Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
TINSLEY
T o my left, Bess, Aiden’s sister, leans over and says, “I can’t decide what I think of the facial hair.”
I think it’s nice. Everything about Aiden Peter Fuller is nice. No, a bump up from nice. If you took nice and elevated it to handsome and hot, slightly mysterious with a subtle commanding and authoritative posture that makes a guest appearance on his otherwise easy-going and entertaining one-man show. That’s Aiden Fuller.
He catches me glance at him and flashes a dangerous wink. I remind myself I’m sitting beside the enemy and stare at the untouched sandwich on my plate. I used to be the kind of woman who’d only pick at her food in the presence of men. As of going on sixty hours since my life turned into a dark comedy, I’ll clear my plate and then lick it clean so there aren’t any crumbs left. Except right now. Mae and Bess have me in a state of nervousness akin to when I’m around my siblings. Thankfully, right now the friend group talks among themselves.
“Can I have your pickle? I love pickles.” Aiden points at my plate.
“Uh, sure,” I reply. “Not a big fan.”
“What about cucumbers?” he asks.
“Did I tell you guys our cucumber vine started growing?” Christina interjects like it’s a small miracle.
Louella Belle comments about vinegar preservation and the fermentation process. “I hope you have a bumper crop.”
“I do like cucumbers,” I say, getting a word in to respond to Aiden’s question.
“But not pickles? They’re practically the same thing. Is it the flavor?” he asks.
“Wait, do pickles come from cucumbers?” I ask, putting two and two together.
Everyone looks at me, slack-jawed.
“What?” I steal another peek at Aiden in case he signals we make a run for it. After Officer Henley’s community service order and Aiden’s invitation to join the crew for lunch, I get the sense we’re in this together.
Despite what Bess said, he doesn’t quite have a beard. It’s just the right length between full facial hair and a few days of unshaved scruff. I can’t say I mind.
He rubs his hand along it and then says, “Yep. Pickles come from cucumbers.”
Bess says, “I’m sorry for thinking you were cavorting with the enemy.” She looks at me less like I’m an enemy and more like I’m the butt of a joke.
“Fraternizing,” I say without thinking...because that’s the correct word and because I’m not dumb. I legitimately didn’t know where pickles came from. Growing up, we had a chef and instead of hot dogs and hamburgers, we had beef tartar and beluga caviar on the regular.
Bess lifts one eyebrow in surprise. “Right. That’s what I meant.”
This would be the moment in the movie when the audience cringes because I’m on thin ice with the Fuller family and Taylor as it is and I just dug in my toe pick, causing a crack along the surface.
I swallow thickly. “I just say that because I’ve read a lot of scripts and have had to look up specific definitions to ensure that I’m accurate with the stage direction. It’s common to get cavort and fraternize mixed up.” I’m about to share the mnemonic device I use to remember the distinction when I realize everyone at the table is quiet and looking in my direction. “Sorry,” I murmur, feeling as humble as...well, the pie that’s no longer on Aiden’s plate.
Since meeting the ladybosses and their guys outside the jail, I’ve wanted to fade into the background, blend into the shrubbery, or ghost. Poof. Where are the Ghostbusters when you need ‘em? This might be a first because my typical position is as close to centerstage as possible.
None of those exits are easy to do in a sequined dress...and without a car or any idea what I’m going to do when I leave this diner. Another reason I threw myself to the lionesses is because I need time to regroup and think about my next steps. It’s not like I can leave Butterbury until the thirty days of community service are under my belt.
“Thank you for the apology,” Aiden says to Bess.
Like a cat watching a toy zip back and forth, everyone swings their gaze to Aiden and Mae to see what she’ll say.
“Your explanation about the thing with Stoll was acceptable. I’m also sorry for thinking you were up to no good. However, you’re still cavorting with the enemy.” Mae looks pointedly at me. Earlier, I sensed she was going to tackle me, pregnant belly and all.
I clear my throat and correct, “Fraternizing.”
