10. Sebastian
TEN
SEBASTIAN
The smell of a fresh pot of coffee nudged me awake. I squinted my eyes in the early morning light as sun streamed through the thin white curtains. I wasn’t sure if it was the rain or a belly full of cookies, but I slept like a rock. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I gazed up at the open hole, still bitter about the meeting with the mayor—and the fact that Charlie had to be the most obtuse, unreasonable woman I’d ever met.
“Hello!” A face popped into the hole, but it wasn’t Charlie. It was a chubby-nosed, wiry, gray-haired man with salt-and-pepper stubble.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Who are you?”
He reached his hand through the hole and let out a jovial laugh. “Sorry about that, neighborino. I’m Albert. I’m in the apartment on the first floor.”
The infamous maintenance man. I shook his hand but would have preferred to have brushed my teeth before meeting anyone new today. “Sebastian Anderson.”
“Nice to meet you. I’ll be working on getting this patched up today so no more surprises, eh?”
It wasn’t the surprises I was worried about. It was the structural integrity of the house as a whole. The more time I spent here, the more I worried the building wouldn’t last the four weeks I needed to stay here.
“Where’s Charlie?” I asked.
“She went for her morning jog. She should be back soon.”
I gave him a wave, grabbed my things, and shut myself into the bathroom. When I emerged, I was showered and dressed in gray slacks and a sky-blue open-collared shirt. The hole was now partially covered in plywood while Albert’s power drill rumbled against my ceiling. Good. No more surprise visitors.
That’s what I told myself as I ignored the twinge in my chest. I hadn’t exactly enjoyed my conversations with Charlie through the hole, but there was something intriguing about the woman. Her conviction. Her temper. The way she didn’t back down. The passion in her eyes when she spoke of the historical value of the town.
She was wrong, obviously, but I could appreciate a woman who wasn’t afraid to take a stance.
Since I wouldn’t get any peaceful coffee time to catch up on emails with Albert banging around like a toddler given access to a set of toy drums, I decided to head to the local café down the road before heading to the theater. On my way out of the apartment, I saw Charlie walking in dressed in a pair of dirty sneakers, a cropped hoodie, and a pair of very short shorts. My gaze drew down her legs, then back up to her face. Her eyes flicked up from where they had lingered around my chest and open collar, and I thought the flush on her cheeks might have gotten a little darker.
Checking me out, was she? Gotcha .
She was an attractive woman. There was no denying it. But not only could I not afford to get involved with anyone before I got this deal with Sinclair over the line, I definitely couldn’t afford to get involved with her . She was the one person in this town who could ruin everything.
“Anderson,” she said cordially, if a bit coolly, still panting from her workout.
“Reeves.”
“Where are you off to so early?”
Off to get a head start on my win-over-New-Elwood campaign. “You know what they say. Early bird gets the worm.”
“Are you the worm in this scenario?”
Charlie’s jabs were beginning to grow on me. I smiled knowing that demolition machines could tear down the theater to make room for my hotel but her words could never hurt me. “See you at the walkthrough,” I said and headed to my car. “Don’t be late!”
She rolled her eyes and jogged inside.
Not ten minutes later, I arrived at Magnolia Café on Cardinal Spring Road. This wasn’t the contemporary, commercial coffee house I was used to. Instead, it was housed in what looked like an old brick colonial residence with dormer windows and a signpost in front that read Circa 1784 . If it hadn’t been for the small painted wooden sign on the front door, I would’ve thought I was walking into George Washington’s residence.
Inside, it definitely looked like someone’s home. I stood in a small foyer with a staircase; to my left was a room with a fireplace, a few vintage armchairs in blush pink, café tables with white rattan chairs, and a painting of what looked like Queen Anne. I followed the scent of coffee, cinnamon, and sugar down the hall and found the café bar with a display case of warm baked goods.
“Good morning! Welcome to Magnolia Café. Can I get something started for you?” a woman asked brightly, as if she’d already had three cups today. She wore a floral apron atop her ruffly white top and jeans. Her hair curled in chestnut ringlets around her cheerful face.
“Hi, I’d love a black coffee, please.”
She tapped the order into her digital register, the only modern thing in this place. “No cream and sugar, huh?”
“No, I think I’ll save that for one of these.” My eyes grew big and my stomach grumbled as I took in all the beautiful pastries—pastel-colored macaroons, fluffy banana nut muffins, crispy blueberry scones, and of course chocolate chip cookies. Mmm. Those looked exactly like the ones Charlie made me. But I patted my gut and decided that I’d had enough cookies for the week. “I’ll take a blueberry scone.”
