Chapter 13
BODIE
I stopped my truck on the side of the road.
It had been almost two weeks since I’d been out at the warehouse checking on Lacey.
Now the parking lot overflowed and people had left their vehicles in a hodgepodge dotting the drive to the Phillips House and warehouse.
When Lacey called earlier in the week to let me know about the sale, she told me she expected a large turnout over the weekend.
But the number of people drifting toward the warehouse doors made it look like attendance might even exceed her expectations.
I passed a giant sign advertising the sale as I let the crowd sweep me inside.
“Welcome.” Zina thrust a piece of paper into my hands. “Here’s a map of the warehouse. We’ve got items separated by theme and everything’s marked.”
“So Lacey pressed you into service?” I asked.
“Me and everyone else who’s ever owed her a favor.” Zina continued to hand sheets out to the people coming in behind me.
“Looks like a success so far. Have you sold much?”
“We just opened a half hour ago but there are a ton of people in there.” She nodded toward the door leading into the warehouse. “Lacey’s back by the checkout table if you want to find her.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll go track her down.” I hadn’t seen her since that awkward almost-kiss. Even thinking about my lack of control made my cheeks burn with embarrassment. But we were both adults. We could put it behind us and keep things professional.
I was about to bypass the line of people snaking into the warehouse when a scuffle outside the front door diverted my attention. My dad and pops pushed ahead of everyone else to enter the office area.
“What’s all this?” Dad asked.
I stepped out of the line to stop my dad before he passed into the warehouse. “It’s the sale I told you about.”
“You said if we showed up today we could get some of our stuff back.”
“No. I told you Lacey organized a fundraiser.”
My dad snagged the sheet of paper from my hands. “What the hell has she gone and done?”
“Looks like she’s organized a pretty successful sale,” I commented. “I was about to go find her and see how business has been.”
My pops scanned the sheet of paper. “Where are the tchotchkes?”
“The what?” I squinted at the map.
“The damn decoration stuff. The breakables.” Pops ran a finger over the paper, scanning the print.
“I’m not sure. You want to come with me to find Lacey?”
My dad growled as someone bumped into him from behind. “Watch yourself.”
“Come on.” I led the way, entering the warehouse.
Lacey must have rearranged things. Industrial shelving lined the perimeter of the area.
Boxes stacked high into the air. We passed a section of toys, crafts, kitchenware, and gardening supplies before I noticed the checkout tables set up against the far wall.
“This isn’t right,” Pops muttered. “We should have had a chance to get in here before she turned it into a damn circus.”
“No offense, Pops, but if you’d handled things the right way, you wouldn’t be trying to buy back your old property in the first place.
” I didn’t like the way my dad and pops seemed to feel entitled to what wasn’t legally theirs anymore.
They still hadn’t given me any more information on what might really be going down.
But my suspicions hadn’t been cleared up, so I was still keeping an eye out for signs.
“Don’t talk to your grandfather like that,” my dad ground out. “If you’d been able to get our property out of here, we wouldn’t be trying to buy back something we already own.”
I clenched my jaw. It wasn’t worth it to argue with either one of them. I’d learned that long ago.
The sight of Lacey bending over a long table brightened my mood.
She’d piled her hair up on top of her head.
A pencil stuck through it, holding it in place.
She had on a fitted long-sleeve shirt under a thermal vest. She looked good in pink.
Maybe I’d get up the nerve to tell her that one day.
Keep it professional, I reminded myself.
“Mayor Cherish.” My dad reached the table first and thrust his hand toward Lacey.
She looked up, her gaze bouncing from my dad to my pops to me. “Hi there. Glad you could make it. Line starts over there.” She nudged her chin toward a long line of people waiting to check out.
“We’re not in line.” Pops put his palms on the table and leaned toward her. “We’re looking for something in particular and I’m wondering if you can tell us where it is.”
“Oh?” Lacey regarded my granddad with indifference, most likely not an attitude Pops was used to feeling. She picked up a sheet of paper from the table and handed it across the table. “We made up a map.”
Pops crumpled the page into a ball as Lacey’s eyes widened. “I don’t need a map. I need to know where you put the figurines.”
Her forehead creased. “Mr. Phillips, half of the inventory could be considered figurines. Can you be more specific?”
Pops looked like he wanted to leap over the table. He’d never been the patient type.
“I’ll handle this, Dad.” My dad stepped forward, drawing Lacey’s attention. “We’re looking for something specific. I believe we ordered a pallet full of the high school mascot.” A grin spread across his face. “Beavers, actually.”
“Oh, the beavers, right.” Lacey grinned. “The beavers aren’t for sale.”
“Not for sale?” Pops shifted his weight forward, knocking into the table.
Lacey either didn’t notice or decided to ignore it. “That’s right, Mr. Phillips. With the beavers being the high school mascot we figured we’d have plenty of opportunity to use them as centerpieces, or—”
“They’re not meant for centerpieces,” Pops grunted.
Dad shot Pops a look. I couldn’t see my dad’s face from where I stood slightly behind him, but it was enough to get Pops to clamp his mouth shut and spin away from the table.
