Chapter 15
15
“ H i, Hope. Happy to see me?”
The man who’d almost made her believe there were no decent men left, moved toward her, his gaze darting from Hope to Sam. Of course, he was attempting to analyze and catalogue her relationship with Sam. Friends? Associates? More than friends? The left jaw twitch gave him away. Kent did that when he was annoyed, and he wouldn’t care about a friendship or association with Sam, but something else? That would annoy him since he refused to believe they couldn’t have another chance, despite the many times she’d told him it would never happen. Hope cleared her throat, stared him down. “Why didn’t I know you were coming? Does Mimi Pendergrass know?”
“Of course, she knows.” His expression softened and he laughed. “I asked her to keep it a secret because I wanted to surprise you.” His voice shifted, his gaze darting back to Sam. “Looks like I’m the one who’s surprised.”
Sam clutched her hand, his body blocking the door. “Mimi usually turns in around eight. I’m surprised she agreed to wait up for you.” The jaw clench said not happy. “Small towns aren’t like cities. We honor privacy and respect common courtesy, like daytime arrivals.”
“I offered to come in the morning, but Mimi said anyone bringing a gift package from her daughter was welcome at the Heart Sent, even if it was midnight.”
Why hadn’t Kent bothered to contact Hope to let her know he was coming? Why was he here? She bet he’d hatched another plan and hadn’t bothered to tell anyone—not even Martin. “Does Martin know you’re here?”
“Of course he does. Martin knows everything.” The smile she once thought captivating now appeared false and manufactured. What exactly did he mean? Hope turned to Sam, touched his arm. “We should go inside. I don’t want to keep Mimi waiting any longer than necessary.”
In the short time Hope had known Mimi Pendergrass, she should have realized the woman would not admit a guest without offering food and a welcome, no matter the time or the situation. She also should have realized that while Mimi might appear welcoming and gracious, she was no fool. That became apparent twenty minutes later when they were all sitting in the “parlor”, a tray of cheese and crackers on the table along with a plate of banana bread, cut in perfect slices. While Mimi fixed Kent’s scotch, she dropped casual questions like What did you think of my daughter’s bed-and-breakfast? Did you meet Oliver? Who else did you meet? Kent’s answers were precise, calculated, with just the right amount of inflection to suggest interest in the aforementioned parties. But did he care? Did he believe he’d found the right prototype in Reunion Gap for the bed-and-breakfast expansion? Hard to tell and he wasn’t sharing much other than simple answers that could be interpreted in several ways.
When Mimi handed Sam and Hope a beer, Kent raised a brow. “Beer?” A tilt of his head, a curious, “Interesting.”
Hope shrugged, took a sip, straight from the bottle which she knew would aggravate him. “I still drink wine, but beer does have a certain attractiveness to it. Cool, refreshing, pairs well with pizza and wings.” She could have said “pairs well with chateaubriand” and he still would have made a “disgusting” and “not in his lifetime” face.
“I see. Have you developed any other interests since you’ve been here?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but Sam offered an answer. “I’d say she admits to what she really likes instead of what she should like. It’s very freeing once you realize you’ve been trapped in an existence you don’t recognize.” He took a healthy swallow from his bottle, eyes on Hope’s ex. “Once you find that freedom, you don’t ever want to go back because it’s not worth the cost.”
Kent lifted his glass, saluted Sam. “I wouldn’t be so sure Hope hasn’t adapted to her environment as opposed to choosing something she loves. She’s very good at it. I’ve seen her at black-tie-affairs and in boardrooms. Highly adaptable. Almost chameleon-like.” His words smothered her. “Remember the event in Arlington? You won them over before the entrées arrived.”
Yes, she did remember that dinner, and while she’d been exhilarated over how she’d garnered their support and the subsequent business, the way she’d stretched who she was made her queasy. The over-the-top compliments, the laughter, the teasing attitude…it did not feel honest or authentic. “That was a different time.” Back then she’d believed it was what she had to do, what she wanted to do to achieve success—and yet it had left her empty.
“Maybe.” Kent nodded, sipped his scotch. “Or maybe not.”
