The Roundabout

by Gerri Hill

  “I want all of the shelves down here taken out too,” she continued. “And as I mentioned on the phone, there’s got to be more windows. It’s as dark as a dungeon in here.”

  Mr. Holland walked over to the front wall and pounded against it with his fist. “I’d almost guess that there used to be windows here and they were closed up,” he said. “Probably needed more shelf space.”

  “Unbelievable,” she muttered.

  He shrugged. “Everybody’s got different ideas. Had an old house up above town. All original woodwork inside. Beautiful stuff. The new owner wanted something more modern though. Had me tear it all out and start over. Nearly made me cry.”

  “Well, I hope you salvaged it, Mr. Holland.”

  He winked. “I sure did, Ms. Rollins. And you can call me Tony. You got me looking around for my dad with all that Mr. Holland stuff.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Thank you. And please call me Leah.”

  “Yes ma’am. And like I said, we can get started on this next week. Got a remodel job over on Mill Hollow Road that we’re finishing up. We can be out here bright and early Monday morning.”

  “That’s wonderful, Tony. And you really think you can have the upstairs ready to go in only a few weeks?”

  “As long as we don’t hit any snags, yeah. Bedroom walls shouldn’t take long. Bathroom and kitchen will be the most time-consuming, obviously, but if we don’t have much wiring to redo, then, yes, a few weeks. Four at the most, I’d think. Then we’ll be ready to start down here.”

  “Thank you. I’ll plan accordingly. Appliances are already ordered.”

  He took his cap off and scratched his head. “I understand you’re staying at the Howells’ B & B over on Cliff Street.”

  She nodded, wondering how he knew that. Of course, she’d been warned by the real estate agent that it was a small, cliquish town. Since there were only two thousand residents, she imagined not much escaped notice.

  “Not any of my business, of course, but staying there for three or four weeks, that’ll run you a nice tab,” he said.

  “That’s true,” she said with a smile. “What? Do you have an alternative?”

  “Well, my partner owns a couple of cottages that he rents out by the week. Tourist season won’t pick up for another month—the Diversity Weekend, first week in April. I’d say he would cut you a deal. Certainly cheaper than the Howells,” he said.

  “I chose it because it’s only a couple of blocks from here,” she said. “I like to ride my bike.”

  “I understand. His cottages are up above town. Got a great view from them though.”

  “Well, thank you for the offer, but I guess I’ll stay put.”

  “Okay, sure. Well, I’ll see you Monday morning then.”

  “Thank you, Tony,” she said as she followed him to the front door. “Oh, by the way. I noticed there is a ‘reserved’ parking sign out front here. I had assumed it was from the previous owner, but there’s been this black SUV parked there.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s Megan,” he said.

  She frowned. “Megan?”

  “She and her sister own the grill next door. Best burgers in town. You should try them. And they make a mean chicken-fried steak too.”

  She stood at the door long after he left, trying to decide what to do. She should just go next door, introduce herself, and ask this Megan person not to park there anymore. Yes, that’s what she should do.

  She looked around, seeing all the countless things that needed to get done before the remodel could take place. She couldn’t believe how much junk had been left in the store. She should have hired someone to clean it out, but she reasoned she had the time to do it herself. Well, to box it up, at least. She would have to hire someone to haul it off.

  She glanced back outside. Deciding that she didn’t want to take the time to go next door, she went into the back room, found some paper and quickly jotted down a note. Then she went outside and pulled off the tacky, hand-made “reserved” sign that was fastened to a light pole. She then quickly stuck the note on the windshield of the SUV.

  “There,” she said. “That was easy.”

  She left the door open when she went back inside. It was a warm day, hinting of spring, and she hoped the breeze would chase out some of the musty odors. She’d been in town for eight days already, and this was the first warm day they’d had. The place had been closed up for over two years and as she started pulling old magazines off a shelf, she wondered—for at least the hundredth time—whether she was making a mistake or not. Oh, she didn’t regret quitting her job. She’d been feeling stagnant for the last couple of years anyway. But why not retire and travel? Why not find a beach somewhere to sit on?

