Page 77 of Don't Fall for the Billionaire
“The receipt for the cheesecake Kitty bought from a bakery in Holland.” She grinned. “I knew she never made that cheesecake herself.”
“Where did you find that?” I asked.
“She and Mr. Corners went out last night, so I spent my time digging through the garbage like a homeless person. Three bags of garbage, and I finally found it.”
“What are you going to do with it?” Maddie asked.
“Keep it tucked away in case I ever need it.” Marissa grinned. “I would give anything to see that woman go down. She scolded me this morning because I left a fork in the sink, since the dishwasher was already running before I went to bed.”
“As much as I would love to stay and chat, I have to run,” I said. “I’ll see you girls later.”
“Can I help you?” one of the bank tellers asked.
“Is Mr. Schmidt available?”
“Do you have an appointment, miss?”
“No. I’m sorry, I don’t. But I really need to speak to him.”
“Let me go see if he’s available. I’ll be right back.”
A few moments later, Mr. Schmidt walked over.
“Miss Campbell, it’s good to see you again. Come into my office.”
I sat in the chair across from his desk. The same chair where he rejected my loan application the first time.
“Now, what can I do for you?” he asked with a smile, his hands folded on his desk.
“I’ve revised my business plan for my business.” I pushed the file folder to him. “Inside, you’ll find my business plan, my employer’s name, and my weekly income.”
He opened the file folder and studied it.
“Impressive. Have you found a location yet for your shop, if you were to get approved for the loan?”
“Not yet. I need to know if I got the loan first.”
“Well, from what I’m seeing, it shouldn’t be an issue. It should only take half a day to process, so I’ll call you this afternoon with our decision. Until then, I would advise you to start looking for a building today.”
A bright smile graced my face. “Thank you, Mr. Schmidt. I’ll do just that.”
After I left the bank, I sat on a bench and pulled up spaces for rent. One particular building caught my attention, so I called the listed number.
“Grant Roman.”
“Hello, Mr. Roman. My name is Charlotte Campbell, and I’m interested in checking out the space for rent on West 53rdStreet.”
“Ah, yes. That space is still available. When would you like to see it?”
“Now, if possible.”
“Give me thirty minutes and I’ll meet you there.”
“Thank you, Mr. Roman. I’ll see you then.”
I smiled when the cab pulled up to the curb. After paying, I climbed out and smiled at the corner shop with bowed windows and cute French doors. I already envisioned what the name of my shop would look like, scripted on the window.
“You must be Charlotte.”
