Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Rachel
Three texts yesterday on the town common had set off a nuclear bomb in her.
Orla: Doug wants to send me in to close, but my daughter is giving birth any day now.
Doug: look at email I sent re land markstone's may buy in luview crucial you fix this close the deal
Doug never used punctuation or capitals when he texted. Said it was a waste of time. If he was driving, he dictated it, so every once in a while his drive-thru orders were included in his texts. The guy drank five Splendas in a large coffee and ate a banana with it for breakfast.
Orla had secretly called him a douchebro when they had drinks one night, but never mentioned it again.
Dani: I can’t find any rentals for February 13 and 14, even at Nordicbeth. Popular weekend. Ideas?
Between the surprise of the lemur tattoo, which was the sweetest gesture on Kell’s part, her inner turmoil as her feelings for him grew, and getting hit 1-2-3 by those texts, something in Rachel had snapped.
On a hot microphone.
Of all the stupid places to be standing when she let loose, that one was the worst. Kenny had knocked on the door when he came out to the trailer to deliver more firewood, an aggrieved expression on his face.
“Backward? Really? I have a 4.8-star average on Airbnb, Rachel,” he’d sniffed, then walked away with a swagger.
Great. Once you lost guys like Kenny, you lost the whole town.
What was supposed to be an extended stay so she could charm locals, plant seeds about how good the acquisition could be for the community, and counteract Kell’s interference was suddenly ruined by… her.
And only her.
None of this was Kell’s fault. This was all on her.
A long groan came out of her as she realized the last text she’d sent, confirming her next dental appointment, had not been delivered.
No service, her phone said.
She went to her computer.
Wi-Fi: Looking for networks, her laptop said.
The trailer was cursed.
Kell had explained to her that satellite dish internet service was iffy during winter in the mountains, and Kenny’s place was proving him right.
It was February 7. After some back and forth, Orla gave her permission to stay rather than return to L.A.
, because there’d been a new development in the Love You Chocolate project: Doug had pushed Markstone's to look into expanding the deal and buying a small, abandoned tool and die company in town.
The idea was to turn it into a parking lot and distribution center to handle the expected leap in sales that would result from the acquisition.
Rachel remembered seeing the place when Kell had driven her through town.
It was right on the edge of the vibrant downtown, and would definitely change the character of the cozy shops, but if Markstone's had done a feasibility study and decided that was part of the deal, then she would work hard to deliver.
She had to deliver, or be fired.
The internet going out again was the last straw.
Kenny’s little one-sheet for the trailer had a section about restaurants and, funny enough, listed the internet service status of each.
The coffee shop, Bilbee’s Tavern, a smoothie store, the town library, and town hall all had Internet.
A plan formed.
A painful one.
Spending the day without internet was impossible. Too much work to be done. Already, she was behind because she didn’t do work while wandering around town with Kell yesterday.
She would have to bounce around town and use the shops’ access.
That meant being in public places right after embarrassing herself by saying all those horrible things about the town.
And yet… business was business.
Love You Coffee was likely her safest place. Skylar struck her as the forgiving type. Packing up all her stuff, Rachel got in her car and made the surprisingly easy drive into town, the roads reasonably clear after a few days with no new snow.
Parking was as hard as she expected, so she finally gave up on getting anything near town and drove to the far edge, finding a spot on a side street, a good half-mile walk away.
Love You, Maine, had a serious parking problem.
The walk did her some good, though, helping to clear her mind and give her fresh air. Each inhale helped her frenzied mind to calm down a bit and line up in an orderly fashion. When she reached the coffee shop, she pulled her hat down a little more, glad she was wearing her red coat and blended in.
Reef was at the counter, glaring at her, though she suspected he glared at everyone.
“Um, hi, Reef. I’d like a–”
“Half two, half almond double shot latte with a teaspoon of ground Madagascar vanilla,” he snapped, turning away to start the coffee.
“How did you know?”
“Because I have brain cells and a memory.”
“You don’t have the ground vanilla, though.”
“We do now. Skylar ordered some.”
Rachel was stunned. “She did?”
“Said you said it was healthy and tasted good, so you’ll get your coffee exactly the way you want, perfect in every way.”
Why did that feel like a slam?
“Listen, I know everyone heard me rant yesterday, and I feel bad about it–”
One of his hands was busy working the espresso machine, the other going up to stop her. “You weren’t wrong, but a lot of people are pissed at you.”
