by Dawn Atkins
Store owners and employees gathered around Sylvie, Mary Beth and Chase. “I have to tell you, I’m getting scared,” easygoing Sunni Ganesh said. “I’ve been ignoring all this stupid crime wave business, but now I don’t know. We’ve been broken into, threatened and now maybe a bomb? What’s happening?”
“I wish I knew, Sunni,” Sylvie said. “We’re working with the police to solve this. This is our highest priority.” She looked at Chase for his agreement.
“We’ll be hiring additional guards,” Chase said, which made the tenants nod in relief, but they looked as grim and worried as Sunni.
A few minutes later, Detective Lawson approached with a smile to tell them the mall was clear. No explosives had been found. It had been a prank. Sylvie released a breath she’d been half holding since Cyndi had burst into her office.
Back upstairs, Sylvie and Chase found Mary Beth on the phone in Chase’s office still wearing her cap and whistle. She hung up the phone. “Sorry, Chase. The phone rang so I had to answer. That was Peter Anderson from Reggie Collins’s office confirming that the community meeting’s still on this afternoon. He saw the evacuation on the news.”
“Great,” Sylvie said. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”
“This on the news could scare off our customers,” Mary Beth said. “If the losses are too high, I’m afraid the tenants will start wanting rent concessions.”
“We won’t let our customers be scared off,” Sylvie said.
“Shall I try to calm the tenants down?” Mary Beth said.
“Chase and I will handle that. Why don’t you remind Betty to set up the chairs and podium before four?”
“Sure. Will do.” She saluted Sylvie, her hand hitting the bill of the emergency captain cap she still wore. “I guess these go with the office.”
“Keep them for now,” Chase said.
“Quite a coincidence, don’t you think?” Chase said as soon as she was gone. “The threat coming just a few hours before the forum?”
“What? You think Collins arranged this? A bomb threat is a serious crime. I don’t see him taking a chance like that.”
“Still, it gives him more ammunition to demand crime prevention funds,” Chase said. “And it guarantees media at our meeting.”
“Damn, that’s right. He’ll mention the bomb, so we’ll need to counter whatever he says.” Sylvie felt sick inside. They were in a downward spiral they couldn’t seem to stop. “I hope this won’t affect the PriceLess offer.”
Sylvie sent out a quick email to all tenants, then she and Chase spent the next three hours going from store to store letting people vent. This was far from the atmosphere Sylvie had expected when she took leadership of the mall and she was grateful to have Chase at her side. In a crisis, a comanager was a gift.
By the time the community meeting was ready to begin, Sylvie’s stomach was in knots and she was damp with anxious sweat. She and Chase stood with Detective Lawson beside the first row of folding chairs, welcoming people as they entered. They’d set up at the far end of the mall in an open area.
Collins’s assistant, Peter Anderson, bustled around acting important, handing out press packets to the reporters, checking the mic, placing index cards and pencils on the seats for audience members to submit questions for the councilman, who hadn’t yet appeared.
The bomb scare had boosted the crowd and the media so that Betty had to bring out two dozen extra chairs.
“When you speak, be sure and point out that Starlight Desert will be part of the solution,” she said to Chase, sliding her clammy palms down her slacks.
“I plan to.”
“And you’ll call it a prank, right? A stunt?”
“Would you feel better speaking instead of me?” He smiled at her, clearly trying to ease her nerves.
“No. You need to speak for McCann Development. Our tenants need to hear that you’re behind them. I’m just…scared.”
“I know. You’re chewing your lip again and it’s killing me.” He smiled. “It’ll be okay, Sylvie. We’ll make it okay.”
She smiled back. Today, they truly were Team Starlight Desert, just as Marshall had predicted.
Finally, ten minutes late, Reggie Collins swept onto the speaking platform like a conquering hero. Chase, who would be the emcee, welcomed everyone and introduced the people sitting behind him, including Sylvie and Detective Lawson. He finished with Reggie Collins, who stepped to the podium and raised a hand in welcome, taking over from Chase.
