“You could say that. Who would have guessed your middle name is Aloysius?”
He glared at her.
“You seemed a bit surprised yourself,” she said.
“I had no idea Aunt Amelia had amassed such a fortune.”
“Your great-grandmother came from a very wealthy family and your great-grandfather was a shrewd businessman. But even I had no idea Amy had such a huge financial portfolio. She never talked about it and she certainly didn’t live like someone who had a lot of money. She was ordinary, though generous to a fault.”
He slid a glance at her. “Very generous, from what I can see.”
Alex turned toward him. “Are you upset that she left money to me?”
“Upset? No, of course not.”
“Uh-huh. Right.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Why would I be upset? It’s obvious she felt very close to you. Aunt Amelia left me everything else—her house and the rest of her fortune.”
Alex pressed her lips together. “The true fortune was in having Amy as a friend. That was more than enough for me.”
Kellie ended her call and smiled up at them. “Hi, you two.”
“I want to buy the vacant lot next to the shelter,” Alex said.
“I want to purchase the lot beside my future restaurant,” Evan said at the same time.
Kellie stared at them both. “Okay. Uh…you both want to buy the lot?”
“I was here first,” Alex said.
“Only because I’m a gentleman and held the door for you,” Evan retorted.
“I can pay cash,” Alex said.
“So can I,” Evan countered, then frowned. “How much is the lot?”
Kellie watched the two of them as if observing a tennis match. She stood and motioned to the chairs in front of her desk. “Would you like to sit down, Mr. Whiting?” She focused on Alex. “Could I talk to you in the back, please?” Then to Evan she said, “We’ll only be a minute.”
Once they reached the kitchenette behind the office area, Kellie turned to face Alex. “What is going on?” she whispered. “You hit the lottery?”
“You won’t believe what happened.” Alex told her sister everything. “So, you see, I have the cash to purchase that lot and to renovate and expand the shelter. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“It is. But Evan also wants the property.”
“Of course he does, but you can’t sell it to him. I was here first.”
“Yes, you were. And I’ll take your bid and his bid to the seller.”
“Bid? Isn’t there already a price set for the lot?”
Kellie shook her head. “No. Hawthorne is not open to donating the property even though I explained that you’re a non-profit and the donation would be a tax deduction, and he didn’t set a fixed price. He’s directed me to take bids.”
“Oh, for cryin’ out loud. Who sells property like that?”
“Did I mention Hawthorne is addicted to eBay? This is a game for him. Now give me a bid.”
Alex pulled her iPhone from her purse. “Let me look up some information on land values and do a few calculations. Unless you want to give me an idea of a figure.”
Beyond the kitchenette, Evan cleared his throat loudly.
“I can’t do that. Excuse me, I’ll be back.” Kellie left her to her calculating.
Alex moved closer to the open doorway to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“I want the lot next to the restaurant I purchased,” Evan said.
“What is your intended use? I’d have to be sure it meets zoning regulations.”
Good girl. Stall him. Alex determined that, with the going rate of property in Cade’s Point, given the decline in the area, she could safely bid twelve thousand, but fifteen would give her insurance.
“I plan to use it for parking for my restaurant.”
“I see. Isn’t there already parking around that building and on the street in front?”
“Yes, but the current parking spaces face the building, and I’d like to leave that area clear in case I want to expand some day. I’m thinking of outdoor café tables.”
“Have you already spoken with a building inspector about expansion? That does require the proper permits and could be quite costly.”
After a moment, Evan asked, “Are you trying to stall me or discourage me, Ms. Ramsey, so your sister can get that property? Because I would think that would be unethical.”
Uh-oh. Alex could almost hear the steam shooting from Kellie’s ears.
“I heard that,” Alex called out from the other room.
“Mr. Whiting, you don’t know me at all. So I’d suggest you reserve your judgments on my professional values. Alex may be my sister, but I assure you that does not give her an edge when it comes to a property bid.”
Alex grinned. Evan had met the wrath of Kellie.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I’m not questioning your integrity.”
“Good. Now, if you wish to place a bid on the vacant lot, I’ll take that to the owner for his consideration.”
“I do. I’m willing to bid….” His voice cut off.
Alex peered around the corner to see him write a figure on a slip of paper.
“Wow, that’s a generous offer. I’ll let you know if the owner will accept.”
“Thank you. Again, I apologize if I offended you.”
“Think nothing of it. You have a nice day now.”
After the door closed signaling Evan’s exit, Alex emerged from the back room.
Kellie said, “Bless his heart.”
“I heard what he said to you. He’s insufferable,” Alex said.
Kellie waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, he’s not so bad. He’s just not from around here. He doesn’t understand how we do things. So, you have a bid for me?”
“What did Evan bid?”
“I can’t tell you that. He wrote it down.”
“Was it higher than twelve thousand?” Alex stared at her sister’s face thinking Kellie would be great in a poker tournament.
“If I tell you that, I’ve proven him right, that I can’t be trusted. Now give me a figure and I’ll see what I can do.”
Alex grabbed a slip of paper and wrote $12,500, feeling like a contestant on Final Jeopardy. Then she scratched it out and wrote $15,000. She handed it to Kellie and watched her sister’s face for a reaction. Again, no expression. “Well?”
