Harper slid in and pulled the salad in front of her, but she didn’t eat.
As soon as they were settled, Bonnie brought her a glass of water. “Do you know what you want, hon?”
Ginny shook her head. “Seems I’m not that hungry after all.”
“Bring her a plate of fish and chips,” Jack said. “With extra tartar sauce.”
It was one of Ginny’s favorite choices. Jack would know that—they’d met here often enough when she’d been helping him find his rental properties.
Bonnie left, and Jack glanced at Harper.
She brushed her pretty blond hair behind her ear. “There was an article in today’s Gazette. Red pointed it out to me.”
Red was the elderly man Harper cared for. Ginny had found him his house. She’d sat in the hospital by his bedside when Harper had returned to Maryland the previous fall. Ginny and Red had become friends.
Maybe that was over, too.
“What did it say?”
“I suspect Bruce Collier was the one who dug into your past,” Jack said. “He was heavily quoted in the article. He claims to have evidence that shows your parents owned a number of strip clubs.”
Ginny closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. “I only knew of one.”
“According to the newspaper,” Harper said, “they owned four. Two in San Francisco, one in Reno, and one near”—she glanced at Jack—“was it LA?”
He nodded.
Okay. Ginny could deal with that. “My parents owned a lot of businesses. I knew about the restaurants. I learned about one of the strip clubs accidentally. It’s conceivable they owned others they never told me about.”
“That makes perfect sense,” Harper said.
“And even if you did know about them,” Jack said, “it doesn’t mean you’re looking to open a place like that here.”
“Of course not!” The very idea of sullying this quaint little town was unthinkable.
Jack was nodding slowly.
Harper’s lips were closed in a tight line as if she were trying to keep something in.
Obviously, there was more. “What else did the article say?”
Harper looked at Jack, who said, “That you’ve wormed your way into a local development.” He glanced across the room toward Kade. “There was no proof, just a lot of innuendo about”—he made air quotes with his fingers—“‘the things that go on in private clubs.’”
“What? There’s no… It’s a golf course.”
“I know,” Jack said. “And I know you, and I know Kade.”
Harper said, “Obviously you’re not planning anything like what that Collier guy suggested.”
Ginny sat back. “Great. You two believe me, but everyone else in the restaurant seems to think I’m some kind of a…” Smut broker.
That’s what Bruce had called her.
Bonnie brought the plate of fish and chips. “You need anything else?”
“No.” Her voice was rough, and she cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
Bonnie eyed her a moment, then bent down and lowered her voice. “Bruce Collier is a piece of work. I went to school with that guy. Even back then he was an arrogant know-it-all.”
Ginny tried to stretch her lips into something resembling a smile.
“Don’t let him get to you.”
But Bruce wasn’t the problem. It was all the people who’d stared at her when she’d come in, the woman who’d insisted they didn’t need her kind in town.
How was a salesperson supposed to make a living when half the town thought she was trying to destroy the very place they called home?
Worse than that, what would this mean for Kade and his development?
“I think you need to eat something,” Harper said. “You’re pale as a ghost.”
But she just shook her head. What she needed was to leave McNeal’s. Maybe leave Nutfield.
She thought of Kade—sitting across the room but not acknowledging her, not responding to her phone call—and knew he had already come to the same conclusion.
She’d done enough damage.
Chapter Twelve
From the corner of his eye, Kade watched Ginny push out the door of McNeal’s.
It took all his self-control not to follow her, wrap her in his arms, and promise her everything would be all right.
But it wouldn’t be all right until he managed his investors. A day before, he’d have called most of them friends.
Across from him, one of his biggest investors drummed his fingers on the table. “What assurances do I have that your club will be family friendly?”
Kade tamped down the rising fury and leveled his voice. “I don’t know what I can say that I haven’t already said. The club will be open to the public, a place for families to gather, for golfers to relax after a round.”
“But the private rooms?” Tom lowered his voice on the last two words as if they were curses.
“Meeting rooms. A ballroom to host wedding receptions and retirement parties and baby showers.”
“Your girlfriend might have something to say about that.”
Kade blew out a long breath. He’d had this conversation three times already that morning, and he was tired of it.
“First, Ginny Lamont is not my girlfriend.” He’d said the words too loudly. He needed to get his temper under control.
Behind him, two people slid out of their booth and headed toward the door.
Tom’s eyebrows lifted. “You two seemed pretty close yesterday.”
“We are close, Tom. The word girlfriend doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about her. I hope that by this time next year, she’ll be more than a girlfriend. I hope we’ll be engaged, maybe even married.”
“If I were you—”
“Second, Ginny has zero control over my project. She’s not an investor. She has no ruling shares. So even if everything that sick jerk Collier implied about her were true, she couldn’t do anything to influence my development.”
“So you say.”
