Chapter Eighteen
Bethany slipped through the swinging doors and wound her way through the noisy dining room to Sam’s table.
All the while, she fought the sick feeling creeping through her veins like poison, like she’d done something wrong.
Like she’d made a horrible mistake. Like she’d rushed to a decision and destroyed something precious before it even had a chance to take root.
Crazy. All she’d destroyed was the chance for Hank to take advantage of her.
“Here ya go, Sam. And scraps for Gypsy.”
The orange cat lifted her head and meowed as if she understood—which she would, given the fact that Bethany brought her leftovers whenever she fed Sam. Bethany placed Sam’s dish on the table in front of him and crouched to give Gypsy her bowl. The cat devoured the scraps.
“He’s not what he seems, is he?”
Bethany tilted her head toward Sam, whose hands rested by his silverware, unmoving. “If you mean he’s not a handyman, you’re right. I told you before, he’s an actor. Aren’t you going to try the scrambled eggs?”
Sam didn’t move. Was he ill?
Bethany stood. “What’s the matter?”
He shrugged and grabbed his napkin.
“Sam, whatever it is, spit it out.”
Sam made a show of opening the napkin and tucking it into his shirt. Bethany tapped her foot on the floor. “Sam . . .”
“I like him.”
Bethany bit her lip. “You don’t know him.”
“I know enough. I know he’s as taken by you as the rest of us.”
Heat flamed Bethany’s cheeks and spread to her heart. “Don’t be silly. I just met him on Friday.”
Sam smiled and nodded and shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs in the vicinity of his mouth. “And now he’s fixing your dishwasher. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
Something sharp poked Bethany’s shoulder. She turned to see Elizabeth, her slim figure in a yellow sundress and clogs. The outfit’s carefree style contrasted with the determined expression on her face. “May I speak to you somewhere private?”
“I’m sorry, it’s a busy morning. Maybe later.”
“My apologies, but what I have to say concerns the welfare of you and your business. It cannot wait until later.”
Bethany considered Elizabeth’s condescending face. Why did she feel like she would regret this conversation?
She looked around. Where could they go to be private? Hank was playing handyman in the kitchen, Travis worked the counter, and most of the tables were filled with regulars.
From the corner of her eye, Bethany spied an open table in the far corner where the boys had been sitting, which was now empty. Travis must have them busy washing dishes. “Over there.”
Elizabeth followed where she pointed. “Excellent.” She took off toward the table. By the time Bethany arrived, she was seated, looking cool and smug.
Bethany nabbed the seat across from her, smoothed her clammy hands across her apron and held them together on her lap underneath the table. She studied Elizabeth, who had the look of a disgruntled Persian cat about to bite.
Bethany spoke in her most soothing voice. “What can I do for you?”
Elizabeth snorted and brushed her hair behind her ear, like women who are attractive and know it do. “It’s more about what I can do for you. Listen, I know you think you’ve got Hank wrapped around your little finger and all, but I’m here to tell you it’s a pleasant illusion.”
Bethany pleated her apron underneath the table. “I assure you, I don’t have Hank wrapped around my little finger.”
Elizabeth continued as if Bethany hadn’t spoken.
“Hank’s going through a bit of a rough patch right now, and he doesn’t need complications.
I’ve been working hard to keep him focused on his career.
He’s lonely and vulnerable and likely to make promises he can’t keep.
The man leaves a trail of broken hearts behind him wherever he goes.
I don’t want you to be his next victim.”
“I’ve no intention of being a victim.”
Elizabeth tilted her thin lips in the semblance of a smile. “Good, because if it stays that way, I might be able to pull some strings to help you win the baking contest.”
Bethany raised her eyebrows.
“Don’t look so surprised. Hank told me you’re entering a family recipe. I’ve been with Hank since the beginning. He knows how hard I work to ensure his success. That’s why he tells me everything.”
She shouldn’t have bothered emphasizing the word. Bethany had heard last night how Hank revealed details of his personal life to Elizabeth. She swallowed a sharp stab of jealousy and trained her gaze on Elizabeth’s inscrutable one. “How would you help me win?”
Elizebeth smiled like she’d cast a net and caught the biggest fish in the sea. “I’ve read the rules of the contest. Finalists are selected based on social media votes, correct? I’m very good at my job, Bethany. I’ll get you the votes you need to be a finalist.”
Bethany took a deep breath and tightened a hold on her temper. “That would be cheating, wouldn’t it?”
“Oh, pah.” Elizabeth flung a hand in the air. “How can it be cheating if those are the rules? I’m not breaking any laws by getting others to vote for your restaurant, am I? Besides, I’m only ensuring you final. The win depends on you and your recipe.”
Bethany wrinkled her brow. Elizabeth was right. Bethany had planned to encourage the entire neighborhood to vote for Grandma Lou’s. “What do you expect from me in return?”
Elizabeth leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Stay away from Hank—let him concentrate on his career. Don’t respond to any invitations. Maintain a professional business relationship. That’s all I ask.”
Bethany clenched her hands in her lap and struggled to think.
What Elizabeth proposed made sense, didn’t it?
With Elizabeth’s help, she and Travis would be closer to winning the contest and keeping Grandma Lou’s solvent and in the family.
She forced her hands to relax. “What about the fitness center?”
Instead of answering, Elizabeth reached into her Chanel purse and pulled out a tin of mints. She selected one white mint from the case and offered the entire box to Bethany.
Bethany shook her head.
Elizabeth tossed her hair over her shoulders and smiled, but it didn’t reach her cool silver eyes. “It’s Hank’s decision whether he sells or opens Fitaholics. I couldn’t in good conscience sway him one way or another.”
“So there’s still a chance he’ll turn our building into a fitness center?”
Elizabeth laughed low and confident and fierce.
“Frankly, I’m more concerned with getting Hank back to Hollywood than in opening a store.
But as I’ve said, I’ve known Hank a long time.
Chances are he’ll sell the building. And if you have the money, I won’t do anything to discourage him from selling to you. Fair enough?”
Bethany understood now why Elizabeth was good at her job.
She hadn’t denied that they might still open the center, but she’d left room for Bethany to achieve her goal.
Staying away from Hank Haverill made smart business sense.
She would accept Elizabeth’s offer. Hank would return to Hollywood, Bethany would win the contest and buy the building, and all would return to how it had been before Desmond’s betrayal and Hank’s arrival on her doorstep.
“Yes,” she said.
“Wonderful. Shall we shake on it?” Elizabeth held out a long pale hand.
Bethany watched trance-like as she moved her arm from under the table and clasped Elizabeth’s palm with her darker one.
“I’m glad we understand each other.” Elizabeth stood. “When does voting start?”
“After midnight on Friday.”
“Remember, stay away from Hank, and I’ll get started on garnering the votes you need.” She nodded, queen-like, slipping in a small, satisfied smile, and turned with a flip of her hair.
Bethany’s stomach gurgled and her temple throbbed. She hugged her arms. Maybe she should have kept her hand in her apron pocket and showed Elizabeth the exit? But it was too late. The deal was made.
And Bethany meant to uphold her end of the bargain.