A Reel Catch

by Lorraine Bartlett

  “We?” Lucinda inquired.

  “My friend, Kathy, and me. She helped me spruce up the compound last summer, and now I’m helping her—as much as possible—to open her B and B.”

  “Ah, yes. Kathryn Grant of Swans Nest Inn. The property has certainly undergone a spectacular renovation.”

  “Yes, your neighbor, Anissa Jackson, has been the contractor in charge,” Tori said, rubbing it in just a little bit.

  Lucinda nodded. “Ms. Jackson’s home has undergone a major renovation, as well. It looks wonderful.” By her tone, it sounded as if Lucinda had forgiven the Jacksons for the time when the property was an eyesore.

  Lucinda picked up the delicate cup before her and sipped her tea. Tori did likewise. Now what could they talk about? And when would Lucinda introduce the reason for the apparently spur-of-the-moment invitation.

  It was Lucinda who broke the quiet.

  “I understand it was you who found a man’s body in the bay,” Lucinda said.

  Tori nearly spewed her tea at the change of subject. “Yes,” she said and coughed. “Me and Kathy.”

  “Most unfortunate,” Lucinda said with a shake of her head.

  “Do you have any idea on who it could have been?” Tori asked.

  Lucinda’s expression was bland. “Why would you ask that?”

  “I’ve been here less than a year. You’ve been here your whole life.”

  “Nearly my whole life,” Lucinda agreed but didn’t answer the question.

  Collins arrived with a three-tiered silver cake plate and set it on the table. On the bottom level were delicate sandwiches—cucumber and egg salad by the look of it. The second level held four scones, and on the top petit fours and ripe, plump chocolate-covered strawberries. Everything sat on dainty, individual paper doilies, looking like something out of one of the magazines Kathy subscribed to. Collins set a pair of silver tongs, on the table. “Will there be anything else, Madam?”

  Lucinda smiled. “I’ll call if we need anything. Thank you, Collins.”

  He nodded and Tori watched him leave. Again, Lucinda picked up her cup and sipped her tea. Tori shook her linen napkin over her lap and wondered if she should pick up the tongs or wait to be invited to do so.

  She waited.

  “Please help yourself,” Lucinda encouraged with a nod.

  Emboldened, Tori chose one each of the little finger sandwiches, and a scone—raisin and walnut, she guessed. Butter and jam were already on the table in matching ramekins. She split her scone and slathered it with some of the soft butter, then applied a thin layer of jam. She took a bite. Whoa—just as good as what Kathy made.

  Lucinda chose one triangular sandwich and a strawberry. Eating like a bird was probably how she kept her fantastic figure. She was said to be in her mid-forties, but she sure didn’t look it. Had she undergone plastic surgery or did she just take very good care of herself?

  “I understand you had a visit from Rick Shepherd yesterday,” Lucinda said.

  A crumb caught in Tori’s throat, and she began to cough. She groped for her teacup, taking a healthy swig.

  “Oh, my—are you all right?” Lucinda asked.

  “Yes,” Tori said and coughed again. “Thank you. How do you know about that?”

  “I hear things,” Lucinda said enigmatically.

  Tori didn’t doubt it.

  “I assume he wanted to buy your property.”

  “It’s not for sale.”

  “Then he must have offered to be your partner.”

  Tori frowned. “How did you know?”

  “That’s the way he operates. He’s well known in these parts,” she said by way of an explanation. “Have you made a decision?”

  Tori wondered if she should answer that question. She hesitated, then said, “We only spoke the one time. I would have to see a written proposal before I could make a decision.”

  Lucinda nodded and bit into her strawberry. She chewed slowly and swallowed before speaking again. “If you do receive a proposal, I hope you’ll consider partnering with me before accepting whatever Mr. Shepherd offers.”

  “You?” Tori asked aghast, glad she hadn’t been about to swallow and end up choking once more.

  “Why yes. I am a businesswoman.”

