“I’m your attorney,” he argued now.
“You were for many years,” Ida agreed. “And you did a good job. Mainly. Adequate, anyway. Well, except for that time—”
“What’s your point, Ida?” The sweetness had dropped from his tone.
“Something’s wrong with you, Frank.” Ida pointed a fleshy finger at him. “I don’t know what, but I smell trouble on you. You’re ignoring clients, messing up filings, generally dropping the ball across the board. I want to know why.”
“That’s not true.” Frank’s hand shot up in the air. “It’s this...Yankee. She’s put these notions into your head.”
“Yankee?” Lexi asked. “Did you really just call me that?”
“Hush, girl.” Ida turned to Frank. “No one puts any notions into my head and you know it. Spill the beans, Frank.”
He puffed himself up as if to argue, then let out his breath in a large burst. Frank Davis sank into the chair behind the secretary’s desk and ran a hand across his face. “I’m in love,” he said with a loud moan.
Ida looked back at Lexi, a question in her eyes. Lexi wasn’t sure if the question was Is this guy crazy? but that was what she was thinking.
“Well, good for you, Frank,” Ida said slowly. “Doris has been gone awhile now and the boys are grown and out of the house. You deserve some happiness.”
“Happiness,” Frank wailed. “There’s nothing happy about loving this woman. She torments me every day. Her expectations, her needs. I’ll be sixty-three years old next month. There’s only so much this old body can handle, even with them little blue pills.”
“TMI,” Ida said quickly, then, at his odd look, explained, “Too much information, Frank.”
“Maybe this was a mistake,” Lexi whispered.
Ida ignored her. “Who is this gal?”
A look of pained adoration crossed Frank’s ruddy face. “Miss Lucy St. Louis from down in Atlanta.”
“Atlanta, Georgia?” Ida asked. “You’ve taken up with a woman who lives three hours away? Frank, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”
“I love her, Ida.” Frank dropped his head into his hands. “She loves me, too. But the distance is part of the problem. She wants to see me every weekend, and I’ve been driving back and forth. Sometimes in the middle of the week, too, if she wants...”
“A booty call?” Lexi couldn’t help but ask.
Frank turned red, but mumbled, “She can’t get enough.”
“Then move her up here.” Ida threw her hands in the air. “This isn’t rocket science.”
“It’s not that easy.” Frank leaned back in the chair, hands pressed to his temples. “She’s got a little sister in private school down there she takes care of, and she makes good money at her job.”
“I don’t even want to know what someone named Lucy St. Louis does for a living,” Ida muttered.
“Probably not,” Frank agreed, then sighed. “I’m sorry, Ida. I haven’t been giving my clients my all. I’m distracted and tired and...”
“Then why didn’t you take my help?” Lexi asked.
“After what you did last year with Julia’s son?” Frank shook his head. “I may be an old fool, but I’m not stupid. I don’t trust you and I’m sure as hell not entrusting my clients to you.”
“I trust her,” Ida said firmly. “Lots of other people around town do, as well. Vera Morgan being one of them.”
Frank’s bug eyes narrowed in on Lexi. “Is that true?”
“It is.” Lexi stepped forward. “I want to do right by the people of Brevia, Mr. Davis. Just like you. I know my introduction to the town was poor at best, but I’m a good attorney.”
“Can’t deny you there,” Frank muttered.
“I’d like to stay in town, but I’m not a waitress.”
The lawyer raised his head. “I heard you haven’t been breaking as many glasses recently.”
Lexi bit out a short laugh. “That’s true. But I’m a better attorney than the best waitress I could ever be.”
“I could use someone working with me,” he admitted, scrubbing his hand across his face again. He looked expectantly at Lexi. “I’m going to be retiring here in a few years. If Lucy doesn’t kill me first.”
Lexi nodded, her mind such a jumble she could barely form a coherent thought. This was really happening. She was going to stay in Brevia. For good.
“It’s settled, then,” Ida said.
Frank stood and walked around the desk, grabbing Lexi’s hand and shaking it. “Welcome to Davis and Associates.” He turned to Ida. “Could you give Lexi and me a few minutes alone to discuss salary and benefits?”
“No way.” Ida crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m staying for that part of the conversation.”
* * *
“You can’t leave now.”
“It’s only for a couple of days.” Scott handed Jon Riley a piece of paper. “I’ve put together a list of deliveries and the schedule for the week with each person’s contact information. If you need anything, call my cell phone.”
“I’m the cook, not a bar manager,” Jon argued, holding the paper tightly.
“You’ll do fine.” Scott clapped him on the shoulder. “I trust you.” More than I trust myself at this point, he added silently.
“How can you run away?”
Scott’s head began to pound again. “I’m not running away. I have business in D.C.”
“Your old job.”
He nodded.
“Are you going back to it?”