“Thanks for the vocabulary lesson, Tinsley,” Mae says dryly. “However, from where I sit, it sure looks like my brother is doing plenty of cavorting with his eyes.”
Someone at the table titters. Someone else mutters, “Ooh, burn.”
Aiden opens his mouth as if to deny it then thinks better of it. However, he seems to relax as if relieved his sister is a degree or two less angry with him than she was when we got to the diner.
If only my siblings and I could make up so fast.
“Well, for now, you’re stuck with us.” Aiden leans back in his chair and stretches in a way that looks like he’s making himself at home.
His shirt shifts, drawing my eyes to his midsection. I can tell it’s tight, toned.
Mae grunts.
I avert my eyes. If I weren’t on a man-cation, I ought to find a nice, normal, average guy. One who clocks in at an office promptly at nine am and is home for dinner by five thirty. We’d watch a show together in the evenings and go to home décor and improvement stores on the weekend.
I would not be ogling the guy next to me. I mean, the pie. It was indeed drool-worthy. Not that I’m going to have any.
My brother may have accused me of acting like an adult lady child, but I can behave like a grown-up.
How old am I? Old enough not to want to answer. Old enough to worry that I might lose roles because of the fine lines appearing around my eyes. But not too old for Aiden Fuller.
Mae gives me a flat look like she’s reading the bad girl thoughts about her brother—that decided to throw a party, complete with confetti—in my mind.
“So, um, tell me about Bubba’s,” I ask not knowing if it’s a who, a what, or a where.
“Bubba’s is a—” Louella Belle starts before Mae interrupts.
“As if Tinsley would get her hands dirty.”
I look down at my slender fingers and manicured nails—most recently painted in the French style with sparkly tips instead of the traditional white. It would be a shame to break another one after the granite rock incident in Newport. But I got myself into this mess, I’m going to get myself out of it.
“Mae, be nice,” Louella Belle scolds. “We ought to show Tinsley some southern hospitality. Bless her heart, she’s new in town.”
“No, she’s been here before,” Mae says.
“For less than a day,” I reply.
“And that’s less than a day too long,” Mae quips.
Aiden stiffens beside me as if the bickering has gone on long enough. I agree, but I also understand why she dislikes me. Heck, if I were her I’d dislike me. Sometimes I dislike me. Here are all these women, some sisters and the rest who seem like sisters, perfectly comfortable with each other and in their skin, never mind their clothing. The sequins on my dress dig into my thighs and my hair may as well belong to my mother’s Lhasa Apso between groomings. Paul, back there in the kitchen, could fry an egg on my greasy forehead. I’ll make nice if only to ask one of them if I can use their shower.
Talk about a walk of shame. Yeesh.
“Now that we know Aiden didn’t steal a cat, what sent you to jail, Tinsley? Did you have a rough night?” Camellia’s English accent doesn’t make the question sound patronizing. Her voice is the kind that could be delivering the lines of a supervillain and still seem soothing.
But I get major stabby eyes from the sisters Fuller. This would be the part in the movie when PJ and the Oak Brook Boys play a tune of reckoning like in an old cowboy movie. Or Taylor could do it if he’s not busy playing love songs for Mae. I’m not jealous. Definitely not envious. But surrounded by all these couples, I wouldn’t mind someone having my back.
“Wait a minute. I think I recognize you,” Christina says.
“Yeah, she showed up at the Fall Fundraiser Festival,” Mae says darkly, reminding me of how I made an uninvited guest appearance and stormed the stage, acting as if the love song was for me when I had a feeling Taylor’s heart belonged to someone else. In fact, it never belonged to me, if I’m honest with myself.
Getting stared down by ten sets of eyes on top of the last couple of days will humble someone faster than a stolen BMW speeding south through Georgia. Clarity whizzes toward me like a boomerang. I can catch it and clutch it. Do the right thing. If I don’t, it’ll keep coming back to me until I set my ego aside and make the right decision. Or it’ll just wallop me upside the head.
