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  She had fire and passion, he’d give her that. And even he could see she knew what she was talking about, but for some reason he couldn’t stop giving her a hard time. He’d wanted to see how she responded to obstacles, and the fact that she’d stood her ground and crafted a logical argument impressed him.

  His phone rang and he glanced at the display. Agent Orange, aka Cecil Jones, his newest client, was calling. Jake sighed, trying to decide if he should answer or let the call go to voice mail. He wasn’t certain he was up to dealing with this guy’s issues. Jake and Cecil’s lawyer had just done some fancy dancing with the IRS to fix the rapper’s tax problems. Things were just starting to look up. The guy had money in the bank from all the music he’d written for commercials. He was never going to be a rap superstar, but he was making a damn good living if he didn’t spend it all the way he wanted to.

  “Cecil,” Jake said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I found a house,” Cecil said without any other formality.

  Cecil wanted a prestigious address. “Okay, tell me about it,” Jake said, preparing himself for the coming fight.

  “It’s just a bungalow in Santa Monica.”

  “And how much is this bungalow going for.”

  “Six point five mil, man. I can afford that.”

  Jake sighed. “You can afford to buy the house, but don’t you want to put some furniture in it, pay the utilities, put some food on the table for your kids?”

  “But if I buy this house, it means I’m back on top, man. I can get out of this dump.”

  “Hollywood Hills is not a dump, Cecil,” Jake said with another sigh.

  “I’d be a lot closer to work,” Cecil stated. “And I can live in a real house.”

  “You’re living in a real house.”

  “I’m living with my mother.”

  “There’s no shame in that. Your lawyer and I have worked really hard to get you back to the point where you could afford a house. But six point five million is way out of your price range. Buy something you can pay for outright and not have to worry about a house payment again.”

  “Jake, I want this house.”

  “Cecil, your children want to eat.”

  “The schools are good,” Cecil said, changing the direction of his argument.

  “And your kids are already going to one of the best magnet schools in the Hollywood Hills, and Cecil Jr. is in one of the best music programs.”

  “It’s Santa Monica, man.”

  “Cecil, you’re not talking me into this. I gave you a budget and that’s what you’re going to follow. The real estate agent found four houses in Hollywood Hills you can afford. You can send your kids to great schools and have your studio in your house. If you buy this house, all you’re going to have is a house. If you buy one of the four houses in the Hollywood Hills I suggested you look at, you’ll have a life. So you have a decision to make.”

  “I want that house.”

  “Okay,” Jake conceded. “You’re telling me your ego is more important than your future or your children’s future.”

  “That’s not right, man.”

  “But it’s the truth,” Jake replied. And everyone laughed at me when I majored in finance with a minor in psychology. He heard a long-suffering sigh from the other end of the phone and knew he’d won the argument. Cecil was a challenge, but he eventually accepted Jake’s arguments. He disconnected and Jake went back to the window.

  Merry was standing in front of the carousel. She tilted her head from side to side. Jake watched her, running the conversation with Cecil over again in his head. He’d managed Cecil without any problem. How come he couldn’t use the same skills with her? He should have been able to talk her around to what he wanted, yet he’d tried to intimidate her instead. He was used to working with difficult people, and she wasn’t even trying to be difficult. She was trying to do her job.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  He stared at her, and for a moment he felt fifteen years old again, watching her on TV, knowing she was way beyond him and he would never get her no matter how much he fantasized. How crazy was that? He’d been dealing with people like her for fifteen years, yet around her he was completely clueless.

  If he couldn’t force her to his way of thinking, maybe he should try flattery. Stroke her ego a bit. He pondered that idea for a minute. He was used to stroking fragile egos; he could do this.

  He opened the door to his office and stepped out into the September heat. Heat waves shimmered from the sidewalks. After a glance at the thermometer, he started toward her. She had climbed onto the carousel and was studying one of the hand-carved animals. She sat down on a bench and opened her ever-present sketchbook.

  “Did you know that carousel can also mean horse ballet?” Jake asked as he swung up on the platform. A glance at her sketchbook showed him she was drawing the horse. She frowned slightly as she added a flourish to the mane and then looked up at him.

  “That’s beautiful. I can see why a carousel could be called a horse ballet.”

  Jake stroked the horse she’d sketched. “All the horses on this carousel were hand carved in Germany in 1896.” He smiled, remembering how much he’d loved riding the carousel as a child. “Want to see my favorite horse?” He held out his hand, and after a slight hesitation, she took it. He pulled her to her feet, led her around to the back and stopped in front of a white horse with a flowing blue mane. “When I was a kid, I used to pretend I was a knight of the Round Table and this was my trusty steed.” Joy filled him as the pleasant memories returned. “And I would win the gold ring and present it to my princess.”

  “Really,” she said, her dark eyes showing a touch of cynicism.

  “You’ve never played make-believe?”

  “Sure I did. Five days a week, eight hours a day for eleven years, until I outgrew the roles and decided to go to college.”

  “Why didn’t you keep on acting? You were good.”

  “I got tired of playing the second banana. Then the roles started slowing down. I was never going to be lead-actress material. I had to make a life decision, and I decided to leave.”

