Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“ Y ou can’t be serious,” Renic said, stunned. He felt like a fool with his arms filled with sheets and pillows in the middle of a war zone. “What the hell happened in here?”
Lizzie smiled her sweetest, most irritating smile. “You already know, Renic. After all, you used my plumbing issues as an excuse to wiggle your way in here like a snake. Now you can sleep with them.”
Renic dropped the sheets and pillows on the bare mattress and rubbed his nose. “The stench in this room is nothing like roses.”
“Sleep with the windows open.” She squared her shoulders.
He gaped at her. “It’s fifty degrees outside.”
“There’s blankets in the closet. Or you could go back to the Budget Inn.”
She was being entirely unreasonable for no good reason as far as he was concerned. “Why are you doing this?”
“Think about it, Renic. Think real hard. Maybe an answer will bite you in the ass.” Lizzie stalked toward the door .
He followed, determined to get her on his side. “You can’t still be this mad at me after three years.”
“I didn't realize my feelings came with an expiration date.” She opened the door with more force than necessary. It banged on the wall and rebounded into her shoulder. “I have to let you stay here because you were right. I do need the money. But since you tricked your way in I don’t have to make it comfortable. It’s really low, by the way, to take advantage of someone when they’re down like that, but I guess I should have expected it from you. However, I agreed to host your event, and I honor my obligations, so you can stay. But if you think I’m going to let you weasel your way back into Della’s life choices, you’re crazier than a chicken on crack.”
She strode out into the hall and let the door fall behind her.
Renic caught it before it closed and pushed through after her. “Hey, wait a minute.” The infuriating woman refused to even slow down. “Lizzie! We need to talk.”
He caught up just as she reached the top of the stairs and managed to grab her arm.
She spun around at the touch of his hand and yanked her arm away. “No, we don’t.”
“Dammit, will you just listen for one second?”
“No.” The stare she leveled on him was cold enough to instantly freeze fire.
“Look, you and I both know Della’s going to ruin her life if she runs off like this.”
“If you and I are on the same page, then there’s something wrong with the page. You’re a fox at the hen house ready to take it apart board by board, and I’m not lettin’ that happen again. Once was more than enough.”
Her Southern accent thickened, which made it difficult to concentrate. He loved the soft burr of it, but it was a sign she’d lost control of her temper, and he really wanted to have a sane, rational discussion with her, not a fight.
He rubbed his face. “We want the same thing. Why can’t you see that?”
“Everything you do is for your own benefit, not hers. Della’s your rising star. This tour is the biggest one she’s ever done. I’ve seen the list. The venues are insane. I bet you’re leveraged to the hilt to make this tour happen, which means your little label is worth next to nothing if she doesn’t show up. That’s why you're here. So no, we do not want the same thing and we are not on the same page. I want Della to be happy. You want Della to perform. You don't have her best interests at heart. I do. We’re nothing alike.”
His jaw was so tense it was starting to ache. She was right about the finances. Damn the woman and her insight. But she was wrong, too. “Yes, this is the biggest tour I’ve ever put together on my own. But I didn’t do it for myself, or even for Self Evident, although it does mean a lot to the label. I did it for Della, because she wanted a big splash. Whether you want to admit it or not, I care about Della. I care about all of you. I always have.”
She opened her mouth to say something he was sure he wouldn’t enjoy, so he cut her off before she got the words out.
“Do you really think she’ll be happy here in the middle of nowhere cleaning toilets the rest of her life? Come on, Lizzie. This place was your idea, not hers. She’s only here because it’s where you are.”
Lizzie raised her chin in the stubborn way she had when she thought he was full of it. “She’s here because she doesn’t want to be there , doing what you want. When she’s ready, she’ll go back.”
“She can try. But if she misses this tour, she’ll be blacklisted by every venue we were scheduled to play. Her crew will be long gone, and the fact that she dumped them will keep others from wanting to work with her. She’ll have to start over, without any goodwill, without the backing of a label. With nothing.”
Lizzie stepped down a stair. “We started that way once. We can do it again. At least we’ll do it together, without you trying to split us up.”
