Grind (Powertools The Original Crew Returns #3)- Jayne Rylon Page 0,10

so long zoned out with that cheesy-ass music droning in the background she nearly dropped her phone in surprise. Wouldn’t that have been her luck to hang up by accident?

“Oh! Hi!” How did she even start? How could she explain what had happened without breaking down again.

“Can I help you?” He seemed slightly annoyed or maybe simply frazzled and rushed. She tried to be sympathetic. There were so many other people who had it as bad, or worse, than her. Thankfully no one had been injured at Bare Natural.

“Yes, I am calling because my home and business burned down in the Westpeak fire.” There. She’d said it. Gotten it out past the phantom smoke still threatening to choke her as she recalled what they’d seen the day before.

“Was it a total loss?” How could he sound so blasé? This man handled other people’s tragedies. At least her life wasn’t that miserable. She reaffirmed to herself then that she wanted to help people celebrate their good times, not deal in their misery.

Which was completely unfair. This poor guy was helping people like her. Or at least she hoped he was going to without causing her too much extra grief in the process.

“Yes.” Kayla nodded although he couldn’t see. It helped her feel better about the raspy whisper she croaked out in response.

“Policy number?” he asked, sort of sounding as if he expected her not to know.

She read it off, clearly enunciating each letter and number.

“Great.” He seemed relieved. “You wouldn’t believe how many people don’t keep that information in a safe place.”

“I’ll thank my husband for you later.” She only realized after she said it how dirty that sounded. “I mean, in a normal, not-kinky kind of way.”

And with that the ice was broken.

The agent laughed and so did she. “Sorry, I’m nervous and still freaking out after seeing everything toasted to a crisp. I’m normally a lot more professional, I swear.”

She might not have been a lawyer like her brother Gavyn or a doctor like their sister, but she had successfully operated her business for more than a decade, even if she didn’t look like the CEO of her life to someone she passed on the street. Normally, she sort of got off on being underestimated, but today…she needed as much help as she could get without any snags.

“I completely understand. I’m sorry for your loss.”

And then it hit her. The grief. Because that’s what it was. She was mourning the loss of Bare Natural, and their home, and the happy memories that had been wrapped up in those buildings and the woods surrounding them.

She swallowed hard. “Thank you. So you can help me get back on my feet? We think if we could start relaying foundations immediately and finish the framing before winter we might be able to get some interior construction done during the colder months and be ready to open for a mini-season late next summer.”

“Oh, uhhh…” He didn’t seem to want to ruin their fragile newfound camaraderie. “Ma’am, it could take weeks before we’re even able to schedule an appraisal. We need to get clearance from the local authorities to operate in the area and then we arrange the appointments geographically to be most efficient. You’ll receive notice about a day in advance when the agent is going to be in your area.”

“Weeks?” Kayla calculated how much time was left before the weather would halt construction for the year. And how many working days they could probably squeeze in before even the middle of next season. It wasn’t enough, at least not that she could figure. Maybe the Powertools would have some brilliant ideas she couldn’t conjure up at the moment. Negativity closed in around her, blocking out her ability to see solutions instead of problem after problem after problem. Things were way worse than she’d thought.

“And after that, it could take another one to two months to process the claim.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Kayla glared at the phone. And she’d thought they were on the same page.

“Um, no, ma’am.”

Ma’am again. Fuck that. Kayla growled.

“And…uh…that’s not all.” The guy sounded like he might have crawled beneath his desk to hide from her impeding explosion.

“What else?” She didn’t know if she could even be mad anymore. She was tired. So tired. And they were just getting started.

“Your policy covers the buildings and the grounds. However, in a disaster like this, if FEMA grants are made—which they likely will be for the Westpeak fire—their emergency funding will cover your