As he sipped his way through another scotch, Kent boasted about the deals he’d made, including the dollar amounts and cut-throat methods he’d used to close those deals. It’s all about getting that deal , he’d said, tossing out more examples of his superior abilities. How had she found that annoying smugness attractive? Found him attractive?
Mimi nodded and asked a few polite questions while Sam just stared, jaw set, lips pulled into a frown, letting everyone know he didn’t like anything about Kent. She hadn’t come right out and told Sam that Kent was her ex, the one who’d betrayed her, but a short time into the conversation, only a fool wouldn’t know. The insinuations, the references to them as a couple, and the way his gaze lingered on her made it very obvious that Kent Barclay had been more than a business associate.
If Sam would only look at her, give her some sign that Kent’s appearance in Magdalena didn’t change anything between them...but he didn’t. In fact, he acted as though she were merely a visitor who’d come to do a job. Nothing personal, certainly nothing tied to him. She’d spent most of her life protecting her heart, sharing only so much, never all-in. Until Sam. He was different. He’d been worth trusting, worth showing who she really was and what she wanted, and she’d believed he felt the same way. But the stone-cold expression told her he’d shut down.
She had to talk to him alone, tell him how sorry she was that Kent had shown up and then explain the rest— Whatever Kent and I shared is over. Now, it’s all business.
“Kent, how long will you be staying?”
Mimi Pendergrass’s words swirled through the sitting room, landed on top of Hope. All she cared about was when he was leaving. A shrug, a casual glance Hope’s way, and then, “That depends.” Another shrug, another glance at her. “Hope and I will work together and develop a plan for our boss. It could take a few days. We’ll see.” His smile settled on her, his voice turned husky. “She’s very thorough so I don’t expect it will take long.”
Why was he acting as though she wanted him in Magdalena, helping her? What was he up to now? “I still don’t understand why you’re here. I’ve been in touch with Martin, and I don’t need your help.” Why was he really here…unless…? Of course! The answer pinged her brain seconds after she spoke. He’d been unsuccessful with his town and wanted to take over hers . “So, what happened in Reunion Gap? Did you not get Daniel Reese to sign your bowl?”
A splash of red covered his cheeks, telling her that didn’t go as planned. “The guy blew me off. Said I could talk to his business manager if I had questions about his pieces. Talk about surly.” An eye roll, a big sigh. “So, his wife’s pregnant? I only asked her a few questions, and it’s not like she’s the only person in the world who’s ever had a kid.”
Oh, that comment did not sit well with Mimi or Sam. Hope clutched her beer. “Did you barrel in and try to sell the town on the idea of becoming everybody’s best friend, ask for an introduction to Daniel Reese?” Hope glared at him, made sure she did not hide her annoyance.
Kent leaned back, ignored her comment. “Business is business, whether there’s a pregnancy involved or not. Apparently, the guy didn’t agree because the whole town shut down. I couldn’t find out anything , not who visited or where they came from, definitely not the ones who moved there. There are a lot of high rollers, but they all gave me the stink eye and nobody would talk.”
Mimi tilted her head, tapped a finger against her chin. “Not even my daughter?”
There was no way he could hide his irritation. “ Especially not your daughter. The blueberry muffins I enjoyed every morning dwindled… No more chocolate chip cookies… No cherry pie… No conversation beyond the niceties. Very businesslike and very obvious she no longer welcomed me there. When I flat out asked her why the cold shoulder, she told me people deserved to be treated with respect and were more than dollar signs. And then her boyfriend, the hippie dude? I visited his record store a few times, bought some cool stuff. Once he heard about what happened? He told me I might as well leave because nobody was doling out information.”
Kent dragged a hand through his perfect hair, confusion smothering his face. “How do people do business there? Why would they want to…? There’s no way I could recommend modeling a small-town bed-and-breakfast or small-town community based on what I experienced there. All I saw were closed-minded skeptics who weren’t willing to share anything.”
“Sounds like they didn’t want you there.”
Hope darted a glance at Sam, waited for him to say more. He hadn’t spoken in what seemed like an hour.
Kent sipped his scotch, eyed Sam. “Hope and I live in Alexandria. Have you ever lived in the city? Ever experienced that life?”
