Page 85 of Love in Mission City
She glanced up at him. “But I wanted to make certain. I want to buy one for everyone in the office.”
“Allie, that’s…” He appeared to be doing some calculations in his head.
“Smith.” She said his name sharply, and he just smiled.
“A lot.”
“Well, I’m not expecting to get the fifty-seven today.”
Ashton stepped aside.
Allie gave him a puzzled look.
He gestured for her to go first.
She pulled a business card out from her back pocket. “Alessandra MacLean. My friend Rielle Clayton was here yesterday. Tall. Blonde. Gorgeous.”
I blinked. “Principal Clayton’s wife? I didn’t realize—”
“Which isn’t really relevant,” Smith attempted to point out.
Alessandra glared at him.
Ashton smothered a laugh.
“Rielle said this was the best product she’d ever tried. Her daughter, who can be picky about sweets—” She paused. “What child is picky about sweets?”
“I’m certain our son won’t be,” Smith smoothly contributed.
“Right.” Alessandra waved her hand. “So Cara’s picky, but she loved the pumpkin spice cookies. Rielle and Gage raved and…here I am.”
She finally handed me the card. “I want to order seven hundred and twenty-five. I intend to put them in all the employee holiday hampers. I know you won’t have them today. Or if you do, I don’t want to take them from you. Can you deliver by the twelfth of December?”
“Certainly.” More than six weeks away. Plenty of time. “Would you like a complimentary one to try? I’ll prepare that order and email you when I’ve got everything ready.”
Smith cleared his throat. “You might want to take a deposit. Unless that’s a small order for you.”
Right.
Alessandra yanked out a credit card. “I’ll just pay for all of them. If you don’t deliver, you’ll refund me.” She wiggled the card. “But I get the feeling you’re going to deliver.”
“I certainly will. How about half?”
Smith sighed. “Look…” He picked up my business card. “Clay. Oh, cute.”
Likely a friend of Principal Clayton.
“Clay, we can afford this. Trust me. Just take her money. She’ll feel better.”
To this point, I hadn’t paid much attention to people’s attire. Generally folks who attended these things dressed down. A couple of people wore power suits, but I’d assumed they were coming or going from a job.
Alessandra and Smith wore jeans and hoodies. I could see quality products, but nothing ostentatious.
Then I realized Alessandra was handing me a Black credit card. Like with a limit of a quarter million dollars minimum or something like that, if memory served.
I met Smith’s gaze first, then Alessandra’s. “I’ll take payment and I’ll drop off your order in late November.”
Alessandra’s dark-brown eyes flashed in triumph.
