22. Charlie
TWENTY-TWO
CHARLIE
The next day, Friday, I managed to hole myself up in my office at the town council building to catch up on work that I’d neglected. Conveniently, this allowed me to avoid a certain difficult neighbor who’d made me orgasm so hard my ears were still ringing nearly twenty-four hours later. Not that I was a big ole coward or anything.
Around three o’clock, I gave up pretending to be productive and picked up the phone.
Abigail answered on the second ring. “Hello, stranger.”
“How do you feel about having a drink before we head over to Hooker’s tonight?”
“I feel very good about that,” she answered. “Sullivan’s? Should I call Sophie?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Shall we say an hour?”
“I’m heading over right now, so I’ll nurse a drink or three until you get there.”
“Uh-oh,” Abigail said. “This is a red alert kind of drink, huh.”
“I’ll tell you about it when I see you.”
“I’ll get a hustle on. See you soon.”
Sure enough, not twenty minutes later the three of us were jammed into a corner booth with drinks. Pinot Grigio for Abigail, some sort of fruity concoction for Sophie, and a double margarita with a half-salt rim for me.
“So,” Abigail said, waving her wine glass at me. “Begin.”
I groaned and slid halfway down the booth. Both women looked at me from the other side of it, leaning forward.
“What happened?” Sophie asked. “Is this about the Monticello?”
“No. Well, yes. Sort of. Not really.”
“Entirely logical,” Abigail said, nodding sagely.
I shot her a glare. “It’s about my neighbor.”
Both women waited, not moving a muscle.
I sucked on my margarita until I gave myself a brain freeze, then groaned with my head in my hands for a while. “We kind of…kissed,” I admitted to the table.
A sharp intake of breath from Sophie. A whistle from Abigail, and she spoke first. “Was it good?”
I shifted my hands so they covered my face, then split my fingers open so I could look at them. “He made me come.”
“ From a kiss? ” Abigail shrieked, then slapped her hand over her mouth. A few people glanced over, and we all crouched down in the booth.
“We might have done more than kiss.”
“Did you…” She made a gesture like she was a teenage boy with an overdeveloped sense of humor.
“No. We just… he just…touched.”
“Oh my gawd.” Abigail leaned back and took a slug of wine. “I’m in shock. Does this place have a defibrillator?”
Sophie’s eyes were wide. “Are you okay?”
Abigail lifted a hand. “That is the wrong question, I’m afraid. The correct question is what the hell happened? I want a second-by-second recap.”
“You’re not getting one,” I told her. “I don’t even know how I feel or how it happened. I came home to this demolition notice on my door.”
“What?” they both exclaimed.
I dug through my purse and brought out the crumpled sheet of yellow paper I’d retrieved from the floor outside Sebastian’s apartment. “This was tacked onto my door when I got home.”
They peered at the notice. Abigail met my gaze. “And then you confronted him, and he put his hands down your pants.” She arched a brow.
“Well…yeah.”
Her lips twitched.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Do not laugh at me right now.”
“I couldn’t be more serious.”
“It’s not funny.”
“No one said it was.”
I glared at Abigail, then groaned as I massaged my temples. “It was a mistake. I know that. I’m just…confused. And angry. He’s trying to kick me out of my home.”
Sophie inhaled, and we both glanced at her. She arched her brows at me, a softness entering her eyes. “Are you sure that’s what he wants? He doesn’t seem like that much of a bad guy to me.”
“Based on what?” Abigail asked, skeptical.
“He got her a coffee,” Sophie said. “You don’t figure out what someone’s favorite coffee is and go out of your way to get it unless you’ve got some kind of heart.”
“Did he go out of his way, though?” Abigail asked. “You told me he stops in nearly every day. Seems like it was very much on his way, and we shouldn’t give him too much credit for one measly coffee.”
“Whatever about the coffee,” I interjected. “What am I going to do about my home?”
Sophie pulled the demolition notice closer and read it again. “A hundred and eighty days. That’s, what, six months?”
“Unless I go for Option B,” I said, pointing to the bottom of the page. “He’s willing to pay cash for keys.”
Abigail hummed. “So he thinks money talks.”
“I’m pretty sure money is all he cares about. He’s stubborn as all hell. He won’t back down easily,” I answered bitterly. His whole sob story about the fire seemed like a distant memory at this point. Did he really care about safety? Or did he only care about it when he stood to make a tidy profit off of it?