Swallowing the dregs of my pride, I shift to face Taylor. “I want to apologize for my behavior back when you were in the band and afterward too. I’m sorry for being clingy, manipulative, and for making assumptions.”
He looks at me as if I’m a stranger as his eyebrows climb his forehead. “Can’t say I ever expected to hear you say that. That’s mighty big of you, Tinsley. Thank you. Apology accepted.”
A low sound comes from Mae’s throat.
I draw a deep breath for this one. “Mae, I am sorry for the day at the festival and the night after. I was out of line, rude, and behaving like a selfish diva. I apologize if what I did upset you, hurt your feelings, or ever made Taylor doubt his feelings for you. He never wrote a love song for me. Just saying.” That’s because he never loved me. I never loved him for that matter.
I wade into the depths of my loneliness on the edge of an island, all alone with tourists floating by on their yacht, watching me. I prepare for them to point and laugh.
Instead, Mae eyes me like we’re meeting at a dusty intersection in the middle of an old western town. “Thank you. Apology accepted.” Her gaze trails to her brother. “As for you, Murder Doll has plans of its own.”
The space between Aiden’s eyebrows tightens. “I have it in my custody.”
“For now,” Mae says like the low and foreboding note in a horror movie.
Christina breaks the silence that follows when she says, “I knew it. I thought I recognized you, Tinsley. You were at the house in California when Puma Palmer got arrested. It’s all over social media. Such a scandal.”
I wince.
Aiden’s eyebrow lifts almost imperceptibly.
I was hoping the gossip didn’t spread through this backwater town. I suddenly want to leave all the wreckage from my old life behind me. To kick off these high heels, tear off this sequined dress and put on something sensible, something made of cotton.
“So what happened?” Camellia asks, leaning in.
As briefly as possible, I tell them the truth. I was sleeping, woke up, was taken in for questioning, then released. I leave out the part about my family banning me from the New York City building, stealing the BMW, and fleeing to Newport, Rhode Island only for my brother to reject me. Among this group, that seems more scandalous than what sent me running from LA.
As I tell the story, Aiden nods, reminding me of the guys who asked about Puma.
“The only upside of the last however-many-hours was I got to see firsthand that federal agents are brawny, burly, beefcakes. They’re strong, protective guys. Then there was the Southern Agent...” I wave my hand in front of my face like a fan. “But I’m going to enjoy being single for now. Take a break. A vacation. A man-cation.”
Christina says, “I did that once. Then I got married a mere few months later to this guy. Good luck.” She scootches closer to Buck and pecks him on the cheek.
“Thank you. Seeing as I’m stuck here and don’t plan to stay any longer than necessary, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Well, don’t be too quick to judge Butterbury. We all unexpectedly ended up here and love it,” Camellia says.
“It’s home,” Louella Belle adds. “Home sweet home.”
I’ve never had one of those.
They break off and talk about Butterbury and who knows what else.
Rhondy clears some plates. She eyes my barely touched sandwich. “You’ll want that later.”
I shrug. My stomach is in such tight knots, I can’t tell if I’m starved or overrun with nerves. Both?
“Can I get anyone else pie?”
“Do you have to ask?” Louella Belle says.
When we came over here from the police station, Camellia walked beside me and talked about the weather. At first, I worried it was a trap and these women were going to snap photos and slander me all over the social media apps—I’ve caught glimpses since having my phone back, primarily while Aiden was talking to everyone in front of the jail. Then I figured, I was already arrested today, am ostensibly homeless, and carless. I wondered can it get much worse. Yep, they sell pie. And Aiden’s slice of peach with ice cream looked like something sent from heaven on a white platter.
Despite the apologies, I’m worried that I’ll get a pie in the face. I get the sense that Aiden’s sisters don’t like me despite my apology so I pass on the slice.
“You remind me of Christina when she first wandered into the diner,” Rhondy says.
Christina nods in agreement. “You won’t last long, Tinsley.”