  “I knew you had rental properties, but—”

  Lucinda nodded. “Among other enterprises.”

  “Such as?”

  Lucinda’s eyes narrowed at the impertinent question, but she sighed and answered. “I own stakes in several restaurants in the county and beyond, as well as a couple of inns. There’s an untapped market here on Lotus Bay for lower-end accommodations.”

  “Lower end?” Tori asked, offended.

  “Yes,” Lucinda said matter-of-factly. “I understand you were considering refurbishing and going with a retro vibe for The Lotus Lodge. I believe that could be very successful. You could also finish off the upper level of your boathouse and offer that as additional rental property.”

  How could she possibly know all that? Did she have Tori’s home bugged?

  Tori swallowed. “What kind of an arrangement did you have in mind?”

  “A silent partnership.”

  “What would that entail?”

  “I would advance you the capital to make the improvements necessary to get The Lotus Lodge up and running, and to hire the necessary personnel to ensure the venture operates smoothly.”

  “And what would you get out of the deal?”

  “A portion of the profits.”

  “What number were you thinking?”

  It was Lucinda’s turn to hesitate. “Fifty percent.”

  Tori’s eyes widened. Did the woman really expect her to do all the work and then give up that much of the profit? She let out a breath.

  “Of course, everything is negotiable,” Lucinda added. “And you might find my terms are far better than Mr. Shepherd’s.”

  Oh yeah? If his conditions were in the same ballpark, The Lotus Lodge would stay shuttered indefinitely.

  Tori looked down at the cup of cooling tea. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” And she couldn’t wait to tell Kathy and Anissa about it, either.

  “A butler?” Anissa repeated, taken aback.

  Tori nodded. After she’d returned from the Bloomfield estate, she’d changed back into jeans and a sweatshirt before joining Kathy and Anissa at Swans Nest. “The house is gorgeous, and the view is breathtaking.”

  “I’m more interested in what Lucinda had to say.” Kathy put the kettle on, presumably for a pot of tea. Tori always found comfort in a cup or mug of tea. “Did Lucinda reveal her reason for the invitation?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Tori said sourly. “She knew all about Rick Shepherd’s offer of partnership for reopening The Lotus Lodge. She’d like to cut him out. But get this; she wants fifty percent of the profits.”

  Kathy wasn’t at all shocked at the notion, and it seemed that Anissa wasn’t, either.

  “How could she know about Shepherd’s offer?” Tori asked. “I haven’t told anyone but you guys, and you haven’t told anyone, either.”

  “No,” Kathy said with authority. “Although we did talk about Shepherd at the bar with Noreen.”

  “But there was nobody nearby.”

  “Maybe she told Paul and he told one—or a bunch—of the customers. You know how liquor loosens the tongue,” Anissa said sagely.

  Tori sighed. “I guess you’re right. I mean, we didn’t swear her to secrecy.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past old Lucinda to regularly plant a spy at the bar,” Anissa said sourly.

  “I sure didn’t see Avery Simons the other night.”

  “No, but she has a lot of tenants in this county—hell, probably right around here. Maybe she gives one or more of them perks if they come up with some good gossip.”

  That was a distinct possibility.

  “I want to hear more about the house,” Kathy said eagerly.

  “Then you should try to look it up onlin
e. I can’t possibly describe it to your satisfaction.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “I want to hear more about this butler,” Anissa said, her dark eyes widening.

  “He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’ve seen him.”

  “A local guy?”

  “Why not?” Kathy asked. “There are schools here in the US and abroad where you can get trained as a gentleman’s gentleman. I even considered taking a course.”

  “There’s no such thing as a woman butler,” Anissa protested.

  “Valet,” Kathy corrected, “and there most certainly is. Although these days, the job is geared more toward running a household—with staff.”

  “So why didn’t you take the course?” Tori asked.

  Kathy smiled and looked around her gleaming new kitchen. “Another opportunity presented itself.”

  “Let’s get back to Tori’s opportunity,” Anissa said. “Do you really want to take money from either of these sleazy people?”