“I need to discuss some things with them first.” Scott rubbed his temples. He wished he was running right now. Away from questions he couldn’t answer, away from prying eyes every night at the bar. It had been almost a week since he’d gotten his reinstatement letter, and only three days until the reception for his dad and Sam. Riley’s was crowded every night, with many people coming in for dinner and to hang out with friends or family. He’d gotten to know a number of locals, the majority of whom wanted to remind him what a fool he’d been to “fire” Lexi. No matter how many times he explained that she’d quit, the result was the same— everyone telling him how badly he’d messed up.
As if he didn’t know that already. He felt the loss of her through every fiber of his being, from the moment he woke up until he dropped to sleep again. His back was killing him from nights on the couch in his office. Sam had offered him a place to stay, and so had his dad, over the objections of both of their wives, he’d guess.
But Scott wasn’t going to be a burden to his family, especially not when they were treating him like some fragile doll who’d break in two if not handled the right way. He’d explained over and over that even if he went back to the Marshals, he’d find a good manager for the bar and come back to visit whenever he could. But it didn’t seem to be good enough. They wanted him to promise to stay, and he couldn’t do that.
He told himself it was because he had too much to lose if he gave up his job, but his heart felt as if he’d already lost everything important when Lexi walked away. Whether he stayed in Brevia or went back to D.C. and the Marshals wasn’t really important. All that mattered was that she was gone. His mind might know it was for the best. Hell, he’d almost forced her to leave, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. If anything, the ache only intensified, because if he wasn’t such a self-destructive fool, he could have prevented it. That part hurt the most.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” Misty walked into the kitchen. “Jon says he’s going to be in charge now.”
Scott rubbed two fingers against his temple. “He isn’t in charge. I’m going to D.C. for a few days to wrap up some stuff with my old job.”
“Are you coming back?”
He hesitated for the briefest second and she stomped her foot on the floor. “Yo
u can’t desert us here.”
“I’m not deserting anyone,” Scott muttered. “I have business to take care of out of town. Jon is going to be running the place for a few days.”
“I never agreed to that.” Jon slammed the refrigerator door shut.
“The waitresses will never agree to it,” Misty repeated. “You’d better make one of them the manager.”
Scott wanted to hit something. “Fine. You’re in charge.”
“I don’t want to be the manager,” she argued. “Those girls can’t get along.”
“You two are killing me!”
“We need you, Scott.” Misty’s voice softened. “I know you don’t want to be needed. I know you’ve been in a terrible mood since Lexi left, but this bar is yours. Like it or not. Take it or leave it.”
He saw the expectation in her face, felt it in her tone of voice. It weighed on him, just as it had with Lexi and his family. Why couldn’t anyone see that he wasn’t a person to depend on? He’d tried to be honest about what he could and couldn’t give. It wasn’t that hard to understand.
He’d reached his breaking point. This was how it happened with him. People pushed him further than he could manage, always thinking that he’d step up to the challenge. But he never did. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t make it work.
Now was no different.
He grabbed his duffel bag from the floor next to the desk.
“Leave it,” he said quietly and walked out the door.
Chapter Thirteen
Lexi heard the fire truck before she saw it. The big red engine came screaming around the corner of Main Street. She stopped midstride walking out of Julia’s salon, riveted by the noise of the siren. Then her heart leaped into her throat as the truck pulled up in front of Riley’s Bar & Grill.
Scott wasn’t there. Julia had told Lexi he’d left town for D.C. Lexi didn’t know why the news had shocked her. Even after he’d told her he wasn’t going to stick, some part of her had still held out hope. She told herself it didn’t matter. It was enough that she’d found a place to call home. If Scott had to keep looking for his happiness, that was no business of hers.
She hadn’t been back to the bar since she’d walked out. But she cared about the people there. She’d had lunch with Misty just yesterday, and Jon had stopped by her new office at the end of the day to bring her a take-out dinner. It was concern for her friends that had her running toward the bar, following two firemen inside.
The scene inside stopped her in her tracks. Water gushed through the doorway to the back half of the building. At least two inches covered the floor of the main room, the legs of chairs and tables standing in it.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. Jon waded out from the back, a look of pure panic on his face.
“What happened?” she called to him, not wanting to step farther into the wetness.
“Water line broke, I think.” He shook his head. “I got here about twenty minutes ago and this is what I found.”
“Why is the fire department here?”
“Dave Johnson, a local plumber, is also a volunteer firefighter. I called him first and he brought the truck. I guess they were worried about an electrical fire or something.”
A man dressed in a black T-shirt and yellow overalls came up behind Jon. “We’ve turned off the water. It’s going to be tomorrow morning before I can get the parts here to fix it for real.”
“What about tonight?” Lexi asked. Thursday was a popular night out in Brevia.
“Unless your customers have rubber boots,” Dave told Jon, “they’re not going to want to be in the place.”
Lexi took off her shoes and rolled up her jeans, sloshing through the water to get to Jon. “Did you call Scott?”
“At least a dozen times,” he answered. “He’s not taking my calls.” The older man shook his head. “With how he tore out of here, I’m not sure he means to come back.”
“Of course he’s coming back,” Lexi answered with more conviction than she felt. “The reception for Joe and Sam is Saturday night. He’s not going to miss that.”
