Chapter 5 #2
“Because … because …”
“Because you wanted to grow your business, and you thought working with me would expand your reach.”
She chuffed like a horse.
“Right?” I asked.
“Fine. You always need to have the last word. Be selfish.” She stomped out of the shop, iPad under her arm, and slammed the door.
The glass and the wood rattled, mirroring how I felt.
An hour later, after the last customers had gone and only Tegan, Chloe, and I were in the shop, Vanna swanned in with a huge tray of baked goods.
Her mother, Noeline Merriweather, trailed her.
Noeline, who was just shy of sixty-one, turned heads.
Attired in a frilly floral frock, her bobbed hair gently curled, she reminded me of Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire.
“I’m sorry, Allie, about earlier,” Vanna said. “I was in the wrong.”
In all the years I’d known her, I couldn’t remember her ever saying the word sorry. Certainly not to me.
“Go on,” Noeline said. “Tell her you were being a diva.”
“I was being a diva.”
I didn’t disagree. Chloe tamped down a snort. Tegan elbowed her.
“I’m working on this aspect of my personality with my therapist,” Vanna added.
I mentally palm slapped my forehead. She was in therapy? I exchanged a look with Tegan, who looked as shocked as I was.
“Auntie encouraged me to go, but I never did. When she died …” Vanna’s gaze skated toward the ceiling, as if she was trying to stem tears. She lowered her chin. “I’m going to honor her.”
Noeline smiled. “And to help yourself.”
“Yes.” Vanna placed the tray of goodies on the sales counter.
I caught sight of the macarons and her specialty, petits fours, and my mouth began to salivate. I snagged a pink macaron and bit into it. “Delicious. You’re forgiven.”
The compliment made her smile.
“What can I do for the event, girls?” Noeline asked. Twice a widow, after her second husband—Tegan’s father, the true love of her life—passed away from a rare blood disease, she’d pieced herself together and invested wisely. The B&B was a huge success and was constantly filled with happy travelers.
“You’ve done enough, Mom,” Tegan said. “You emailed all the invitations.”
In this day and age of online everything, we didn’t send formal invitations. The cost was prohibitive. E-vites worked perfectly well.
“But I want to do more,” Noeline said. “I want the event to be thrilling. After all, The Great Gatsby is one of my favorites. I can quote so many lines.” She intoned, “‘I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.’ Dear sweet Gatsby.” She sighed.
“He was so incredibly forlorn, don’t you think? ”
“Mom, Nick, the narrator in the book, says that line.”
“I know, darling. It’s neither here nor there. We’re not competing in a comparative literature contest.” She raised a finger in the air. “I was merely commenting on the character of Gatsby. I think he is to be pitied.”
All of us agreed.
“How about if I take on the chore of having quotes printed like you did for the memorial?” Noeline asked. To honor Marigold, we’d chosen selections from Pride and Prejudice. “It was such a lovely touch.”
“Yes, please do,” I said.
Chloe cleared her throat. “But—”
I shot her a look. Granted, she was in charge of printing and posting the quotes, but Noeline looked earnest and in need of a project. I was sure I could find more for Chloe to do. The décor alone was going to require a lot of hands. We hadn’t adorned the shop for Marigold’s memorial.
“Oh, by the way, daughters,” Noeline said, “since you’re both here, I’d like to tell you the news. I’m considering purchasing another bed-and-breakfast.”
“And selling the Blue Lantern?” Vanna cried.
“No. I’d own two.”
“Mom, that’s too much,” Tegan protested.
“No it’s not. I’ve easily got the ability to leverage the one and snag the other, and if I need to pay all cash to get it, I can. I’m flush. It’s also in Montford and so adorable. A pink Victorian with white vergeboard trim. The garden needs work.”
“But, Mother, you’re—” Tegan pressed her lips together.
“I’m what?” Noeline jutted a hip. “Too old? Too feeble? Past my prime?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“You’re in your sixties,” Vanna said without thinking. “Near retirement age.”
“Tosh! I’m not going to retire until death do I part.”
Good for you, I thought. Her sister Marigold would be thrilled with her energy and enthusiasm.
Noeline clapped her hands once. “I’m excited for the challenge. I’ve hired a great contractor to do the renovations.”
“Patrick Hardwick,” I said.
“Yes. How did you—”
“I ran into him at Ragamuffin yesterday, and he mentioned he’s going to start by renovating your office.”
“He has all sorts of clever ideas for the rest of the place.”
“I’ll bet he does,” Tegan said. “To drive up his paycheck.”
“Nonsense. He’s quite attentive to cost. Everything is written in a proposal, with no possibility of going more than ten percent over the estimate.”
“I like him,” Chloe said. “He reads across genres, is very eager to please, and is so handsome.”