“You going to give up this inn to go start over with her, Lizzie? Is that what you want? To go back to being their stage manager?”
Lizzie hesitated, then continued on down the stairs without another word, without looking back.
Renic let her go. Being around her made him forget all of the arguments he’d been lining up, and now he wasn’t sure what the right play was.
He swore and went back to his room.
The place was a complete disaster. He’d thought the Budget Inn was bad, but at least it had walls and had seemed relatively clean. A closer inspection of the Rose Room revealed just how much damage the plumbing problem had caused. Some of the studs needed replacing, and the curtains smelled like sewage despite the fresh air from the open window. The room needed new carpet, new drywall, and new flooring. He wasn’t a contractor, but he could see the giant price tag attached to everything in the room.
He’d guessed right about her dilemma, but her jab had struck a guilty nerve. He’d taken advantage of the situation, no question. She’d obviously taken on a lot more of a project than she could handle, and he’d bet his next three deals that she hadn’t asked her sister for money to help pay for it even though Della could undoubtedly handle the expense.
He shook his head. “Stubborn.”
He had to find a way to make Lizzie see reason. If he could get her on his side, Della would be a lot easier to work with.
He needed boots-on-the-ground advice. A technique that always worked for him when scouting new talent was to visit the family, talk with friends, learn everything he could about the current situation. He learned their wants, needs, and dreams—all of it. Finding out what someone really wanted underneath the typical bluster and filling that void was something he was usually really good at.
He used to know what Della wanted, but he had to admit something had skewed sideways. Time to find out what. He needed an insider, someone who would talk with him and maybe fill in some of the gaps.
He left the shell of a room, not bothering to pick up the key, and went downstairs to do a little scouting.
The old inn was a study in character. The rich wood accents were original, well-worn but stately. The floor looked a little newer, but stained-glass accent windows above the front door looked like they’d been imported from an old country church in Europe. Double doors off the entry led to a good-sized ballroom, which already had tables and chairs set up for the wedding reception. At least, he assumed that’s what it was for. A white lattice screen and plants filled the far corner of the room. He thought he detected the faintest trace of the stench from upstairs.
The room was empty, as were the entry, the library, the sitting room, and the lounge at the back of the house. Double doors opened onto a stone patio filled with ornate iron tables and chairs that spilled down onto an enormous lawn, with pathways along both sides leading down to the lake. A smaller house nestled in a garden off to the right of the main house. Beyond that, he could see an expanse of vines and another building that he assumed was the winery in the background .
It was the most picturesque place he’d ever been.
He saw people moving around the trees bordering the lawn and stepped toward them for a closer look. He didn’t see Della, but he saw Lizzie immediately at the back left corner of the lawn. She had her hands filled with strings of white holiday lights. She handed them up to a guy on a ladder, who looped them over the branches before handing the string off to someone Renic couldn’t see around the back of the tree.
Even in her old jeans and worn T-shirt, Lizzie looked better to him than any woman he’d ever seen at any entertainment industry party.
Della appeared from the garden on the right, carrying a big box that overflowed with more lights. She pulled a wad of them out and began untangling them.
Lizzie said something that made Della laugh, which made Lizzie smile. It was a genuine thing, filled with amusement and affection. He found himself smiling along with them, even though he couldn’t hear the joke.
Who was the guy on the ladder, and what sort of information could he get from him?
A familiar voice rang out behind him. Jordanna burst out of the kitchen and paced toward him like a drill sergeant.
“It won’t matter. No, it won’t.” She waved at him. “Because it’s not that kind of show. No, it’s not. Look, tell them we’ll be there two hours before.”
He gave her a nod and gestured for her to continue her conversation.
She shook her head at whoever was on the phone. “Well, tough. Two hours is more than enough to do a soundcheck if they have everything set up the way I said. It’ll be a fantastic show. Yes. Okay. Call me after.”
She clicked the phone off. “I swear, the smaller the venue, the bigger the ego. ”
"You think they’re compensating?” Renic laughed. “Which venue?”
“They’re all the same. But no big deal, it’ll work out.” She opened her arms wide for a hug. “Glad you finally made it through the front door.”
