Page 17 of Wishing Stone

Without giving him a chance to protest further, I hit the end call button on the desktop phone. Then, not skipping a beat, I pressed the intercom button for my assistant.

“Laura,” I said into the speaker.

“Yes, Mr. Stone.”

“Where are we on the vacant Stone Enterprise properties? Have we published the interior photos of them and started advertising?”

“That’s ready to go, sir. Turning Stone Advertising is set to handle that after the first of the year.”

“Good, good. I trust Krystina will do a fantastic job with it. Also, I’ve decided to buy the staff lunch today from Riverside Grille. Find out what they want and charge the order to the operating account.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and make sure they don’t congregate when the food arrives,” I added. “Protocols are still in place, which includes wearing their masks when they aren’t at their desks.”

“I’ll remind them,” Laura assured.

The staff knew my concerns about keeping Krystina safe, but it didn’t hurt to reinforce the rules now and then. I was a stickler for precautions, but sometimes I felt like it wasn’t enough—especially when I knew every single one of them thought I was exaggerating the need for them. Only half of the staff at Stone Enterprise reported to the office, while the other half still worked remotely. Personally, I didn’t have the luxury of working from home, or else I would. Stone Enterprise was just too big of an entity for me to manage off-premises. Because of that, strict in-house rules with frequent reminders would have to suffice.

Leaning back in my chair, I raked my gaze over the sizeable glass-topped conference table. Manilla folders were spread over the surface, each one containing information on the vacant properties I was currently sitting on. I’d be damned if I allowed Riverside Grille to be added to the pile. I knew ordering takeout lunch for my staff wouldn’t put much of a dent in their struggle, but hopefully, erasing their debt would. I didn’t care if Byran was starting to get twitchy about the slow income Stone Enterprise was generating. That wasn’t new. Whenever there was an interruption in cash flow, my accountant’s blood pressure would skyrocket.

While it wasn’t unusual for Bryan to overreact to such things, his worry was legitimate this time. With so many businesses either unable to pay their rent or closing altogether, Stone Enterprise had taken a big hit. I may own properties worldwide, but New York was home to most of my investments, and it was where I’d felt most of the negative impact. My predatory instincts were null and void now. There was no chasing a deal because there were no deals to be had—not unless I wanted to sell my soul to the devil. My investment in Wally’s grocery stores seemed to be one of the only things thriving.

Who would have thought that my soft spot for the struggling grocer would one day be the thing that helped keep me afloat?

It was somewhat ironic when I thought about it. Wally’s was the place where I’d met Krystina, the very woman who would eventually save me from myself. Now my investment in her ex-employer was doing all the saving.

Sort of.

While my portfolio still had plenty of properties that were performing just fine, I worried that it was only a matter of time before they started to struggle as well. Yes, the world had begun to right itself, but the road to full recovery was long. Still, I was fortunate to have invested wisely. It would be at least another year before I had to consider making any cuts to payroll. Hopefully, the markets and the economy will have turned in a positive direction before that happened.

Knowing I had the luxury to wait out the storm was a privilege—especially when so many others were desperate, such as Hannah, the woman who stole the money from Stone’s Hope. Based on what I knew about her, I didn’t believe she was a common thief. It had been just over a week since Krystina first received the call from Claire about what happened, but Hannah was still missing, and her ex-boyfriend said he hadn’t heard from her in months.

My gaze slid to the photograph of Krystina that sat on my desk, as it did so often on any given day. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was approaching noon. Picking up the phone, I dialed her for my regular daily check-in.

“Hey, handsome,” she answered after the second ring. “How’s your day going?”

“It’s always miserable when you’re not around, angel.”

“Hmm… I miss the days when we both worked in the same building.”

I frowned, easily able to read between the lines.

“How are you feeling?” I asked rather than take the bait.

“Fine, why?”

“I woke up around three in the morning and you weren’t in bed. That’s three nights in a row. Were you thinking about Hannah again or was it something else?”

For the past few nights, Krystina had left the comforts of our bed to go downstairs. The first two times, I’d found her sitting alone in the family room where she would apologize, saying she got up because she hadn’t wanted to disturb me. Last night, I’d decided to let her be and instead lay awake worrying about all the things that could be troubling my wife. She’d always been a sound sleeper, and my concern over her stress level grew, especially after the terrible dream that I’d had to wake her from last week.

“I was thinking about Hannah, but more particularly, her daughter. I was there the day they came in. I met them both. Her daughter had these big, brown expressive eyes. Such a cutie. I can’t help but worry about what will happen to her once Hannah is found.”

“Are you sure that’s all you were thinking about?” I pushed, needing to be sure it wasn’t a nightmare that had pulled her from sleep. Nightmares could be triggered by many things, including stress and anxiety. Between the failed pregnancies, the effort of trying to conceive again, working remotely, and being home alone so much, I knew Krystina was carrying a lot of weight on her shoulders. What happened with Hannah at Stone’s Hope only added to it.

“I’m sure. I’m convinced Hannah was acting out of pure desperation.”

“I agree with you, angel, but we don’t know that for sure. Her motivation is anyone’s guess, and worrying about it is starting to take a toll on you. I wish you would just let Stephen sort it out and let the chips fall where they may.”

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