“Good choice. Toasted?” she offered, and I nodded. While she got to work on my order, I perused my surroundings.
“Cute place you’ve got here,” I said, looking at the dated decorative accents. See? I didn’t hate history. I just didn’t want to pay for it out of my own pocket. Or live in it.
“Thanks! I think so. I’m Sophie, by the way. I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“That’s because I’m new in town.” I approached the counter and offered Sophie a firm, make-me-mayor-of-this-place handshake. “I’m Sebastian Anderson. Pleasure to meet you.”
Her expression froze, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Ah, I heard about you. You’re here to give New Elwood a facelift.”
Word got around fast. I wasn’t used to being in a place where everyone knew everyone’s everything. I missed the city, where people walked the street and hardly acknowledged anyone else because they were so focused on where they needed to go. Their own business.
“No shame in a little cosmetic work,” I said and flashed her my winning smile.
She shot me a look like she might burn my scone if I turned my back. “Is it true you’re trying to tear down all the historical structures in New Elwood?”
That would’ve been nice. “No, no, of course not. Just a few that my family owns.” Since my family didn’t own her shop I figured she’d back off, but she just stood there like she was deciding whether I was the devil of Virginia, so I embellished. Just a little. “It’s just because those older buildings have unfortunately become structurally hazardous. I want to make sure that when the good people of this town step into one of my buildings, they’re safe to enjoy themselves. It’s just because I really care about people. And safety. And people being safe.”
Her raised brow lowered, and she handed me my coffee to go with a warm paper bag. “That’s…very considerate of you, Mr. Anderson.”
“Please, Sophie, call me Sebastian.” I pulled out an Alexander Hamilton from my wallet and handed it to her before wishing her a good day and heading out. The moment I got inside my car, I took a bite of the scone. The crispy, buttery flavor danced on my tongue. “Oh, my god,” I said with a mouthful. That was one good thing about New Elwood: they were home to some good bakers. But if I kept this up, I’d gain ten pounds by the time Sinclair’s money landed in my account.
With the windows down, my radio playing, and a hot coffee in my hand, I cruised down Main Street at a whopping twenty-five miles per hour. I parked in a nearby lot and trekked up the hard, red-brick road to the Monticello Theater. Charlie stood just outside staring up at the building and playing with her necklace.
“Reeves,” I greeted, approaching my neighbor and nemesis. There would be no first-name pleasantries between us. The sun glinted on her auburn hair, which she’d pulled into a low bun. She wore what I was beginning to think of as her ballbuster uniform: pencil skirt, fitted blouse, heels. Grudgingly, I admitted to myself that she looked good.
She shielded her eyes from the morning sun. “The early bird gets the worm, right?”
The woman was relentless. And I didn’t hate it. “I just stopped at Magnolia Café. You know, supporting local businesses.”
Her eyes turned icy. “Magnolia Café?”
“Yeah, it’s quite charming.”
“Oh, no. Don’t you think about setting your sights on that one,” Charlie said with gritted teeth and a territorial stance.
“Relax. I have no interest in it.” Especially since the scones were so damn good. “In fact, I was thinking they could branch out and add a café in my new hotel. The guests would love it.”
Charlie balled her fist. “There’s not going to be a hotel?—”
“Charlie?” A man approached us, and her expression radically transformed.
“Hi, Rex.”
I’d already been frowning at the soft, friendly smile on her face when the name she spoke sank in.
Rex?
Charlie greeted the man with a warm kiss on each cheek, and I took in his nearly black hair and the tiny scar slashed across his eyebrow. I knew this guy. But I hadn’t seen him in a really, really long time. I could hardly register Charlie’s words as she began introductions and I blurted, “Rex Montgomery?”
Rex cocked his head. “Bastian?” His face split into the same crooked smile I remembered from decades ago. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here on business. What are you doing here?” I asked, pumping his hand as we shook.
“I’m here for the inspection. I’m the fire marshal.”
The moment he uttered the word fire, my expression froze. I cleared my throat. “The fire marshal?”
His smile turned a little sad—maybe with a tinge of pity. “Worst sleepover ever,” he said, and I snorted.
Most of the time, I tried not to think about that night. But in that moment, I couldn’t stop it all from flooding back to me—our house, the fire trucks, my mom’s soot-stained pajamas… That’s when I learned what kind of support I could expect from the great Lydia Radcliffe. Doting grandmother, indeed.
The fire was the end of my life in New Elwood. The time I was forced to leave the only home I’d ever known, including my childhood best friend, Rex Montgomery.