“What if you take him out of the equation?” Abigail suggested. “Offer to buy the place yourself.”
Sophie straightened, eyes brightening. “Yes! Charlie! You should buy Radcliffe House!”
My heart began to thump. “I don’t… Would I be able to afford that?”
“You’ve had cheap rent for, what, ten years? Don’t tell me you haven’t been saving diligently like the little nerd you are,” Abigail said.
I huffed. “I might have enough for a down payment. Maybe. But…really? You think…” I bit my lip, meeting Abigail’s and Sophie’s eyes in turn. “You really think I could do it?”
“Doesn’t hurt to try.” Sophie beamed. “You could be a homeowner. You could fix up the place, just like your dad always wanted!”
I put my hand to my heart, worried it was about to jump right out of my chest. “I could. Oh my goodness. I could .” I sobered, forcing my excitement down. “Unless Anderson refuses.”
“You won’t know until you ask,” Abigail said with a decisive nod.
It was too exciting to let myself believe it. I forced myself to think about every possible avenue of failure. “If I apply for a mortgage, the bank will want to see that I have a job.”
Abigail looked at me like my brain had accidentally fallen out of my head. “Charlie. You do have a job. You have a great, stable job with the government that includes predictable pay bumps and generous benefits.”
“For now,” I protested. “What if I get fired because of this whole Monticello fiasco?”
“The only way you get fired is if the town runs out of money and can’t afford to keep you on,” Abigail said in a no-nonsense voice.
Sophie pinched her lips and added, “Which could happen if Charlie wins the vote and the theater doesn’t bring in more tourists.”
I took a sip of my margarita and had to swallow twice when it got stuck halfway down my throat. “I’m starting to think…” I couldn’t look at the two of them, so I traced the base of my glass with my finger. “What if I’m wrong about restoring the theater? It’s in really bad shape. And even if it’s been in town for a hundred years doesn’t change the fact that people aren’t going to the movies anymore, and another old theater in another old town isn’t going to draw more tourists to the area.”
There was a moment of quiet. I lifted my gaze to see two worried sets of eyes staring back at me.
Gathering my courage, I voiced the idea that I was almost afraid to say out loud. “I was thinking…” I let out a harsh sigh. “I had this idea, but I’m not sure it’ll work.”
“Shoot,” Abigail said.
“I’m sure it’s fantastic,” Sophie added.
“I wonder if there’s a middle ground for the theater,” I started slowly. “If we could keep the lobby and the fa?ade, and if Anderson would be open to changing his plans, maybe instead of a big tower hotel that casts a shadow over all of the downtown area, he could build a smaller, boutique hotel.”
Their heads tilted in unison.
I continued. “We could save the most important parts of the theater and turn them into features of the new hotel. Then it would be a draw. It wouldn’t just be a generic place for people to stay while they go on wine tours outside of town. It would be its own destination.”
“Charlie,” Abigail said in a low voice.
I met her gaze, feeling like I’d just bared my heart to the both of them. “Yeah?”
“I fucking love you.”
Sophie let out a squeal. “You’re a genius!”
“You really think so?”
Abigail’s smile was wide and bright. “That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard. Hell, I’d stay in a cool boutique hotel downtown just to get away from my big empty house!”
I laughed, relief swamping me. “I thought you’d tell me I was crazy. I still kind of think it might be a pie-in-the-sky plan. It can’t possibly be as profitable as a huge tower. How would I even pitch it?”
“Practice tonight,” Sophie suggested, “at Hooker’s Paradise! You can tell the rest of the ladies about your plan, and they can poke holes in it until you realize how amazing an idea it is.”
I let my lips slide into the first genuine smile of the day. “Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Good idea.”
We finished our drinks, got a second round, and by the time we toddled out of there to head to Evelyn’s place for tonight’s edition of crochet club, I felt lighter than I had in weeks.
It helped when the rest of the ladies gushed over my idea like they’d never heard anything better. Even stone-faced Ida had a sheen in her eyes as she reached over and squeezed my forearm.
“I was sad to think about that place going,” she told me quietly. “Mervin and I had our first date there.” Her late husband had been devoted to her, and Ida had never remarried after he passed.
My heart grew so much it crowded out my lungs. I didn’t even pretend to work on my granny square, content to eat snacks, avoid Evelyn’s tea, and rehearse my pitch to my captive audience.