“Good to see you, Jordy.” He gave her a quick squeeze. Jordanna worked so well with talent because she was the mom most of them had never had. That meant bear hugs and ice cream and a welcoming ear. He’d liked Jordanna the second he met her, and their friendship had grown into something more like family over the years. “I have a feeling it’ll take all of us to solve this one.”
“How do you solve a problem like a Della?” Jordanna sing-songed, then laughed. “Maybe your boyish good looks and charm will crack the nut.”
“Maybe.” He wasn’t so sure about that.
Music started up behind him from the direction of the kitchen, then a woman sang along, loud and off-key. He grinned. It had to be Carrie the Cook. The way she’d been flirting earlier suggested she was someone who would know all of the Bellamy family gossip. “I need to do some background legwork. Catch up with you later?”
“Sure thing.” Jordanna winked. “I’ll be in the Carriage House if you need me. I’m on conference call for the next two hours. Save me from boredom, I beg you.”
She was back on the phone before she reached the back door.
Renic made his way back to the front of the house and into the kitchen. He’d only caught a glimpse of the room before, but now he took a second to appreciate what was easily the best room in the house.
It had been recently renovated with white marble countertops, gleaming copper backsplash, and rich wood floors with earth-toned mats. The room featured four wall ovens, three gas stovetops, two large dishwashers, and a walk-in subzero refrigerator and freezer.
Sunlight streamed through the high windows above the sinks on the outside wall. It gave the room a bright, cozy vibe, as did the tiny blonde woman currently occupying the space.
Chef Carrie danced in front of the ovens using a spatula for a microphone. Her short hair was spiked, there was a floured handprint on her butt, and her apron was in danger of falling off. Tattoo vines wound up her right arm and disappeared underneath her shirt.
“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats,” Carrie belted out along with Carrie Underwood at the top of her lungs. She didn’t hit one note right, but she made up for it with enthusiasm.
Renic laughed. “You tell him.”
Carrie squeaked and spun around. “Oh, you scared me.”
“Sorry. You were enjoying the song so much I felt the need to chime in. I love hearing people enjoy music.” Renic smiled.
She beamed back at him. “I do enjoy it, as loud as possible. It doesn’t always enjoy me, but I don’t let that stop me. Sing out as loud as you can, I say. That’s what music is for.”
“I agree,” he said.
She waved the spatula at him. “What can I get you, Renic?”
He searched for a good reason to be in the kitchen. Food seemed the obvious choice. “Actually, I didn’t have lunch. I was hoping I could get a sandwich or something.”
“I can do better than that. Have a seat.” She indicated the stools lined up along the biggest kitchen island he’d ever seen, then crossed to the enormous fridge. “You’re having chicken pot pie for dinner with us around six-thirty, but I can get you something to nibble on while you wait.”
“Us?” He sat on the stool closest to the door.
Carrie pulled out a few containers and set them on the counter, then picked up a knife. “The people who make Belhurst tick. Me, Mark, Carter, Lizzie, and now Della. When we’re between events we have a family meal here in the kitchen. During events it’s too busy to breathe, much less eat. Oh, and I suppose that woman who came looking for Della will join us. Jordanna.”
“Oh, good.” He nodded. “Glad Jordy’s still here.”
Carrie flashed him a knowing look. “It seemed to me like she was waiting for you to get here. She’s been trying very hard to appear casual, but I can tell she’s tense. Everybody is, really. Well, everyone but Carter. He’s too busy flirting with Lizzie to notice anything else.”
Renic felt a prickle of irritation at that insight. “Who’s Carter?”
Carrie looked amused. “My nephew. He’s had it bad for her ever since she waltzed into our lives three years ago and saved the inn. He’s not the only one either.”
She started chopping vegetables and slicing cheese. “Lizzie turned heads all over town the first week. She has that exotic x-factor, you know?”
He knew all about the infamous Bellamy charisma. He’d experienced it firsthand. The night he’d first seen the three younger sisters perform at South by Southwest, they’d lit up the stage with that indescribable something that tickled his gut instincts. He’d known they’d make it big. He just hadn’t been in a position to do anything about it at the time. He was a low-level talent scout, not an executive, and they’d already been signed by Dream Works. It wasn't his job to manage anyone, but if he could have, he would have, in a hot second .