He paused to pose for the photographers with a well-polished grin. Once the cameras stopped flashing, he wasted no time on platitudes.
“The bomb threat this morning was the latest example of the recent lawlessness in this neighborhood. It was only a threat…this time,” he said, dramatically sweeping the crowd with his gaze. “Next time, innocent people could be hurt, even killed. That is not acceptable to me and it shouldn’t be acceptable to you.”
Voices yelled agreement. Collins let the applause build, then finally waved it down. “As your elected representative I have fought long and hard for our share of city services and funds. And I will keep fighting with every ounce of energy, every breath in my lungs…”
Oh, yeah, like he’d fought the developer who wanted to improve the area with new condos. The guy always had an angle, so what was it? What was he really after?
The crowd applauded at the man’s staged pauses as he carried on about his ideas for the future. “We must re-envision failing enterprises. For example, imagine a sports complex on this site.” He waved out at the mall. “In fact, Mr. Abernathy here—” he motioned toward a man seated in the front row “—represents a group wanting to bring a professional jai alai team to the Valley. Stand up, James.”
Abernathy stood, waved to the crowd, then sat back down.
“He just called Starlight Desert a failing enterprise,” Sylvie whispered to Chase, who shrugged, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “And how does he know about the jai alai boosters?”
“No doubt he golfs at the same club as Dad.”
Abruptly, Collins’s assistant bounded to the dais, and motioned Collins away from the podium. While the two held a frantic, whispered conversation, Chase took over the podium and made his remarks. He said all the right things and Sylvie was pleased to see reporters taking notes as he spoke.
“Frankly, as far as the bomb hoax is concerned, my guess is that someone wanted to get out of a day of shopping at the mall. Are you out there?” He pretended to look for the guilty party among the crowd.
People laughed mildly.
Then Collins practically elbowed Chase out of the way to get to the microphone. “I’m sorry for the interruption, folks, but I’ve been informed that just now a woman might have been mugged in the parking lot outside. Mugged.”
The audience gasped and murmured.
Chase, Sylvie and Detective Lawson left the podium and ran outside to see what was going on. Lawson got on his phone while Sylvie and Chase scanned the parking lot, which looked quiet. A few shoppers walked to their cars. Two cars pulled into parking spaces. But there were no police or crowd or noise.
“What the hell was he talking about?” Sylvie said, exasperated beyond words.
“No mugging,” Detective Lawson announced to them, closing his phone. “A woman had a dead battery. Two officers in a cruiser gave her a jump. That’s it.”
“We need to announce that,” she said, but by the time they got back to the meeting, people were filing out and Collins had gone.
Sylvie jumped onto the stage. The microphone was off, so she had to yell at the departing crowd. “There was no mugging! Police helped a woman with a dead battery. That’s all it was.”
She chased after a TV cameraman heading for the door. “Did you get that? There was no mugging!”
“I just got footage. Call the assignment desk and let them know.” He handed her a business card.
Sylvie and Mary Beth spent the next hour contacting every news outlet to correct the misinf
ormation, but she had no idea if the truth would make it to the anchor desk in time.
Sylvie and Chase urged the tenants not to panic if the news coverage looked bad. There had been a rumor that a bank deposit had been stolen during the bomb evacuation, but it turned out it had fallen behind a desk, so Sylvie explained that and promised that a security guard would accompany any employee who felt nervous out to his or her car. Everyone was jittery.
Who’s doing this and why? was the mournful question on everyone’s lips. Sylvie smiled and reassured, her mind racing with possible answers the entire time.
Mary Beth enjoyed being in the middle of the crisis, but she would never hurt the mall. Neither would Randolph. Leo had been devastated about the vandalism on his watch. Chase had told him he would hire his nephew Jesse just to make Leo feel like he’d helped in some way.
Could it be a disgruntled tenant? Sylvie couldn’t imagine one so desperate for reduced rent or to get out of a lease that he would sabotage the mall like this.
