Читать книгу Small-Town Billionaire - Renee Andrews - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Ryan was more sore than usual after this morning’s rehab, but based on what Dr. Aldredge had said, that was a good thing. And the doctor had finally unlocked the cast, so he could get around better and start wearing normal clothes. Though this apparel could hardly be considered normal for Ryan. Dana had bought him a few Western shirts during their trip to the square and insisted that he wear them to “blend” on the farm during his stay. She’d been so excited about buying them that Ryan didn’t argue, but it still took him by surprise when he looked in the mirror and saw something like a “real” cowboy staring back at him.

The shirt was red-and-brown plaid. Plaid. Ryan had never worn anything plaid in his life, but Dana had liked it and said it was a “must-have,” so he’d conceded. He couldn’t recall owning a shirt that snapped instead of buttoned, either, but this one did. The saleslady at the Country Outfitter store had first wanted to take his picture so she could prove Ryan Brooks actually shopped there, and then she’d wanted another of him wearing some of the clothes. Ryan had obliged. He was used to people taking his picture, after all, even if it hadn’t happened since he’d arrived in Claremont. But he also had to admit that it was nice not having a big lens pointed at him every time he went out.

However, the woman’s exclamation that he should keep wearing the clothes because they made him “look just like Blake Shelton” got a laugh out of Ryan. He didn’t have the foggiest idea who Blake Shelton was, though Dana quickly clued him in about the famous country singer. The thing was, Ryan had never bought—and would never buy—something to try to look like someone else. He was his own person. Or at least that’s what he wanted to be, even if he often found himself lost in the memory of Lawrence Brooks. Like today, when the head of acquisitions for Brooks International questioned whether Ryan thought his father would have selected the resort Ryan had purchased last year in Miami. No, the return on investment wasn’t where it needed to be yet, but that had more to do with the economy than the possibility that the purchase was a poor decision on Ryan’s part.

He was proud of everything his father had accomplished, but tired of having every decision compared to the master. If he had a way to make his name known, put his personal stamp on the Brooks empire, then maybe his board would stop questioning his every move.

A crack of lightning brought his attention to the storm brewing outside. He’d spent the afternoon responding to corporate memos and evaluating the weekly reports, and he’d planned to get outside for a breath of fresh air when he finished. But the bad weather they’d anticipated had arrived, and from the look of things, it’d hit the campers on their way back. The line of horses moved slowly through the drizzle toward the barn, and even in the gray haze, he could see Maribeth’s smile.

There was something so compelling about the woman, not merely because of her beauty but also due to her determination. She’d left her home and her family behind to pursue her dream in a brand-new town, and her store seemed to be doing as well as it could in the tiny place. More than that, she seemed satisfied with the slight measure of success. But Ryan had no doubt she could do much better, make a real name for herself, if she’d only let him help.

Why was she being so stubborn?

And something told him that it wasn’t merely obstinacy holding the woman back. She’d left a decent-size town on the beach, which would have a surplus of tourists and therefore much more exposure for her store, to start her business in a town that didn’t even warrant a spot on most maps. And she’d left her family behind, when they could potentially have helped her with her start-up.

Maybe her family had been too controlling, and Maribeth hadn’t wanted to start Consigning Women in a location where they would have the ability to take over. And maybe she thought that Ryan would also take her control away if she allowed Brooks International to help her expand.

The group disappeared into the barn, and he wondered how long they’d be inside. Every day they had returned from the trails with just enough time for the kids to be picked up, and then Maribeth and her volunteers would leave. But today they’d come back earlier due to the rain. And the fact that they were basically trapped in the barn for the time being would give Ryan the opportunity to make his way out there and talk to Maribeth before she had a chance to climb in her car and drive away.

He wanted to tell her he could help her grow her business without taking away her control. She could make all decisions regarding how each entity should run, but Ryan would oversee the company’s direction. And he’d show his board that he could do something his father would never have dreamed of—bolstering a unique consignment-store concept, of all things—and be equally successful in the endeavor. A win-win. Maribeth would make a name for herself, and so would Ryan.