  Because fifty is too damn young to retire, she told herself.

  But not too young to quit a job she’d long grown tired of. She’d been in the tech industry her whole life, following both of her parents into the business. She’d written more damn code than she cared to remember. But it paid well and she never had the itch to quit, no matter how small her cubicle got.

  Not until Aunt Ruby died, that is. Aunt Ruby was her father’s aunt. The old maid of the family…a spinster woman. She grimaced as she remembered her grandmother’s description of Ruby. She was far from a spinster, she thought with a smile.

  When she was younger, she saw Aunt Ruby a few times a year, mostly during the holidays when her parents loaded them up for a week’s stay in Los Angeles. As everyone got older, the visits got fewer and fewer, yet she and Aunt Ruby had formed a bond. It wasn’t until she was in college—and out herself— that Aunt Ruby found the courage to confess to Leah that she was a lesbian. Leah had always suspected but had never mentioned it to her parents. Ruby had asked that she keep her secret and she had. As far as she knew, Ruby took that secret to her grave at the age of ninety-one.

  But there was also another secret she’d kept from everyone, including Leah. She bought old houses, fixed them up, rented them out for a while, then sold them for a nice profit. Who would have ever guessed that Aunt Ruby flipped houses? And who would have ever guessed that Aunt Ruby was loaded?

  Leah laughed quietly. And who would have guessed that Aunt Ruby would name Leah as her sole beneficiary? Certainly not her brothers or her parents—they’d been shocked to learn that she and Ruby had remained close. And certainly not her cousins. They couldn’t even be bothered to go to the funeral, yet they were pissed as hell when they found out about the money. So pissed, in fact, that they had threatened a lawsuit.

  That went nowhere, of course. But she wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with them now. Not that they’d ever been close, she reasoned. She was lucky if she saw them once a year as it was. Oh, but money did crazy things to people.

  She smiled and shook her head. Yeah…old Aunt Ruby was loaded, all right. Who knew she had a knack for California real estate?

  Chapter Three

  “Steve says she’s staying at the Howells’. Tony confirmed it.”

  Megan bit into her sandwich as her sister continued.

  “And she rides a bicycle all over town. Susie says she even rode it up to Pivot Rock one day.”

  “So maybe she likes to exercise,” Megan said. “I heard she was old though.”

  “Old? How old?”

  “Totally gray-headed. Too old to start a new business, don’t you think?”

  “Who told you that? Tony met with her this morning. He’s going to do her remodel. Steve didn’t indicate that she was old.”

  Megan shrugged. “Just telling you what I heard.” She couldn’t understand what all the curiosity was about. So a new shop owner was in town? That happened all the time. Apparently, not with as much secrecy as this one though. Even Susie didn’t know all the details yet.

  “Maybe she’s like Anderson Cooper.”

  Megan stared at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Her gray hair. Maybe she turned gray early. Susie says she’s really cute. Like really cute.”r />
  “Susie thinks everyone is cute. And what’s with all the speculation about her? She’s all people are talking about.”

  “New blood in town,” Nancy said with a grin.

  “Oh, my God. You don’t even know how old she is or whether she’s single or not. You don’t even know if she’s gay.”

  “Of course she’s gay. Susie said she was.”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “Susie thinks everyone is gay.”

  “Do I have to remind you that nearly half of the people who live in this town are gay?”

  “No, you don’t. With all of the big old gay drama that goes on, no one should need reminding.”

  Nancy laughed. “Are you referring to Mary Beth?”

  “Of course I’m referring to Mary Beth,” she snapped. “It’s been three weeks. She still has my picture on her Facebook page.”

  “At least the sheet was covering you. You can’t even tell it’s you.”

  “Really? Then why are people asking me if we’re dating?”

  Nancy laughed again. “It’ll blow over. It always does.”

  “Yes, but no matter how much I deny it, they all think we slept together. And Mary Beth smiles in that smug way of hers just to keep everyone guessing. It drives me crazy.”

  “Which is why she keeps doing it. If you’d talk to her about it, have a laugh with her, it would all be over with already.”

