dream alive.

Either option sucked.

But in the end there really was only one choice to make. She'd made a promise, the only one her father had ever asked of her, and she couldn't break that, no matter what happened.

Savannah tore her gaze away from the house and refocused on the computer screen. Her steak had grown cold. The wine Mac had ordered was untouched by either of them.

She knew Mac was right about the overhead, even though she wanted to argue. What choice did she have, really? Let the entire company die just to save two jobs? Maybe, when business picked up, she could hire everyone back, but even thinking that made Savannah nauseous. How could she possibly do this? How could she possibly send two loyal employees packing? “Which two...uh, which two would you suggest?”

Mac thought a second, flipped to another screen and read some data there. Savannah waited, her heart thumping in her chest, hoping he'd say she didn't need to fire anyone, after all.

“Jeremy Reynolds and Carla Mueller,” Mac said. “Jeremy is the highest-paid employee you have in that department, and Carla is the newest.”

She thought of Jeremy's lopsided smile and Carla's cheery attitude. “But you haven't even met them. You don't know what they are like or how much they love working for the company or anything else about them except what you're reading in some cold, data-filled report.”

“I know numbers, Miss Hillstrand. And that's what I focus on. Not people.”

For a while earlier she'd thought Mac Barlow had a warm side to him. There'd been a moment when they'd been talking about the water and the house when she thought she'd read something almost...wistful in his face. But clearly she had been wrong. This man was about as warm and fuzzy as an ironing board. “Business is all about people, Mr. Barlow. Without those people, Hillstrand Solar wouldn't be where it is today. Did you know that Carla made dinner for my mother every single night for three weeks when my dad got sick and after he died, just to make sure she ate? And that Jeremy took up a collection at work to help offset the medical bills? He even stayed late several nights to make sure the finished orders got out the door so we didn't suffer any disruption in business while my father was gone. Those are the people who built Hillstrand Solar, and I can't fire them just because their salaries are too high or their experience level too low.”

“Then be prepared to make other, more painful cuts,” Mac said, then took a sip of wine. “You have a simple equation here. Too little money coming in, too much money going out. You have to find a way to reverse that tide.”

That was what she had been trying to do for months. With no success. “If I increase sales—”

“That will help long term, but not in the present.” He grabbed a pad of paper out of his bag and started jotting numbers on a fresh page. “Let's say you sell a thousand solar panels to a company that wants them next week.”

She looked at the first number he put on the page—the total profit on a sale that large. “That would be great. That kind of sale could take us over this hump.”

“It would. Once the sale is completed. First you have to order your materials,” Mac jotted another number. “Build the panels. Pay your employees for working.” He put down more numbers. “Then ship the panels to the customer.” Another set of numbers were added, then he did the math and subtracted those totals from the profit and drew a circle around the net gain. “And then wait to get paid. Even if they pay right away, you're still looking at forty-five days—best-case scenario—between order placement and receiving the income. In that forty-five day period, you have paid for a significant amount of materials, met at least three payrolls and kept the lights on in the building. Where is that money coming from if you have negative cash flow?”

“I was thinking I could take out a loan or try to get another line of credit...”

“Your line of credit was already maxed out. And as for a loan...” Mac shrugged his shoulders. “Banks are much more leery of handing out cash since the recession. And they would be less likely to want to take a risk on an untried CEO with a struggling company.”

He was right, damn it. It wasn't anything she hadn't already figured out on her own. But she'd kept thinking, hoping, there was another option. Some miracle that would come along and solve everything. Savannah took a long sip of wine. Then another. Jeez, at this point, maybe she should just down the whole bottle. It couldn't possibly make things any worse. “Then what do I do?”

“Fire two employees. That's two paychecks taken out of payroll effective right now.” Mac shrugged, as if it was as simple as marching in on Monday morning and saying
you're fired
.

She shook her head. “No. I won't do that. Not to Jeremy and Carla.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “There really is no other way—”

“There has to be. You're a smart man.” She waved at the screen. “Give me another option.”

“Why are you being so stubborn about this? Part of being in the big office means making the big decisions—the ones no one else wants to make.”

“Would
you
fire the people who helped your family through some of their hardest times imaginable? Or would you find another way?”

