“What the-”
“It’s dropped a valve,” Reed repeated. “If you keep it running, you’ll blow a connecting rod.”
“You a mechanic?” the man asked.
“Rancher,” said Reed, stepping back. “But I’ve worked on plenty of diesels in my time. Some older than this.”
“I’ve been limping her along for a few months,” said the man.
“Does it idle a lot?” asked Reed, knowing that was the most likely explanation.
“In the winter,” the man said, reaching for the key.
“Don’t do that,” Reed warned. “You need to call a tow truck.”
“I don’t have time to call a tow truck.”
“If you try to start it you’ll only make it worse.”
The man clamped his jaw, rocking back in the worn, vinyl driver’s seat. “We’ve got deliveries to make.”
“Do you have a backup? Another truck maybe?”
This one wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and probably never. Even on the ranch, where they jerry-rigged pretty much anything back together, they knew when it was time to put something out to pasture. There wasn’t much point in replacing the engine in a twenty-five-year-old truck.
The man shook his head. “I’ve been looking for another truck for six months. The used ones are as worn out as this, and the new ones cost a fortune.”
“Tough break,” Reed commiserated.
“Irony is, these days, I need two trucks.”
“Business that good?”
The man rubbed his hands along the steering wheel. “Walk-in business is slowing.”
“Doesn’t seem very slow today,” Reed observed.
“It’s slowing,” the man reiterated. “We need to strengthen distribution to other retail outlets. We also need to diversify.” Then he stuck out his hand. “Nico Gianni.”
Reed shook. “Reed Terrell.”
“You from Brooklyn?”
“Colorado.”
“On vacation?”
“More business than pleasure.” Reed’s interest had been piqued by Nico’s words, not to mention by his own experience sampling the bakery’s wares. “You’re saying you’ve got enough orders to run two trucks?”
“If I had two trucks, I’d bring my nephew in on nights, and run the kitchen twenty-four hours. The walk-in traffic may be going down, but catering, now there’s some expansion potential. Expensive parties, weddings, dances. The rich don’t stop getting richer.”
“True enough,” Reed had to agree.
Nico seemed to have a good handle on the industry, and he seemed to have a plan for his business. Reed sized up the building. “You own this place?”
“Me and the wife.”
Reed couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Danielle meant by buying a percentage of a business. This wasn’t exactly a start-up. Though, for Reed’s money, it seemed less risky than a start-up.
“So, you’re saying with a little capital for a new truck or two, your business would be in a position to expand.”
“It would,” Nico confirmed.
“You ever think about taking on a partner?”
Nico blinked.
“I mean a minor shareholder. A silent partner.”
“I don’t understand.”
Reed rested his hand on the top of the open truck door, assuming a casual pose. “One of the reasons I’m in New York is possibly to invest in some business opportunities.”
“You’re interested in a bakery?”
“Maybe. Do you know what the real estate’s worth? Have the annual gross and net handy?”
“Is this some scam?”
“No.”
“You an eccentric rich guy?”
“No. I’m a rancher. But if we can make a deal, I’ll kick in enough cash for a couple of new trucks. You cut me in for an appropriate percentage, and maybe we both win.”
“So you’re looking to diversify?” Nico nodded thoughtfully.
“I’m looking to diversify,” Reed agreed. “I’ve got this sharp, prissy lady lawyer who wants me to sit in her office and review balance sheets all day long.”
Nico grinned.
“But I don’t want to invest in companies,” said Reed. “I’d rather invest in people. And I’d rather invest in your pastries, Nico. They’re damn fine.”
“It’s a secret family recipe.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Come inside and take a look?” asked Rico.
“Absolutely,” Reed agreed. “And, can you give me the name of a good tailor who works fast?”
Rico grinned and hopped out of the truck. “Salvatore’s. Around the corner. He’ll fix you up.”
Salvatore turned out to be one heck of a tailor. And he had a business-expansion idea that sounded as promising as Nico’s. So Reed left the store with two new suits, half a dozen dress shirts and another potential business investment.
Back at the Royal Globe Towers, he called Danielle, and her assistant put him straight through.
“Good afternoon, Reed,” her crisp voice came on the line. “How can I help you?”
“I just spent half a million dollars.”
“On a sports car?”
“No.” Reed unzipped one of the suit covers as he talked. “A bakery and a tailor shop.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Reed?”
“Yes?”
“I have a law degree from Harvard, but you’ve got me confused.”
Reed retrieved the charcoal-gray suit. Salvatore had told him he could dress it up with a white shirt or down with steel blue and a diamond-pattern tie. “I need the money to buy a percentage of a bakery and a tailor shop in Brooklyn.”
“Oh. Okay. Give me the company names. I’ll start an investigation.”
“I don’t need some bureaucratic investigation. I just need a check.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I met the guys today. I saw their operations. I looked into their eyes and shook their hands. The deal’s done. Gianni Bakery and Imperial Tailors.”
“How did you meet them?”
“I was hungry.”
“You’re losing me again, Reed.”
“Nico sells some excellent pastries, but he needs a new delivery truck. Well, two new delivery trucks.” Reed stripped off the plastic covering and stepped back. He really did like this suit.
“You ate a pastry today, and now you want to invest in his business?” Danielle confirmed.
“Pretty much.”
“Reed, wandering around Brooklyn is not a reasonable investment strategy. You can’t do things that way.”
“It appears I can.”
“Danielle, it’s my money.”
She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Okay. I hear you. But I’m looking at their financials before we cut the check. That’s not negotiable. And if you’re going to spend any more than this, you have
