Chapter 17
17
S am stared at his father, tried to make sense of his words. Hadn’t the man been dropping hints about Hope for several days, ones that included what a smart woman she was and how Sam would be a fool to let her get away? “Dad, what are you talking about?” What was he talking about?
His father rubbed his temples, blew out the classic Edgar Harrington sigh, the one that said more than ten paragraphs ever could. “I’m talking about trusting the wrong woman again, letting her infiltrate our lives.” Another sigh, this one louder, followed by a fierce, “Just when I started to believe things could get back to normal, this happens.”
Hope had only spoken with his father once, but the man had become her champion, doling out comments about “surprises coming at unexpected times”. Sam had ignored him, just like he ignored his mother who insisted he invite “his friend” to dinner. He knew exactly what that would look like and that’s why he had a notepad of excuses to avoid that. But after his conversation with Pete, he’d decided it was time to take a jump into trust once again and he planned to do it with Hope. “Dad, what happened? Did Hope contact you?” No, she wouldn’t do that—not now, not since they’d gotten together.
“No, but her partner did.” His dark eyes turned darker, his voice shifting with anger and accusation. “He thinks he can waltz in here and buy this place and the land? Pompous ass, tried to tell me he was doing me a big favor by taking this property ‘off my hands’. And when I told him I wasn’t interested, do you know what he did?”
Sam could guess. He’d only spent a short time with Kent Barclay, but the man reeked of power and intimidation. “Did he threaten you?”
“Not directly, but he let me know if I didn’t play, he’d make life miserable, drive me out of business, and it would not be pretty. Do you know what he wants to do with this place?” His father didn’t wait for Sam to guess before he barreled forward. “He’s going to knock down the clinic and build a bed-and-breakfast, twice the size of Mimi’s with automation and a workout room. What the hell is wrong with these people?” He shook his head, rubbed his forehead. “Why do they think they can come to our town and take over? Throw money and ideas at us and if we stand up for ourselves and say no, they’ll ruin us? What kind of people are they? ”
“I don’t know, Dad, but Hope’s not like that. She came to Magdalena to study the Heart Sent as a model for future bed-and-breakfasts they plan to build.”
“She may not have come up with the idea of invading our town, but she sure offered up enough ammunition for her company to decide they want a presence here.” A frown covered his face. “How would that man know so much about this place and our situation if she hadn’t shared it?”
His dad meant the strain between them and the fact that Sam wasn’t involved in decision making for the practice and wasn’t in line to take it over. Why would she share that with her ex? “Let me talk to her and find out what’s going on.”
“You don’t have to find out anything because I already know, and I told you. They want to take over our town.” His face turned red, his voice rose three decibels. “They want to come in here, revamp everything, and turn this place into a fancy bed-and-breakfast and whatever other amenities people want. If we say no, they’ll try to squeeze us out. Well, guess what? Let them try. And you can tell that girlfriend of yours that when I see her, I plan to speak my mind.”
“Dad, she’s not my girlfriend.”
The raised brow and the harsh laugh said he was a fool for denying it. “Sure, she’s not your girlfriend. That’s right, these days you can sleep with somebody and they’re still not your girlfriend. I’m sorry, son, but she fooled us all. Your mother and I were just starting to think this girl might be our daughter-in-law one day, give us grandbabies, but…”
Sam pushed aside his father’s words and the possibilities tucked inside. “Dad, I’m going to fix this. Nobody is taking the clinic from you, and they are not going to drive you out… Not if I have anything to say about it and I do.”
The look on his father’s face said he wanted to believe Sam, but when he spoke, it was the words of a beaten man. “There was a time when we had such plans…so many ideas…I never thought it would end like this.”
“You can’t give up. I’m going to talk to Hope and put a stop to this.” He took a step toward his father, placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll make this right. Trust me, okay?”
Were those tears in his father’s eyes? “I know you’ll do your best, son. I do know that.” He offered a puny smile. “I’m sorry she wasn’t who we thought she was… Most of all I’m sorry for you.”
Yeah, me too. Had she been playing him all along, trying to get close so she could get information and get a deal—any deal, no matter who got hurt? She wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t put whatever they shared in jeopardy. Would she? What exactly did they share? It wasn’t as though they’d talked about it, and they’d been very clear about not wanting a relationship. Of course, he’d realized the stupidity of that remark the first time they slept together, though he tried to ignore it. Don’t think about the future or what this ‘thing’ between us does or doesn’t mean . Pete Finnegan had brought it all into focus, put sound to the feelings in Sam’s head and it was those feelings he’d planned to share tonight when he finished work, but this conversation changed everything. The only “sharing” he planned to do with Hope right now, involved questions and answers.
