Millionaire Needed Help With A Stroller, Not Expecting To Fall For The Struggling Dad Who Helped
From Professional Consultations to Personal Bonds
Three days later, Deanna found herself standing outside Brady’s workshop. The industrial district was a far cry from her usual haunts, but she’d been unable to stop thinking about the carpenter with the kind eyes.
The workshop occupied a modest space in a converted warehouse. Through the glass front door, she could see Brady bent over a workbench, carefully sanding what appeared to be a table leg.
The concentration on his face was intense; his movements precise. Deanna knocked, and Brady looked up, surprise evident in his expression when he recognized her.
“Deanna,” he said, setting down his tools and wiping his hands on a cloth. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I was in the area,” Deanna lied smoothly. “Thought I’d stop by about those shelves instead of calling.”
Brady opened the door, ushering her inside. The workshop smelled of freshly cut wood and varnish, unexpectedly pleasant.
“Where’s Lily?” Deanna asked, glancing around the workshop.
“School,” Brady replied. “She’s in pre-K now. My neighbor picks her up and watches her until I’m done here.”
Deanna nodded, noting the single framed photo on Brady’s desk of Lily in a pink dress, grinning with a missing front tooth.
“So, these shelves?” Brady prompted.
“Yes, right.”
Deanna quickly described what she wanted, but her eyes kept wandering to the beautiful pieces in various stages of completion around the workshop.
“This is incredible,” she said, running her hand over a polished walnut dining table. “You’re very talented.”
Brady’s cheeks colored slightly at the praise.
“Thank you. It’s a passion as much as a profession.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
Brady leaned against his workbench.
“Professionally, about six years. But I’ve always loved working with wood. My grandfather taught me when I was a kid.”
“And Lily’s mother?” Deanna asked, then immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry, that’s personal. You don’t have to answer.”
Brady shook his head.
“It’s fine. She left when Lily was one. Decided motherhood and marriage weren’t for her. We divorced, and she moved to California. Sends birthday cards occasionally.”
Deanna noted the lack of bitterness in his voice, just a matter-of-fact acceptance.
“That must be difficult,” she said softly.
Brady shrugged.
“It was at first, but Lily and I make a good team.”
He glanced at his watch.
“Speaking of which, I should pick her up soon.”
“Of course,” Deanna said.
“About the shelves, I can come by your place next week to take measurements,” Brady suggested. “Just text me the address and a good time.”
Deanna nodded, then on impulse said, “Would you and Lily like to join me for dinner first? There’s a great pizza place near my building.”
Brady looked uncertain.
“That’s not necessary for a business meeting.”
“It’s not about business,” Deanna admitted. “I enjoyed talking with you both the other day.”
A small smile played at the corner of Brady’s mouth.
“Lily would love that. She’s been talking about the pretty lady with the broken stroller since Saturday.”
“Is that my official title now?” Deanna laughed.
“Until she comes up with something better,” Brady replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
They settled on Wednesday evening, and Deanna left the workshop with a lightness she hadn’t felt in months. There was something refreshing about Brady’s unpretentious manner, his obvious devotion to his daughter, and the skilled way his hands shaped raw wood into beautiful objects.
Wednesday arrived with unexpected nervousness on Deanna’s part. She changed outfits three times before settling on dark jeans and a cashmere sweater—casual but still put together. She wanted Brady and Lily to feel comfortable, not intimidated by her wealth.
The pizza place, Marino’s, was bustling when they arrived. Brady had changed from his work clothes into a clean button-down shirt, and Lily wore a purple dress with leggings underneath, her hair in slightly lopsided pigtails that Deanna suspected she might have done herself.
“I got us a booth in the back,” Deanna said, leading them through the restaurant.
“This place smells amazing,” Brady commented as they slid into the booth, Lily between them.
“They make everything from scratch,” Deanna explained. “I discovered it when I first moved to the building.”
Lily examined the children’s menu with great seriousness.
“Can I have the cheese pizza, Daddy, and chocolate milk?”
“Sure, sweetheart,” Brady said.
Then he looked to Deanna.
“What do you recommend for adults with slightly more sophisticated palates?”
“The margarita is classic, but I love their prosciutto and arugula pizza,” Deanna suggested.
They ordered, and conversation flowed easily. Brady told stories about particularly challenging commissions, and Diana shared anecdotes from her recent business travels.
Lily contributed with tales from pre-K, describing her best friend Emma’s pet hamster with dramatic flair.
“So what exactly do you do at Ellison Technologies?” Brady asked as they worked their way through the pizzas.