He held her gaze for a long time, then let out a breath and turned back to the screen. “You are one stubborn woman.”

“I know. You told me that already. Twice now.”

“That's because you're twice as stubborn as anyone I've ever met.”

“And that's why I'm not letting you tell me to give up. There has to be a way to save this company and to save everyone in it.” She refilled her glass of wine, and took another sip. Her nerves began to calm a little. She might not have any answers yet, but Savannah had no doubt that between her and Mac, they could cobble together a workable solution.

“Business isn't a Disney movie, you know,” Mac said. “You can't necessarily make it all come out perfect in the end with happy people riding off into the sunset.”

“It doesn't have to be a tragedy, either.” She pushed her still-full plate to the side and nodded to the waitress to take it away. She didn't want to eat right now. She wanted to sit here until she had another option, one that would let her tackle Monday morning with some kind of purpose. “So let's find a way to make this work.”

“Let's?”
He arched a brow. “You and me working together? Because so far it seems like we've been at cross-purposes.”

“We're not at cross-purposes, Mac. We both want Hillstrand Solar to make money. We're just at cross-
methods
.” She tapped the screen. “I say we find a way to make those methods work together.”

He sat back in his chair and studied the screen while he sipped the rest of his wine. He seemed to like the challenge she'd given him, welcome it even. “Normally, I'd say you have two options. Cut the overhead to increase profits, or sell and cut your losses. Salvage what you can and maybe walk away with something.”

“And I'm not willing to do either.”

He let out a long sigh. “What you want is a creative solution to a difficult problem. That's not really my area of expertise.”

The condensation on her wineglass cooled Savannah's palms. “It was, once.”

“What are you talking about?”

She looked him in the eye. “Ten years ago you bought back a company you had sold. The new owners had moved the location, then left the former location like a ghost town. You bought it, nurtured it back to health and, as far as I know, never sold that business or the location again.”

He arched a brow and leaned back in his chair, his jaw slack. “How do you know that?”

“I do my research, too, Mac.” It was the one fact she'd stumbled across that had given her hope he would work with her instead of just try to force her to sell. The one item she had held on to when she'd scheduled this meeting with him. She'd prayed there was still a little of that spirit inside Mac Barlow, and that maybe, just maybe, he'd do the same for Hillstrand Solar.

“I'm impressed, Savannah.” He refilled his glass, then nodded toward hers.

She shook her head. The last thing she needed to do was get drunk with Mac Barlow. She was already feeling tipsy, and regretting that she hadn't eaten anything for dinner. “Thank you. And thank you for not calling me Miss Hillstrand. That always makes me feel old.”

He chuckled. “You are far from looking like an old woman. Although, I have to admit that when I first set up our meeting, I pictured someone more...dowdy.”

“Dowdy?” That made her laugh. “Why would you think that?”

“You've been very professional in all our conversations and email exchanges. You just seemed less...” He shrugged. “Relaxed. Less like you are right now.”

“Ah, that's because I'm on the water. When I'm over at the house—” her gaze went to the Georgian just a short boat ride away and a longing filled her “—it's like I'm a whole other person.”

“Out of the suits and into a bikini and flip-flops?”

It had to be the wine she'd drank, because she felt her cheeks heat and a flirty smile curve across her face. “I would say a bikini and flip-flops are pretty much as far from professional as I can get. Wouldn't you agree?”

A grin flickered on his face. “Depends on the bikini.”

Were they flirting? Was she attracted to Mac Barlow, the very man who was trying to buy and dismantle her father's dream? “I haven't had a lot of bikini time in the last few months.”

“Pity.” Mac's grin flickered again, almost as if the smile was so unaccustomed to being on his face it had trouble staying put. “Everyone should take time to enjoy the water when you live near a view like that.” He waved a hand at the deep blue Atlantic, its gentle waves seeming to beckon them closer.

She took another sip of wine, noting her head had that happy floating-in-clouds feeling. Definitely no more wine for her tonight. “It's still light out. Maybe we should head across the bay, and at least dip our toes in the water.”

“I thought we were here to talk business.” He gestured toward the laptop and pad of paper.

“You're the one who said everyone who lives near a view like that should take advantage of it. You're living here for a week. So...you should take advantage.”

His gaze met hers, hot and intense. “Of the water, you mean.”