Reggie Collins had certainly gained political mileage from the vandalism and the bomb scare. He’d suggested the mall was failing and could become a jai alai arena and he’d cheerfully passed on the false rumor about a mugging in the parking lot.
But that seemed like political opportunism, not an evil plot to hurt Starlight Desert.
At six, she and Chase sat together in his office to watch the news. Chase squeezed her shoulders. “Try not to worry, Sylvie,” he said, but she could tell he was upset, too.
For good reason, as it turned out. The coverage was awful—aerial shots of shoppers crowded behind police barriers and alarmist talk about the “troubled mall” and “declining neighborhood,” with shoppers complaining about being stranded with other errands to run.
They showed footage of Collins speaking, while the anchor made it sound that the meeting had been held because of the bomb threat, not coincidentally.
At the end of the segment, a reporter thrust a microphone at a woman shopper, asking for a comment. “This has always been a safe neighborhood,” she said, shaking her head. “Now, I don’t know. Some lady got mugged in the parking lot. Next we’ll need bulletproof vests to even walk in the door.”
The anchor noted the mugging could not be confirmed.
“Could not be confirmed?” Sylvie blurted. “How about absolutely did not happen?” Outrage burned through her. “I’m demanding a retraction.”
“That could give the story legs, Sylvie. They’d call Collins for his reaction and he’d fan the flames.”
“We have to do something,” she said.
“Let it go for now and hope the print stories turn out better.”
“This is so frustrating.” She dug her fingers into her hair and tugged at the roots, welcoming the discomfort.
“It’s been a long day, Sylvie. We need a break. Even your dog is worn-out.” He nodded at where Dasher dozed. Taking him for potty breaks and playing tug-of-war with his chew toy had been the only moments of relief she’d had all day. “Now he sleeps?” she said. “He’ll keep me up all night.” She was bone-tired and her whole body ached.
“How about if I’m the designated walker and we’re quiet as mice? Will that help?”
“I guess.” She was so weary she couldn’t think.
Chase pulled her close. “I know just what will help you relax,” he murmured, running his hand down her back, to cup her rear.
Her body responded to his touch, but her mind threw up a wall. How could Chase shift gears like that? He’d set aside the mall trauma for tomorrow and was ready to play tonight.
“I’m too wiped out I’m afraid,” she said, gently pulling away from him.
“Oh. Sure.” He hesitated. “Then we’ll just sleep. Whatever you need, Sylvie.” He grinned, clearly assuming he could convince her otherwise once they were in bed.
He no doubt could. Suddenly, she saw how impossible their relationship was. Chase could disengage far quicker than she ever could. When it was time to go, he would leave, content with what they’d shared. Done and done.
For her, it was neither so simple nor so easy. Chase had warned her. She could picture that hazard sticker on his handsome forehead. She knew what she had to do.
“I’m sorry, Chase, but I think I need to be alone tonight. In fact, would you take Dasher with you?”
“Oh. Sure. If that’ll help.” He was disappointed, she could tell, but he shrugged it off. Easy. Whatever. Which wasn’t how Sylvie would have reacted.
They left the mall together, Chase carrying the bag with Dasher’s gear, the puppy in one arm. Stepping out the exit, Sylvie nodded at the unfamiliar guard, an extra one, reminding her of the mess things were in.
Chase put the top up on the BMW, left Dasher safely inside, then walked Sylvie to her car. He wrapped his arms around her. “I could just be there for you tonight, you know. Give you a shoulder to cry on, whatever you need.”
She shook her head. “Thanks, I’m fine.”
He smiled. “No, you’re not. You’re worried and scared. You don’t have to be alone with that. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I’m afraid I do, Chase.” She had to pull back, get some distance from him.
He held her gaze, his eyes full of affection. “You know how much I care about you, don’t you?”
Everything inside Sylvie went still. This was big, what Chase was trying to say out here in the mall parking lot in the orange glow of the security light. Was he in love with her?
