“I saw the invoice.”
Her lips twitched. “Did you fire your chef for crossing enemy lines?”
“No. Gordon is in charge of his kitchen. I’m lucky to have him.”
Jamie jiggled her bowl to tempt him, and the glistening red berries made his mouth water. It was also a reminder that if he’d eaten something instead of gulping numerous cups of coffee, he might be doing a better job of handling this situation.
“So, top chefs do rule their territory,” she mused.
“That’s one way of putting it.” Zack thought of Gordon’s contract. It gave him broader authority than anyone else employed at Mar Vista, even Rick Lopez. The competition was fierce for a chef with Gordon Chen’s standing. Zack probably couldn’t have gotten him if he and his wife hadn’t wanted to raise their children in a rural setting like Warrington, California.
“Poor Mr. Denning. There’s a fiefdom in his kingdom that he can’t command.” Jamie ate a berry with unabashed pleasure, then licked a bead of ruby juice from her finger.
Zack hung on to his resolve and concentrated.
“Come on,” she urged. “Declare defeat and eat a few.”
“I don’t need anything.” His voice came out stiffer than he’d intended. “I want to discuss...”
His words were interrupted by the crunch of truck wheels on gravel. The pickup parked and the passengers ambled across to look at the spinach. Another car pulled in behind them.
“Excuse me,” Jamie said. “You comprehend the importance of customers, don’t you? People who buy what you want to sell. Catch my drift?”
Yeah, he got it. She refused to part with her land. But surely there was something he could offer...perhaps pay for renovations to make her produce stand more acceptable, though moving her was his top choice. His guests would still see the signs as they approached the resort, but he could have new ones painted that were rustic and charming, rather than garish.
“Loganberries?” queried one of the newcomers as she lifted a basket and sniffed. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“They’re yummy,” Jamie told her. “Kind of a cross between a raspberry and a boysenberry. Delicious in jam, pies, whatever.”
“We’re staying at the state park,” the woman said, wrinkling her nose. “No camper. Roughing it, or I’d bake a pie.”
Jamie smiled, a wide, unaffected smile that transformed her ordinarily pretty face into something truly striking. “That reminds me of the summer my mom made jam using a camp stove. She swore she’d never do it again. Tell you what—if you have a covered pot, you can make berries and dumplings.”
“Really?” the woman said, plainly intrigued. “We have sugar and I brought biscuit mix for pancakes.”
“That’s all you need. Cook it the same as you’d cook chicken and dumplings, only sweetened, and drop the dough into the simmering berries.”
“Yum. I’m going to try that.” She selected three pints, and told her husband they should come again before their vacation was over.
Zack had planned to wait for Jamie’s customers to leave so they could finish their discussion, but he couldn’t be sure of getting her full attention with the constant disruptions. It was amazing that people drove this far from town and the main highway to buy fruits and vegetables. The view was a plus, of course, and her produce was first-rate.
“Thank you for speaking with me, Ms. Conroe,” he murmured. “I’ll contact you when it’s more convenient.”
“Whatever.”
Just then a young woman squealed and hugged her. “Jamie Conroe. I heard you were here.”
“Kristie, you look fantastic. How are you?”
“Great. You know what? I married Greg Norton, the way I predicted. He finally noticed me the last year of college. And I made him pay for taking so long.... He chased me for weeks before I’d go out with him. I loved it.”
The two women chatted as Zack strode to his car. He definitely had to find a strategic location for their next encounter—on his turf, rather than hers. He’d learned long ago that the person who controlled the environment had the advantage in a negotiation.
* * *
JAMIE DREW A breath of relief after Zack’s departure. The customers were arriving fast and furious—it was strange how they came in waves.
Although Granddad’s stand had always been popular, the volume of shoppers had amazed her until she’d realized the locals knew about the land dispute. Some were showing their support; others were curious. On top of that, she got plenty of tourist traffic. It was a bonus week. She sold out every afternoon except for bits and pieces.