  “Do you miss being catered to, fawned over and treated special, the way only actors are treated?”

  She studied him. “No. That was not allowed in my mother’s world.”

  “You mean you had a crazy mom manager.”

  “I wish,” she said. “My mom wasn’t my manager and she isn’t crazy, but the one time I acted crazy, she snatched my butt home and wouldn’t let me go back until I apologized to the entire crew. I even had to write a letter to Fred Chapman. The worst thing that ever happened to my career was when she had lunch with Ron Howard’s mother at the studio.”

  “What do you mean?” Jake asked curiously.

  “Apparently Ron Howard’s mom didn’t believe in children giving B.S. to their fellow actors. My mom didn’t believe in it, either. I was taught to be respectful of others and consider them before I considered myself. And one tantrum from me shut the set down for almost a day until I apologized for my behavior.”

  “You mom sounds like one hell of a woman.” He couldn’t help a spurt of admiration.

  “Her presence is a ‘no madness’ zone,” Merry said in a rueful tone.

  “If more of my clients had mothers like yours, I’d be out of business.”

  “What exactly do you do?” She ran her fingers down the neck of a zebra with flowers for a mane. She smiled as she stroked it.

  “I’m in financial-crisis management. In other words, I help high-risk clients handle their finances when they can’t do it themselves. Sometimes the court appoints me as their conservator. I take them in hand, heal their financial problems and get them out of trouble with creditors, the IRS or any other government agency they might owe money to.”

  “That’s gotta be tough,” she replied.

  “No kidding.”

  “How do you get into something like that? I do see a need. A lot of the kids I work
ed with were broke by the time they were twenty. They could have used you. Especially Maddie.” Her eyes turned sad.

  “Maddie?”

  “From Maddie’s Mad World. Maddie Blake. She was the star and blew all her money on clothes she didn’t need, gambling at the local casinos, living so lavishly she once had four expensive sports cars. You can only drive one car at a time, so why would anyone want four?”

  “Her mother should have stopped her,” he said, knowing how easy it was to be seduced by so much money and thinking it would be endless.

  “Her mother makes Dina Lohan look like Mother Teresa.”

  He shrugged. “What about you?”

  “I’m not wealthy,” she replied. “But my mother was a smart cookie. She negotiated a lower up-front salary for me and higher residuals, so the money kept coming when the shows went into reruns. Thank you, God, for Hulu and Netflix.”

  “Your parents didn’t raid your trust fund?”

  She laughed. “They didn’t need my money. My dad is an airline pilot and my mom is a successful artist.”

  “How do you invest your money to keep up a stream of income?” he asked. It wasn’t any of his business, but he was curious. He so seldom worked with someone who understood the value of an investment portfolio.

  She studied him as though trying to decide how much to tell him. “I have some real estate in Santa Ana, stocks and cash. My mother worked with someone like you to make sure I’d be secure the rest of my life as long as I don’t get stupid and spend it all.”

  “So you really don’t have to work if you don’t want to?” And she was wise with her money. That made him feel better, knowing she wasn’t after his father’s money.

  “I have a mortgage payment just like everyone else in the world. My residuals are nice to get, but not enough to pay it. Besides, I like working,” she said, an almost defensive tone in her voice. “I’d go crazy if I didn’t have something to do. I’m not the kind of person to sit around and twiddle my thumbs. What’s with the third degree? I’m not skimming money from your father.”

  “Sorry. I really didn’t mean to imply you were stealing from my dad.”

  “Yes, you did,” she said tartly.

  “I know he wants to make people happy. He’s not in a business that’s out to get other people. But I still have to make sure the money goes where it’s supposed to go. That it’s not frittered away on stupid things.”

  “I don’t fritter money away on stupid things,” she answered hotly. “My reputation is on the line. If any whisper of misappropriation of funds even gets started, I’ll never get another job in the entertainment field. I’m not going to risk that. I love what I do. Even as far back at being on Maddie’s Mad World, I used to rearrange the set to make it feel warmer, or more cozy, or just plain fun. Even then I knew if the acting didn’t pan out, I’d go into set design.”

  “So you have no aspirations for a movie career?”

  She shrugged. “If it was going to happen, it would have, but it didn’t. One of the things I learned very early was that your fifteen minutes of fame is over pretty quick. And there’s more to life than trying to relive that moment.”

  Damn, he couldn’t find any chinks in her armor. In fact, knowing she was self-reliant and ethical gave him a small feeling of relief. But this was his father, and Jake still had to protect him. Since his mother’s death, John had faltered a time or two with women who’d wanted to suck him dry. Jake had stepped in each time and exposed them for what they were.

  “If you’re worried about your legacy, you don’t need to be. I’m not going to touch it. I’m just here to help your dad get this place back on its feet. It’s a great place and has so much potential. It just needs a little more TLC.” She stepped into the stirrup of a horse and sat down on the saddle. “Stop being a stodgy old banker and let’s go for a ride.” She grinned at him infectiously.