“Speaking of handsome men,” Noeline said, “have all of you met Jason Gardner? He’s new to town. I ran into him earlier at Blessed Bean. He’s going to—”
“Build a mall,” Tegan cut in. “Yes, we met him. He’s going to join the Gatsby event.”
“Isn’t he extraordinary looking?” Noeline said. “His square jaw and blond hair. He reminds me of Ryan Gosling.”
“I’ll wager he hears that a lot,” I said. “Those eyes. The wicked smile.”
“Yes.” Noeline tittered. “You know, Tegan, with Winston out of the picture, you should—”
“Mom, thanks, but no thanks. I’m not interested in Mr. Gardner. Besides, Vanna has set her sights on him.”
“I have not,” Vanna said, but her pink cheeks belied the statement.
“Allie is going to a business dinner with him tonight,” Tegan said.
Vanna lasered Tegan and then me with a lethal look.
“Whichever of you wants him, go after him,” Noeline said.
“I’m all for it. He’s polite and charming and well read.
We were talking books while standing in line.
He’s quite a Dashiell Hammett fan, with a penchant for The Thin Man.
” She snapped her fingers. “But if he’s not to your liking, Tegan, then Chloe’s got a point. Consider dating Patrick. He’s a catch.”
“Patrick?” Vanna exclaimed and wagged her head. “No, no, an emphatic no.”
I laughed and explained to Noeline how Vanna thought Patrick was nuts because he was a raw-food omnivore. “FYI, he eats muffins, Vanna, so he might be a quasi–raw-food omnivore.”
“You like muffins, Tegan,” Noeline said.
“Isn’t he a little old for me?” Tegan asked.
“Oh, darling, men mature slower than women. Give it a think. I’m off.” She pivoted and wiggled her hand overhead as she swept out of the shop.
“My mother wants to buy a new B&B?” Tegan murmured to me. “Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“To keep busy,” I replied.
“But the Blue Lantern keeps her plenty occupied.”
“Are you sure? Her accountant manages all the finances, and Helga seems to have the food and housekeeping well in hand.” Helga was a devoted employee with a quick wit and a heart of gold. She had started working at the B&B at eighteen and had stayed on after Noeline purchased it.
“Mom has her hands full. She sets the menus. She does the meet and greets.” Tegan ticked the list off on her fingertips. “She tends to the nightly cocktail soirees. She loves chatting up the guests.”
“Relax.” I petted my friend on the arm. “Don’t work yourself into a tizzy. Let’s see how it pans out.”
Vanna agreed and departed to run an errand. Chloe excused herself and went to the stockroom so she could spruce up her makeup before her audition. Tegan and I resumed organizing the sales desk.
Minutes later, the door opened, and Patrick strode inside. “Hello!”
Tegan muttered, “What is he doing here? Did my mother …? Ooh.” She blew frustration out of the side of her mouth.
“Chill,” I ordered. “I’ll bet he’s here by chance. After all, he does love to read.” I smiled at Patrick. “Welcome! Were your ears burning?”
“Should they have been?”
“Your name came up in conversation. Noeline is very happy you’re doing the work at the B&B.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “It’s such a cool place. I’ve already recommended it to a few people who have family coming in for the holidays.” He addressed Tegan. “You look nice today.”
“You don’t,” she replied.
“Ha!” He didn’t falter. In fact, his eyes were twinkling with humor.
He offered a lopsided grin. “Do I need to wear my Sunday best to come into the shop on a Monday?” He eyed his clothes, which were covered with sawdust. His boots were yet again caked with dried dirt.
“Want me to stand outside?” He ran his fingers through his tousled hair, which, if I was honest, gave him a bad boy look … in a good way.
“No. You can stay.”
“Care for a piece of gum?” He pulled a pack from his shirt pocket and offered her a square. “Spearmint. No sugar. Your favorite brand.”
He was right. How did he know? Kudos for paying attention.
“No thanks. Why are you here?” Tegan asked rather ungraciously.
“I ran into a few people who’d picked up their copies of The Great Gatsby. I’m here to buy one. I didn’t know you had them in, or I would’ve bought it yesterday, when I stopped in for Dune.”
She studied him. “Do you really want to read it?”
“Absolutely. I missed out in high school because I got mono in my senior year. I was home in bed for a full month.”
“Mono,” she scoffed. “The kissing disease.”
“Yeah, usually, but no, that’s not how I contracted it.
I drank from my buddy’s soda using his straw.
He came down with it thanks to his girlfriend.
Not a very sexy story, is it?” He made an amusing face with googly eyes but quickly reverted to his rugged, handsome self.
“Also, I came to tell you I’ve already read half of Dune. ”
“Since yesterday?”
