12. Abigail
TWELVE
ABIGAIL
These days, it felt like I was living the same day over and over again. I woke up to my alarm at seven. Got to Magnolia Café by eight for my hazelnut latte and bagel breakfast sandwich. Arrived at my office before nearly anyone else so I could work in peace. Walked across the street to Sullivan’s at noon to pick up my chicken garden salad and raspberry sweet tea. Ate at my desk, or got really wild and sat at the end of the bar to scarf the food down. Then spent the rest of the afternoon tending to home buyers and sellers and praying for new contracts and effortless closings. By six thirty, I walked into my own empty house, scrounged around the fridge, and fell asleep on the sofa watching TV while nursing a glass of Pinot Grigio.
It was so damn boring.
No wonder I’d been so enthralled with Charlie’s butt-splinter fiasco. She thought she was in the middle of her worst nightmare with her troublemaking neighbor turned theater-restoration partner. But at least her life was getting interesting. At least she had something to share with all of us at Hooker’s Paradise.
I glanced at my desk clock—12:01 p.m. Well, would you look at that? It was time to pick up my lunch. I grabbed my black leather tote—the one large enough to carry my laptop and my latest crochet project, not that I ever ended up working on it in the middle of the workday. But it was like my mama always said: idle hands are the devil’s workshop, so you should always keep them busy. I stepped outside and took in a deep breath of the fresh, warm air. Perhaps spring would bring with it something exciting.
“Ah-choo!” I sneezed.
Never mind. The only thing spring brought was pollen dust that settled on everything and turned the cars yellow.
Chatter filled the dining room up to the wood-beamed ceilings at Sullivan’s as I made my way to the bar. Sunlight streamed in through the wide windows on the corner eatery, and my heels clacked along the herringbone-patterned flooring. Two men sat at my usual spot at the bar, and I recognized one of them—Patrick Beaman, who ran a financial services business and served on the city council. He sent me a brief smile and quickly returned his attention to the other gentleman in my seat.
I took the stool next to him and grabbed the bartender’s attention. “Hey, Gabe!”
Gabe looked at me with the same gray-colored eyes I had and held up a single finger for me to wait while he finished pouring a beer from the tap. I let out an impatient breath and set my tote down on the bar.
“These are the occupancy projections for the first three years. Not to mention, a hotel like this will create a lot of jobs,” the man next to me said. Occupancy? Hotel? Hang on. I tilted my ear toward their conversation and glanced at Patrick’s expression out of the corner of my eye.
“This could definitely support our tourism efforts, but what about the location? That kind of construction on Main Street will be very disruptive to the surrounding businesses. Traffic is already congested as is,” Patrick replied.
Well, would you look at that? Was this the infamous real estate developer attempting to schmooze a councilman for a vote while sitting on my barstool? The owner of a certain notorious pair of tweezers? The guy didn’t waste any time, did he? What a jerk. Smelled nice, though. But that was beside the point.
“Only in the short term,” the New Elwood saboteur continued. “Once the hotel is up and running, our guests will bring new business to Main Street. Everybody wins.”
Everyone except the patrons who cherished the old Art Deco theater like my girl, Charlie.
The conversation paused when Gabe served up the beer and a glass of red wine to my bar-top neighbors and asked if they needed anything else. Yeah, Sebastian Anderson needed to get the hell out of New Elwood. They each declined, but the councilman got up and headed to the bathroom. Gabe gave me a nod—he knew my order—and moved down the bar to serve someone else.
That’s when the bigwig’s phone rang. Curious, I fiddled with my crocheting while I listened.
“Checking up on me, are you?” Anderson asked, spinning his glass of wine on its coaster without picking it up to drink. “Uh-huh. It’s all in hand. No problems at all. We’ll be able to execute the sale immediately.”
I frowned. What was that about? What was he selling?