“I’ll give the bids to Mr. Hawthorne and I’ll let you know.”
Alex stared at her. “You can be so aggravating sometimes.”
“It’s my job. You want to grab lunch?”
“Sure.” On the way out the door she added, “Do you think my bid is high enough?”
Kellie glared.
“You should take up professional poker,” Alex muttered.
Chapter Eight
With money in the bank, Alex could finally start the process of turning the one-time garage into a state-of-the-art animal shelter. She spread her sketches across her desk and studied them. Even if she didn’t manage to purchase the vacant lot, she could build onto the back. But that would leave no room for the much-needed dog park, a space for the animals to run and play. It also wouldn’t solve the issue of some neighbors beginning to grumble.
She moved to the window and surveyed the empty lot. There was Evan Whiting, measuring off prospective parking spaces. Anger flared and heated her chest. How dare he act as if he already owned the lot. She headed for the door, then stopped short, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of ruffling her. Instead she would play it casual.
Lambchop yipped and wiggled his backside when she approached his kennel. “You want to go out for a walk? Yes, you do.” She opened the door and he stood obediently while she attached the leash to his collar. “Good boy. Come on, let’s do some undercover work.”
Outside, Lambchop tugged at the leash and stretched his neck to sniff and explore the yard. Alex reached down and released him to run in the fenced enclosure. She kept on
e eye on the dog and one on Evan who had now turned and was watching them.
When Lambchop came into the shelter, his chocolaty brown coat was so badly matted and flea-infested, he had to be completely shaved. With ears that stood up and then drooped over, he had the look of a newly-shorn lamb, hence the name. His coat was now beginning to grow back in soft, curling waves. He still had that young lamb look.
Alex laughed as the dog raced around the yard, leaping into the air and barking with joy. He would run back to Alex, stop and bow on his front paws and, the moment she bent to pat him, turn and race away again. From the corner of her eye, she observed Evan moving closer to the fence. She slowly ambled that way.
“I thought you only kept stray dogs and cats in the shelter. Isn’t there an ordinance against livestock?” he asked.
“Livestock?”
At that moment, Lambchop skidded to a stop at Alex’s feet and sat, panting.
“What is that thing?”
Alex bent to scratch the dog’s ears. “He’s not a thing, he’s a dog.”
“Really?”
“A poodle mix. Poor guy had to be shaved down to the skin when we found him. I think he’s kinda cute.”
Lambchop dropped and rolled onto his back, waiting for a belly rub. Alex knelt and complied, laughing at his antics.
She slid her gaze sideways and up at Evan. “Measuring off parking spaces?”
He had the decency to look embarrassed. “I…uh…well, yes. Something wrong with that?”
She shrugged. “Seems like a waste of time when you don’t own the property. But knock yourself out.” She stood and the dog leapt to his feet. “Come on, Lambchop. Time to go back inside.”
Evan called after her, “Alex, wait a minute. I have an idea.”
She turned and waited.
“What if I bought your lot, too, and helped you find a more suitable location for a new shelter?”
This was not something she had considered nor what she expected. But it wasn’t an entirely bad idea. Something she might ponder, but would not acknowledge to Evan. “Do you see a ‘For Sale’ sign on the Haven?”
He stood with his hands on his hips, lips pressed together. “It’s only a suggestion. Might be a solution for both of us.”
“Right. You’re just looking out for me.” She turned on her heel and called to Lambchop to follow her back inside.
Alex returned to her desk and looked over the sketches. She glanced up and stared out the window. Evan’s idea was not totally bad. She hadn’t considered a new location, mainly because she didn’t have the money to build from scratch. But now…. She sighed. It would take time to build. She’d need an architect, a construction crew, not to mention the land. Why was she afraid to think big? Wasn’t that what had gotten her this far? Big dreams? Everything changed for her after Amy died. She lost her staunchest supporter, her best friend. Her surrogate mother. Without Amy there for her to bounce ideas off of, Alex felt lost. Amy always used to chastise Alex about not trusting her own instincts and believing in herself. It was the only flaw Amy had ever pointed out to her. That and her taste in clothing at times.
Returning to the sketches, she tried to view them with new eyes. They were good. She glanced around at the framed portraits on the walls—drawings of dogs and cats that had graced this place over the years and were carefully framed by Alex. She had never considered herself an artist, but what Kellie had said was true—she had talent. She rummaged in her bottom desk drawer and pulled out a sketch pad, its cover bent and wrinkled. She sat on the sofa in the lobby and flipped to a clean page. Walter lay curled on one of the dog pillows in the far corner. Alex began to draw.
Three pages later, she stopped, her breath catching. Staring up from the paper in front of her was Evan Whiting. When had she switched from sketching dogs to drawing a portrait of Evan? She grinned. Maybe it wasn’t that much of a stretch.
Susan came in from the kennel area and stood over her. “Nice. What breed?”
Heat rushed into Alex’s face and she closed the sketch pad. “Mutt.”
“I doubt that. I think the man has quite a pedigree. He is, after all, Miss Amy’s family. And so easy on the eyes.”