The sharpness in his tone said he doubted it and was setting Sam up for an attack. “Kent, I don’t think that’s relevant and?—”
“Actually, I have.” Sam toyed with his beer bottle, said in a casual voice, “More years than I care to admit. Chicago was my home but it never felt like home. The people never felt like real friends. The money didn’t make a difference in my life either…not in a good way.”
The laugh said Kent didn’t believe him. “Money always makes a difference and who doesn’t love Chicago? The food, the entertainment, the people?”
“I didn’t. And from what I heard, neither did Jameson Price. Did you meet him? He owns the Oak Table in Reunion Gap, but he used to own the Oak Bench in Chicago.”
“What? He owned the Oak Bench?”
Surprise, confusion, disbelief—it was all there, plastered on his handsome face. “How did you not know about Jameson Price?” Unless he’d been so busy trying to maneuver a “relationship” with the bowl maker that he’d missed other opportunities. That sounded like her ex.
Kent slapped a hand on his knee, said in a tight voice, “Because nobody told me about him. I ate at his place several times, sat at the bar and talked to the bartender. The guy just introduced himself as Jameson. That was him! He knew I’d been to Chicago, knew I was big into hotel development. Why wouldn’t he say anything?”
The man might be excellent in areas of negotiation, but people were still people and if you didn’t know how to read them or respect them, you weren’t going to earn their trust. No doubt, Jameson Price had a reason for not sharing that information, or the fact that he’d once lived in Chicago. Maybe the man didn’t want to be reminded, or maybe he wanted to concentrate on the life he had in Reunion Gap. Maybe he had a wife and children…but Kent wouldn’t understand any of this. He would just want to latch onto the big name, the big concept, the smell of money. No wonder the man had kept quiet. “Did you ever think he wanted privacy? That maybe Chicago and that restaurant aren’t his life anymore?”
The look on his face said she had no idea what she was talking about and even less how the real world worked. “Come on, are you trying to tell me that a guy who had a restaurant like that, doesn’t want anyone to know? That place is something else. Remember when we tried to get in and there was a three-week wait?”
Yes, she did remember. Kent had raised such a huff about it, insisted on speaking with the manager and offered a huge tip if they could get a dinner table. The man hadn’t budged and Hope had been glad that money hadn’t been able to influence the decision. She caught Sam watching her. “I do remember. I admired the manager’s stance on reservations.”
“You admired it? He could have made a hundred bucks just to slide us in, even a late-night slot would’ve been fine, but no. The guy wouldn’t do it, would he? I swore I’d never return to that place, but then I had to for business…and well, I can’t resist the filet, and they make one of the best old-fashioneds I’ve ever tasted.”
Sam cleared his throat. “If you’re that intrigued with the place, guess you should have booked ahead of time.”
Kent shot him a look. “Yeah, well some of us are very busy and have deadlines and assistants who still haven’t learned to anticipate what’s necessary when traveling.”
Goodness, the man sounded like a pompous jerk. It was ridiculous and embarrassing. “Kent, please stop.”
He settled his gaze on her, intent, determined, as if he were analyzing a deal. “Okay, fine. I have some paperwork for you to look at and Martin wanted me to discuss a few items with you.” His gaze darted from Mimi to Sam, his lips pulling into a smile that held no sincerity, no warmth. “Do you mind if I have a few minutes with Hope?”
“Sure. I think I’ll head up.” Sam stood, glanced at Hope, and said, “Good night.” And then he was gone as if they hadn’t shared anything more personal than a few conversations and meals…not a bed, not feelings, nothing...
Mimi excused herself a few minutes later, leaving Kent and Hope alone. The sooner she found out what he wanted, the sooner Hope could find Sam and apologize. Kent had been rude and arrogant, and while she couldn’t control what he did or said, the fact that they worked for the same company and that she’d been involved with him reflected on her…and not in a good way. Bad judgment. Wrong person. Yes, she would admit to both of those.
Hope turned to Kent and asked, “Why are you here? At this time of night? Could it not have been handled with a phone call?”
