Chapter 10 #2
She looked perfect, as always. She carried a large designer purse, and her smile was bright and false as artificial sweetener. Oh, hell no. Not today.
“Harper!” She moved into the shop like she owned it, her heels clicking sharply on my hardwood floors. “I heard about the fire. I just had to come see how you were doing.”
Sarah glanced between us, her expression carefully neutral as tension filled the air. “I should get going. Harper, thank you for the dress. And if you need anything—”
“I know where to find you. Thank you, Sarah.” I handed her the shopping bag, watching as she edged around Morgan and escaped out the door with a sympathetic look back at me.
Then it was just the two of us.
Morgan moved deeper into the boutique, her eyes scanning everything with that same calculating look I'd seen before. Taking inventory. Assessing value. Like she was already planning what she'd do with the space.
“The boutique looks wonderful,” she said, running manicured fingers over a rack of spring cardigans. “I'm so glad the fire wasn't here. That would have been devastating.”
There was something in the way she said it. Something that made my skin crawl, that felt wrong.
“What do you want, Morgan?” I kept my voice level, professional. I didn't let her see how her presence made my heart race with anxiety.
“I told you. I wanted to check on you.” She pulled out a soft pink cardigan, examined it with false interest, her fingers toying with the fabric. “I heard you've been staying with Connor. At his ranch.”
Of course she'd heard. Everyone in town probably knew by now.
“Connor offered to let me stay until I figure things out,” I said carefully. “It was very kind of him.”
“Oh, I'm sure it was.” Morgan's smile widened, and there was something sharp beneath it. Something cold. “Connor's always been so generous. Especially with people he cares about.” The emphasis on “cares about” felt deliberate. Pointed.
“Is there something you wanted to buy, Morgan? Because I have a lot to catch up on after being closed for three days.”
“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something.” She set down the cardigan and moved closer to the counter. Too close. Invading my space in a way that felt aggressive, threatening. “I work at the town records office, you know.”
“I know.”
“And part of my job is reviewing commercial leases. Making sure everything's current, that businesses are in compliance.” She tilted her head, studying me with those ice-cold eyes. “It's come to my attention that your lease payment is significantly overdue.”
My chest tightened, my hands curling into fists beneath the counter. “That's between me and my landlord.” And none of your damn business.
“Of course, of course. But Harper, as someone who cares about this town, about the success of our local businesses, I worry.” Her voice dripped with false concern that made my stomach turn.
“Three months behind is quite serious. And with your apartment situation now, I imagine finances are even tighter.”
She knew exactly how much I owed, how badly I was struggling. Because she had access to the records and could see every detail of my failing business laid out in black and white.
“I'm handling it,” I forced out through gritted teeth.
“Are you?” Morgan's smile turned colder, sharper. “Because from where I'm sitting, it doesn’t look like it. And when businesses fail, Harper, especially businesses in prime locations like this, someone always comes along to take over. Someone with capital. Someone who sees the potential.”
My hands curled into tighter fists beneath the counter, nails digging into my palms. “Are you threatening me?”
“Threatening?” Morgan laughed, the sound bright and cheerful and completely wrong.
“Harper, no. I'm trying to help. I have connections. People who invest in commercial properties. People who might be interested in buying out your lease if things get too difficult.” The words were almost exactly the same as the ones Armand had used when he came in the first time.
Investors who specialize in helping entrepreneurs in difficult situations.
“I'm not interested in selling.” My voice came out harder now, edged with anger that was finally breaking through the fear.
“You might not have a choice.” Morgan picked up her purse, preparing to leave, her mission apparently accomplished.
“Mr. Chen is a patient man, but even patience has limits.
And when he finally decides to evict you for non-payment, this space will be available.
It would be a shame if it went to someone who doesn't appreciate what you've built.”
She moved toward the door with unhurried grace, then paused, looking back with that cold smile that didn't reach her eyes.
“Oh, and Harper? I heard the fire at your apartment was arson.
Such a scary thought, isn't it?” Her eyes held mine, unwavering.
“I hope whoever did it doesn't come back. It would be terrible if something happened to the boutique too. This building is so old. Wood frame, antique electrical wiring. It would go up so fast.”
The threat was barely veiled now. Barely hidden beneath the veneer of neighborly concern. Rage flared hot in my chest, burning away the fear.
“Get out.” The words came out shaking with anger and fear I could no longer contain. “Get out of my store. Now.”
Morgan's smile widened, satisfied, like she'd gotten exactly what she came for. “I'm just trying to help, Harper. But if you don't want my help…” She shrugged delicately. “Well, I hope things work out for you. Really, I do.”
Then she was gone, the door chiming cheerfully behind her, leaving me standing behind my counter with my heart pounding and my hands shaking and rage burning in my chest.
She knows something. She's connected to this somehow. I didn't have proof. I had nothing except a bad feeling and a veiled threat and the cold satisfaction I'd seen in her eyes.
I pulled out my phone with trembling hands and texted Connor.
Morgan just came by. Made threats. Can you come over?
His response came within seconds.
Connor
On my way.