It was a demanding schedule. She had to meet growers before five in the morning, assemble the load for Gordon and count boxes as they were packed into the Denning Enterprises truck at five-thirty. Despite his pickiness, Gordon wasn’t difficult to deal with, and jabbing Zack Denning was a perk. She just wasn’t sure the extra profit was worth it.
Zack’s apology had come as a surprise, and Jamie suspected his lawyer was responsible. Not that he’d genuinely sounded sorry; it was more like he thought Granddad had swindled him. If there was one thing she knew for certain, her grandfather had played fair. She had no idea how the mix-up had occurred, but she wouldn’t let anyone malign one of the best men she’d ever known.
Swallowing, Jamie tried to recapture the peace she’d felt earlier. Why let Zack Denning spoil things?
Yet deep down, Jamie knew part of her trouble stemmed from guilt—she hadn’t been here when Granddad was putting his affairs in order. She should have come, but her marital problems had kept her away. She’d been trying to hold things together, and was embarrassed to be with her family and admit what was happening. It was Tim’s attempts to keep her from visiting Granddad during his final illness that had tipped the scale. She’d stood up to him and walked out.
Perhaps it was okay that she couldn’t easily relax after a confrontation—she didn’t want to forget how to defend herself.
Footsteps broke the quiet and she saw Brad Denning.
“Gordon tells me the strawberries are tasty,” he called. His limp was more pronounced than the day they’d met, and the creases on his forehead were deeply drawn...from pain, she guessed. He must have pushed himself to get this far.
She grabbed the dish of fruit samples and offered it to him. “I hope you aren’t as pigheaded as your brother. He wouldn’t even eat a small one, though his stomach was growling louder than an angry grizzly bear.”
Brad chose a juicy berry and popped it in his mouth. “I can be pigheaded, but not over food. I don’t know any jarheads dumb enough to turn down a tasty meal.”
“Jarheads?” Jamie asked.
Pride flared in his eyes. “It’s a nickname for a marine.”
“Oh, I remember now. Have a seat.”
Sinking into the other chair, he sighed. “This is the farthest I’ve gone in a long time. But it’s great to get outside for exercise instead of on a therapist’s treadmill. I...uh, I’ve had to do some rehab recently.”
“I’ll give you a lift back if you don’t mind waiting. It’s on my route to the bank.”
“My ego says no. My common sense says thanks.”
Jamie had the feeling that Brad would prefer accepting a ride from her, rather than his brother.
“This is the perfect spot to take a break. Have more berries.”
Brad took the bowl and ate several strawberries, then gestured at her empty displays. “Don’t you keep stock for late customers?”
“Nope, unless I have a reservation for something. That’s why I’m still here. An old friend of Granddad’s is coming for the four flats I’ve got stored in the trailer. Otherwise, as I put on my sign, first come, first served. I order the amount I think I can sell and usually get to close early.”
“You sound exp
erienced.”
“As a kid I spent every August with Granddad, so my policies and attitudes come from him. He also had thorough records on the daily turnover.”
“That must make it easier.”
He seemed drowsy and his left hand scratched his shoulder before settling onto his lap.
Jamie’s sensation of peace returned. She liked Brad Denning. It was bizarre that he was the brother of such an arrogant jerk, but siblings could be very different. Her own brother didn’t look like her, and they certainly didn’t have much in common.
As Brad slept, her brain chewed on designs for her next jewelry project. She’d taken a silver-casting class in college for fun. Tim used to be snide regarding her efforts, so it was an ironic triumph that selling the expensive clothes he’d insisted she wear during their marriage provided the money she’d needed for tools and supplies. Hopefully, marketing her jewelry would be a real supplement to her fruit-stand earnings.