  “Seriously? A laugh? She stripped me naked against my will!” she said loudly. “She took pictures!”

  “Oh, God, Megan. Get over it already. That’s old news.”

  “I wonder if you’d think it was old news if it was your picture on her Facebook page,” Megan said pointedly.

  “Then quit going out there and looking at it.”

  “I kept going out there to see if she ever took it down.”

  “And to leave comments. You forced her to block you and unfriend you. You were getting out of control.”

  Megan stood up and pointed her finger at Nancy. “I can’t believe you are taking her side.”

  “Whatever. Get over it.”

  Megan shook her head. “I was over it. You had to bring it up again.” She picked up her purse. “I’m going home.”

  “It’s Friday,” Nancy reminded her.

  “I know. I’ll be back by four.”

  They took turns opening and closing during the week, but on Fridays and Saturdays, they shared the duties. The tourists were only starting to trickle in, but the locals kept them plenty busy on the weekends.

  She walked out into the sunshine, pausing to look up into the clear, blue sky. It had been cloudy and rainy for the last week so the sun was a welcome sight. She walked down the street to where she parked her SUV and got in. As she started it up, she noticed a note stuck under the wiper. She tilted her head, trying to read it.

  “What the hell?”

  She got out and yanked the note off, her eyebrows drawing together as she read it again.

  I believe this parking space is designated for my shop, not the Phenix Grill. Please kindly park somewhere else.

  “What the hell?”

  Turning, she found the door to the bookstore standing open. Without thinking, she marched inside, holding the note up in the air.

  “Who do you think you are?” she demanded.

  The woman turned, surprise showing on her face. Then a smile appeared and she held her hand out in greeting.

  “I think I’m Leah Rollins,” she said.

  Megan stared at her hand, then ignored both it and the easy smile the woman sported. “And this?” she asked, waving the note at her.

  “Oh. Well, that’s a note. I thought it was obvious.”

  Her tone indicated that it was a stupid question, and Megan found herself scowling.

  “Yeah,” the woman continued. “I left it for the person who’s been parking in front of my store in that gas-guzzling SUV. There was even a ‘reserved’ sign there too.” She scratched the back of her neck. “Was that you?”

  “I’m Megan Phenix,” she said through clenched teeth. “I own the grill next door.”

  “Oh…Phenix Grill. Huh.” The woman smiled again. “I thought you’d just misspelled Phoenix.”

  “Ha ha,” Megan said humorlessly. “And what do you mean, gas-guzzling? My SUV is midsized. It’s quite conservative.”

  “Conservative? No. A hybrid would be conservative.”

  “Oh, my God. Are you one of those?” She shook her head. “Of course you are. You’re from California.”

  Leah’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

  “What do you drive? A Prius? Or a Tesla or something?”

  Leah smiled. “Why, yes. I do own a Tesla. Electric cars are the future.”

  “Give me a break,” Megan muttered. She held the note up once again. “Back to this,” she said. “What is this all about?”

  Leah gave her a puzzled look. “I thought the note was very clear.”

  Megan sighed. “Look, we’ve got the most popular eating place in town. In fact, you may have noticed that we’re…we’re just packed every night. And lunch. Even lunch too.”

  “Well, congratulations.”

  Megan ignored her patronizing tone. “You know, parking is really limited in town.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that. I hear the lots down below town make a killing on parking.”

  Megan narrowed her eyes. “You’re missing my point.”

  “You have a point?”

  Megan blew out her breath. “My point is, shops that aren’t busy expect other shops’ customers to park there.”

  “Expect? It’s my understanding that every shop has designated parking spots. Kinda like guaranteed spots,” Leah said.

  “Well, technically, that’s true. But there’s an unwritten rule about that. For example, say…your place here. You’re not busy. But us? We’re booming over there,” she said, pointing out the door. “So you’ve got five parking spaces here not being used. It just stands to reason—common courtesy, if you will—that our customers would be allowed to park here.”

  Leah nodded. “Yes, that makes sense. But what if I have a customer come to my store and all of my parking spaces are full with your people? I’m going to lose business.”

