she finished flatly.
“You know I don’t approve of the Nibble Nook.” He wasn’t prepared to put the place off-limits, but he did want to discourage her from going there. He’d had a brief fling with Skylar in high school, and she was hardly the influence his sister should have in her turbulent world—it was tough enough being one of S. S. Hollister’s kids, a man who collected and discarded wives with casual speed. She certainly didn’t need a smart-mouthed, troublemaking high-school dropout as a role model.
Melanie released her seat belt. “Why don’t you approve?”
“Cooper Industry employees are the Nibble Nook’s main customers, and some of them don’t like the new rules I’ve had to make,” he said. It was a valid concern, just not the whole truth.
“Yeah, right.” She got out, slammed the car door as hard as possible and stomped toward the house, her heavy book bag slung over her shoulder and other books clutched in her arms.
“Leave the books. I’ll bring them,” he urged.
She didn’t stop and Aaron grimaced.
There was a shred of truth in Skylar’s accusations. Melanie needed more attention, but there just weren’t enough hours in the days. Take the house for example...the lawn needed mowing and the gardener had quit. There weren’t any other gardening service companies in town, and the local kids didn’t seem interested in earning money by doing yard work.
For that matter, the house was another complication he hadn’t anticipated. Originally he’d moved into an apartment over the company’s business offices, which had been used only once by his grandparents when they were remodeling the kitchen and bathrooms in their house. But when his former stepmother had asked him to take Melanie for the school year, he’d found something more suitable for a teenager.
His cell phone rang and he pulled it out. “Yeah?”
“This is Jim Browning, down at the plant,” said a vaguely familiar voice. “I got your number from Peggy in the main office. Mr. Cooper always wanted us to ring if there was a problem.”
Aaron let out a breath. “What can I do for you, Mr. Browning?”
The employee droned on, detailing a minor issue with the processor for boxing up one of their products, a type of flavored tortilla chip. Cooper Industries produced a wide variety of items, and Aaron reminded himself that making snack foods might not be the same as creating life-saving drugs, but they were important to the company.
“I understand,” Aaron finally broke in. “You’ve arranged for repairs and the boxes can be manually sealed in the meantime.”
“Er...yes, sir. I’m sorry I bothered you, but Mr. Cooper did insist....” The foreman’s words trailed off uncertainly.
Aaron drew a calming breath, realizing he’d probably been too abrupt. The people in Cooperton were chatty, while he wanted to get to the point and stop wasting time. “It’s fine. Your instructions may be modified in the future, but in the meantime, you’re following procedure. Thank you.”
He turned off the phone with relief. He’d left a lucrative CEO position in the computer industry when his eightysomething grandfather finally decided to retire, but he never expected it to be so tough. George Cooper had been an old-school manager, with every decision, large and small, going across his desk. Basically, the place was still being run like a small mom-and-pop shop, rather than a major business producing dozens of different convenience-food items. Responsibility needed to be spread among divisions, with midlevel managers taking the lead on day-to-day operations—except the company couldn’t afford that type of reorganization for a while.
Aaron dropped his keys in his pocket and walked into the house. His grandparents had halfheartedly offered to let him move in with them, but it wouldn’t have been good for Melanie. His sister wasn’t related to the Coopers except through their ex-son-in-law, and they weren’t the warmest people in the first place. He knew; he’d grown up with them. And no matter what Skylar thought about him, he refused to inflict their idea of hospitality on his sister. Even if he didn’t know what was best for a teenage girl, he wanted Melanie to be happy.
“Melanie?” he called. “What do you want for dinner?”
After a long minute she appeared at the top of the stairs and stared at him coolly. “You mean you’re asking?”
Oh, God.
Pain throbbed in his temples. She was usually very sweet and accommodating—almost too accommodating—but apparently he couldn’t say anything right at the moment. Not that Melanie didn’t have cause to be touchy—he’d royally stuck his foot in his mouth—but if this was what it meant to be a parent, you could keep it.
“Yes, I’m asking,” he said as calmly as possible.
“Whatever I want?”
Yeah, she could have whatever she wanted...as long as it came from a restaurant that delivered or had a take-out menu. He didn’t cook. Toast, oatmeal and coffee in the morning were the extent of his culinary skills.
“Within reason.”
Melanie lifted her chin. “I’ll take a chicken sandwich and sweet-potato fries from the Nibble Nook.”
“That isn’t within reason. You know the Nibble Nook is closed for the day.”
“Then I don’t care. I have geometry problems and an English assignment to finish.” She turned and disappeared.
The afternoon just kept getting better and better. Aaron arched his back, trying to release the tension. He really had to deal with the yard. The neighborhood association had written, complaining about the length of the grass. Why anybody minded, he didn’t know. This wasn’t the garden district of New Orleans, it was a little town that rolled up its sidewalks at night and on Sundays.
Despite his grandfather’s expectations that he would eventually take over one day, Aaron had never wanted to live in Cooperton again...and yet here he was. Of course, coming back would have been easier if George Cooper had retired before the business had fallen apart. Once Aaron got it viable again he’d have to evaluate whether he was going to stay, or consider other options.
Putting on jeans and a work shirt, Aaron went out to the garage. The rented house hadn’t come furnished, but he’d seen a lawn mower and had a couple of hours of daylight left to work.
Forty minutes later he was hot, sweaty, and his shoulders ached. He gazed perplexed at the mower that refused to start; he was a novice at cutting grass, but it shouldn’t be tough to figure out. The mower had gas, and he didn’t think it was terribly old. Yet the damn thing wouldn’t go. Maybe the gardening service used to bring their own equipment because this one was broken.
Frustrated, Aaron shoved the mower back into the garage and headed into the house. The service had told him they were overextended with customers and regretted terminating him as a client, but their regrets didn’t help him get the lawn mowed.
In the kitchen he leafed through a stack of menus. They hadn’t ordered pizza in over a week, and Mama Gianni’s also had a decent chicken Greek salad. Pizza from Vittorino’s Italiano was better, but they didn’t deliver except on weekends. He dialed Mama Gianni’s and ordered the Meat Lover’s special and a family-size salad. Yet as he hung up the phone, he heard Skylar’s voice in his head.
Do you even know what pizza she likes?
Shut up, Skylar, he ordered silently.
She hadn’t changed much since high school—she still had that gorgeous auburn hair and green eyes...and a mouth that wouldn’t quit. She’d sassed the teachers, cussed out the principal, gotten suspended more than once for breaking every rule in the book, and finally dropped out before graduation. It was ironic that a girl who’d skated through classes by the skin of her teeth was now diligently overseeing her kid’s homework. And she wondered why he questioned if she might be a bad influence.
Yet