Читать книгу Saving Alyssa - Loree Lough - Страница 13

CHAPTER SIX

“AREN’T YOU GOING to answer the phone?” Troy asked, leaning over her desk.

The caller ID window read Unknown. Billie rarely answered calls she didn’t recognize, and never picked up blocked, unknown or multiple zero numbers. “That’s what voice mail is for,” she told him.

“Hey. Billie. It’s Noah Preston. From the bike shop?”

She grabbed the handset, hitting speakerphone without realizing it.

“Hi,” she said. “I was beginning to think you’d had to send the bike back to the manufacturer or something.”

“So you didn’t get my message last week? About the parts that were on back order?”

“Oh. Yes, I did. I meant to call, but...” But between Troy and work, she’d forgotten to return the call. “Sorry. I meant to let you know there’s no rush.”

“Oh. Right. The ankle is still messed up, huh?”

“It’s much better, but I won’t be riding anytime soon.”

“Bummer. Guess that means you’ll miss the Tidewater race.”

“Yeah. And the Pocono Challenge, too.” She shook off the moment of self-pity. “But it’s no big deal. There are a couple of races in October.”

“Chambersburg?”

“Right. And Green Lane, Pennsylvania, too. But enough about that.” She giggled, too long and too hard. Groaning inwardly, she said, “Any idea when the parts will be in?”

“Two, three days. But that’s just one of the reasons I called today. Are you still interested in building a website for me?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t sound so eager,” Troy whispered in the background. “He’ll think you don’t have any other clients!”

Frowning, she sent a “Shh” warning his way.

“I’m just wrapping up something for another client. How about if I stop by, spend an hour or so watching you work, see if I can get some ideas for your main page?”

Troy shook his head. Noah cleared his throat. “Well, how’s tomorrow, say, after lunch?” She turned her back on her brother and clicked the speaker off. “Works for me. What time does Alyssa get home from school?”

“I pick her up at three-thirty.”

Billie wondered why he didn’t let her ride the bus like the rest of the kids in the neighborhood, then remembered the guy she’d met at the bike shop that day, who’d implied Noah gave a whole new meaning to the word overprotective.

“I’ll see you between one and one-thirty,” she said.

Billie hung up, then faced Troy. “Look. You’ve been a great houseguest, and I appreciate the way you fixed the deck door and reattached that loose gutter. And your chili recipe is to die for. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind if you moved in here permanently...if you’d learn to keep your nose out of my business stuff.”

“When you’re right, you’re right. It won’t happen again.” With one hand raised in the Scout salute, he said, “Sorry.”

“No need for apologies,” she told him, heading into her office nook. “As long as you stay out of my business.”

Troy saluted. “Message sent and received.”

Billie fired up the computer, clicked her most recent client’s file and began adding photos to the About Us page.

“You can fool other people, kid, but you can’t fool me.”

She swiveled her desk chair to glare at her brother. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been alone long enough. It’s okay to like that guy. You know...like that guy.”

“That guy is repairing my bike, so I’m his customer. If I’m lucky, that guy will like my website ideas, and he’ll be my client. That’s all there is to it, okay?”

“You’re right. It’s none of my business. It’s just, well, your voice changed when you talked to him, so I figured maybe you were interested. Let me make it up to you. Pepperoni-mushroom pizza, or subs for supper?”

Billie did her best to dismiss his “your voice changed” comment. “Pizza sounds great.” There’d be plenty of time to rehash the conversation later.

Troy went back to his online job search as she scanned the internet for other bicycle shops. She wanted to see what was missing from those websites and ensure Noah’s site stood out from the others. It didn’t take long to figure out what she’d change about the examples. Photos on the home page were too large, distracting from the business message. And either there were too many tabs, or those provided didn’t perform a specific function.

She opened a blank page and began typing.

LANDON DESIGNS WEBSITE PROPOSAL

CLIENT: NOAH PRESTON, OWNER, IKE’S BIKES

In recent months, this shop has noticed an increase in competition in the Baltimore vicinity (see list of stores below). A website designed to serve existing patrons, while attracting new ones, will provide people with more accurate comparables.

To effectively capture the market from its competitors, Ike’s Bikes website design must implement a marketing strategy focused on this goal. This will start with a needs analysis session to identify the key elements of the site, different customer types and all necessary calls to action. The session will be followed with a content plan focused on specific goals, and will move into the design phase, which will include the following:

Billie paused and thought for a second before beginning to type a bulleted list of the pages she would include on Noah’s site: Home, Types of Bikes, Bike Parts, Rides/Events, Rentals/Repairs and Contact Us. Each page would include a defining paragraph and photographs.

After supplying a list of similar shops in the area, she printed the proposal onto Landon Designs letterhead, slid it into a hunter-green pocket folder, slapped her label on the cover and set it aside. Tomorrow, when she visited him at the shop, Billie would ask him to turn on his computer so she could show him her own business website. He would be impressed by the number and variety of clients she’d acquired since opening the doors to Landon Designs three years earlier. Feeling suitably prepared, she went back to updating another client’s site.

Hours later, she noticed the clock in the corner of her monitor. How could it be after midnight? Working the kinks out of her neck and shoulders, she walked into the kitchen, and was immediately greeted by a bold black message printed on the pizza box lid: “BUY A TIMER,” it said, “AND YOU WON’T GET HEARTBURN FROM EATING COLD PIZZA AT MIDNIGHT.” And beneath it, a smaller line that read, “Or make your brother eat alone.”

Poor Troy. She had been too caught up in work to even notice the time. Billie grabbed a slice of pizza and bit into the now congealed cheese. Not bad. She took another bite. She’d risk the heartburn.

* * *

BILLIE SHOULD HAVE taken Troy’s advice. She’d tossed and turned all night, waking up and falling asleep more than a dozen times, thanks to dreams of those life-altering moments under the glaring delivery room lights.

She got up and trudged into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker, then grabbed Troy’s sweatshirt jacket from the hook beside the door and carried a slice of pizza onto the deck. A light rain was falling, so she pulled up the jacket’s hood. A motorcycle buzzed by out front, and on Main Street, the squealing brakes of a school bus pierced the otherwise quiet morning. It had rained hard last night and she inhaled the scents that rode the autumn breeze: of roses, planted all around the deck. Damp leaves, fluttering against the fence. Bud, her elderly neighbor, frying bacon. Her coffee, spewing into the carafe.

Leaning into the railing, Billie watched a chipmunk scamper through the mulch surrounding the sunflowers, its cheeks puffed to three times their normal size as it prepared for the winter. She loved it here, in this place she’d bought and paid for with her half of the settlement, arranged by Chuck’s attorney.

An odd feeling engulfed her, something between resentment and melancholy. Even after all this time, Billie still didn’t fully understand why her ex had left. She’d loved everything about being married, even the things that most women complained about, like socks on the floor and toothpaste tubes squeezed from the middle. Living alone all through college had taught her that she wasn’t cut out for a solitary life, so having someone who shared her views on politics, menu changes at their favorite restaurant and what to save their money for had felt like a fairy tale come to life.