Chapter 15

RILEY

Two days later, I turned to the next page in the document Jonathan gave me. "I don't know much about business plans, but this looks great."

"Do you think I've included the right information?" he asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.

I wasn't exaggerating when I said I knew nothing about business plans. If Jonathan asked me to critique a painting or write a marketing plan for an exhibition, I could do it with my eyes closed. But this? This was different. Jonathan's dream of opening his own candy store rested on the strength of the plan in front of me.

"We should ask Eric. He's good with words," I suggested, hoping he knew more about business plans than I did.

Jonathan leaned his elbows on the kitchen table. "I haven't seen him in town very much. He must be enjoying his vacation."

Eric had told everyone he was here to enjoy a summer by the lake. And if they really pushed, he told them he used to be a detective. I just hoped no one dug any deeper into his life. "I see him when he's walking Sherlock each morning. It looks like he's enjoying his time here. If Eric can't help, you could ask one of the business owners in town. They might know what the bank manager wants to see."

Jonathan frowned. "Do you think Eric would mind us interrupting him now?"

I picked up my cell phone. "I'll call him and ask."

After a short conversation, I handed Jonathan the draft document. "He's happy to look at it."

By the time we walked around the outside of the cottage, Eric and Sherlock were waiting for us on the veranda.

"Come inside," Eric said with a smile. "I don't know how much help I'll be, but I'm happy to add my thoughts."

I glanced around my grandparents' cottage. Eric had added a few things of his own, but the furniture and rugs were exactly the same. I looked above the fireplace and frowned. "Did the realtor take all the photos and paintings off the walls?"

Eric cleared a space on the dining room table. "I'm not sure. What you see is what was here when I arrived." His hands stilled as he looked at me. "You haven't been inside your grandparents' cottage since you came home."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "It's your home. I didn't want to intrude." Eric's gray eyes connected with mine. There was so much compassion and understanding in their depths that I had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying.

"Why don't you have a look around while I read the business plan?"

I shook my head. "I don't need to. Just being in the living room is enough." I ran my hand along the back of the rocking chair. My grandfather built it from trees that grew around the cottage. My grandma made the bright orange rug under the coffee table, and the TV was the same one my mom bought them years ago. So much was the same but, without my grandparents, it would never feel like the home I remembered.

Sherlock sat beside me. I knelt on the floor and gave him a big hug. "Who's a good boy?"

He leaned into my arms, panting softly.

Eric sighed. "You're the only person apart from me who can do that."

I ran my fingers through Sherlock's thick coat. "That's because we have a special bond."

"And you give him chicken for breakfast."

"It was only a couple of times," I murmured. "He loves it."

"I'm sure he does." Eric picked up a pair of glasses and opened the folder Jonathan gave him. "It shouldn't take me too long to read this."

"Jonathan and I did some research about what should be in a business plan," I said. "I left our notes at the back of the folder."

"We think we've covered everything," Jonathan added. "But it'd be good to get a second opinion."

Eric settled into one of the chairs. "I hope I can help. The coffee's still hot if you'd like a drink."

"Why don't Jonathan and I take Sherlock for a walk?" I suggested. "I have my cell phone with me. If we're not back by the time you've finished, just call."

Sherlock ran across the room and sat beside the French doors.

Eric's gaze moved from his German Shepherd to me. "It looks like you have your answer. Take the dog whistle. It's on top of the refrigerator. If Sherlock goes too far, blow it and he'll come running."

"We won't be long," I said as I headed toward the kitchen.

Eric nodded and opened the folder.

Whatever advice Eric could give us would be better than none. All Jonathan and I had to do was get Sherlock home without him rolling in anything too smelly. And that, I knew, would be harder than fine-tuning Jonathan's business plan.