“Yeah. I’m not much of a sleeper. All I need is four hours.
But back to Dune. It is such a cool story, about Paul and his family and the mélange spice which enhances mental abilities.
There are days I wish I had some. Except it’s a drug.
And I don’t do drugs.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Hey, may I use the restroom?”
“Of course,” Tegan said. “It’s for our customers.”
He strode through the reading nook to the bathroom on the left.
At the same time, Jason strolled into the shop, looking elegant in a light gray suit, gray-striped shirt, and smoke-gray tie. Whoever was his stylist knew what worked. On the other hand, he’d probably look good in a potato sack.
“Why are you back?” I asked as he approached the sales counter. “Are you changing our dinner plans?”
“Nope. I needed to return the costume I’m renting from Puttin’ on the Glitz—I’ve decided on another—and decided I’d pick up my copy of The Great Gatsby.” He inserted one hand into his trouser pocket. “I’d also like the latest Grisham novel, and I’ll let you suggest another.”
I fished through the stack of Gatsby books labeled e to h and withdrew one tagged with his name. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
“If you like Grisham, you might also like Michael Connelly’s The Lincoln Lawyer.”
“Read it. Enjoyed it.”
“How about David Baldacci’s Absolute Power?”
“What’s it about?”
“A vicious murder involving the US president and a cover-up.”
“Say no more. Deal.”
“It was written a number of years ago,” I added.
“Sounds current to me.”
The door to the restroom slammed, drawing our attention.
Patrick approached and, seeing Jason, drew to a halt. “You,” he said, venom in his tone.
Jason’s expression soured.
“Gardner, you shouldn’t be building in Bramblewood,” Patrick said.
“Why not, Hardwick?”
Whoa. Jason knew Patrick’s last name?
“New construction causes water and air pollution,” Patrick stated.
“New construction brings trade to a waning town,” Jason countered.
“Bramblewood isn’t waning. It’s thriving.”
“It is thriving,” I concurred, hoping to tamp down the heat between the two men.
“It is,” Tegan chirped.
Jason said, “The town council’s latest findings don’t show that. Bramblewood needs a shot in the arm. I intend to provide it.”
“Your people will leave trash everywhere,” Patrick said.
“Not on my watch.”
“You’ll be clearing vegetation and excavating.” Patrick fisted and unfisted his hands. “Such actions can destroy wildlife and habitats.”
“We’re building where houses already exist. No wildlife harmed.”
“I know all about you, man,” Patrick said between tight teeth. “I’ve done my due diligence. I know about the mess you left in California.”
Was he referring to the unfinished project in Santa Monica?
“Back off, Hardwick, because two can play this game. I’ve done some digging, as well. For instance, I know you wanted to get your hands on the properties but you couldn’t scrape together a bid. Why wouldn’t the banks lend you the cash? Are you deep in debt?”
Double whoa. Jason had done opposition research on Patrick?
“My finances are fine.”
Jason continued, “FYI, I make it a habit to learn about the builders and contractors in a town where I intend to invest time and money, Hardwick, and you, my friend, better hope people don’t get a load of your past. Memories of one’s mistakes rarely fade.” He turned to leave.
Patrick skirted around him and poked him in the chest. “Don’t you dare threaten me.”
Quick as a flash, Jason seized Patrick’s arm and yanked while kicking out with his left leg, knocking Patrick to the floor, chin first. Patrick scrambled to gain purchase but faltered and landed on his knees.
“Hardwick,” Jason said, his gaze steely. “Stay down and listen up. I don’t mean anyone harm in this town. I intend to build the best mall I can with as little impact on the environment as possible. This is a passion project of mine.”
“Why do you care?” Patrick snarled. “Do you think if you build it, she will come?”
Was he talking about Delilah Brenneman? Why on earth would Jason think a mall would lure her here? Why not build a home with magnificent grounds, like the Sugarbaker estate? Or a beautiful villa with a view of the Blue Ridge Mountains?
“She’s not coming,” Patrick continued. “She’s never coming back to you. De—”
“Don’t!” Jason aimed a finger at Patrick. “Do not utter her name.”
Patrick’s eyes blazed with anger.
Jason caught sight of Tegan and me and registered our shocked faces. Civilly, he said, “I’m sorry you had to witness the fracas, ladies. I promise it won’t happen again.” He neatened his tie and jacket and strode out the door.
Tegan knelt beside Patrick. “What were you thinking?”
He rubbed his chin. “Sorry. I’m not typically a bruiser. I don’t get into fights. I’m not sure what came over me. But there’s something about the guy—”
“What was he referring to in your past?”
“It’s nothing.”
But he refused to make eye contact, meaning it was clearly something.