  Megan looked at her incredulously. “You’re not even open yet!”

  “Well, I will be by summer.”

  “Summer?”

  “Yes. Now’s a good time to get used to not having these parking spots.”

  “Seriously? You won’t be open until summer and you want to hoard these spaces now?”

  Leah smiled at her. Megan perceived it as a condescending smile. That caused her to wad up the note and toss it—yes—childishly at the woman. She turned on her heel and strode purposefully out the door.

  “Nice to meet you,” Leah called after her.

  “Insufferable woman,” Megan muttered as she climbed into her car. “Cute, my ass.”

  Chapter Four

  “The nerve! Can you believe it?”

  “Well, it was kinda ballsy of you to put the reserved sign up in the first place,” Nancy said.

  “Mr. Carlton didn’t have a problem with me parking there,” Megan reminded her.

  “That’s because you brought him lunch most days. And you flirted with him.”

  “I did not flirt with him. He was old enough to be our grandfather.”

  Eileen stuck her head in the office. “Just a heads-up…Brent called in sick.”

  Megan groaned. “It’s my turn, isn’t it?”

  Nancy smiled sweetly at her. “Yep.”

  “I hate waiting tables. Everyone knows we own the place. I swear, I get no tips.”

  Nancy waved her complaints away. “So…back to the woman. Was she cute?”

  “I was too angry to notice if she was cute or not,” Megan said, which was mostly the truth. She did, of course, recall the woman’s easy smile. At the time, though, all she wanted to do was to smack that smile off her face.

  “How o
ld was she?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “God, you’re so difficult,” Nancy muttered. “Can you at least take a guess?”

  Megan gave her an evil smile. “Seventy-five.”

  Nancy’s eyes widened. “Seventy-five? Are you kidding me?”

  Megan shrugged. “You said to guess.” She got up. “I’ll switch with you. I’ll take bar duty, you wait tables,” she offered.

  “As much as I hate bartending…no,” Nancy said.

  * * *

  “If Brent shows up tomorrow, he’s so fired,” Megan said to Eileen as she maneuvered her serving tray between two crowded tables.

  “He’s got the flu,” Eileen said. “Give him a break.”

  Megan balanced the tray on one arm and forced a cheerful smile to her face. “Now…who had the buffalo burger?”

  “Rare. I want it very rare,” the man reminded her for the third time.

  What? Is he a vampire or something? she thought. But the smile remained as she placed the plate in front of him, and she was pleased to notice a pool of blood next to the bun. Rare. Very rare. Very disgusting.

  “Just as you ordered it, sir,” she said cheerfully. She turned to the woman sitting next to him. “And for you, the spicy chicken burger with chipotle mayo on the side, as requested.” Between them, she put a large platter of onion rings, then stepped back. “Anything else for you? Can I bring you another beer?”

  They both nodded and she turned, nearly bumping into Trish as she passed by with a tray of draft beer and margaritas.

  “Sorry,” she whispered as the beer spilled over.

  She hurried to the bar where Nancy was helping with the Friday night crowd. She waved her hand. “Need two Bud Lights here, lady,” she called.

  “Wait your turn,” Nancy shot back.

  Megan took a moment to exhale and look around. They were crowded, as they usually were on Friday nights, but there was a different buzz in the air. Perhaps it was the warm spring day they’d had. Or perhaps it was the anticipation of the fast-approaching tourist season. She saw strangers in the crowd—tourists—but mostly familiar faces, the local crowd who hung out there. Most of them, like she and Nancy did, made their living off the tourists who flocked to the Ozarks—spring, summer and fall and even up until the holidays. January and February were the dead months—except for the annual Mardi Gras celebration in February. Things slowed down then and it was a time for the locals to reflect on the past season, plan for the next one and take a few weeks to relax. During those months they closed the grill on Mondays and Tuesdays, their only true days off during the year. Things started picking up in March, starting with the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. April, though, was the real beginning of the new season, when the trees began showing off their new green and the days warmed. More and more tourists would begin filling the streets then. And April, she reminded herself, was right around the corner.