Page 37 of Captured By the Billionaire Cowboy
A haunted expression marred Teara’s features, but it disappeared in a second’s stretch. “That’s right. Unfortunately, some… issues arose and I had to close a few years back. Those matters are now resolved,” she quickly added. “I still work in the industry.”
Ciara bit back her curiosity. The woman possessed a stark solemnity, likely from the issues she mentioned. Her uncail hadn’t elaborated beyond saying that it wouldn’t affect her work performance. Ciara wouldn’t pry. “Frank said you did a wonderful job.”
Teara’s blush returned. “I try to be organized.”
“If everything goes according to plan, we’ll need someone to manage the bed and breakfast. Basically, you would be in charge of the accommodations. Is that something you’re interested in?”
“Absolutely.” Teara reached into her large black briefcase and retrieved a crisp folder, suddenly as poised as a Dublin businesswoman. “I prepared my resume, as well as a portfolio outlining my skills and experience. I love this field and really enjoyed running my own inn...” Her voice trailed off. “In any case, I travel an hour to my current job, so I would love something closer. I hope you’ll consider me.”
Ciara accepted the thick folder and opened it. With Rowan reading over her shoulder, she perused contents more impressive with every page. Teara had all the experience she touted and more. No other candidate in Waterstone could possibly possess the same level of knowledge and skills.
“I’m back.” Chelsea returned with a bright smile. “Oh hey, Teara!”
Apparently Teara and Chelsea were friends, which was a recommendation in itself. They spent the next few minutes ordering their meals, then discussed the details of the position as they awaited their food. The dishes arrived, and they stopped to enjoy traditional Irish shepherd’s pie, crusty soda bread and sweet blueberry cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream.
Both the food and meeting far exceeded Ciara’s expectations. Teara knew the intricacies of running a large hospitality operation and possessed the right experience, skills and temperament to make it succeed. A good conversationalist, she exuded comfort and warmth, a vital skill when dealing with guests. By the end of the discussion, Ciara had found her candidate.
They concluded the meal and the interview, and Ciara promised to call when they made a decision. They strolled to the front door, yet before they could leave, Grandma Leigh motioned to her. “Ciara, can I talk to you for a moment?”
Rowan nodded to Ciara as he held out the front door for their interviewee. “I’ll walk Teara to her car.”
Ciara followed Grandma Leigh to a corner table, out of earshot of the other diners. The older lady flexed her fingers. “I hope you don’t mind me intruding, but I heard you discussing the horse rescue.”
“It’s all right.” Ciara lived in a small town long enough to not mind the shared sense of comradery. They were a community of friends. “We’re working hard, but everything is still far fromcertain. Several issues must be resolved before we can get started.” She grimaced. “Big issues.”
Grandma Leigh’s gaze sharpened. “But you’re already conducting job interviews?”
“In a way,” Ciara hedged. “We can’t attain funding without showing we have the experience necessary to be successful. We’re trying to find suitable candidates.”
“In that case, I’d like to nominate someone.”
Ciara blinked at the older woman. Grandma Leigh had a bustling business – she couldn’t possibly want a job on the ranch. Her confusion must’ve been obvious, as Grandma Leigh laughed. “Not me, my dear. I have more than enough to keep my hands full. I was wondering if you would consider Chelsea.”
“Chelsea?” Ciara glanced back to the dining room, where the friendly waitress was dishing out generous bowls of potato leek soup. She waved her hands exuberantly, and the entire table laughed. “But she works for you.”
“And she does an amazing job. I would miss her if she left.” Grandma Leigh softened. “However, she has an M.B.A. from Trinity College Dublin, as well as extensive business experience. When we lost my son, she wanted to be close to family to make up for what she – for what we all – lost. She tried to find a job in Waterstone, but a business degree isn’t worth much in a town with more fields and horses than buildings and stoplights. When I mentioned needing a new waitress, she offered herself. She feels obligated to help.” The older woman smiled, yet her eyes shone with sorrow. “She lost so much, yet she still puts others first, and with that bright grin on her face. She should not give up her life’s work for me. If something becomes available, I hope you’ll consider her.”
Ciara might not have a business plan yet, but she would definitely need someone with management experience. If sheleft, that person may run it permanently. “The retreat would be lucky to have her.”
Grandma Leigh didn’t hide her satisfaction, or relief. “Brilliant.” A noise clattered from the back, and she sighed. “If only they sold unbreakable glass.” She clasped hands with Ciara, squeezing softly, before giving one last wink and turning toward the kitchen. Across the restaurant, Chelsea hurried to help. As Grandma Leigh said, the woman was dedicated.
Ciara started slowly to the door, every step lighter for all the good the last few hours had wrought: The contest that could earn desperately needed funds. A highly qualified candidate to run the lodgings, and another to manage. Time to spend with Rowan, no matter how unwise.
That last was the best of all.
CHAPTER 7
“How is Jasmine?”
Ciara shook her head curtly, clenching and unclenching blistered hands. Dusty air swirled, kicked up from the palomino who moved restlessly in her stall, pawing at the ground and grunting in discomfort. The somber atmosphere belied the beautiful day, the shining sun, the singing sparrows, the scent of wildflowers and dew. If only she could caress the unhappiness away, soothe away the trauma, but an attempt would only make things worse. “She’s regressed since the colic diagnosis, and now she’s scared of everything. We lost all the progress we fought so hard for.”
“I’ll get better,” Frank rumbled, yet concern laced the placating words. He understood the seriousness of the situation. “She just needs time.”
“We don’t know that.” She exhaled lowly. “What if she reverts even further? What if she never improves?”
A deep frown marred Frank’s tanned face, as he studied the horse. Jasmine jumped, fearful of a hundred invisible threats. “She isn’t eating or drinking like she should,” he admitted. “But that could be the lingering effects of the condition. It should resolve.”
Hopefully, that was true. Yet something far more dangerous could be lurking. “I’m trying to be patient.”