Did you know what your ex planned?
Did you tell him my father might be an easy target?
Did you target my dad?
Did you target me?
Is that what this thing between us was all about?
Getting a win no matter what?
A slow anger burned through Sam, grew as he anticipated confronting the woman he’d trusted. “I’ll take care of everything, Dad. Don’t you worry.”
A nod, a defeated, “I wish I hadn’t been so hard on you, wish I’d given you a chance instead of shutting you out.” His dark eyes turned bright, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry.”
Mimi told Hope that Sam loved apple pie. Sweet with a bit of tangy is his favorite , she’d said. Hope had spent more time in Mimi’s kitchen than she ever had in her own and she’d lived in the place for five years! Why was that? Maybe because she’d slowed down enough to consider what she enjoyed. Or maybe because she had someone to encourage her… Or maybe because she’d finally found someone to share it with. Kent had preferred reservations or take out, and when on very rare occasions she cooked, he told her it took too much time and then proceeded to compare the meal and its lackings to the five-star restaurants he frequented. And the darn phone always sat within touching distance to his right hand like a third party—a party he found more interesting than Hope if the constant glancing, scrolling, and texting were an indication.
But Sam? He seemed to love her meals. Hadn’t he eaten three helpings of beef stroganoff the other night? And the chicken marsala? Oh, he loved that. It had been years since she’d attempted a pie, but there’d been a time when she’d been quite adept at it, back when she lived in the bed-and-breakfast. Her mother had tasked her with weekly pies: blueberries, cherry, pumpkin, apple…
She’d stopped baking pies years ago, and while she pretended the reason had to do with extra calories, it was the reminder of the sad life at the bed-and-breakfast. But this place was different. Mimi appreciated help in the kitchen, offered tips on preparing salmon, rolling out sweet rolls, and adding the right amount of “zip” to a pot of chili. Maybe it was okay to encourage this part of herself and it didn’t mean she had to live in the past. There was a whole future waiting to be lived, and for the first time in too many years, she wanted that future to be about more than a promotion or a bonus.
Was she afraid? Definitely. Was she worried about exposing too much of herself and her insecurities? Yes, to that one, too. What about owning up to the truth—Sam Harrington was a big part of her transformation and she wanted him in her life. Those admissions petrified her. They’d both insisted they weren’t interested in long-term or a serious relationship, but could he say that now? Hope’s feelings had changed, and the openness and honesty with which Sam talked to her indicated his feelings might have changed, too.
Hope still had to tell him she wasn’t the sophisticated, wealthy girl from the elite background, even though everyone thought she was. If she wanted a chance with him, she had to share the secrets about her childhood, that included being raised in a bed-and-breakfast where she was more employee than child and the only hope she had was escaping that life and creating a new one with a different backstory.
All of the things she wanted to tell Sam flitted through her head as she peeled and sliced apples, placed them in a bowl of water with a squeeze of lemon so they didn’t turn brown. The piecrust rolling took three attempts and a little “patching” before she fit it into the pie plate. Next, she mixed the cinnamon-nutmeg-sugar mixture, and twenty minutes later, with a bit more crust repair, she slid the pie into the oven. When Sam returned for his afternoon break, he’d smell the cinnamon and spices, know she’d made it just for him…an apology for Kent’s abrupt and inconsiderate appearance. At least the man was gone, and he better not contact anyone from Magdalena again.
She checked the rooster clock on the wall, wished it were already mid-afternoon so she and Sam could talk. Had she ever been as anxious or nervous about having a conversation with someone? No, not even her job interview with Martin compared to this. The only way to pass time was to stay busy and try not to think about it. The staying busy part wasn’t difficult and consisted of peeling more apples for applesauce, washing and drying the dishes, taking a long walk…visiting Mimi’s garden, and getting lost in the beauty of this private escape. The biggest distraction lay in the plans she reviewed for a bed-and-breakfast model, one that included an authentic feel, not run by automation or cookie-cutter duplications. The Heart Sent offered the perfect model, and while Kent laughed at the photo albums and the wallpaper, they represented a familiar and welcome intimacy for guests. What couple wouldn’t want to share a photo of their visit, the smiles and obvious love? And while lace, wallpaper, and stuffed pillows might make a person think of their aunt or grandparents’ home, wasn’t that the point? Family. Love. Comfort.
