Sara did need money to live on, which meant she had to work other jobs sometimes, like the temporary gig providing meals at an independent movie shoot in California.

“That job has been postponed,” she said breezily.

“But what about the business end?” Miss Greer asked, a note of desperation creeping into her voice. “Sure, you can clean, and the customers seem to like the breakfasts you’ve cooked, but you’re a disaster with finances.”

Sara tried not to take offense at the blunt comment. She knew this wasn’t an indictment of her trustworthiness, but confirmation of the fact that she was dreadful when it came to managing money. Everybody knew that. If there was such a thing as numbers dyslexia, she had it.

“Please try not to worry,” Sara said. “We’ll work something out. Hey, I know. Reece could handle the money side.”

“Excuse me?” Reece said, giving her a panicked look.

“He’s here anyway,” Sara continued as if he hadn’t objected, “and he’s a CPA, so you can be sure he’s competent. He’s doing all the bookkeeping for Remington Charters, and you know Allie wouldn’t allow that if he wasn’t good with money.”

“Oh, would you, Reece?” Miss Greer asked. “You’re such a good guest, and I hate to impose when you and your cousins have been so nice, but I would rest easy knowing…knowing Sara doesn’t have to handle everything.”

Reece removed his glasses and rubbed one eye before answering. “Well…sure, I can do that for you. But I’ll be going back to New York next week. If I don’t return soon, I’ll lose my job.”

Next week?

“I thought your family owned the company,” Sara said. “Isn’t your boss your father? He wouldn’t fire you.”

“You obviously don’t know my father.”

“Don’t you still have lots of vacation left?” she asked him. Cooper, Reece’s cousin, had said this was Reece’s first vacation in eight years. Eight years! How did he stand it, the same job, crunching numbers day after day after day?