Her assistant circled the desk and leaned down to skim the screen.
Rachel’s jaw dropped.
“Wow! You only launched this eight hours ago.”
“I know. I can’t believe it. I mean, I was ready to move the minute Eric called to let me know all the foundation paperwork had been filed, but still . . .”
“You said all along people have a soft spot in their hearts for lighthouses. This proves it. Not to diminish the campaign you put together, of course. Your press materials and social media stuff were fantastic. They obviously piqued the public’s interest and drew attention to the crowdfunding effort.”
“I never expected such fast results, though. I’m stunned.” A wave of exhilaration swept over her—almost as heady as the one she’d experienced in the early hours of Monday morning, after Ben’s kiss.
Almost.
“Everyone will be thrilled when you tell them the news at the meeting tonight.” Rachel perused the screen again, as if she, too, needed to convince herself the number was real.
“I know. At this rate, we might get everything we need—and more—in the first few days. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Fantastic. Greg will be pumped.”
“Especially since he agreed to manage the site for the foundation.” It was mind-blowing how the campaign to save a lighthouse had saved so much more. “I can’t tell you how happy I am he took the job.”
“Not as happy as I am.” Rachel played with the hem of her knit top. “I want to thank you for offering him the opportunity—and for going out of your way to be kind to both of us. Also . . . once the lighthouse situation is settled, I’d like to cash in that rain check for a visit to the nursery down in Sixes and tea at the lavender farm. If you still want to go.”
“Absolutely. We’ll pick a date soon.”
“Well . . .” She took a step back. “I need to get going. Greg’s cooking dinner again tonight, and I don’t want to discourage his culinary efforts by being late.”
“He’s becoming quite the chef. What’s he making?”
“Stew.”
“Should be a tasty meal. I need to squeeze in dinner before tonight’s meeting too . . . if I can tear myself away from watching the crowdfunding results come in.”
Rachel caught her lower lip between her teeth. “You know . . . Greg mentioned earlier that the recipe would leave us with leftovers for a week. Why don’t you join us?”
Well . . . how about that?
An invitation from the woman who’d seemed in such need of a friend.
Another prayer answered.
When she didn’t respond at once, Rachel spoke again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot—and to be honest, I can’t guarantee the results. But everything he’s concocted up to this point has been palatable.” A twinkle sparked in her irises. “I think he’s as surprised about that as I am.”
Much as she was tempted to accept, a fledgling cook might be upset about having an impromptu guest—and no way did she want to cause a setback in what appeared to be a robust reconciliation.
“I appreciate the offer—but Greg might not like having his talents on display at this early stage.”
“I’ll call him if you’d feel more comfortable, but I guarantee he won’t have a problem with it. And it would give you two a chance to talk about the lighthouse project before the meeting.”
“Why don’t you run it by him—but tell him it’s fine if this isn’t the best night.”
Rachel pulled out her phone and perched on the edge of the desk.
While her assistant relayed their discussion to her husband, Marci refocused on her computer screen. She didn’t try to listen as she jotted some notes for tonight’s meeting, but it was hard to tune out Rachel’s side of the conversation.
“Yes . . . That’s what I said . . . Oh . . . No, I doubt it—but I’ll ask. Hang on a sec. Marci?”
She turned. “Not the best night?”
“No. He said that based on a preliminary taste test, the stew is edible. But he wanted me to let you know he also invited Ben. Do you mind?”
Mind having dinner with Ben?
Was she kidding?
Of course, Ben might not be too thrilled about her visiting his neighborhood with Nicole lurking around—but when he’d called earlier, he’d said she hadn’t shown today. Meaning their dinner together shouldn’t be an issue.
“I don’t mind in the least.” Despite her attempt to contain it, a trace of excitement crept into her voice. Hopefully Rachel would attribute her enthusiasm to the lighthouse fund total.
“She’s in, Greg.”
“Tell him I’ll swing by Sweet Dreams and find something sinful for dessert. We deserve to splurge, with money already rolling in for the lighthouse foundation.”
“She’s bringing dessert to celebrate some exciting news.” Rachel smiled. “I’ll let her share it after she gets there. You’ll have to be patient.” As soft color rose on her cheeks, she angled slightly away and lowered her volume. “I know. Me too . . . Yes. I’m leaving now.” She ended the call and stood. “Greg told Ben six o’clock, but I think everyone’s flexible if that doesn’t work for you.”
“Six is fine.”
Rachel slid the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “If anything changes, let me know. Otherwise, we’ll see you soon.”
As the door shut behind her assistant, Marci swung back to the computer to marvel over the donations again.
Another hundred dollars had come in over the past fifteen minutes.
Incredible.
Even more incredible?
She was having dinner with Ben.
Her mouth curved up.
This meal definitely deserved to be topped off with one of Sweet Dreams’s decadent double-chocolate flourless tortes.
There was a car parked on his street again—but it wasn’t Nicole’s.
It was Marci’s.
What was she doing here?
Frowning, Ben swung into the driveway, glanced at his watch, and blew out a breath.
If he’d known his meeting with the management of the urgent care center was going to last most of the afternoon, he’d never have accepted Greg’s invitation for dinner. After a full day of intense discussions, first in Coos Bay, then here, he was beat.
And now he had to worry about Marci.
He parked at the back of
