Chapter Forty-Three
The shed. Not the pantry. Not the baking annex. The shed.
After a wildly eventful morning and a delicious lunch of leftover pot roast, I stood outside, looking at said shed. I’d spent my whole life assuming the most interesting thing in there was the lawn mower. In hindsight, who would lock down a lawn mower? Then there was the fact Gram had a gardener who took care of the grass, and he brought his own equipment.
The lock stopped me from getting in there and . . . what? My next move was a bit fuzzy. Find the poison first then assess. Removing it from the property or destroying it would be the next problem to tackle. No poison, no jailtime. It worked that way, right?
I could ask for the key, but Gram was already ticked off about the business pitch thing. I knew because she reminded me about it at lunch and how Harlan, Micah, Brock, or some combination of them could drop by for a visit at any time, and she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions.
Brock and Micah and their annoying texts would need to wait.
The shed wasn’t huge, but poison probably didn’t take up much space. No windows. Made of wood and freshly painted, which was interesting. I hadn’t noticed before because shed maintenance wasn’t on my radar.
I walked around the structure just in case there was some sort of trapdoor I didn’t know about. A woman could hope.
“What are you doing?”
At the sound of that voice, I lost my balance and reached for the nearest thing to grab on to. Unfortunately, that was a rosebush with no flowers but lots of thorns, which then led to a lot of swearing.
Only Harlan could cause this much trouble.
“When did you get here?”
I really wanted to ask Why in the world do you keep showing up wherever I am? but refrained out of respect for Jackson.
“My assistant ordered a dessert tray for my business partner’s birthday tomorrow. She usually handles these things, but I was in the neighborhood and figured I’d save her a trip in the morning.”
He nodded, clearly pleased with his pathetic excuse for informally stalking me. “I pulled into the driveway and saw you. Thought I’d say hello.”
Believable? Not really. Seemed to me a dessert tray for tomorrow would be packed up fresh for pick-up tomorrow. I glanced at the side of the house and couldn’t see anything but the side of the house. We were tucked in behind the building. I didn’t hear traffic. Only the gentle sway of the tree branches in the wind.
It sucked to foist him off on Celia and Gram, but I did anyway. “The ladies are in the kitchen. They said something about testing mini cupcakes.”
Gram actually said the whole concept of mini cupcakes was ridiculous because why not just eat a normal-sized one. Gram thought a lot of things were ridiculous. She was right about mini cupcakes. Making them smaller only meant I had to eat five of them, which meant they’d have to make a lot of cupcakes.
“I wanted to speak with you anyway, so this is convenient,” he said.
For him, maybe.
He studied me for a few seconds. Probably his attempt at intimidation. Only Gram had that power, but he could try.
“I’d like for us to come to an understanding that would serve both of our interests.”
This morning’s embarrassment looked like it might be the best part of my day. I couldn’t even hope for a rain delay. There wasn’t a cloud in the deep blue sky. “About what exactly?”
Harlan glanced at the shed. It held his attention for longer than it should have. Long enough to make me jumpy. He couldn’t possibly know why the shed mattered. Unless he planted a listening device in the house . . . and now I had something new to worry about.
“Look, I know you’re in trouble at work.”
He smiled. “Let me help.”
He sounded so virtuous, like he was doing whatever he was doing for my benefit. Now I understood why Gram snorted all the time. Sometimes it felt right. Like now. “You’ve been hanging out with Brock.”
Harlan crossed his arms in front of him. His body language telegraphed his willingness to listen to reason. None. He had none. “Your boss and I have business interests in common. We’ve been discussing how we might help each other.”
Worst. Sentence. Ever.
“I’ve lobbied for you, of course. Explained that you’re young and inexperienced and needed time to settle into a new job,”
Harlan continued.
I could see it now. Harlan’s condescending manner would fit in well at NOI. “Exactly how much time have you spent with Brock?”
“Enough to know you’re treading water.”
Harlan closed the gap between us. A show of intimidation even as he used his smarmy fake charm to win me over. “I don’t like to say this, but the truth is you’re out of your league on this deal. We both know negotiations aren’t your strength.”
This guy needed a class in how not to be a jackass.
“Brock and I have worked on a draft proposal. One that calls upon my connections in state government and one that will greatly benefit your grandmother and Celia,”
Harlan said.
Gram warned me about men who wouldn’t take no for an answer. She said to avoid them and if that didn’t work to kick them where it would hurt the most. Harlan was getting mighty close to a kick in the balls.
“They aren’t interested. They really aren’t interested if I’m not involved.”
The former cut off any chance of the latter, but I wanted to make the point.
“Let’s be realistic. They’re not getting younger. They’ve taken this enterprise as far as they can. While their drive is commendable, they can’t sustain it.”
Harlan nodded as if we’d entered into some sort of conspiracy. “We both know that.”
No wonder Gram hated this guy. “You should tell them all that. I’d love to be in the room when you do.”
“Then there’s the harsh reality they can’t ignore.”
He hesitated, as if the moment weren’t tense enough. “A business like theirs depends on referrals and recommendations. On the support of others.”
That smell? The stench of an incoming threat.