He remembered Lizzie patiently waiting backstage for the set to finish. She had a gentle magnetism that ensnared everyone in her orbit and didn’t let go. Della was a flash of lightning, while Lizzie was the warm glow of a fire on a cold winter night. He could imagine how small-town men flocked to that kind of presence. Was she dating any of them? Had she remarried? He hadn’t noticed a ring, but then he hadn’t really looked.
He thought about asking Carrie, then decided against it. The last thing he needed was to plant some sort of romantic fantasy in her head. She’d focus on that, and it wasn’t what he needed right now.
He dragged out a stool to sit on and pushed his thoughts back to the point. He was here to find out about Della, not Lizzie. He made a noncommittal sound to encourage Carrie to keep talking.
“So tell me, Renic, why are you here?” Carrie set a platter of vegetables and dip, fruit, and cheese in front of him.
“Thanks.” Renic picked up a cucumber, scooped up dip with it and ate it to stall for time, then did a double take. “This is really good.”
“Thank you,” she said, looking pleased.
“I’m serious. What kind of dip is this? I’ve never had anything like it. It’s perfect with the cucumber.”
“It’s spicy dill with a blend of vegetables, garlic, onion, and a hint of jalape?o.” She wiped the knife she’d been using with a white cloth. “It’s been a big hit here this summer.”
“You should bottle this. It would sell really well.” He hoped she wouldn’t notice that he’d changed the subject.
She eyed him with the suspicion he deserved. “You haven’t answered my question. Are you trying to hide why you’re here? ”
He put on a fake smile. He usually had better control of his conversations. “I’m having a business meeting.”
“Uh huh.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you really here?”
“I need to talk to Della,” he admitted.
The best way to get information out of someone was to make a trade. A confidence freely given often inspired more of the same in return. He just had to make sure he didn’t give away too much.
Carrie looked at him as if she knew he was holding out on her. “Della’s a popular girl. Jordanna’s been talking to her for days. So has Lizzie. What are you going to say that they haven’t?”
“Fair point.” If he wanted to enlist this woman’s help, now was the perfect opportunity to prime the pump, so to speak. “Jordanna’s been trying to impress Della with what canceling the tour will mean, but I gather Della hasn’t exactly been listening. I’m hoping to attack the problem from another angle.”
“Hmm.” Carrie began to clean up the small mess she’d made getting his snack ready. “And you think you can talk that girl into something she doesn’t want to do?”
He barked a laugh. “Not hardly. I doubt anybody could do that. I hope to show her that she wants to do it.”
Carrie tilted her head and studied him like he was a particularly fascinating bug. “You believe that?”
“You don’t?”
She paused before answering as if thinking it through. “I think Della has no clue what she wants. That girl isn’t running toward anything. She’s running away from something.”
“What’s she running away from?” He leaned forward in anticipation of finally having a clue as to what was going on .
Carrie smiled apologetically. “Now that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it.”
He tried to hide his disappointment at that non-answer. He felt the future of his business slipping away with every conversation. The two he’d had so far had yielded less than nothing about Della other than she was sad and lonely, which didn’t fit his impression at all.
He was missing something. Question was, how to figure out what it was before it was too late. He only booked five days at the inn, and there was no way Lizzie would extend the reservation.
Carrie leaned on the counter. “Tell me…how’d you like the Rose Room?”
He grimaced. “It needs some work.”
“Well, thanks to you it’ll be fixed up pretty soon.” Carrie grinned. “Don’t worry, the contractor is coming tomorrow to treat the smell.”
“Good to know.” He smiled ruefully. “I was pretty sure Lizzie meant for me to bask in it the entire time I’m here.”
“You must have done something nasty to earn that kind of treatment. Lizzie’s usually the nicest one around here.” Carrie took another bite of dip-covered carrot. “You know, she’s mentioned your name once or twice over the years. She calls you Darth Renic. But she wouldn’t offer up many details.”
Carrie looked at him expectedly.