Connor arrived two minutes later, bursting through the boutique door with an expression that said he was ready to fight someone, his eyes scanning for threats.
“What happened? What did she say?” His breath came fast, like he'd run across the street.
I told him everything. Morgan's “concern” about my overdue rent. Her mention of investors interested in buying out my lease. Her comment about the building being old and wood-framed and so flammable, delivered with that cold smile.
Connor's expression grew darker with every word. By the time I finished, his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breath was coming faster and his nostrils flared with each breath.
“I'm calling Davies.” He pulled out his phone.
“And telling him what? That Morgan made vague comments that could be interpreted as threats? That she mentioned the building is old?” I shook my head, exhausted suddenly. “Connor, there's nothing concrete. She was too careful.”
“She threatened you—”
“She implied. There's a difference.” I leaned against the counter, my legs suddenly weak. “But Connor, she knew about my lease being overdue. She works at the records office. She has access to all of that information.”
“Which means she could have told Armand and has been feeding him information this whole time.” The pieces were clicking together in his mind, I could see it in his eyes.
The picture that formed made my stomach drop.
Morgan had access to my financial records. Morgan was Connor's ex-girlfriend and clearly not over him. Morgan had shown up at his house uninvited twice, claiming he'd invited her when he hadn't. Morgan had just threatened me about my lease and my building.
Morgan might be working with whoever burned down my apartment.
“We need to tell Davies,” Connor repeated, his voice hard. “Even if we can't prove anything yet. He needs to know she's involved.”
“What if we're wrong? What if she's just being petty and jealous and this is all coincidence?”
“You don't believe that.” Connor moved closer, his hands gentle as he rested them on my shoulders, the touch grounding.
“Harper, I know Morgan. I dated her for a year.
The way you're describing her, the calculated threats, the knowledge she shouldn't have?
That's not coincidence. That's her being exactly who she's always been.
Manipulative and ruthless when she doesn't get what she wants.”
I wanted to argue, to believe there was some other explanation. But the cold satisfaction in Morgan's eyes when she'd mentioned the building being flammable—that had been real. That had been intentional.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “We tell Davies.”
Connor pulled out his phone, but before he could dial, the boutique door opened again.
I tensed, ready for another confrontation, but it was just Melissa from the coffee shop, holding a to-go cup.
“Sorry to interrupt!” She smiled, oblivious to the tension thick enough to cut.
“I brought you coffee. Thought you could use it after this morning's rush. And Harper…” Her expression turned serious, earnest. “I just wanted to say we're all rooting for you.
The whole town. What happened was awful, but you're not alone. Okay?”
The genuine kindness in her voice made my eyes burn with unshed tears. “Thank you, Melissa. That means more than you know.”
She left the coffee on the counter and headed back out, waving as she went.
Connor and I stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down. Then he said quietly, “See? You're not alone. You have a whole town behind you.”
“And at least one person trying to destroy me.”
“We'll figure out who. And we'll stop them.” He squeezed my shoulders. “But first, let me call Davies and tell him about Morgan.”
I nodded, taking a sip of the coffee Melissa had brought. It was a perfect vanilla latte with an extra shot, exactly how I liked it.
While Connor talked to the sheriff in low tones near the window, I looked around my boutique. At the spring displays I'd arranged with such hope. At the racks of clothes that represented years of work and dreams. At the space I'd built from nothing and was fighting desperately to keep.
The morning had brought sales and support from the town. It had given me a glimpse of hope that maybe I could get through this.
But it had also brought Morgan and her threats, confirmed that someone was actively working to destroy me. That the fire hadn't been random or just a warning.
Connor finished his call and came back to me, his expression grim. “Davies wants us to come in tomorrow morning to give statements about Morgan's visit. He's going to look into whether she's connected to Armand.”
“Okay.”
“And Harper?” He took my hands in his, making me look at him. Making me see the certainty in his eyes. “I meant what I said before. Whatever comes next…we face it together.”
I squeezed his hands, trying to believe him. Trying to hold onto the hope I'd felt this morning when customers had filled my shop and supported me.
Trying to believe that maybe, somehow, this would all work out.
Even though a voice in the back of my head whispered that it was only going to get worse before it got better.
By the time I locked up later, it was before six, which was early. But I was exhausted, wrung out from the emotional whiplash of the day. Connor had refused to leave after Morgan's visit, hovering protectively while I worked. I'd made just over two thousand dollars in sales.
Two thousand dollars. In one day. During the slow season.
It wouldn't solve my problems or pay off the thousands I owed or erase the mountain of debt I'd accumulated. But it was something. It was proof that the boutique could work, that people wanted what I was selling, that maybe I wasn't completely failing.
“Good day?” Connor asked as we walked to his truck, the evening air cold against my flushed cheeks.
“Surprisingly, yes.” I climbed into the passenger seat, my body aching with exhaustion. “Despite Morgan. The town really showed up for me.”
“Told you. People care.”
We drove in comfortable silence, both lost in our own thoughts. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and purple, and for just a moment, I let myself appreciate the beauty of it.
Let myself believe that maybe tomorrow would be better.