“No, not really.” He leaned back, scotch glass resting on his right knee. “Apparently, this place is a gold mine. I didn’t see it at first, but I think I was just too caught up with the opportunity to meet the bowl maker that I overlooked a few things.”
“Such as?”
He sipped his scotch, his expression unreadable. She’d seen him do this in meetings with potential clients, and she didn’t like it, and now he was doing it with her. “According to the information you shared with Martin, Magdalena is a solid community with a feel-good vibe. There’s a lot of talent here, which of course, I didn’t see from the reports. I didn’t actually visit this place because if I had, I would have picked up on it right away.” Pause and a slow smile. “Like you did.”
“What are you saying?” What was he saying?
“The Heart Sent and Mimi Pendergrass are a huge attraction.” He waved a hand in the air, nodded. “Huge.”
“Yes, and I commented on that in my findings to Martin.” Why had Martin shared her work with Kent? “Does Martin really know you’re here?” Nephew or not, she couldn’t believe the man would be okay with Kent barging into Magdalena and attempting to take over.
“Who do you think encouraged me to come?” The smile slid across his face, cool, calculating. “We both think there’s untapped opportunity here.”
“ Here? What are you talking about? This is a research community. We’re not building anything here.” The look he gave her said she was na?ve and didn’t understand the scope of the plan. Dread smothered her thoughts, forced her to ask, “Are we?”
Kent set his drink on the table, leaned toward her, and lowered his voice. “Martin suggested we offer to buy this place, turn it into our flagship bed-and-breakfast. Everything else will be patterned after it.” He glanced at the floral wallpaper, the albums on the table, the overstuffed pillows. “We’ll need to make a few updates, probably automate a system or two, especially in the kitchen area. But if we could buy this place and one or two shops on the main street? Think what that would look like?”
He was serious! “I can’t think what that would look like because it would be a disaster. You’d destroy this bed-and-breakfast and why would you change any of the existing shops?” She tried to remain calm, forced her breathing patterns to stay even. “They’re perfect the way they are. Quaint. Unique.”
“They’re outdated and in need of a facelift. I read through the notes you sent Martin and spotted quite a few areas for improvement.”
“Kent, this was not part of our deal, and I don’t like that Martin shared my plans with you.” Why would Martin do such a thing? “I’m going to call him and find out what’s going on.”
“You’ve gone soft. Think about it, Hope. If we set it up right with marketing and the appropriate automations, this place will explode. We’ll have our pick of any bed-and-breakfast around the country we want.” He rubbed his jaw as if considering all of the possibilities. “But we’re going to have to set it up just right.”
“Don’t you dare say a word to anyone in this town. That’s not why I came here and I’m just beginning to earn their trust. They all thought I had an ulterior motive and I will not look like a liar.”
He raised a brow, his smile cold. “How would you look like a liar? Plans change. This plan changed.”
“If it weren’t so late, I’d call Martin right now. I’m going to speak with him in the morning, and you better not mention anything to Mimi or anyone else in this town.”
“Are you worried about the vet?”
Hope kept her expression even, the emotion in her voice buried. “I’m worried about everyone. I told them I wanted to duplicate the Heart Sent and find a town like Magdalena. I did not say I wanted to take over Magdalena.”
He sipped his scotch, studied her until she looked away. “You’ve never been able to make the tough calls, have you? No, you always let emotion get in the way even when you said your choices were all business decisions.”
She swung her gaze back to him, hands fisted in her lap. “If you think I showed emotion because I wanted to do the right thing for my clients and not push them? Then fine, think what you want.”
“You’re no different than me. You just use the touchy-feely technique to convince them what they want, and it makes you feel better. I tell them they have a choice to sell to us, or I’ll move on and make someone else rich…and they’ll be the losers. Mimi Pendergrass will have the same choice. Sell her place to us and she can keep running it, or we’ll build our own and make hers insignificant.”
“Build our own? What does that even mean? You think you’re going to come into Magdalena, buy up property, and build your own bed-and-breakfast?” Was he serious? “That would never happen. And if you?—”
“That’s exactly what I think. And the guy who was here tonight? His father’s business is sitting on some prime real estate and that will be the first place we go after.”