Changing His Plans

by Jo McNally

  Her pretty tawny-brown eyes, just a little tip-tilted at the corners, lit up at the mention of hot coffee. Her shoulders relaxed and she nodded, following him in her awkward, one-heeled gait. Nate was so busy thinking about the woman that he completely forgot about Hank.

  “Hello! Hello! Hello!”

  The parrot’s harsh voice echoed around the shop. Brittany-in-the-red-suit let out a scream and jumped sideways, bumping into a tall stack of dog food. Nate caught the stack before it went over, then grabbed Brittany’s arm to stabilize her.

  “Sorry. Hank’s extra loud in the morning. Here...” Nate turned to the display wall at the back of the store and grabbed a pair of orange flip-flops with bejeweled daisies on top. He handed them to Brittany, who was eyeing Hank with daggers. “I think you’d find walking a lot easier if your feet were both at the same level.”

  “I’d find walking a lot easier if that creature hadn’t scared the shi...daylights out of me.” But she snatched the sandals from his hand. “What the hell are you doing with a bird in your store? Isn’t that against sanitation laws or something?”

  City women.

  “It’s a hardware store, not a restaurant. And Hank’s a very clean bird, if you don’t count his language. He’s a fixture here.”

  “Charming.” That word in that tone did not sound like a compliment.

  “If you’d rather walk back to your car and go somewhere else for shoe repair, I think there’s a place in White Plains...” It wasn’t like Nate to be rude, but he couldn’t help goading this woman.

  A crash of thunder answered before she could, and he noticed her mouth tightening at the sound. She didn’t like the storm. She didn’t like Hank. And her glare made it clear she’d leave if she could, because she didn’t seem to like him very much, either. But she couldn’t leave in this weather, so he may as well fix her shoe. She followed him to his office, colorful flip-flops slapping on the floor, and claimed his leather chair at the desk. He went into the back room, found a beach towel and tossed it at her. Her annoyance started to fade when she wrapped it around herself like a blanket. She was probably chilled to the bone.

  “What do you take in your coffee?”

  “One sugar and lots of cream.”

  “Powdered creamer is all I have.”

  Her face scrunched in disgust, and Nate almost laughed.

  “Again—not a restaurant. Hardware store. You want it or not?”

  “Fine.”

  He used his mom’s bright yellow mug. She hadn’t been here to use it for years, but it was tradition that everyone in the family had their own mug waiting in the office. Her Majesty accepted the coffee with a mumbled, almost reluctant, “Thank you.”

  “Give me a minute to glue this up.” He went to the bench in the other room and found his favorite bonding glue. He used it while repairing antiques. He placed a few dots far enough from the edge that they wouldn’t seep through. Then the heel was pressed into place on the... He looked inside. Jimmy Choo. He’d heard of them. Expensive. He had a feeling everything about this woman was expensive.

  When he walked back into the office, she was staring out at the lake. The striped towel was wrapped around her shoulders, but she’d obviously used it on her hair while he was gone. The chestnut-brown waves were drier, fluffier and had been brushed off her face. Her profile, with the backdrop of the stormy lake, was striking. A perfectly straight nose and full lips. Those large golden eyes with the upswept corners. The gold hoops hanging on her ears matched the multiple gold necklaces, and the bangles on her wrists. This woman was classy. Sharp. A real go-getter. This woman didn’t belong in Nate’s Hardware. She didn’t belong in Gallant Lake. She turned to look at him in the doorway.

  She was a grown-up version of Monica Battersby from high school. Prom queen. Valedictorian. Champion tennis player. Daddy was a doctor. Mom ran a charity foundation. Monica walked down the halls like she was walking a red carpet. She didn’t waste time with anyone outside her circle of equally privileged friends. She certainly never made the time of day for Weird Nate Thomas from the hardware store.

  He swallowed hard. This pretty brunette—even drenched from the rain, wrapped in a towel, wearing flip-flops—she was another Monica Battersby. She was out of his league. And still...