  “I don’t think Lucinda is sleazy,” Kathy said with authority.

  “From what we’ve heard, she ain’t no better than a slumlord,” Anissa reminded them.

  “She said she has business interests in several restaurants and inns in the area,” Tori said.

  “Probably desperate people grasping at anything to keep their livelihoods intact.”

  “Maybe,” Tori said as the kettle began to boil furiously.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it until you see something in writing,” Kathy advised. “Until then, it’s all pie in the sky.”

  “Of course, there is somebody else who’s got big bucks and could easily bankroll the project,” Anissa said.

  “Who’s that? Don Newton?”

  “No. Your grandpa.”

  “Ha!” Tori said and gave her friend an eye roll. “Never in a million years.”

  “Why would you think Don Newton would have the money?” Kathy asked.

  Tori shrugged. “He’s nice. And, as my main competition, he makes a very, very good living.”

  The electric kettle clicked off and Kathy picked it up and scalded the teapot, tossing the water into the sink and stuffing a couple of tea bags into it. She replaced the lid and settled a quilted cozy on it. “You could broach the subject with your grandfather,” she suggested.

  Tori shook her head. “Not a chance.” And yet, it had been she who had paid for the winning lottery ticket that had turned her grandfather from a failed bait seller into a multimillionaire. She must have thought about it many times, but had never mentioned it to Kathy. That would be bad karma, not that Kathy was sure Tori even believed in karma.

  “I don’t suppose you’re even going to want to think about supper until late tonight.”

  “I didn’t eat much—in fact, hardly anything. Got any cookies?”

  “I baked a fresh batch just this afternoon,” Kathy said and reached for the cookie jar on the counter behind her, placing it on the island where Tori and Anissa sat. “Have a cup of tea. It’ll make you feel better,” Kathy encouraged.

  With all Tori had on her mind, Kathy wasn’t at all sure she believed that.

  5

  It was almost six when the bell rang and Kathy opened Swans Nest’s big oak door to find standing before her a man with a scraggly beard and a woman with long bleached blonde hair, a nose ring, and acrylic nails long enough to dig a trench. Both were dressed in black leather jackets, black denim pants, and black boots, looking like the worst stereotypes of bad-ass bikers. They were much younger than she’d anticipated—early twenties, not at all The Bay Bar’s usual demographic.

  “You must be The Ruffinos.”

  The woman laughed. “He’s Ruffino. I’m Cass Merritt.”

  Kathy wasn’t a prude. Plenty of unmarried guests would bed down at Swans Nest during her tenure as its owner/protector—a very long tenure, she hoped. She pasted on a smile. “Come on in and I’ll show you around.”

  They stepped inside and both scoped out the restored entryway. Cass laughed. “Looks like somewhere my grandma would like to stay.”

  “Maybe her grandma,” Jack said with a smirk.

  Kathy felt like reopening the door and ushering them right out it. Instead, she reminded herself that she wasn’t always going to like the people who walked through the entrance and she may as well learn that lesson as soon as possible.

  “I’m sorry I can’t offer you breakfast in the morning, but I’m not really open for business yet and don’t have everything set up.” Especially not for seventy-five bucks.

  “Yeah, Noreen told us that. Don’t worry. We’ll catch a donut or something on the way home tomorrow morning.”

  “Yeah, there’s a McDonalds up on Route 104—I love an Egg McMuffin any time of the day or night,” Cass piped up.

  “So where’s the room?” Jack asked.

  “Upstairs on the right; number three.” She wasn’t about to tell them the room’s name and suffer another round of ridicule. “Let’s get you checked in and then you can go right on up.”

  “Yeah, I need to change for the wedding,” Cass said, indicating the little black suitcase on wheels that had accompanied her into Swans Nest.

  Kathy stepped behind a podium in the front parlor that would act as her reception desk. She pushed an old-fashioned ledger in front of Jack, offering him a pen. “Please sign in.”