But first he had to get her to agree.

He grabbed his crutches and started toward the door in spite of the rain picking up speed. He wasn’t about to let a little rain—or a headstrong woman—keep him from his goal.

* * *

Maribeth had never known a red sky to be wrong, and the one Ryan had pointed out this morning proved to be no exception. As the vivid hue had foretold, clouds overtook the afternoon, and rain burst free before the campers made it to the barn. The kids were great, though, laughing and enjoying the break from the summer heat, even if they were drenched. Since this week’s group came from the Claremont Community Church, which Maribeth attended, she’d known all of the kids before the camp started. But being with them this week, particularly when they discussed the Bible, had endeared them even more to Maribeth.

Maribeth gathered them in the barn for their end-of-day Bible study and varied her intended devotion to incorporate the weather. Sitting on a bale of hay with the kids surrounding her on saddle blankets, she read from Matthew, chapter seven. “‘Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.’” She looked around at the children’s faces and was thankful that they seemed to be paying more attention to her than to the rain beating against the tin barn or the horses in stalls lining one side. “So, what was different about the wise man and the foolish man?” she asked.

Kaden Brantley, an adorable seven-year-old with blond hair and bright blue eyes, stuck his hand in the air and answered, “One was smart, and one wasn’t?”

Nadia, standing behind the group, put a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing out loud, and Maribeth also refrained from laughing, because Kaden was completely serious.

“Yes, that’s true,” Maribeth said. “And what else was different, about where they chose to build their houses?”

Nathan Martin, an energetic nine-year-old with a contagious smile, answered, “The wise man built his on the rock so it would hold up in the rain, but the foolish guy didn’t think about the rain, I guess, and so his fell.”

“Good answer, Nathan,” Maribeth said. “And here’s the part people sometimes don’t think about. While the wise man and the foolish man had differences in where they chose to build their houses, there was something about the two of them that was the same. And I think that’s a big part of why Jesus told this particular story.” A few of the kids frowned or slid their mouths to the side as they apparently tried to figure out the answer. “Can any of y’all tell me how they were the same?”

Autumn Graham, a beautiful nine-year-old with auburn hair and dark brown eyes, timidly raised her hand. “I think I know.”

Maribeth smiled at the sweet girl. She hadn’t spoken a lot during the week, but when she did contribute to the conversation, her answers were well thought out and intelligent, way beyond her age. “Okay, Autumn. What would you say was the same about the two men?”

She leaned forward and asked, “Is it that both of their houses were in the storm?”

Nadia smiled from behind the group, and Maribeth nodded. “Yes, Autumn, they both were in the storm. And what Jesus is showing us with the story is that if we have Him in our life then we’re building our house on the rock, and when a storm comes, we’ll be okay. If we don’t have Him, then our house is on the sand, like that foolish man’s, and when the storms come, it will fall. But He isn’t talking about houses and rainstorms, like the one we have today.”

Nathan’s hand darted into the air again, but he didn’t wait for Maribeth to call on him before he answered. “He’s talking about when we have a hard time, like if kids are being mean to us, or things like that, right?”

“Exactly,” Maribeth answered, enjoying this precious group of children. They’d been so involved in the trail rides and adventure hikes, but they were equally involved with the Bible lesson that accompanied each day. “Jesus is letting us know that everyone will have storms in their life, or hard times, but if we have our faith in Him, then we can make it through the storms, like the man who built his house on the rock.” She glanced around at the kids and was thrilled to see they were all still listening, which was good; their parents weren’t due to pick them up for another ten minutes, and she wasn’t sure how long their attention spans would hold out. So she decided to ask another question to spark interaction. “I know I’ve had storms in life—” she thought of one in particular “—that Jesus helped me get through. Can any of y’all think of storms that you have had in your life?”