Jamie stiffened, despite the comforting warmth of the sun. Tim had been nauseatingly smug in court, claiming she wouldn’t be able to live without him. Fat chance, just like the split lip he’d given her when she told him she was leaving for good. She restrained a giggle as she recalled the contempt in the expression of the judge, who’d privately congratulated her on getting rid of a pompous jackass.
Her last customer, Mrs. Kruger, came and Jamie loaded the four flats she’d bought into her car.
“Thank you, Jamie.” The elderly woman gave her a check in payment. “The jam tastes different made with berries from the Little Blue Fruit Stand. I suppose that sounds silly.”
“It isn’t silly. Granddad used to say this place had a blessing on it.”
“I believe it.” Mrs. Kruger glanced at Brad. He was awake and blinking sleepily at the ocean. “Are you all right, dear? I understood you’ve had trouble with your neighbor.”
“No worries—we’ve straightened it out,” Jamie said. “It was a miscommunication over the property lines.”
“I’m so glad. And you’ve gotten divorced? What a shame.”
“Some marriages aren’t meant to be.”
“Gabe and me, we’ve had fifty-two happy years.” Mrs. Kruger’s attention kept moving in Brad’s direction. “Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Kruger. Right now I’m focusing on my business,” Jamie answered patiently. The motherly types who remembered her from childhood were interested in her romantic plans, though some of the younger wives were also inquisitive, but for entirely different reasons. Jamie had already learned a sour truth—a youthful divorcée was considered dangerous by some women, although her genuine friends weren’t worried.
Mrs. Kruger’s curiosity was transparent as she squinted at Brad Denning. “Is he a friend?”
“He’s from the resort. He just stopped to sample the berries.” Jamie didn’t want to say that Brad had needed to rest.
Disappointment clouded the kindly woman’s features. “What a shame. Your grandfather prized a good gab. Gabe would come to get the berries for me, and they’d sit for hours talking baseball. Speaking of which, I should go and get that jam started.”
Waving cheerily, Mrs. Kruger drove away and Jamie walked to the trailer. Brad was eating strawberries and his brow was less tense.
“We can go now, unless you’d rather hang out here,” Jamie told him.
“You don’t lock up?”
“There’s no point. It’s easy to break in and then I’d have to repair the latch.”
Brad asked to be dropped at the resort entrance, saying it was only a short distance to his brother’s apartment. Jamie didn’t push; the man had the right to decide things for himself.
Later as she snuggled onto her smooth cotton pillowcase with Marlin purring against her on the bed, Jamie’s mind wandered through the day’s events. It was annoying that she kept thinking about Zack Denning. She’d appreciate it if he would stay on his property and leave her alone, but it was a reasonable bet that she’d have another encounter with his lordship in the near future.
The man hadn’t given up. He was probably in a tactical retreat while he devised a new plot to get Granddad’s land.
CHAPTER FOUR
JAMIE YAWNED AND glanced at the lit display on the clock. 4:00 a.m. She relaxed, grateful she didn’t have to get up and rush out to the fruit stand.
Gordon Chen had originally wanted his produce picked up in a single load, but since the resort restaurants needed strawberries for their breakfast menu, it had required her getting up at an ungodly hour to coordinate everything. She’d finally told Gordon it made too long a day for her. He’d offered a compromise; he would take direct delivery of the berries from a grower she trusted, and send two of his guys midmorning for the rest. The new arrangement was beginning today.
“Mrrroow?”
In the faint light she saw Marlin stretch and yawn a few inches from her face. If he wasn’t such a lazy old guy, it might be scary to see those gleaming teeth so close to her jugular.
“I know you miss Granddad,” she murmured. He let out a feline sigh as if he’d understood. She doubted her grandfather had allowed Marlin to get on the bed, but she didn’t have the heart to banish him. He slept each night lying against her, snoring, his huge head on her shoulder.
Marlin was a typical cat—he knew a sucker when he saw one. I’m lonely, he’d practically screamed when he’d launched himself at her the day she’d arrived in Warrington, yowling for all he was worth. The man watching the house had taken care of his basic needs, but there was no substitute for affectionate company.