  “Was the operation a success?”

  “What?”

  She held out her hand. “The shoe? Did you cobble it or not?”

  “Um...yeah. Give it a little while to finish setting up before you put weight on it. You can keep the flip-flops to wear.”

  “I can pay for the sandals.”

  “I’m sure you could.” His eyes gave her a once-over, taking in all her designer duds again. “I’m saying you don’t have to.”

  She tipped her head to the side, studying him intently. Then she gave him a slow smile. The towel slid slowly off one shoulder. She wasn’t Monica Battersby anymore. Now she looked more like that black-and-white poster of Sophia Loren that Gramps used to have hanging in this very office.

  Gramps used to say Sophia was the kind of woman whose beauty was timeless because it was more than skin deep. Her beauty glowed from within. Gramps said Sophia wasn’t a put-on. She was “The real deal, boy.”

  Nate had a feeling that, somewhere inside that proud, prickly attitude, Brittany Doyle might just be the real deal, too.

  Chapter Two

  “Conrad, you were right about this place.” Brittany sat at the desk in her room at the Gallant Lake Resort, her phone pressed to her ear, her tablet propped in front of her. She slid her finger across the screen, scrolling through the photos she’d taken before the storm. “And this is the perfect time. The resort is giving people hope, but property values haven’t jumped that much yet. Most of the resort’s success is centered on the resort itself at this point.” She looked around her room, which had clearly been updated recently. The colors were warm and contemporary. The furniture and artwork were trendy, but not so much that they’d be out of style in a year.

  “I know. We’ve already done the research, Brittany. That’s not what I sent you there for.” Her boss’s voice was flat. It took a lot to get Conrad Quest enthusiastic when it came to business. Maybe once she locked up the purchases he’d give her a pat on the back. Maybe.

  “I realize that.” She kept her voice as steady as his, while rolling her eyes wildly. “I’m just saying my observations support that research. No surprises that I can see at this point. The buildings on the lake side of Main Street seem to be struggling the most, which plays into our hands.”

  “Have you met with anyone yet?”

  I’ve only been here one freakin’ day, Conrad.

  “Um...yes, of course.” She’d met a tall, flannel-clad hardware store owner with thick brown hair and a beard to match. “I chatted up the lady at the coffee shop, and I met the owner of one of the properties we want—the hardware store.”

  “Good. And you’re using your usual charm to win them over?”

  That was the usual approach for what Conrad called his “acquisition agents.” Make fake friends, get invited to all the social gatherings, win people’s trust and confidence, then quietly start making purchase offers. Eventually, word always got out that people were selling, and then the company would have to pay premium prices for what they wanted. The more properties they could charm out of people before that happened, the better it was for the Quest Properties’ bottom line. If she thought about it too hard, she felt more than a twinge of squickiness at Quest’s method. That was why she’d been working in the office these past two years, doing the research and selecting areas to target for development. It left her one step away from the face-to-face dealings.

  She looked out the window at the view, with green-and-gray mountains surrounding the brilliant blue lake. The sun was beginning to go low in the sky, muting and warming the colors. This was a lovely place, and she was her
e to change it. She straightened. For the better, of course. She wasn’t the villain here. Gallant Lake was in trouble, with all those boarded-up storefronts. It wasn’t like Quest stole the first properties they bought—they paid market value. It was just that market value happened to go up after people learned Quest Properties was in town to build something.

  “Well, it’s only my first day, Conrad. But I was as charming as possible.”

  Except for that hardware guy. Nate. She wasn’t terribly charming with him, but she had time to turn that around.

  “Good,” Conrad said. “We’re on a time crunch with this one. I want that waterfront bought up as quickly as possible, and we need to keep it under the radar.”

  “Isn’t that always the case?” Brittany was a team player, and he knew that. “But after this one, Conrad...”