Alex glared at her. “Don’t you have a dog to bathe or something?”
“Or something.” Susan lifted the rake and dust pan. “I’m on doo-doo duty in the yard today.” She nodded toward the sketch pad in Alex’s lap. “You gonna put up some new drawings?”
“Nah. Just taking a break.” Alex glanced up and asked, “Did you ever think maybe we should scrap this place and build something new in a different location? Maybe farther outside of town where there’s more space and fewer neighbors? If we had the money, of course.” She hadn’t told the staff about the money from Amy’s estate. She would announce it at the Board meeting on Thursday evening, hopefully before the gossip mill got hold of the news.
“You mean if the Shelter Fairy looked kindly upon us? Yeah, I think that would be great. We’re limited here—landlocked, so to speak. No room to spread out. And it’s costing more and more to keep this building cool in the summer and warm in the winter.” She narrowed her eyes. “You have a plan?”
Alex shook her head. “Maybe. I need to think about it first. You want some help out there?” Maybe picking up doggy doo would help clear her head.
“I told my kids to come by. I promised they could play with the puppies for a while after clean up is finished.”
Alex grinned. “That’s blackmail.”
“Yeah, and they’re still young enough to fall for it. You should take a break, go do something nice for yourself this afternoon. I’ve got everything here covered.”
“I might do that. Thanks, Susan.”
Alex gathered up the sketches and returned them to their file. She ripped out the drawing of Evan with the intention of shredding it. But instead she folded it and tucked it into her purse.
As she unlocked her car door, she observed the activity at the restaurant next door. Several pickup trucks were parked in front of the building and the sound of hammers and electric saws cut through the thick afternoon air. Curiosity was killing her. She wanted to see what Evan was doing with that place, but she didn’t want to show interest in him or his project. She got into her car and headed out of town.
*
Evan stood at the upstairs window above his restaurant and watched Alex get into her car. The breeze whipped her auburn hair across her face and she reached up with one hand to tuck the strands behind her ear. She was graceful, tall and lean, but with curves in all the right places. Earlier, when she was in the yard playing with that ridiculous-looking dog, her laughter had reverberated in him, a smoky, sexy laugh. Under other circumstances, Evan would be doing his best to get this woman’s attention. Other circumstances meaning the woman in question wasn’t borderline nuts. She could be smiling one moment and ready to tear his head off the next. He needed stability in his life and that was not a quality he noted in Alex Ramsey.
After approving the paint colors for the walls on what would be an upstairs rental apartment, Evan returned to the kitchen. The previous owner had updated all the appliances and there was little to be done except add a new counter top to the center island and retile the floor. The seating area of the restaurant was another story, but Evan could already see it coming together. The way he saw his life coming together. Tomorrow he would be able to move into Primrose. Mark assured him the restaurant’s work would be completed in three weeks. He was already working on advertising for a grand opening. A rivulet of perspiration trickled down his temple and his stomach tightened. What if the people in Cade’s Point didn’t welcome his restaurant? What if they weren’t adventurous enough to try Evan’s menu? What if he had a grand opening and no one came?
His hands shook as he hung pots on the rack above the center island. This was such a bad idea. How could he not have seen that? One look at this town should have told him an upscale restaurant would never be a success here. He’d placed an ad
in the paper and had interviews set up for the next two days for kitchen and wait-staff. He, of course, would serve as the primary chef. The woman who had called about the hostess position said she’d worked in the restaurant that previously occupied his site and at two of the casino restaurants. That gave him some hope.
He’d decided on an Old South theme for the restaurant and had ordered mural panels of willow trees shrouded in moss standing along lazy, winding streams. Now he was second-guessing that decision, thinking it too much like a bayou, which didn’t fit this upper part of the Mississippi Delta. The problem was, he had little knowledge of the history of the area. He had the good sense to nix several of the names he’d come up with, most of which were French. He’d decided on The Willow Tree Inn since he already had all those damned willow trees on the walls. This was turning into a disaster with every new decision he made.
He told himself he only had to stick it out here for a year. After that he could take his inheritance and start over, once again, anywhere he wanted. Perhaps he’d move to Paris.
A loud crash followed by shouting in Spanish drew him into the dining room. Two men, one holding a step ladder, stood beneath a battered ceiling fan, gesturing and yelling at one another. Mark stepped in between them and quieted them, then turned to Evan. “Sorry. I’ll replace that fan.” He turned back to his men and rattled something off in Spanish.
Evan needed to get out of there for a while. He needed air and had to get his emotions under control. What he was feeling, he surmised, was similar to pre-wedding jitters. He could make this restaurant successful. It would take work and he was no stranger to work. But for the moment, a drive would do him good. “I’ll be back in an hour,” he called to Mark.
He drove through town and farther down the highway than he had previously ventured. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find there, but was surprised to find not much of anything. A trailer here or there with an abandoned gas station or barbecue shack or tamale stand in between. Traffic on the four-lane zipped by, people mostly heading north toward Memphis. No one seemed to stop until they reached the casinos. This thought made his spirits plummet even further.
Rescued Page 7