Petting him absently, Jamie thought about a design for a piece of cat jewelry, but wasn’t sure it would work.
Mr. Peterson had called to tell her that four of her pendants had sold that weekend and that he’d be glad to take more. It was a victory. Mr. Peterson owned the finest art studio in town and had been reluctant to carry jewelry. If she hadn’t been George Jenkins’s granddaughter, he probably wouldn’t have agreed; apparently, her persistence was paying off for both of them. She’d have to go through her stock to see what might work for him. And now that she’d have more free hours, perhaps she could concentrate on the higher-end market, which gave a better rate of return than regular tourist shops.
She drowsed another hour, then pulled away from a protesting Marlin, who settled into the pile of blankets with a sulky expression.
“Sorry, pal. I’ve got a business to run.”
He closed his eyes and twitched the tip of his tail.
Dressing quickly, Jamie took care of some household chores and dashed to the fruit stand. Deliveries were now scheduled for eight-thirty.
By ten o’clock, the Mar Vista restaurant staff had picked up their order and she was ready for business. The sun was shining and seemed to promise a clear day, although it could change in nothing flat. That was one of the interesting parts of living on the coast.
During a lull she discovered a cell phone under the edge of the trailer while tidying the area, the second since opening the stand. A customer had already claimed the first, and another had come by, saying his was missing and wondering if he’d dropped it there. Pleased, she phoned the number the man had left.
“Mine showed up,” he said. “Darnedest thing, it slid between the driver’s seat and the emergency brake and was nearly invisible. My ten-year-old unearthed it while scrounging for loose change.”
“I’m glad you found it.”
“Me, too. I’ve lost three and didn’t want my wife to know there could be a fourth.”
Jamie got off and checked the cell she’d found, hoping to retrieve its phone number, but the battery was dead.
Drat.
Then she remembered Zack Denning hunting through his pockets before using his vehicle radio.
Jamie gazed at the phone speculatively. It wasn’t a gadget-packed iPhone, but a genius entrepreneur might be too busy for bells and whistles. She hoped the phone was Zack’s; he’d hate owing her a favor, however minor.
After dealing with several customers, she dialed Mar Vista’s office.
A woman answered. “Denning Enterprises. Trudy Lopez speaking.”
“Hello, this is Jamie Conroe.”
“Oh, hello, Ms. Conroe. How may I help you?” The woman’s voice became rigidly correct.
“I found a cell phone at my produce stand and wondered if it could be Mr. Denning’s. He seemed to have lost something when he was here.” She almost mentioned it was when he’d tried to have her arrested for trespassing on her own property, but thought she should save her gibes for the man who deserved them.
“May I put you on hold while I ask him?”
“That’s fine.”
“I apologize for the delay, Ms. Conroe,” Trudy said when she came back. “Mr. Denning did lose his phone and he’ll be right there to see if it belongs to him.”
“That’s not necessary,” Jamie replied hastily. “I’ll send it with Gordon’s guys tomorrow. They can return it the next day if it isn’t his.”
“It will be faster if he comes.”
Jamie tensed. “I know he’s got another cell phone to use in the meantime—he contacted his lawyer at my house after he was out here.”
“Yes, he does have a spare, but—”
“So there’s no reason for him to come,” Jamie interrupted.
“Nevertheless, he should be there in a few minutes. Thank you for calling.”
The woman on the other end disconnected without letting Jamie protest again, and she stuck her tongue out, annoyed. The tables had gotten turned and it was her own fault—Denning must have wanted an excuse to come over, and she’d provided one. Owners of fancy resorts didn’t rush to a fruit stand because of a cell phone; they sent flunkies to do it.
On the other hand, knowing he had ulterior motives could level the balance of power.
Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She GoesA Promise for the BabyThat Summer at the Shore Page 61