  “I know.” His voice was still as flat and unreadable as before. “That partnership is still on the table, and I know you want it. But first—Gallant Lake. You’re my barracuda, Brittany. Make it happen.”

  “Got it, boss. Operation Gallant Lake Charm Offensive will begin first thing in the morning. Or maybe we should call it Operation Everyone Loves Brittany.” She didn’t usually joke around with Conrad. He wasn’t a joking kind of guy. Sure enough, he was confused by it.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just kidding—sorry.” She cleared her throat, putting her all-business voice back in place. “I’m a little tired tonight and getting punchy. I’ll have Gallant Lake buttoned up for you in no time.”

  “Well...do whatever you need to do to make sure you’re ready to go in the morning. And for God’s sake, don’t mention my name or Quest Properties to anyone.”

  She thought of that request after the call had ended. When Quest chose an area to develop, he always had the acquisition agents come in low-key. But once word got out that they were buying up properties, he’d never cared if they knew it was him. It was part of his public persona. It was what he was known for. But with Gallant Lake, he’d set up a new corporation—Lakeshore Vacation Properties—to shield the Quest name on the purchase offers. He’d told her it was just a precautionary move, but never said what he was precautioning against. In fact, Conrad had been super cagey about Gallant Lake right from the start. And even more urgent than usual.

  She’d love to know why, but she had no interest in rocking the company boat when she was this close to that partnership. After twelve years she could almost smell the leather in her imaginary office chair and feel the smooth glass surface of her ultramodern desk. The one already saved to her locked Pinterest file, labeled “Brittany 3.0.” That file was her version of a vision board, with all the things she had determined would be in her future. The twelve-thousand-dollar desk was one of dozens of items on her must-have list. Visual affirmations to the world that she would have arrived.

  She was Brittany 2.0 now. Good at what she did, respected—sometimes feared—financially comfortable and fiercely tough and independent. All the things Brittany 1.0 had never been. That girl was gone forever, and that was a very good thing.

  But right now? Brittany 2.0 was hungry. She’d showered and changed after getting drenched in the storm earlier. Still a suit, of course, but this was a slightly more casual tan linen jacket and trousers paired with a chocolate silk camisole. She pulled her hair back into a low ponytail tied off with an Hermès scarf, finishing the ensemble with a pair of floral embroidered pumps with kitten heels. Her sister liked to tell her she always looked like she had a stick up her ass, but Brittany had never seen what was so terrible about looking like you cared about what you looked like. And she cared. Maybe more than she should, but this look she’d cultivated so carefully had taken her a long way in the corporate world. Her heels clicked on the gleaming lobby floor when she stepped off the elevator. She liked it when her heels clicked like that—a little drumbeat to remind her who she was now.

  Eventually, she’d have to frequent the local eateries and do her reconnaissance, but tonight she just wanted a quiet meal. The resort’s restaurant, Galantè, had a wall of windows overlooking the lawn that swept down to the lake. It was seven thirty on a Tuesday night, so the place was pretty quiet. She was able to get a table in the corner by the windows all to herself. One last evening of solitude before she turned on the charm and started buying up the town. There were a few men clustered together on the far side of the large oak bar, but they were talking and laughing among themselves and paying no attention to her.

  The food was amazing—as pretty as it was delicious, with fronds of scallion greens standing tall above the broiled salmon, the entire plate drizzled artfully with a honey-balsamic reduction. This was what made Gallant Lake different from other Quest target areas. The town might be sleepy and struggling, but this resort was becoming a well-established, high-end destination. It was the boutique jewel of the Randall Resorts International stable of hotels, and the home base for the entire company. As she ate, she wondered again why Conrad wanted to compete with an enterprise like this. He usually liked to be the only game in town—he’d never been fond of battling anyone for dominance.

  Brittany had realized a long time ago that Conrad preferred to be the heir apparent without question. Not because his ego was that large. It was large, of course. But it was also terribly fragile. After she’d learned that little secret, she’d been able to work her way up to almost-partner without looking back. As long as she could keep the boss feeling safe and secure, she had the best chance to be his right-hand woman. And someday—maybe Brittany 4.0?—she’d rule her own business empire.