I just barely stifle my gasp. I thought she tolerated me. Maybe she’s a Puma Palmer fan and thinks, like so many do, that I’m the reason he got in trouble. It wouldn’t take much effort for the social media trolls to dig into what happened and discover that I had nothing to do with his arrest, but I’m somehow implicated because there are photos of me online leaving the Malibu house. It wasn’t even his residence!
Christina’s voice comes to me as she describes baked goods from cookies to brownies to chocolates to pies—all reasons I won’t last long. “Rhondy is the very best baker. I’m telling you, it won’t be long until you break and give in, begging for a slice of her apple pie. That’s the gateway pie.”
Rhondy winks. “When she’s ready.”
I am ready for a nap. Anywhere to rest my head. I discretely hold out my credit card for Rhondy to take. “I’d like to cover the bill.”
She smiles. “That’s mighty kind of you.”
Bess sits next to me reading the Butterbury Bugle—the local newspaper. The headline reads Suspect Apprehended in Cat-Napping . The words blur and then double.
Yep, I really need to find a place to stay. I’m about to ask if there are hotels nearby when Rhondy returns and discretely slides my credit card into my hand. She whispers, “I’m sorry, sweetie. It was declined.”
“Could you try again?” I ask without moving my lips.
“I tried the maximum number of times.”
I thought the trouble at the gas station was a fluke. Heat creeps across my cheeks. Did my parents cancel my credit card? I didn’t look at the bill, but I imagine it’s more than one hundred dollars. If the cards don’t work, my emergency Benjamin is all I have. I dig into my purse and pass it to Rhondy. “I doubt this will cover it, but I can pay the rest back.”
Like a high roller, Aiden slides two one hundred dollar bills into her hand. “That should do it, right?”
“I want to pay.”
“Next time,” he says.
If I weren’t surrounded by veritable strangers, I’d hang my head in my hands. I don’t know what I’m going to do. On top of being homeless, carless, and jobless, now I have no money.
Bess turns the page in the newspaper.
“Is there a classifieds section with apartment options or rentals?” I ask.
“As great as this town is, it’s slim pickings in Butterbury.”
“We’d offer you a place at the bed and breakfast, but we’re booked for a wedding,” Camellia says.
Bess scans the section. “Nope. Not one rental except the one that resulted in a flood and me dumping water on the mayor from the second-floor window.”
Everyone laughs as they recount the story.
“I’ll take it.”
“There are cockroaches,” Cassian says. “I saw one when I was looking under the sink.”
“That’s, um, okay,” I say with a nervous little upturn to my voice.
“And mold,” Bess adds. “You don’t want to stay there. At least not until the owner gets the insurance money and does repairs.”
A cold sweat spreads across my skin.
This isn’t a Cinderella story because, in the end, she got the prince. As for me? I’m experiencing the anti-Cinderella moment. My life is her story in reverse.
There I was, living in the lap of luxury with regular shopping sprees, swanky dinners, and VIP events. My friends called me Tinsley, the queen of Tinseltown. Whether there, in Nashville, or in NYC I strutted along the golden paved streets. Now, I’m in Nowhereville aka Butterbury, Georgia. I don’t even have a pumpkin to turn into a carriage to make an escape.
Stressed, I start to have second thoughts about the pie, but I don’t even have a way to pay for it.
Through the windows, all of a sudden, rain drops in buckets, hammering against the glass. I’m afraid the same is about to pour from my eyes.
“Oh no, I left the windows open at HQ.” Louella Belle races toward the door with Bo on her heels.
“I did the same but at the inn,” Nash says and he and Camellia leave.
“Our windows are closed,” Christina assures Buck. “However, the dogs probably need to go out.” They filter toward the door, leaving Aiden’s sisters, their guys, and the two of us.
“Any other ideas?” I ask. “I probably need a job too.”
“Oh, that’s easy. Weren’t you just saying you guys need help at Sweethearts Bakery and Café?” Bess asks Mae.
She shoots her a sharp look of warning followed by a cringe because Rhondy appears at that exact moment.
“Did I hear someone say they have a candidate for employment at our sweets shop?” Rhondy’s face lights with hope.