  His stared at her for a moment. “Sure, why not?” He stepped across the platform to the center of the carousel, started the motor and turned on the music. As the motor warmed up, he found himself grinning. “Ready?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “You bet,” came her answer.

  He put the motor in gear and the carousel began to turn, the music blasting out from the speakers. He grabbed a pole, pulled himself up and mounted the horse next to her. Her eyes were closed as she gripped the pole in front of her. Her horse went up and down, and she looked absolutely content.

  Chapter 4

  A knock sounded at the door to Merry’s office, and a second later it flew open to reveal her sister, Noelle. Noelle Alcott was an inch taller and a year younger than Merry with a willowy frame, pixie-cut black hair and laughing brown eyes.

  “I brought you a present,” Noelle said, handing Merry a small glass bear wearing a Christmas hat.

  “Is this your new line?” The little glass bear fit in the palm of Merry’s hand. Noelle was a glass blower.

  “Isn’t it cute?” Noelle strolled around Merry’s office, stopping to study each drawing hanging on the wall. “It’s Santa Benny Bear.”

  Merry laughed. “Named after the park mascot.”

  “Listening to you talk about all this inspired me.”

  “We can sell these here. They’ll walk out of the store.”

  “I’d rather they ran out of the store,” Noelle said. She stopped in front of one drawing showcasing the old ghost-town buildings that housed local vendors and their products. Merry was giving it a facelift, and a construction crew was currently hammering away, making her plan into reality.

  The buildings were currently in a long line, and Merry would have liked to move them around to create a more village-like feel, but that would be for another facelift.

  “You want to see the park?” Merry asked, jumping down off her stool and turning off the gooseneck lamp that lit her worktable.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Noelle said.

  Merry handed her a large, floppy-brimmed sunhat and placed another one on her own head. September had turned into a scorcher, with bright cloudless skies and one-hundred-plus degrees and rising.

  Merry had set up a three-part plan for the renovation of the park. Once it was open again, the second part would be to start planting trees for shade. Why the park had no shade trees, she didn’t understand.

  “How’s the new boss?” Noelle asked as they stepped into the fierce sunshine.

  “He is driving me insane,” Merry said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. “He counts every penny I want to spend and then tells me I have to bring the job in for ten percent less. He questions every move I make. And he watches me.”

  Noelle’s eyebrows rose. “You make him sound like a stalker.”

  “I think he follows me home.” She led her sister toward the old ghost-town buildings. “Overall, I’m seven percent underbudget and things are getting done, but I have to justify every moment of my time when I’m here. And let me tell you, it’s no fun.”

  She could hear the banging and hammering as they approached the ghost town. A construction crew had begun extensive repairs on the roofs. “John is such a honey to work for, but Jacob is a tyrant.”

  “Tyrants can be tamed,” Noelle said.

  Merry’s eyebrows went up. “Why should I bother?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because you get a funny look on your face when you talk about him.” Noelle’s gaze was mischievous.

  Merry opened the door to one of the buildings and led Noelle inside. The retail area was small and intimate. Ever since Noelle had asked about selling her glassware at the park, Merry had been thinking about which store would work for her. And she’d narrowed it down to two.

  “What are you trying to say, sis?” Merry watched her sister study the room. She pulled a measuring tape out of her pocket and started to measure the room. She pulled a notebook out of her back pocket and marked down the length of each wall.

  “Oh, nothing,” Noelle replied. “I was just being sisterly, chatty, fr
iendly.”

  “Why are you here again?”

  Noelle laughed. “Because somebody needs to ruffle your little feathers.”

  “Consider my feathers ruffled.”

  “I’ve done my job. How much is this space going for? I like this one.”

  Merry could see that her mind was already figuring out the possibilities for showcasing her glassware to the best possible advantage. “Why do you want your own store? I thought you were doing well in the galleries.” She took her phone out of her pocket and started snapping photos of the shop from every angle.

  Noelle sighed. “Things have slowed down. So I’m doing smaller projects, knickknacks, jewelry....”

  “Are things that bad?” Merry asked.

  Noelle shrugged. “The little things are selling well. I’m working harder, but people are only spending money on little luxuries.”

  Noelle’s glassware was museum quality. She’d even designed a garden of glass flowers and trees that echoed like musical chimes.

  “But you’ve had a number of large commissions,” Merry said, puzzled. “Didn’t you design the atrium in one of the Las Vegas hotels?”

  “I did, but it didn’t result in more commissions. Lots of oohs and ahhs, but no more business. The money came from making miniature copies of the large flowers and selling those in the gift shops,” Noelle said. She measured another wall and made some notes in her spiral notebook. “And that got me thinking about your park and maybe opening my own retail store. This way, I bypass the middleman. I can hire some people to work here and have more time to work in the studio.”

  “Let’s talk to John, then,” Merry said, stepping to the door and pulling it open.

  Jake stood on the other side, one hand raised as though he’d been about to enter. “Jake,” Merry said. “Did you need something?”

  Noelle scooted past Merry, her gaze calculating as she studied Jake.

  “Dad said you might have a renter for this unit. I came to check it out.” He looked at Noelle questioningly. “And you must be...?”