“Listen, Sinc—no, not yet. Still waiting on the demo permits. Uh-huh. I’m not worried. There’s absolutely no chance they’ll agree to restore a dying theater when I can show them a way to refill the town’s coffers without having to lift a finger.”
I arched my brows. Thought very highly of himself, didn’t he? And who was on the other side of the line? Sounded like ole Anderson McSnootyPants had some kind of backer. I wondered if Charlie knew about it. She hadn’t mentioned it.
“I’ve got things with her under control,” Anderson growled, the fingers on his wine glass stem tightening.
I leaned closer, heart thumping. Her who? Charlie? Was he about to divulge some juicy, juicy gossip that I could use to help Charlie run him out of town?
“I gotta go,” he finally said, glancing in the direction of the restrooms, where the councilman was emerging.
I snapped my gaze back to my crochet, then looked up when Gabe appeared behind the bar in front of me again.
“Did you get that new security system installed on the house yet?” Gabe asked me.
“Will you stop with the security system already? I’m a grown woman, all right?”
“Grown woman or not, you’re in that big ole house by yourself now. I’m just looking after you. That’s my job.”
“Actually, it’s not. It’s officially not. Your job is to make sure I get the good cuts of chicken on my salad and to roll your eyes with me when Mama adds another nutcracker to her Christmas collection.”
“Yeah, that collection is getting out of hand,” Gabe replied. He’d been like this since we were kids. Older than me by three years, he always took on the role of my protector, which was really sweet when my size was a 4T, but once I started my first period I was over it. “It’s just that since your divor?—”
“Uh-uh!” I held up a pair of crossed arms. “I don’t want to talk about that anymore. We don’t say the D-word.” Nothing ruined lunch more than talk of your cheating ex-husband—especially when I’d caught him cheating during a surprise lunch break. So enough of that.
“Fine,” Gabe said. “Then just get the alarm installed.”
“Why are you so bossy? It’s been installed,” I said, and Gabe narrowed his eyes like he didn’t believe me, but it was true. I just kept forgetting to set it at night. Why did I need to? This was New Elwood. I could leave my front door wide open all night and still nothing bad would happen.
Then I heard the guy next to me say, “Ms. Reeves,” and my attention flipped away from my brother.
“Abigail,” Gabe said, and I shot him a wide-eyed look and gave an inconspicuous nod to the guys next to me. “What?” he asked, not even bothering to lower his voice, so I silently shushed him. “Whatever. I’ll grab your order.”
Finally, my overbearing brother overbore no more. So I leaned to my right, eavesdropping again. Maybe it was time for me to consider a career change. I could be a private investigator and expose all the money-hungry leeches and cheating exes in this town.
“Sure, you can talk to her but her proposal’s all wrong. With the amount of work it would take to restore it so that it’s safe, you might as well bulldoze it,” the big city bastard said, sipped his red wine, and set his glass down.
Something came over me when he said that. I clenched my jaw and balled my fist, and before I knew it, I’d elbowed my tote hard and fast and it toppled over, knocking the wine glass into the arrogant jerk’s lap. Merlot spilled all over his fancy-schmancy pants. Sebastian Anderson jumped to his feet. Bulldoze that, asshole.
I faked a gasp and flicked a glance at the councilman. “Oh, my gosh, I am such a klutz. What a mess! Let me buy you another glass.” So I can throw that one in your pretty little face. And pretty it was, with that sharp jaw and green, green eyes. Charlie had totally downplayed how handsome he was. I knew there was an important detail she’d left out. I’d have to razz her about that later.
With a furrowed brow, A-hole Anderson wiped his pants with the black cloth napkin to no avail. Aww, I hoped I ruined his day. Bless his heart. “Guess I better go wash this off,” he said.
“Listen, Anderson, I have to get back to the office, but I’ll think about what you said,” Patrick said, clearly not wanting any part of this scene or the wine-covered slimeball. The poor bastard tried to get him to stay but the councilman couldn’t get out of there fast enough, so he huffed over to the men’s room, and I cackled inwardly— Get ’ em, Abigail!