“That’s right. The beaver’s a popular critter around here, that’s for sure.” Dad let out a bark of laughter. “That’s why we ordered them. Folks around here can’t get enough. It’s been one of our top sellers.”
“Well, you’ll have to order more. Like I said, the beavers aren’t for sale.” Lacey gave them another long look. Someone called her from a few tables away. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
I watched her walk away. The way her jeans hugged her ass made something twinge deep in my chest. Dammit.
It was Lacey, the gal I used to tease by launching spit wads into her hair.
Although, there’d been nothing girlish about the way she’d responded to me a couple of weeks ago, a fact I still hadn’t taken the time to acknowledge.
“Well, there you have it. No beavers.” I gestured toward the door. “If that’s all y’all were after—”
“Not so fast,” Dad said. “We’ve got to get those beavers back one way or another. Did you think about Buck’s little proposition?”
I leaned close. “I’m not jeopardizing my career to get your case of ceramic doodads back. Just order more and be done with it if they’re so important.”
“Supplier’s out. Can’t get more.” Pops ground his molars together. “See if you can sweet-talk your girlfriend.” Then he turned on his heel and headed toward the door.
“Do what your granddad says.” My dad made a fist and gave me a playful punch on the arm. “Sheriff Phillips . . . can’t you hear it now?”
I took in a deep breath through my nose, trying to refill my patience with air. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Maybe if she was, you’d be able to do what we need you to do. The family’s counting on you, son.” My dad fake-punched me on the arm again then followed in Pops’s footsteps, disappearing out into the drizzly gray morning.
I was tired of the family counting on me, tired of being made to feel solely responsible for cleaning up their messes.
I’d looked the other way when my dad was accused of blackmailing the drugstore owner to stop carrying party supplies.
There hadn’t been physical proof, although I knew in my heart my dad had something to do with it.
And when I got a call that Pops had gotten pissed off and shot up the jukebox down at Ortega’s, I had smoothed things over, allowing Pops to avoid an arrest. But I hadn’t gone into law enforcement to give my family a free pass.
The weather fit my mood today: bleak, gloomy, and somewhat hopeless.
I located Lacey, who stood behind one of the long tables, bagging up someone’s purchases.
I didn’t want to get in the way so I decided to take a closer look at the kind of things they had for sale.
Rows and rows of miscellaneous party and paper supplies lined the warehouse floor.
I’d never been directly involved in the import business, preferring to try to keep a little separation between family and my career.
But I knew business hadn’t been so great over the past several years.
What would cause my dad and Pops to bother with moving a failing operation all the way across the river?
As I contemplated potential motives, I walked back through to the office area. Zina stood on one side of the room, her hand tangled in a clump of leashes. Dogs in various colors and sizes gathered around her legs.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
She turned around, almost knocking herself over. “Oh, hey. Lacey suggested I bring some of the dogs over. May as well see if we can find any of them a good home while we have so many people moving through here.”
“Good idea.” I bent to ruffle between the ears of a gray-and-white pit bull. It licked my hand in thanks.
“With any luck I’ll have room for you to bring Shotgun back next week.” Zina separated the dogs, leading them into a series of makeshift pens.
My heart squeezed. “No rush.”
She’d told me it would only be for a few days at first but kept asking if Shotgun could stay longer.
I’d enjoyed having the company of the four-legged beast. We’d always had a variety of dogs around the ranch while I was growing up.
Since I’d been out on my own I hadn’t had reason to care for anyone or anything else.
But now with Shotgun around I found I liked sharing space, especially with a living being who didn’t try to tell me what to do all the time.
“How’s her muzzle healing?” Zina continued to separate the dogs and steer them into the pens.
“Great. She’s coming around, too. Not nearly as shy as she was the day we found her.”
“Good. She’s a keeper. She’ll make a great family pet for someone.” Zina got the last dog settled then turned to face me. “Want to help me get the paperwork together?”
I glanced around. I didn’t have plans today. Nothing on my agenda except maybe hitting up the bar with a few friends later. I could spare an hour or two to pitch in. “Sure. Just show me what I need to do.”
Zina dragged two chairs over and slid them behind a long table. “I’ll handle the questions if you handle the dogs. If people want to see a particular animal, just get it out of the pen so they can do a meet and greet. All the info is on the notecard taped to the front of their crate.”
Sounded easy enough. I leaned down to check out the notecard taped to the first pen.
Bella—great with kids, doesn’t like cats, relinquished by her owners because she had too much energy.
Poor dog. I dangled my fingers in front of Bella’s nose so she could sniff me.
Satisfied I wasn’t a threat or withholding some kind of treat, she licked my palm.
Seemed like a sweet girl. She nudged my hand with her nose, trying to get her block-sized head under my fingers.
“You angling for a rub?” I asked.
A couple stopped to chat with Zina at the table.
I waited to see if they’d want to meet one of the dogs.
My gaze swept the office area of the space.
Standard cubicles lined the area in rows, except for the spot we occupied, that had been separated from the rest of the office area by a counter-height wall.
What exactly did Lacey have in mind? Whatever it was, I couldn’t see it.
But I’d make damn sure that no one messed with her while she tried to carry out her vision, however crazy it might be.