“Are you one of them?”
“I tried the vanilla in a latte. It’s good.” His mouth tightened. “Really good.”
He glared at her like that was a bad thing.
“You like it?”
“Mmm hmm.” The sound came out like a growl. “Didn’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Sounded stupid. Over the top. But it’s not.”
“It’s definitely not.”
“You’re helping us up our game.”
“Thank you.”
“But lots of people don’t want to hear they’re getting stuff wrong. Be prepared for the haters.”
“I’ve been dealing with them for years. I’ll just keep my head down and hide in a corner here.” Moving to an empty table as far away from the activity as possible, she set up her laptop so her back was to the door. By the time she was done, Reef motioned to her drink.
She pulled out her credit card.
“You want an account?” he asked.
“No. I’m not here for that long.”
“You’ve already bought six coffees since you’ve been here, Rachel. More than halfway to a freebie. Give in and get an account.” He gave her a hairy eyeball look, a test of sorts, like he was feeling her out.
“I really don’t need one.” A few small trays of cheese, crackers, and fruit were in the cooler below her. She grabbed one and added it to her purchase.
“Okay,” he said, processing the card. “If you say so.”
“I’m only here until February 15th.”
Reef just snorted and walked away.
What was that about?
The door opened as Rachel took her first sip and opened her email: seventy-seven unread messages. Clicking on the first one, she began putting earbuds in, hoping no one would recognize her, but she felt self-conscious.
Imposter syndrome, squared. There was no way she belonged here in this little town, and she didn’t belong at Markstone's, either.
Where did she belong?
Woodsmoke filled her nose, the scent imaginary. The memory of sitting around that fire with Kell yesterday morning sent her pulse into a salsa beat and put a smile on her face. It wasn’t caffeine that made her heart jump.
It was a sense of joy.
For the next fifteen minutes, she ate and drank in bliss, slowly unwinding, feeling like maybe, just maybe, this trip was salvageable.
Kell had been taciturn on the drive home yesterday, but not mad. A bit amused, even, after a while. Maybe watching her make a fool of herself had some entertainment value for him.
Their kisses ignited something in her, but her rant had extinguished any spark that was emerging. She blew it.
There wasn’t a real chance anyhow, right?
Lost in her thoughts, warm, having a fabulous coffee, and thinking about Kell, she didn’t notice someone standing behind her.
“Hmph. Stuck, huh? Backward?”
The woman’s voice made Rachel hunch her shoulders. Ouch. Didn’t even get through a single email.
Reaching for her drink, she decided to play dumb and hope the angry woman went away.
“Excuse me? Rachel Hart? I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Nadine. I work at the police department.” The woman, who now stood to her side, expecting to be acknowledged, wasn’t just angry.
She was righteous.
Woe be unto Rachel if she got this wrong. There was still a deal to salvage, and if that meant Rachel had to suck it up and face the consequences of her rant, that’s what had to happen.
Last night, she’d had plenty of time to run through the implications of what had happened. Thank goodness she hadn’t gotten any nastier than she did. Was she out of line? Yes.
But had she been technically wrong?
No. Love You, Maine, needed an upgrade. Not in the emotional connection part. They had that nailed down here. Small-town heart was everywhere, literally and figuratively.
Policies and attitudes were shutting even more people out, though, which would only hurt the town in the long run.
“Hi Nadine,” Rachel said, standing to shake the woman’s hand. Nadine gave her a limp fish. Rachel shook it anyhow, pulling away as fast as possible.
“Your stunt yesterday hurt a lot of people.”
“I can see you’re angry.”
“Darn right I am. You don’t know anything about this town!”
“I shouldn’t have said those things. I agree.”
Rachel’s response seemed to deflate Nadine. Good. That was the goal. A long time ago, her father had told her, “When someone’s angry at you in business, agree with them. It’s the fastest way to disarm them and buy yourself time to regroup.” And he was right.
It really did work.
“Um. Oh. Good that you see it my way,” Nadine stammered.
“Can I ask you a question, Nadine? You seem to be one of the power brokers in the community.”
Chin rising, Nadine’s effusive grin told Rachel she’d said the right thing. “I don’t know about ‘power broker’, but I like to think I do have a great deal of influence here.”
“Can you tell me who to talk to about these parking meters?”
Nadine bristled. “What’s wrong with them?”
Ah. Rachel proceeded with caution.