“Hey Abigail,” a deep but sweet voice called behind me, and I jumped. Thank god I didn’t have a full glass of wine on me.
“Rex, I didn’t see you there,” I said, with my hand over my heart, catching my breath.
Rex smiled with those annoyingly white teeth against his tanned skin. “You taking a lunch break?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Me too. Care to join me?”
“Sure,” I said, nodding to the seat on the opposite side of me from the one Anderson had vacated.
Rex slid onto the barstool, leaning against the bar so his arms flexed and moved beneath the black fabric of his tee. He and I went way back, as most people in this town did.
Once upon a time, I’d nursed a debilitating crush on the man. Rex Montgomery had made my sixteen-year-old heart skip a beat every time I saw him. It started back in high school when he and my brother started working together here at Sullivan’s. Both were dishwashers at the time. A few nights a week, I’d answer the door to find him standing there with that cute smile of his, his scarred eyebrow giving him just the right amount of bad-boy edge. It was teenage girl catnip. Then he and my brother would run off in my brother’s dusty old Bronco, and I’d replay our inane interactions in my head and scribble Mrs. Abigail Montgomery in the margins of my notebooks.
I wasn’t even sure why I’d liked him. Rex was not a bad boy, despite the scar. He was basically a Boy Scout. He didn’t have a mischievous bone in his body. Not like I did. There was one night when we almost kissed in my backyard when Mama wasn’t home and Gabe was making out with Debby Reagan in his bedroom. But it never happened. And I always wondered if it was the garlic bread I’d had for dinner that night. Probably the reason I hardly ever ate it anymore, even though I hadn’t felt the desire to kiss him since my frontal lobe had fully developed.
It was for the best. A good guy like him deserved an equally good woman. Besides, my brother had always seemed to hover near when one of his friends looked at me for a few seconds too long. And I’d learned my lesson about men early, thanks to my ex. My brother had done me a favor.
“Here you go—aw, man, what happened here?” Speak of the devil. Gabe was back with my lunch. He came around the bar to assess the spillage.
I stood by shaking my head. “I dunno. That guy must have slick fingers or something.”
“I’ll get the mop.” Gabe lifted his gaze and finally recognized that I wasn’t alone. “Oh, hey man,” he said to Rex. The two old friends greeted one another with the same handshake they’d been doing since junior year. “You here for the usual?” Gabe asked, and Rex nodded. “We still on to watch the game on Friday?”
“I’ll be there,” Rex assured him, and my brother disappeared into the kitchen once more. I kept my eyes on my salad and tried to ignore the pinch of jealousy at their easy friendship. Gabe was right about one thing: I was living in a big ole house all by myself. And it was lonely.
Then Rex’s voice made me glance up. “Bastian! Two times in one day, what are the odds?”
Bastian?
“Pretty high in this small town,” Bastard, I mean Bastian, said.
“Man, you’re a mess. What happened to you?” Rex asked, and Sebastian glanced at me.
“A little wine spill. I guess the bar isn’t very level. With these old, run-down buildings, what can you expect?”
Rex held up his calloused hands. “All I can say is Sullivan’s is in compliance with the fire code.”
“You two know each other?” I butted in.
“Yeah, Sebastian and I go way back.” Way back? Charlie mentioned that he was Lydia Radcliffe’s grandson, but it didn’t seem like anyone really knew him. What were his ties to our town? Rex shot him that Boy Scout smile. “Why don’t you join us for lunch?”
Why was Rex being so polite? Sebastard and I shared a look as if to say, There’s no way I’m sitting next to you again . Nice to know the feeling was mutual.
I grabbed my tote and gave them a closed-lipped smile. “You know what, I have a showing coming up, so I’ll have to pass. You two have a nice catch-up.” I shoved my salad into a takeout container, then patted the wine-stained man on the shoulder, wishing I could shove him through the window. “Enjoy your time in New Elwood.”