Sweet Caroline Read Online Free PDF Page A

him. As a matter of fact, he’s on the cover of this month’s Forbes .”
    “Sure, Carlos.” I’ve seen him on many magazine covers, read about him via Hazel’s e-mails. “The European Donald Trump. Runs a large development and property company. Y’all build and buy apartments, condos, villas.”
    “Right. If you can live in it, we own it.”
    “A grass hut?”
    “Sri Lanka.”
    “Mud hut?”
    “Okay, no mud huts. Even Carlos draws the line somewhere.”
    “And he considers himself a Donald Trump?” I tug the scrunchy from my hair and shake it free.
    “He does. With great pride. And he’s a big fan of The Apprentice .” I bolt upright. “I’m not going on TV.”
    “No, no, he’s not talking TV . . . yet. For now, all he wants is a hard-working individual with a bright mind he can mold into a Mini Me, rather a Mini Him.”
    “And you offered up me?”
    From the dining room, Cherry and Posey slap high fives as they win another round of cards. A frustrated Henry jerks away from the table with an, “I need more tea.”
    “I’ve convinced Carlos you are perfect to be his first apprentice. You have no preconceived ideas or agenda or college professor telling you it should be like this instead of that .”
    “Hazel, I’m a waitress. A bookkeeper. Hometown girl with only a high-school diploma.”
    “Actually, he loves that about you. When I told him about how you helped your dad and Henry rebuild their businesses, his eyes glowed.”
    Running my hand through my hair—it feels dry against my fingers—I correct her. “Hazel, I didn’t help Dad rebuild his business. I filled in when his office manager quit.”
    “You organized an entire network and computer installation. Did the same thing for Henry. Brought all the accounting and inventory online.”
    “Right, but I didn’t help them rebuild anything.” My thoughts form a pleasant thanks-but-no-thanks reply to my overeager, overachieving friend.
    “Well, look what you did for Jones and the Café.” Her enthusiasm is undaunted.
    I laugh. “Okay, you got me. I introduced computers to Jones and learned to run a very small café. Woo-wee. The business world just tilted.”
    “Caroline, you’re a team player, a problem solver. You work well under pressure and have phenomenal people skills.”
    “I do?” I ease against the back of the sofa.
    “Never mind your amazing ability to see good in people. Your com-passion toward your mom always blew me away.”
    “Now you’re just talking crazy.”
    “C, wouldn’t we have so much fun? Living in Europe together? But, if you agree to this, you can’t change your mind because of some family or hometown emergency.”
    Her summation of my skills does little to bring clarity. Me? In Spain? “Hazel, you really think I can do the job?”
    “One hundred percent. You are ready for this kind of challenge, girl. And, you’re exactly what Carlos is looking for—raw material.”
    Well, in that case . . . But, I catch my “yes” on the tip of my tongue before Hazel hears it. Never, ever have I done anything like this. Daytona Beach for spring break my senior year is my biggest brouhaha so far.
    Well, except for the time Mama got a wild hair and decided to rearrange holidays, celebrate Christmas on Halloween, New Year’s on Thanksgiving. For my fourth-grade Halloween party, she sent me to school wearing a red-velvet dress and black patent-leather shoes, carry-ing a free gift bottle of Clinique’s “Happy” wrapped in Santa paper.
    Yeah, this Barcelona thing requires some thought. “Can I call you in an hour?”
    Hazel’s slow sigh billows in my ear. “Call me at the office. I’ll e-mail you the number. Caroline, just say yes.”
    As I hang up from Hazel, a shout rises from the dining room. Dad and Henry finally won a hand.
    I grab the kitchen flashlight and steal out the back door, heading around front to my sanctuary—the ancient live oak. Parting the Spanish moss that dangles from gnarly limbs like