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Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten there so early; waiting was torture. He wasn’t concerned about the loan. Despite his financial setbacks, he still maintained good credit, and he had a small retirement savings account he could use to secure the loan, but that would be a risk he wasn’t sure he was prepared to take.
“Wes?” The loan officer appeared in the lobby. Shawn Loder had worked at the Blue Moon Bay branch since Wes had applied for his mortgage years before. The man wasn’t originally from town, having grown up in L.A. but he’d been in town so long, no one held that against him.
“Hey, Shawn, thanks for seeing me,” he said as he stood and, after wiping his palm on the leg of his pants, extended a hand to the other man.
Shawn nodded enthusiastically as he pumped Wes’s hand somewhat longer than necessary. “Yes, yes! Come on into my office.”
Wes entered, and Shawn closed the door behind him.
“Have a seat,” he said.
Wes sat in the soft, plush leather chair and immediately noticed all the items on Shawn’s desk with the Rams logo. His mug, the picture frame holding a photo of Shawn at a Rams game wearing a team jersey and holding a foam finger, a plush toy, and a water bottle. “Fan of the Rams?”
Shawn laughed as he sat behind the desk. “Guilty.” Lifting his foot into the air, he pulled up the leg of his dress pants to reveal Rams logo socks; then he leaned forward. “Gotta say, I’m kinda fangirling a little on the inside right now.”
Wes forced a smile. “Well, I only played a few seasons…” While it was nice and to be expected that everyone still associated him with football, he really wanted to move on and be known within the community for his new endeavor. He may not be able to be a source of local sports pride anymore, but he could help families in the community have their dream homes with new affordable developments.
Shawn nodded, his light-brown hair falling into his eyes. “That must have been incredible. Being in the action, tasting the blood and sweat out on the field, the rush of adrenaline and the roar of the crowd.”
Obviously they weren’t done talking about football. “Yeah, it was amazing.” While it lasted. “Do you play?” The man was six foot and about 110 pounds, but Wes had definitely asked the right question.
“Only beer leagues, but I’m pretty good. Fast,” he said with a look of pride. “Hey, you should come out and play sometime.”
“Yeah, sure, yeah…” He cleared his throat. “So, about the loan application, I was wondering how soon I’d know.” If he was going ahead with this, he didn’t want to lose out on the space to someone else. And the faster he could get the ball rolling, the less time he had to chicken out.
Shawn sat straighter and turned to his computer. “Usually takes about a week or ten days.” He reached for several documents on the printer behind him and slid them across the desk toward Wes. “Just fill these out, and we can get the process started.”
“Great,” Wes said, reaching for a pen and hesitating only briefly before starting to answer the questions. He was painfully aware of Shawn’s starstruck gaze on him. He paused and glanced up at the man. “Okay, hand it over,” he said.
Shawn reached into his desk and produced Wes’s football collectible card. “Can you personalize it?”
Wes sighed. “Sure thing.”
Chapter Fifteen
Why had she tried to keep up with Lia on that ridiculous run the day before? Already the muscles in Sarah’s legs ached, and the hot shower hadn’t helped.
She’d barely had any time alone since the woman’s arrival, and she’d had to sneak away while Lia was on a call. Sarah was convinced she didn’t sleep—up well past midnight the night before planning the catering menu and then knocking on Sarah’s bedroom door before seven a.m. that morning to go over the table and chair rentals.
They still had twelve days before the reunion, but Lia was hell-bent on finalizing all the details right away. Sarah was creative when it came to figuring out solutions to technological issues or designing new ways for people to communicate across distances, but coming up with pretty party decorations or knowing how to communicate with large groups of people face-to-face were skills that eluded her.
Wrapping one of the new, oversize terry-cloth bath towels around herself, she heard her cell chime with a new text message from Whitney.
“Ow…ow…ow,” Sarah said, practically sliding her slippers across the hardwood floor of the bedroom. She wouldn’t even think about tackling the stairs. Maybe she could slide the rail like she did as a child. Either way, the bending of the knees was not happening today. And maybe not tomorrow.
She picked up her phone and opened the message.
Check your email—I just sent over the reopening/sale brochure design for your approval.
Sarah sighed. Reopening/sale brochure. Seemed almost like an oxymoron. She was going through all this trouble to turn the B&B into something amazing…then she was giving it up. But that was the plan, and that’s what she’d told Whitney she wanted.
Whitney never let up once she was committed to something, and while Sarah appreciated her friend taking time out of her busy schedule to get the ball rolling on selling the place after the reunion, it meant leaving Blue Moon Bay, and her heart was suddenly conflicted. Which was strange. It was the right thing to do. Hell, theonlything to do. Letting teenage fantasies and one amazing kiss throw her off course would be ridiculous. She wasn’t cut out for running a B&B.
Did you check yet?
Wow, her friend had friendly harassment down to a science. No wonder she was so successful.
Going to her laptop on the desk, Sarah opened her email and clicked on the link from Whitney. Vibrant, high-quality brochures featuring the photos Sarah sent her the day before of the B&B with its new exterior and solar panels lit up the screen.