“You know me better than that.” Kade forced a breath and sat back. “Come on, Tom, we’ve gone to church together for years. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”
Tom looked around the room, at the people who kept glancing their way, leaning closer to overhear. When he faced Kade again, the tight set of his mouth had relaxed.
Maybe Tom was starting to see reason. Maybe he’d stand by Kade, stand by his promises.
“You’re a friend, Kade. I’m just saying you should distance yourself from Ginny Lamont, or your dreams are going to fall apart.”
Some friend.
Kade slid out of the booth and dropped a twenty on the table. “Do what you have to do. I’m going to build the nicest country club in New Hampshire. You can be a part of it, or you can let the likes of Bruce Collier scare you off.”
He stomped out of the restaurant, ignoring the looks and whispers that followed him out.
He was yanking open the door of his Mercedes when Jack and Harper caught up with him. Jack had a white Styrofoam container in his hand. “Are you going to see Ginny?”
“What did you two say to her?” When Harper stepped back, eyes wide, he realized how harsh he’d sounded. He ran his fingers through his hair, told himself to calm down. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I just want to know what she knows.”
Jack said, “We told her what the article said.”
“She hadn’t seen it?”
“You think she would have come here alone if she had?” Jack held out the to-go container.
“She was pale and shaky,” Harper said, “but she refused to eat. We were going to take this to her house.”
Kade snatched it. “I’ll take it.” He focused on Harper. “Sorry I snapped at you.”
She patted his arm. “We believe in you, Kade.”
“And we believe in Ginny, too,” Jack added.
After they walked away, Kade sat in his Mercedes.
Jack and Harper believed in him
and Ginny, but they weren’t investors. Their faith wasn’t going to pay the construction company.
Two of his investors—old friends, good friends—had already pulled their funding, and if the conversation he’d just had was any indication, Kade was about to lose a third. Their excuses still rang in his ears.
It’s not that I don’t believe in you, but I have a reputation to uphold.
If Ginny leaves town, call me.
His investors wanted Kade to dump Ginny, run her out of town. No chance.
He’d have to stop construction until he could find more funding.
Everything he’d worked for was slipping away, and it seemed there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He navigated along the narrow streets of the oldest part of town until he reached Ginny’s home. He parked, snatched the take-out container, and headed for her front door.
No answer to his knock.
He rang the bell and faintly heard the scratchy sound on the far side.
How had he still not replaced that doorbell for her?
Surely she was here. He walked to the backyard and looked through the window on the garage door. Her car was parked inside.
She walked all over town. But without her car—and with the rumors and whispers following her—she wouldn’t stay gone long.
He sat on her front porch step and dialed her number.
It rang once, then went to voice mail.
Maybe this was payback for when he’d rejected her call that morning, though she’d never seemed petty. Not answering was the last thing he’d wanted to do, but he’d been in the midst of a very difficult conversation. He’d been awakened by a phone call from one investor who’d read the newspaper article, and he’d been trying to hold his development together ever since. If she’d known, she’d have understood.
He should have made time to call her.
He was calling now, and she was ignoring him. Maybe she was on the phone. Or maybe she didn’t want to see him.
Could he blame her? The only reason Bruce had searched for dirt on her past was because Kade had asked her to join him at the planning committee meeting back in April. Now, the whole town suspected her of wrongdoing, and it was Kade’s fault.
Of course she didn’t want to talk to him.
He settled in beside the take-out container that was filling the air with the scents of fried fish and potatoes and dialed her again.
It rang in his ear, once, twice…
He heard something, moved the phone away from his ear and stood.
Inside the house, he could hear her phone ringing.
She was home, just ignoring him.
Excellent.
He banged on the door, then rang the bell repeatedly.
He wasn’t leaving until she answered. Eventually, the sound of that bell would send her to the door or to the crazy farm.
Finally, her door swung open. “Do you mind?” She stood on the other side of the screen, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes were as red as they were blue, and her cheeks were blotchy.
He forced a smile. “Oh, good.” He snatched the take-out container from the stoop. “You are here. Jack and Harper wanted me to bring your lunch.” He grabbed the screen’s handle but found it locked.
“I think you should go.”
He stepped back. “Look, I get it. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t brought you to that planning committee meeting—”
“Bruce’s actions aren’t your responsibility.”
Okay. But then… “Can I come in?”
She crossed her arms. “Why, when I’m not your girlfriend?”
“Wait… What?”
“I just got off the phone with one of my clients. Former clients. Another one who suddenly found a more suitable Realtor.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m so—”
“She told me you made it clear to your lunch companion and everyone within a five-table radius that I’m not your girlfriend.” Her voice hitched on the last word.
“What? No, no. That’s not what I said.”
“I don’t blame you for distancing yourself from me. I was going to suggest you do just that. I had the weird idea that you might take some convincing.” She scoffed. “Seemed an easy decision, but the least you could have done was tell me first.”