Hope had jotted down several more ideas while she sat on a wrought-iron chair in Mimi’s garden. She’d created broad brushstrokes these past weeks, but this afternoon she added details that should be considered when modeling the Heart Sent and the town for future bed-and-breakfasts in various locations. Surely, Martin would understand that their company could create their own Heart Sent in towns that resembled this one yet carried their own authenticity.
They must leave Magdalena and the Heart Sent alone!
But a tiny part of her worried he might not see it that way, might listen to Kent as her ex laid out plans and promises that would help the town—even though the town didn’t want or need help. What if Martin refused to consider Hope’s ideas but stuck with his nephew’s? Then she would have to fight them and protect Mimi, the town, and every business in Magdalena. Thoughts of Kent’s underhanded ploy and attempts to convince Martin to support his plan gave her a headache and made her queasy. As soon as she talked with Sam, she’d contact Martin once again and pitch her ideas. He had to agree…
When the front door to the Heart Sent opened late that afternoon, Hope sat in the kitchen, flipping through Mimi’s recipe book. She’d showered, dressed in jeans and a lavender T-shirt, minimal makeup, gold hoops. No pearls, no chignon. Lavender brings out the highlights in your hair. Sam had toyed with the collar of her lavender blouse, reached for the pins in her hair, removed each one. I love your hair, love the feel of it between my fingers… He’d clung to the “love” word, eyes bright as her hair slipped through his fingers. I love the way it feels when you ? —
“What have you done?” Sam stood in the doorway of the kitchen, fists clenched, anger smothering his face.
Hope set aside the recipe book. “What’s wrong?” She stood, started toward him, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“Stay right where you are.”
“What happened?” Had his mother admitted she’d shared his story about his ex-wife? Or had she told him she believed he and Hope might get together? Or?—
“Was I a target from the beginning?”
“A target? What are you talking about?”
“That ex-boyfriend of yours approached my father, told him he was interested in buying the practice and the land tied to it.” Disgust and anger swirled through his next words. “He said it would make a perfect bed-and-breakfast.” The expression turned darker, the right side of his jaw twitched.
“Kent said that? No, he’s gone.”
A raised brow, followed by a scowl. “Maybe, but not before he paid my father a visit and offered to buy the building and the land. Apparently, that’s option two since Mimi’s not selling.”
Hope fought back the dread inching up her throat, her next words a mix of disbelief and confusion. “They can’t do that.”
“Of course they can.” The look he gave her said she was na?ve and foolish to believe otherwise.
“Your dad can refuse.”
“Just refuse?” he spat out. “It seems it won’t be that easy because your ex implied if my father doesn’t sell, they’ll find a way to drive business away. Shut him out and shut him down. How’s that for goodwill and emulating small-town life?”
Horrible. Unacceptable. “I’ll take care of it. Whatever Kent’s done, I’ll undo it. I’ll call Martin and let him know he has to fix this mess.” She took a step toward Sam, stopped when he flinched.
“Really? Don’t be so sure that your boss isn’t involved in this plan.” He crossed his arms over his chest, stared at her as though she were a stranger. “You played me, didn’t you? Get close to the fool, pretend you care, and then go after the father.”
“Of course not! I would never do that. How can you even think such a thing?” Don’t you know how I feel about you? Don’t you know how much I care…?
“Because it’s true?”
Hope tried to find the words to tell him how wrong he was, but disbelief and hurt stole her logic and common sense. “I would never do that.” When the tears threatened, she tried to hold them back. She hadn’t cried in front of anyone since she was a teenager and her mother told her to grow up and stop believing in happily-ever-after. But she couldn’t stop these tears, not when the first one fell, the third or the tenth. Hope grabbed a napkin to swipe her eyes, but it didn’t matter. The tears kept coming and Sam just kept staring.
“It must have taken a lot of practice to learn how to manufacture those tears.”
She cleared her throat, managed to speak. “Sam, please… You have to believe me.”
“Do I? What else are you keeping from me because it’s not convenient to admit?” He dragged a hand through his hair, left pieces sticking up. “Damn you for making me believe you were different… Making me believe…” His words trailed off, and he shook his head, muttered a curse. “Stay away. If you care about this town, you’ll leave.”
“What if I care about you? I have to stay and make this right.”
His mouth flattened and when he spoke, there was no emotion in his words. “Stay away from me and get out of this town.”
And then he turned and walked out of her life, taking with him the possibilities and the dreams she’d begun to believe could happen.