  He shrugged and scribbled something—she wasn’t able to read it. “Your address and license plate number, too, please.”

  “What do you need that for?”

  “It’s an industry standard,” she said. It was—for all the motels she’d ever worked in. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have already had that information before her B and B guests showed up. She wasn’t sure Noreen had taken down that information and wanted to make sure she could add them to her database for future marketing purposes.

  “And your credit card?” she asked.

  Jack pulled out a wallet on a chain from his back pocket and dug out the grimy card, handing it to her. She swiped it through her little machine, holding her breath until the transaction was approved, then let out a breath and smiled once again.

  “Check out time is eleven o’clock.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be long gone by then,” Jack said and accepted the old-fashioned skeleton key that Kathy offered him.

  “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay at Swans Nest. I understand you’re going to a wedding reception. Do you have any idea what time you’ll be coming in tonight?”

  “Whenever.”

  “Oh. The doors are locked at eleven. But if you come in later than that, you can call me and I’ll come over and open it for you.”

  “You don’t live here, too?” Cass asked.

  “Not yet. I’ve got a place across the road, so it will only take me a minute to get here when you return later tonight. Please let me know if you need anything.”

  Jack nodded. “There’s towels upstairs?”

  “Yes, in your bathroom. If you need more, there’s a linen closet next to your room.”

  He nodded toward the stairs. “Come on.” He started off without offering to help Cass with her suitcase.

  Kathy watched them go. She had a bad feeling about them and hoped it was just a touch of indigestion.

  Jack and Cass didn’t stay long, and when Kathy heard the roar of the big black Harley take off, she resisted the temptation to go check on room three, locked the inn’s door, and headed across the road for the Cannon Compound.

  Kathy found Tori sitting at the kitchen table, reading one of her decorating magazines. The aroma of baked chicken filled the room.

  “Did your guests finally arrive and then depart for the evening?”

  Kathy nodded. “I think I’m going to rethink the whole door-locking situation. As long as I’m not living on site, I need to be able to lock and unlock the front door remotely.”

  “There’s an app for that.”

  “Yeah, so Anissa said. And I was too chea
p to go for it, but I think it’s a necessity. I’m going to go online and see if I can order one after supper.”

  “Good idea.”

  Kathy opened the fridge and pulled out the already opened bottle of cheap Chardonnay. It tasted like shoe-polish remover, but that was all they had in the house. “Join me in a glass?”

  Tori giggled. “I don’t think there’s room for both of us.”

  “Another one of your Gramps’s jokes?”

  Tori smiled. “You got it.”

  Kathy poured the wine, giving one of the glasses to Tori. “When do we eat?”

  “In about half an hour. I didn’t want to start the chicken too soon in case you were any later.”

  “Okay, I’ll get some frozen veggies going in a minute, but I need this first.” Kathy took her first sip and grimaced. Shoe polish remover all right.

  Tori didn’t seem to be in a hurry to drink her wine. “What were they like?”

  “My guests? About what you could expect; typical Bay Bar customers—except they’re young. They said my B and B looks like something their great grandma might like.”

  Tori frowned. “Oh dear. Are you worried?”

  Kathy nodded. “I don’t want to think badly of people, but….” She shook her head. “I need to stop thinking about it—or I’ll drive myself crazy.”

  “Good idea,” Tori agreed. “Anything else new?”

  Kathy shook her head, took another sip of her wine and shuddered. She pushed her glass away. “Let’s never get this brand of wine again.”

  “You got it!”

  Kathy sighed. Now what could they talk about? And then it came to her. “While I was ironing earlier today, I got to thinking how Anissa has been so good to both of us—charging us less than market value for her labor, etcetera. I’d like to do something to thank her. What do you think?”

  Tori shrugged. “Off the top of my head?”

  Kathy nodded.

  “Business cards?”

  Kathy frowned. “Not nearly enough. She could have been making a lot more money these last six months working for people other than us.”

  “Yeah, but they don’t know about her; hence, business cards.”