He debated how much to reveal and finally settled on a fraction of the truth. Truth always worked best, even if it wasn’t the whole story.
“We had a discussion that went south,” he admitted.
“Sounds like a fancy way to say you had a fight.”
“It’s in the past.” He took another cucumber. Carrie was getting more information out of him than he was dragging out of her. He was losing his touch.
“Not so past from what I saw earlier. You certainly bring out the color in her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that particular shade of red on her face before, or heard quite so many swear words.”
“Mind giving me a little advice?” Renic asked. He was desperate to steer the conversation away from Lizzie and back to Della.
Carrie laughed. “It’s my favorite pastime.”
“It’s imperative that Della go on this tour. Any idea how I can make her see that? Do you know what went wrong?”
“Well, now. That’s a tough one to answer. We’re going to need inspiration.” She crossed to a paneled door and opened it to reveal a temperature-controlled wine fridge with every nook and cranny filled with bottles of wine. She selected one from a crate on the floor and brought it back out.
“We’ve all been trying to figure that one out. As far as I can tell, Della doesn’t know what’s wrong. Until she sorts it out herself, there’s no way the rest of us will.”
Carrie twisted the lid off the bottle of wine with a flick of her wrist and poured two glasses. She pushed one in front of him. “Cheers.”
They both sipped. Renic made a noise of appreciation. “This is really good.”
“Of course it is. It’s one of ours.” Carrie turned the bottle around so he could see the label. Tetrick Riesling.
“Nice.” He took a longer sip, savoring the bright apple notes. “I can see why Lizzie wanted a piece of this place.”
Carrie poured a little more wine in each glass, then put the lid back on the bottle and set it aside. “You think she came here for the wine?”
Renic looked up. “I think it didn’t hurt. ”
Her lips twitched. “Nobody stays in upstate New York just for the wine. They usually come for a weekend and then leave before it snows.”
“So why do you think she came here?” he asked, curiosity once again driving him away from his goal.
“Now that’s something you should ask Lizzie.”
“Why do you say that?”
Her eyes gleamed with the secret she refused to tell. “It’s her story, not mine.”
The verbal volleyball game was tied, as far as he could determine. Time to put her on the defensive for a change.
“What brought you here, Carrie?”
“I was born here. Well, not here in Geneva, but in a little town not far from here.” She smirked as if she knew exactly what game he was playing.
“Why did you come back?”
Her eyebrows lifted a little. “What makes you think I left?”
Renic swirled a carrot in the gourmet dip she’d created and gestured with it. “Nobody who makes dip like this learned how to do it in upstate New York. No offense.”
She bobbed her head as if conceding the point. “None taken. I did spend a few years in Paris before I came back to help raise my nephews.”
“Paris. That’s a long way to go to learn how to cook, but I applaud the effort.” He saluted her with a dip-laden carrot.
The corners of her eyes crinkled. “I think I’m beginning to see some of that charm I’ve heard so much about.”
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Who told you I was charming?”
“Well, she didn’t exactly use that word. But I’ve been around long enough to know how to read between the lines.”
He shouldn’t be asking about Lizzie, but he was fascinated to know that she’d described him as charming to someone else. He mulled that over, then mentally kicked himself for being an idiot. This information-gathering session wasn’t getting him anywhere he needed to go. Della was the reason he was here. Lizzie Bellamy was not his business.
“How has she seemed to you?” he asked.
“Della or Lizzie?” Carrie’s eyes glinted with amusement.
“Della,” he said firmly.
“Uh-huh.” She took another sip. “When she first got here, Della seemed tired. Now that she’s rested a few days, I’d say she seems lonely. And sad.”
“Lonely. How could she be lonely? She’s surrounded by people all the time.”
Carrie looked at him, all trace of amusement gone from her eyes. “The loneliest place on earth is in a crowd if it’s not the right people.”
“It sounds like you speak from experience.”
Carrie shrugged and took another sip of her wine. “Anyway, Lizzie’s spent the past few days trying to figure out what’s wrong and come up with nothing, so good luck to you.”
“Thanks.” He tipped his glass at her. He’d need all the luck he could get.