“I’m not…” The words came out too loudly. He forced a deep breath, lowered his voice to sound reasonable. “I’m not distancing myself from you, Ginny. Obviously, considering I’m standing on your doorstep.”
“So now we’re supposed to sneak around, pretend—”
“No. I wasn’t saying… Look, I told Tom you were more than a girlfriend. That you were—”
“Save it. It doesn’t matter.” She stepped back.
“Wait. It matters to me. You matter to me.”
She nodded slowly. “I can tell by the way you warned me today. By the way you went out of your way to tell me what was going on, to protect me from that scene I just endured at McNeal’s. By the way you ignored me.”
“I’m trying to save my development.”
“Well, it’ll be easier without me in the picture.”
“Please don’t do this.”
But she closed the door in his face.
Ten minutes after he left Ginny’s house, Kade parked in the long driveway in front of one of the oldest homes in Nutfield. The house had been expanded from its original construction, additions having been added through the years. The old barn had been repainted a pretty red that stood in bright contrast to the pines that surrounded the property. He’d never been here, but the stories about the McAdams family had abounded since he was a kid—stories of infidelity and mental illness and even a kidnapping years before. More recently, there’d been some drama involving Reagan’s ex-husband. Kade never knew the details and found the rumors hard to believe. How could that much hardship surround one family?
Whatever had happened with Rae and Brady, they were happy now and settled into her family’s home.
The front door opened, and a little boy of seven or eight bounded outside and bolted toward the barn. He was dark-skinned with straight black hair. A little girl with strawberry blond hair followed him, running to catch her big brother.
Then Rae stepped onto the porch. She wore a green T-shirt with jeans that stopped mid-calf and flip-flops. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes.
“I should have called.” He started toward her.
When he reached her, she stepped inside and held the door open. “Come on in. I was hoping Ginny was with you. I’ve been trying to call her, but she’s not answering.”
Kade entered the foyer of the old farmhouse. The rooms were small and closed off, as had been the style when the house was built. He didn’t know for sure, but he thought it dated back to the late nineteenth century, a good fifty years older than Ginny’s house. The developer in him imagined tearing down walls and adding newer, larger windows. But there was something charming about the space just as it was.
Rae led them to the living room and called, “Brady, Kade’s here.”
Brady stepped into the opening between the living space and the kitchen. Kade had gotten to know the couple better since Ginny introduced them back in April. The chief of police was wearing joggers and a T-shirt this morning, and he still looked just as imposing as he did when a gun was strapped to his hip. “I wondered who you were talking to.” He stepped forward and shook Kade’s hand. Brady had the newspaper tucked beneath his left arm. “I was just getting up to speed.”
“Have a seat and tell us what’s going on.” Rae sat on the sofa against the back wall, and Brady joined her. “How’s Ginny doing?”
Kade settled in the club chair and angled to face them. “Not great, and I made it worse. I should have called her right away.” He’d been so stupid, so focused on his own project, he’d hardly thought of her. He gave them the condensed version of the conversation they’d just had, ending with, “I blew it.”
Rae tilted her head to
the side, brushing her light red hair behind her ear. “You aren’t planning to distance yourself from her, then?”
“Of course not. Why would I?”
Brady cleared his throat. “I’m not saying you should, but a lot of people would tell you to do just that. This article—”
“Is filled with baseless accusations and innuendo.” Kade stood and pointed to the newspaper Brady had tossed on the coffee table. “Her parents owned strip clubs. So what? That doesn’t mean she wants to.”
“I know that.” Brady’s voice was level, and he showed no annoyance at Kade’s tone.
Rae said, “We’re on your side, Kade.”
He sat and forced a deep breath. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at everyone else in this stuffy town, myself included, but not you.”
Rae clasped her hands together. “How can we help?”
Kade hated to ask, but he didn’t have anyone else who could do what Rae could. “I thought maybe you could write an article about her combatting the one that ran this morning, something showing the kind of person she really is.”
Rae was nodding as he spoke. “Yesterday, I would have told you she wasn’t newsworthy, but after this, I think the town would devour it.”
“Probably,” Kade said. “But it seems there are people at the Nutfield Gazette who want to ruin her just because they can. Are they against her or me or the development or what?” Until then, all the news coverage about his development had been fair.
Rae smiled. “It’s a pretty small operation, and, as far as I know, Larry, my editor, has no beef with Ginny or you or progress.”
“He printed that article.”
She shrugged. “I wonder what today’s circulation numbers will be. Pretty high, I imagine.”
“Anything for a buck,” Kade said.
Rae sat back against the couch. “Playing devil’s advocate, there was nothing in the article that wasn’t true. I guarantee Larry did his homework.”
“But the accusations—”
“I know,” Rae said. “I understand there’s no proof that Ginny has any evil intentions. My biggest beef is that Larry didn’t wait to speak to her, get her side of the story. When I talked to him a few minutes ago, he said he tried to call her yesterday all afternoon and evening, but she couldn’t be reached.”
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