  There was another loud burst of laughter from those guys at the bar, timed so perfectly with her thoughts that she looked over at them, annoyed for their mocking of her. But they weren’t even close to looking her way. They were huddled over someone’s phone, still laughing at what was probably some juvenile online video. It was darker away from the windows, so she couldn’t see their faces, but they sounded younger, and at least two of them were in dark business suits. Probably guests in town for one of the conferences at the resort. She’d seen several listed on the board in the lobby. One for New York State grape growers and winemakers—she didn’t even know that was a thing. And another for some golf clinic.

  She passed on dessert when the server brought the menu, knowing she’d be going to every church supper and greasy spoon in the area over the next month or so. But she did order a Gallant Lake Summer Fun Martini, which ended up being a dessert in a glass. The Blue Curacao and pineapple vodka obviously represented the lake. The rim of the glass was edged in dark green melted chocolate, rolled in sparkly gold sugar, to represent the mountains. A short piece of rosemary, looking like a pine branch, floated at the edge of the drink. A thin plastic skewer with a sun at the top held two pieces of soft sugar candy that looked like molded gumdrops. The lower piece was a bright orange fish, which sat under the surface of the drink. A red-and-white boat-shaped piece of candy sat right on the surface. It was a kitschy homage to the Catskills lake right outside the windows.

  Brittany held the glass up and snapped a photo of it with the lake in the background. She couldn’t post it on social media or anything, because no one was supposed to know where Quest Properties’ top barracuda was working at the moment. But there was one person who could not only be trusted with the secret, but who would also adore the image. She smiled as the text whizzed off to her sister. Bubbles popped up almost immediately.

  OMG! Is that a LAKE in a martini glass in front of an actual LAKE? R U vacationing?

  Brittany smiled and typed a response.

  I’m working, but enjoying the view—and the drink.

  Actually, she hadn’t tried the drink yet. She took a quick sip to avoid going to hell for lying to Eloise. It had a sharp citrus flavor, tempered with the faint earthiness of the rosemary sprig. Just like her meal, it was both pretty and delicious. No wonder this resort was so popular. Her phone p
inged with a response.

  Let me guess...drinking alone? You work too much. When are you coming to visit?

  She cringed. She should have known the conversation would circle to this. She just hadn’t expected it right off the bat.

  Gotta make money, El. Once I get that partnership, I’ll have more time to spend with you.

  Was there any chance of Ellie buying that? She watched the bubbles wavering on her screen.

  Really? Is one of the job perks a Dr. Who superpower that bends time and creates more hours a day than you have now? Cuz we both know you’d use it to work more.

  She took another sip of her drink, scowling at the screen. Leave it to her little sis to lay the truth out in a few pointed questions she already knew the answers to.

  Give me a break. You know why I’m doing this. Lectures were always Mom’s thing, not yours.

  No bubbles. She held her breath until they mercifully popped up again.

  I love you, Britt-Britt. It’s not your job to take care of me. But fine. Does the drink taste as tacky as it looks? Is that candy on the skewer? My teeth hurt just thinking about it.

  Brittany’s shoulders relaxed, and she answered that she was a little afraid to try the candy. She chatted with her sister for a few minutes and felt the weight of the traveling and lack of sleep falling away. Talking with Ellie always helped Brittany center herself. Ellie kept her grounded. Kept things real. Gave her a touchstone that reminded her of how far they’d come together. But eventually, Ellie had to get back to her studies at the university hospital. She’d graduate the following spring as a full-fledged physician assistant. So they said goodbye the same way they had for years—by sending kissing GIFs. The sillier, the better. Britt sent one of two otters smooching, and Ellie sent an old black-and-white movie clip of two 1920s flapper girls rubbing cheeks and air-kissing.