“Sure do. Since Tinsley is going to be here a while, she said she needs a job.” Aiden claps me gently on the back.
“Well, you’re in luck. With the ladybosses busy with Designed to Last, I can’t run this place and Sweethearts by myself.”
“She won’t admit it, but she needs a break,” Paul calls from the kitchen. “Please say you’ll do it,” he directs to me.
Like a guppy, my mouth opens and closes. “I, uh—”
This is a moment of truth or non-truth. I can’t tell them that I’ve never worked a day in my life. They’ll leave me outside the city limits then I’ll get arrested for bailing out on my mandatory thirty days of community service.
“Yeah, I’ll do it,” I say.
“Really?” Rhondy asks with her arms lifted like she wants to hug me.
“Sure.” How hard can it be? I don’t have a chance to ask because she pulls me to my feet and gives me what can only be described as a warm, motherly hug. I’d like to remain in her embrace for the foreseeable future.
“Is that going to conflict with community service?” Aiden tips his head in question.
“I’ll only need her from six am until ten. She can get to Bubba’s in five minutes no problem.”
“Actually, there is a problem. Unless Tinsley has a bicycle in the back of her BMW, she doesn’t have wheels, meaning we’ll have to rideshare to Bubba’s.”
“Does that also mean she’ll stay at your place?” Bess asks pointedly.
“She’ll have to.”
“But...” I stutter.
“But we could start at Bubba’s at ten am, giving me time to get some other things done,” Aiden says as if it’s decided.
Cassian gives him a subtle but knowing look. He nods slightly in reply. Does Cassian sense the chemistry between us and doesn’t disapprove like Mae and Bess surely don’t? Or is it something else? Maybe it has to do with the cat. All the same, jail cell bars or not, I’m magnetized to Aiden even though I have zero intention of staying in Butterbury beyond my thirty days of community service.
“I’m on a man-cation!” I say loudly and as if to remind myself.
Mae was sipping water and snorts through her nose with laughter.
“I’m not worried about these two making eyes. No, it’s something else.” Rhondy must’ve caught the look her son and Aiden exchanged because she looks them over carefully. “I’ve known you a long time, Aiden. Something doesn’t add up.”
“No, it doesn’t, Rhondy,” Aiden confirms.
She cuts her gaze slightly. “You have a look in your eye. Like if you told me the full story, you’d have to kill me.”
The corner of his lip lifts in a friendly smile. “That’s why I won’t tell you.”
Briefly, I think about the small-town drama versus real-life drama and not the kind in movies, shows, or the superficial he-said-she-said stuff I was involved in. Looking back on all the gossip I was part of makes me feel small, like a crumb left on a plate.
Aiden shifts in his seat, brushing against me. He somehow takes up a lot of space...and oxygen. It’s like he has his own orbital system and I’ve been pulled in—I played an alien once in a movie and our ship got sucked into another galaxy, resulting in the lady aliens having to marry the Zingots who were extremely handsome lifeforms on the nearest planet.
“We’re in this together. I have a place for you to stay.” Aiden claps his hand on my thigh and then draws it quickly back as if he touched a hot stove burner.
I glance down at the spot where his hand was, expecting there to be a mark, a sign, a scorch. Something. But it’s my normal, smooth, tan thanks to my routine use of tinted moisturizer. However, nothing about the way this man makes me feel under my skin is normal. My belly swoops and my very bones feel electric.
It takes a long moment for me to comprehend what he said and when I do, I have a cautionary case of déjà vu. Last time someone offered me a place to stay a bunch of men in black woke me up from a diva dream. But what other choice do I have?
“Seeing as I’m stuck here and don’t plan to stay longer than necessary, that’s probably the best option. Thanks.”
Our eyes meet then dart just as quickly away.
I’m somewhat relieved not to be sleeping on a park bench, but it’s not like I have any other options. Hopefully, while I sleep, Mae won’t come at me with Murder Doll or whatever Aiden was talking about earlier.
Or maybe I’ll wake up in the morning and this will all be a long, strange dream.