Robin rolled her eyes heavenward. “Did you say how long?”
“You need to understand that this sort of work takes time. And once I get under that old paint, if there is any sort of abatement that needs to be done, you can count on two extra weeks at a minimum. That’s an old house you’re in there, Robin. It’s not going to be a six-week job, I can tell you that, not with what you want done to the bathrooms and kitchen. Not to mention the other work I’ve got going on, too. Let’s see . . .” Robin could hear a tapping sound. “We’re looking at two months, easy. Maybe three.”
“Three months!” she exclaimed. “But I can’t live like that for three months. Is there anything you can do to readjust your schedule?”
His laughter was full and very rich—Robin could just picture him, probably an older gentleman, gray at the temples, wearing a crisp white shirt and sitting in his luxury sedan—
“I’ll see what I can do, but I’m being honest with you—this is not going to go quick. You want a start of this week?” The tapping again. “I can rearrange a couple of things, I guess, but Thursday is the soonest I can get started. I sent a contract with the bid to your attorney. Let me know if there’s anything you want to change. Once that’s signed, we’ve got us a deal. Appreciate the business and we’ll talk soon.”
The connection was suddenly dead.
Surprised, Robin held the receiver out from her head and looked at it. Well, at least his reputation was excellent—she had called four references and they had all raved about the quality of his work. She supposed she ought to be happy that she had managed to get him at all, much less get him to agree to start this week—
“Robin.”
She started at the sound of Evan’s voice; she hadn’t even heard the door open. But there he was, half in, half out. Robin put the receiver down, suddenly embarrassed that she had avoided him so completely since her return from London.
“Hello, Evan,” she said, motioning him forward, and watched him walk in without actually looking at him. He was still as handsome as ever, his blond hair perfectly trimmed, his jaw clean shaven. And as usual, his style impeccable—from the crisp knot of his silk tie to the perfect pleats of his gray suit pants.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you before I leave for Dallas.”
“Not a problem,” she lied and stood, gesturing for him to sit. “Want some coffee?”
He shook his head, sat uneasily in the chair she had indicated. Robin made herself come around to sit next to him. “Sorry I didn’t stop in earlier. Lots of calls,” she said, motioning vaguely at her desk.
“You look great,” he said.
Her self-conscious smile burned. “Uh, thanks . . . so what’s up?”
“I was hoping we could do lunch—”
“Well, I—”
“But you look buried,” Evan quickly interjected with a shrug. His perfectly manicured hands fidgeted unconsciously with the bottom of his tie. Robin folded her hands in her lap.
“I just needed to talk with you before I talk to Aaron.”
“Aaron?”
Evan looked at her fully then, a slight frown on his face. “We lost the Valley Produce account. Herrera has gone to American Motorfreight. He told me this morning.”
The news stunned her. How could they lose the account? She hadn’t even spoken to Herrera yet! “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not kidding, Robin. Herrera was our biggest Texas account. And one of our oldest. He’s been with your dad since he started up.”
Yes, yes, she was aware of that, and nodded in complete agreement, but Evan’s frown just deepened. “Robin, you lost that account.”
“Me?” she exclaimed in surprise, but the twinge of guilt had already started to pierce her conscience.
“You’ve spent too much time looking for a big fish—”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought the object was to strive for the new and very big accounts, Evan, the ones that ship tons of freight—”
“The object is to take care of your customers.”
Ouch. “I hope you are not lecturing me,” she said defensively. “And you don’t need to talk to Dad for me. I am perfectly capable of telling him that we lost the account.”
“I know you are capable, but let’s not forget that I run this pop stand. I let you handle the valley accounts, just like you asked before you took off for London—”
“I did not take off—”
“Whatever. I’m just saying that Aaron is going to want an answer from me, too.”