“I don’t know. He stormed off in quite a huff. Looked to me like he was done with Brevia.” Jon shook his head sadly. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”
A shrill cry had both of them turning toward the door. Misty stood at the entrance. “Did someone forget to turn off a faucet? Why is there a fire engine out front?”
“We have a small situation,” Lexi explained. “A water line broke.” She turned to Dave Johnson. “What are the options here?”
“Start swimming,” he suggested with a smile.
“Not funny.”
“Like I said, I’ll have the pipe fixed by tomorrow. You’re lucky it’s fresh water, so that’s a plus. Basically, you need to get a team in here to clean things up. I’m guessing it will take a week or so.”
Lexi shook her head. “We don’t have a week. This place needs to be ready for a party on Saturday night.”
“That’s right,” Dave answered, nodding. “This is the big shindig for Sam Callahan. Sorry, lady, ain’t going to happen.”
“Who knows what will happen if Scott doesn’t get back,” Misty called out. “At this point, maybe we should start looking for other work.”
“No way,” Lexi argued. “We can’t leave this place like this. If we don’t get this water up quickly, the floor will be ruined. It needs time to dry out. There’s got to be something we can do.”
“Why do you even care?” Misty asked her. “I thought you were done with this place. Done with Scott Callahan.”
“I am done. But I can’t let it end like this. Scott poured his time, energy and money into revitalizing Riley’s. I know you all have been making more in tips in the past month than you have in ages.”
The waitress nodded slowly.
“We can’t just give up on it now.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Jon asked.
Lexi turned to Dave. “You said you can get the pipe fixed tomorrow morning?”
“First thing,” he promised. “I can make a call to the guys who work on flooded buildings and the like.”
“Good.” Lexi racked her brain for what to do next. “I’ll get ahold of Sam. If anyone can rally the troops around here, it’s the police chief.”
Jon put a heavy hand on her shoulder. “I’m serious, Lexi. I doubt Scott’s coming back. At this point, it might be better to walk away and let him hash things out with the insurance company.”
“I don’t believe that, Jon.” She pointed a finger at him. “He gave you a chance when no one else would, and hired a couple of your buddies for odd jobs around here, right?”
“Yes.”
“He’s made an investment in Brevia. This place and this town mean something to him. Even if he doesn’t realize it yet, he’s going to. We have to show him...” Her voice lowered, became shaky. “I have to show him that even if he doesn’t believe in himself, I still do. I’m not giving up.” She felt her throat tighten with tears. Jon was probably right. For all she knew, Scott wouldn’t care what happened here or what she did to make things right. But she had to try. That was what she’d want someone to do for her, and she had to believe her faith would pull him through.
Jon drew her into a tight hug. “You’re a good woman, Lexi Preston.”
“Let’s hope I’m good enough.”
* * *
Scott thumped his hands on the steering wheel as he drove into town. He’d been calling Jon Riley every fifteen minutes for the past four hours, but Jon hadn’t answered his cell. That seemed ominous to Scott, and ominous was the last thing he needed this morning. He’d been delayed an extra night in D.C., wrapping up loose ends. He’d expected to make it to Brevia last evening, but now had only half a day until the reception, and there was so much to do.
>
If he even had a bar to get back to.
He’d left messages with directions for who to call and how to manage the cleanup. The one time he’d been able to reach Jon, after the man’s many messages, their conversation had been cryptic at best. Jon had told him he wouldn’t believe what had happened—something about a flood, a miracle, and to return as soon as possible. Then he’d hung up. Scott understood why Jon had been mad. Scott hadn’t picked up the phone on Thursday. He’d left his cell in the car while he’d met with his former boss at the U.S. Marshals. That conversation had been bad enough, without having more distractions piled on top.
Now he worried that his carelessness may have put his future in jeopardy once again. It didn’t matter, he told himself. He’d get through the reception without letting anyone down. He was going to stick this time. Whatever he found when he got to the bar, he was determined to make it right again.
He came to a screeching halt at the curb and threw his truck into Park. Bolting for the door with his heart in his throat, he rushed through, then stopped, shocked at the scene that awaited him.
The whole bar was decorated in shades of cornflower-blue and lemon-yellow. Linen cloths covered the tables. A mason jar filled with flowers sat in the center of every one. On each corner of the bar was a bouquet of balloons floating into the air. Poster-size photos of his dad and Vera, Sam and Julia, stood on tall easels off to one side. The place looked beautiful and, more importantly, ready for the reception.
“How did this happen?” he whispered, unable to believe how good everything looked. Of all the scenes he could have walked into, this was the last one he’d imagined.
His father was standing inside the front door, surveying the brightly decorated room. “Glad you made it, son.” Joe wrapped him in a tight hug. “Did you get everything taken care of in D.C.”
Scott nodded numbly. “Where’s the water?”
Joe laughed. “You can’t very well have a party when people would be getting their feet wet, right?”
A Brevia Beginning Page 17