“I’m the chief marketing officer,” Deanna replied. “My brother Ben runs the company as CEO since our father semi-retired, but I handle all our branding and market positioning.”
“Impressive,” Brady said.
And Deanna appreciated that he seemed genuinely interested, not intimidated or calculating like many men she met.
“It’s challenging but fulfilling,” Deanna said. “Though sometimes the corporate politics get exhausting.”
“No office politics in my workshop,” Brady grinned. “Just me and the occasional splinter.”
After dinner, Deanna invited them up to her penthouse to discuss the shelving project. Brady initially hesitated, conscious of Lily’s bedtime, but the little girl was so excited about seeing where the pretty lady lived that he relented.
The private elevator opened directly into Deanna’s penthouse, and Lily gasped audibly at the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the city lights.
“It looks like stars!” she exclaimed, running to press her nose against the glass.
“Lily, careful,” Brady cautioned, looking slightly uncomfortable in the luxurious space.
“It’s fine,” Deanna assured him. “The glass is reinforced. She can’t hurt it.”
She showed Brady the wall where she wanted built-in shelving while Lily explored the living room, exclaiming over the remote-controlled gas fireplace and the plush area rug.
“This is doable,” Brady said, taking measurements and making notes in a small, leather-bound notebook. “I’m thinking walnut would complement your existing furniture, maybe with some custom details to match the molding.”
“I trust your judgment,” Deanna said. “Whatever you think would look best.”
Brady named a price that Deanna knew was well below market rate for custom work of his quality. But she didn’t argue. She understood his pride well enough to know he wouldn’t appreciate her pointing it out.
As Brady finished his notes, Lily yawned widely, her earlier energy fading.
“We should head out,” Brady said, noticing his daughter’s drooping eyelids. “Thank you for dinner and for the opportunity.”
“Of course,” Deanna replied. “I’ll look forward to seeing your detailed proposal.”
At the elevator, Lily suddenly wrapped her arms around Deanna’s legs in a sleepy hug.
“Thank you for the pizza. It was the yummiest.”
Deanna felt an unexpected warmth spread through her chest as she gently patted Lily’s head.
“You’re very welcome, sweetie.”
As the elevator doors closed on Brady’s slightly embarrassed smile and Lily’s sleepy wave, Deanna realized her penthouse felt emptier than it had before their visit.
Over the next few weeks, Brady came by several times to work on the shelving project. Sometimes Lily accompanied him after school, spreading her coloring books on Diana’s kitchen island while her father worked.
Diana found herself arranging her schedule to be home during these visits, telling herself it was to provide input on the project, but knowing it was really to spend time with Brady and Lily.
One Saturday afternoon, Brady was putting the finishing touches on the shelving while Diana helped Lily bake cookies in the kitchen. The domestic scene felt strangely natural despite its newness.
“Daddy says you’re a boss lady,” Lily said, as she carefully placed chocolate chips on top of cookie dough balls.
Deanna smiled.
“I guess I am, in a way. I help run my family’s company.”
“Do you like being a boss?”
“Most days,” Deanna replied honestly. “But sometimes it’s nice to just be Deanna.”
“I like Deanna better than boss lady,” Lily declared, licking chocolate from her fingers.
From across the room, Brady caught Diana’s eye and smiled, the warmth in his expression making her heart skip.
After the cookies were baked and the shelves finished, they all sat at Diana’s dining table, enjoying the treats with milk.
“These are the best cookies I’ve ever had,” Brady declared, making Lily beam with pride.
“Deanna helped a lot,” Lily said generously.
“I mostly just supervised,” Deanna corrected. “You’re the master baker.”
As evening approached, Brady began gathering his tools.
“We should let Diana have her Saturday night back.”
“Do you have plans, Deanna?” Brady asked, trying to sound casual.
“Just the usual wild Saturday night of princess movies and popcorn,” Brady replied with a grin.
“Would you like to stay?” Deanna found herself asking. “I have popcorn, and I bet my TV is bigger than yours.”
Brady looked surprised but pleased.
“What do you think, Lil? Should we accept Diana’s invitation?”
“Yes!” Lily clapped her hands. “Can we watch Frozen? Daddy’s only seen it 14 times.”
“Only 14?” Deanna gasped in mock horror. “That’s practically negligent parenting.”
And so Deanna Ellison, CMO of a billion-dollar technology company, spent her Saturday night singing along to “Let It Go” with a carpenter and his daughter. All three of them squished together on her designer sofa. It was the best Saturday night she’d had in years.