“I care about you, too, Chase.” But it was time to back off. Time to be smart. This would hurt, of course, but sooner was better than later. She stepped away from him. “Listen, I think we should slow down for now. At least until you decide about the mall. We’re distracting each other when we need to focus. With Black Friday coming up, the attacks, the way everything’s up in the air…”
“Really? Oh. I guess that makes sense.” But hurt flickered like a candle flame in Chase’s eyes and Sylvie felt an answering pain.
This is for the best, she reminded herself.
Even if Chase was in love with her, it was ephemeral, like the gauze curtains she made for her dollhouses, which tore at the slightest tug.
The intensity would pass and then where would they be? Chase would move on and she would be left, heartsick and alone.
“I’m glad you agree.” She smiled to hide the trembling of her lips. She wanted to step back into the comfort of his arms, breathe him in, then lie with him in bed, make love, cuddle, his heart beating beneath her ear, his hands on her skin, feeling cared for, cherished and loved.
Instead, she stood there, nodding sensibly, while her gut churned. This meant the end of them. Putting distance between them would snap their connection like an ice floe breaking away in a swift current.
Sylvie had done the right thing, the smart and safe thing, but she felt like crying.
CHASE DROVE OFF THE MALL lot, as torn up inside as Dasher’s rawhide twist. Sylvie had just broken up with him. He hadn’t seen that coming at all. He tried to sort out his thoughts.
But it wasn’t his thoughts that were the problem. It was his feelings. And, man, was he having feelings. It was as if someone had carved open his chest and dumped his heart into the dirt.
She was right, of course. Things were up in the air with the vandalism, the sale, Black Friday. They were spending a hell of a lot of time together. Every minute they could.
You’re in love with her, idiot.
“Dammit!” He banged the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. Dasher yipped in alarm. “Sorry, guy.”
He’d wanted to be what she needed, to hold her, comfort her, make love to her or not, it didn’t matter to him.
He was in love with Sylvie and she’d shot him down cold.
What was he going to do about it?
He knew the answer. Not a damn thing. What had she said they should do if they fell in love?
Ignore it.
That’s what he would do. It was the smart thing.
He’d leave and Sylvie would stay. As soon as the mall was taken care of and Home at Last was in shape, he’d be gone.
It was better this way. He should be glad Sylvie had been so sensible. They were adults, after all. They could control themselves.
But, God, he ached for her.
Stick to the mess at hand. And it was big. The mall was being sabotaged. Someone wanted Starlight Desert to fail or at least look troubled. Who? The headline-hungry politician? A buyer looking to devalue the property? Mary Beth? PriceLess? He didn’t know and meanwhile, his thoughts kept racing back to Sylvie.
Get a grip, man. It was simply that he’d never felt like this about a woman before. He hadn’t even gotten used to it, when, bam, she slammed the door in his face. That was a hell of a thing.
He glanced at the dog on the seat beside him. “It’s just you and me tonight, buddy.” Dasher looked up at him with his big brown eyes. Chase could swear that if the dog could talk he’d be saying, “How on earth did you screw this up?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SYLVIE RETURNED TO HER peaceful home only to find Dasher messes she hadn’t noticed that morning. Somehow, he’d managed to chew up a swatch of dollhouse silk, knock over a pot of African violets and leave a wet spot on the Oriental rug.
That dog was pure trouble, no question.
But she missed him anyway. She wished he were here to gnaw on her heels with his pointy teeth and smear her mascara with his pink tongue. She loved the little pest.
Worse than that, she loved Chase. And breaking it off had only made her feel worse. She missed his arms, his smile, his take on things, the way he supported her, believed in her, got her. That was completely new for her. To be valued for who she was, to be understood, to be loved.
And she’d sent him away. So she could sleep. Yeah, right.
She tossed and turned all night, drifting to sleep, then jerking awake, in turmoil over Chase, the sabotage, the news coverage, her tenants, Black Friday, everything spinning like objects in a Kansas twister in her brain.