He must have enjoyed the sound of his own voice because he kept yapping. “I send a great deal of work their way. I’m happy to do it, of course. But I wonder if I’m doing them a disservice. Would it be better to refrain so they could see the rough road ahead and exit now with a great deal of money in their pockets rather than face an inevitable downturn?”
I’d been shifting my weight, crunching the grass under my sneaker. Now everything inside me froze. He’d hit on the one threat that would work. I’d do anything to prevent an attack on Celia and Gram, even one that supposedly was for their own good.
“Celia is your sister-in-law.”
“Yes, exactly, that’s why I originally stepped up. I’ve given time and resources. Used my contacts. It was the right thing to do when they were getting started, but is it now?”
He took a long look around the yard. “This place can’t be cheap to run and would be impossible to hold on to without an ongoing income stream. I’d hate to see them lose it.”
No way did adorable, brainy, very skilled with his hands Jackson come from this empty shell of a guy.
“Gram and Celia have never been anything but welcoming to you.”
It was a guess based on Celia’s personality. Gram would have booted him out of her life long ago if she’d had the choice.
“And I enjoy their company.”
Sure, he did.
“If you stepped aside. Went back home. I’d take over. The buyout would be quick and painless. I’d even give you the credit for the initial referral as a way of helping you maintain your job.”
He oozed confidence. Stood there as if he didn’t doubt his ability to win this round. “I would do that for you. For them. If I was the only one here and in charge. You understand.”
I’d seen the threat coming but it still landed with a hard thud and vibrated through me. “You want me out of Winston-Salem? The place where I grew up.”
“That’s overly dramatic. I’m trying to ease the way for you to return home. To Washington, DC. That’s where you live now. Not here.”
His smile had a sinister edge to it. “You have responsibilities there. Bills to pay. I’m willing to help you do that.”
“Was money trouble listed in your little investigative report?”
His smile fell. His mood flipped that fast. “Jackson showed you?”
Sure, let’s use that word. “I’ve read it, including the recommendations.”
Harlan let out a long, I’m-ticked-off exhale. “That’s routine in political matters. The financial backers need assurances about the nonpublic aspects of Jackson’s life.”
Blah, blah, blah. I didn’t need a law degree to understand this. He was vetting possible future Mrs. Jackson Quaid candidates as if Jackson was a client and not his son. Under all the fake I’m doing this for you crap, Harlan wanted me to know I’d been considered and eliminated as a potential partner. He also planned to use my love for Gram and Celia to remove me from the area entirely.
Harlan held up a hand as if to swat away any arguments. “I love my son.”
Clearly. “What an interesting way to show it.”
“Do not doubt my feelings or how far I will go to secure Jackson’s future. We don’t always agree but he’s very intelligent. Driven. Practical. He understands his obligations and what a failure it would be to waste his potential. He’ll come around to the right answer.”
Was Harlan trying to convince me or him? I couldn’t tell.
“We want the same things, Kasey.”
“I really doubt that.”
“Success for you and success for Jackson. Not together. I’m sure you see that. But I do want to help you. I just need to make sure we have an understanding about your role.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his car fob. As far as dismissals went, this one was pretty clear. “Can you imagine how awful it would be if Magnolia and Celia had to sell the business and the house at a very reduced price?”
“You’re an—”
“Harlan. I didn’t see you drive up.”
Gram shouted her welcome as she walked across the pristine yard. “Usually people call before they visit. That’s the appropriate way to do these things.”
“You’re correct and I apologize for the intrusion. I needed to pick up an order and—”
Gram snorted. “You? Today?”
“I saw Kasey in the yard. I wanted to say hello. My understanding is she’ll be leaving town soon.”
Gram took a quick look toward the driveway. It looked like she doubted his I-can-see-through-buildings explanation, too. “Who told you such a thing?”
“I have a meeting, so I need to leave.”
The car fob and a few keys on his chain dangled from his fingers. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
With that, he broke away from us and headed toward the driveway. The driveway you couldn’t see from this angle.
“Harlan?”
Gram called out, stopping his overconfident steps. “Have you ever had raisin pie?”
Oh, shit.
He frowned. “I don’t believe so.”
“Maybe I’ll make you one.”
Harlan nodded and left. I waited until he disappeared around the corner to confront Gram. “You can’t kill him.”
“We’ll see.”
Gram shrugged. “Why are you out here?”
“Getting some fresh air.”
I said a silent thank-you to Celia for that lifetime excuse. Not that it was true. I’d asked about seeing inside the shed earlier and Gram had handed me a cupcake. The trick worked to delay my snooping, not erase it, which was why I stood right here.
“Stop worrying about the shed. I have it handled.”
She stared in the empty space where Harlan had just stood. “What did he say to you?”
This required a delicate dance. The last thing I wanted was for Celia and Gram to worry about Harlan’s pontificating. “You should be in DC. Jackson has a future here without you. You know, the usual.”
“That nonsense about Jackson? Ignore it.”
Gram added a pfft in there to drive home her point. “He’s a grown man. He knows what he wants.”
My thoughts about Jackson, our relationship, and his feelings about it jumbled together. The moving pieces refused to stop shifting long enough for me to put the puzzle together. “Maybe, but you still can’t feed Harlan poison pie.”
Gram didn’t respond for a few seconds. When she finally did, she hummed. “You’d be surprised what I can justify.”