It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time.
Now, three days after the fire, the swelling had gone down on her ankle and she could move around comfortably, which had prompted her to search out her own space. Well . . . okay . . . maybe it was still Jared’s space, but it would get her out from under his feet in his own home. Staying immobile had been difficult for her, and Jared had insisted on carrying her everywhere, even to the bathroom, like she was completely incapable of walking on her own.
Kneeling down in the kitchen of the guest house, she opened the large cupboards beneath the countertops, smiling happily as she eyed the large kettles stored there. They weren’t commercial size, but they’d make twice as much—if not more—than she could make at home. And she could do one batch after the other because she had the time now. Pulling the pots out of their resting place, her heart again aching because she really no longer had a home of her own, she set them on top of the stove in preparation for cooking the mixtures she was going to need. Regardless of whether Jared objected or not, she was going to the market in a few days, and she wanted as much product to sell as possible to start infusing her own cash into the business. Looking at the costs for commercial equipment and all of the other expenses there were to starting up even a small business like hers had made her queasy. She’d cringed as she’d watched Jared order more and more stuff for her new business without a moment’s hesitation. Sure . . . he was a billionaire and this start-up was pocket change for him, but spending that much money had scared the bejesus out of her. Ultimately, her business would be in debt to Jared until he was paid back. Then, they could share profits. Mara didn’t care if the money meant nothing to him. It meant something to her, and she’d never feel right taking the majority of the profits and not seeing him reimbursed for everything he was pouring out for her business right now. They would make a contract, and she’d bust her ass to see those conditions met. That was one battle she planned on winning.
I’ll make it successful. I’ll pay him back. This is just a business loan. A partnership.
Granted, it was an opportunity that almost any business-minded person would kill for, but Jared had offered it to her, and she’d be a fool not to make the most of it.
How many people get the opportunity to do business with one of the billionaire Sinclairs?
Her jaw set stubbornly, she made her way into the bedroom and opened the closet in the master with a gasp. Sarah had told her on the phone that she’d picked up some clothing for her and left it in the guest house, along with some other items to replace what she’d lost in the fire. A gift, she’d said, a thank-you from her because Mara was replacing Kristin in her wedding. Sarah had told her that Dante had once provided her with a new wardrobe when her own clothing had been destroyed and had refused any payment for it. She’d gone on to say she knew how lost she had felt then without her belongings, and she hoped the clothing she, Emily, and Randi had selected would help her feel a little better.
Mara started to hyperventilate when she saw the massive amount of clothing in her closet. The storage space was full of jeans, shorts, skirts, tops, dresses, shoes, jackets, and accessories. As Mara moved across the room to open the dresser drawers, she found they were no less crowded with underwear, lingerie, and every undergarment Mara could imagine.
“She shouldn’t have done this,” she mumbled anxiously under her breath. These weren’t cheap clothes, and the gift was far too much. For her, a few pairs of jeans and T-shirts would have sufficed.
Closing the top drawer of the dresser, Mara sighed. Did any Sinclair, even one just marrying into the family, do anything in a small way? Having anyone care for her as an adult seemed awkward and strange. Most of her adult life had been spent tending to her sick mother. Mara couldn’t call anyone other than Kristin a real friend since she’d been consumed with her mom’s slowly debilitating illness. After her mother had passed away, she had grieved, living in a bubble of despair while trying to keep the shop afloat. Now, she wasn’t sure what to do or how to feel.
Sad?
Disconnected?
Scared?
Excited?
Or free?