by Lynn Cahoon
Carrie, our waitress, stopped by and refilled our glasses. “I’ll tell Lille. She’s been all freaked out over some food critic who is supposed to be showing up this month.”
“I didn’t think they scheduled visits like that, or at least, didn’t tell the restaurants when they were coming.” Amy waved a French fry at Carrie. “Are you sure she’s not just having a bad month?”
A grin covered Carrie’s face as she leaned closer to answer. “Normally, I’d agree with you, but I guess Diamond Lille’s was picked to be in some diner food contest for the paper. If we win, the diner will be on the front page. Lille’s dreaming of all the new customers.”
“Not sure where she’d squeeze in one more customer. This place is jam-packed every time I’m here.” I appraised the lunch crowd. Out of all the booths and tables, only two were empty, and I’d watched both of the prior inhabitants get up and leave within the last ten minutes.
Carrie leaned over. “She’s talking about buying the building next door and expanding. Her new boyfriend is a contractor, and he can get her a good deal on the remodel.”
I thought about the building next door. Diamond Lille’s sat on the corner of Main and Gull Street. The house behind the restaurant was Lille’s home, a quaint gingerbread house. I doubted she wanted to tear it down. The only other option was The Train Station on the other side. Harrold Snider had run the model train store for as long as anyone in South Cove could remember. I watched Amy’s face as she came to the same conclusion. “You mean Harrold is closing his business?”
Carrie shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was heading. “All I know is what Lille lets slip. And Harrold hasn’t been in for breakfast for over two weeks. I think they had a fight.”
“There hasn’t been any application to the city for a remodel permit. Maybe Lille’s just looking to the future. You know, when Harrold decides to retire.” Amy leaned back in the booth and grabbed her phone, keying in a text.
Carrie glanced over at the cashier’s stand, where Lille stood, ringing up an order. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s pushing seventy now. Maybe he thinks he is retired.”
“Well, no use worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet. Right?” I took another bite of my salad.
“It sure would help me out. I’d love to be able to bring home more tips. These old dogs”—Carrie pointed at her feet—“won’t be able to stand many more years working here. Maybe I should go back to school and learn a new trade? But who am I kidding? They’ll probably have to carry my body out of here on a stretcher.”
As Carrie walked away, I focused on my lunch companion. The meal had turned interesting. I loved having businesses grow and thrive in South Cove, but not at the expense of others. Harrold’s train store brought in an eclectic group of tourists, ones looking to expand their collections. And they typically stopped in at my store, too, since I kept a shelf of handbooks on train collections after I’d seen the traffic increase. “You think Lille has plans to buy out Harrold?”
Amy finished her last fry before she answered. “I’ve never heard he wanted to sell. And if he’s stopped coming by, that’s a sign they aren’t getting along. Harrold built that store from nothing with his late wife, Agnes. I don’t see him closing down anytime soon.”
After lunch, I visited The Train Station. Harrold had just opened, having shorter hours during the week just for drop-in traffic. Most of his customers came on the weekends, so he worked long hours on Saturdays and Sundays, then took his time off during the beginning of the week.
Harrold stood at the counter, studying a catalog. His long, weathered face broke into a smile when he saw me. Even in his advancing years, the man was attractive, especially when he smiled. His silver hair was cut into a short crew, and he wore a blue dress shirt and jeans. “Well, if it isn’t the coffee lady. What are you doing in my shop? Looking to set up that boyfriend of yours with a new hobby? Or do you want my suggestions on new books to stock?”
“Neither. I’m just stopping in to say hi.” Not wanting him to guess the real purpose of the visit, I fell back on my other job—South Cove business liaison. “I haven’t seen you at a Business-to-Business meeting lately.”
“You know I don’t like all that committee stuff. You need something for the walk this weekend? I can’t volunteer time, but I could throw some money your way. The shop is doing great since I added a website and began selling online. Christopher, my grandson, set up the whole thing. All I do is print out any orders that come in and ship them out.” Harrold’s face beamed with pride. I wasn’t sure if it was about the store or his techy grandson. “You should have him do a page for your store. People are buying everything online these days.”
“Actually, Jackie and I were just talking about that. I’m not sure I could compete with the big retailers, but maybe it would add in some revenue.” A brainstorm hit me. “Could your grandson come and talk at the Business-to-Business meeting? I bet if he showed how effective his site has been for your store, he’d get tons of business.”
Harrold grabbed a business card and wrote something on the back. Then he handed me the card. “Here’s his phone number. If he says yes, I’ll even come to the meeting.”
“I’m holding you to that.” I tucked the card in my purse and headed out the door. Harrold’s business was thriving. Definitely not the time to close down and sell out. What was Lille thinking? Something was going on, although I had no idea what. Amy had promised to keep an eye out for any proposals to the council regarding Harrold’s shop. I guess all I could do was wait to see if Carrie’s rumors were true.
As I walked home, my cell chirped. Not recognizing the number, I answered. “Hello?”
“Good morning, darling. Are you counting the days until you and that man of yours disappear into the frozen north?” Rachel Fleur’s voice oozed luxury and decadence even over the phone line. She ran a one-woman travel agency in Bakerstown where we had bought our cruise. The woman was a hard sell in a soft package.
I smiled despite my reservations about her. She and Greg had some history. But like his ex-wife, Sherry, that was then and I was now. No use getting all worked up about something in his past. Nothing like living in a small town where you see your ex-relationships every day. Sherry had even upped the ante by opening Vintage Duds at the first of the year here in South Cove. So I was lucky enough to see her often. Of course, most days she ignored my existence, which was the best I could ask for.
But Rachel lived in the next town over, and from what Greg had said, their relationship had been a few dates over several months. When they realized they weren’t making seeing each other a priority, they decided to stop pretending. Besides, Rachel was great to work with. “Hey, Rachel. I think we’re all ready. Did you need something from us?” Yes, I used the couple pronouns. I knew she understood Greg and I were a couple, but man, the girl was drop-dead pretty. It didn’t hurt to make sure.
“No, Greg stopped by earlier this week and gave me a check for the balance. I couldn’t get the guy to spring for dinner in the city and you’re getting a weeklong cruise. I think you need to show me your tricks.” Rachel’s laugh bubbled over the phone line.
I couldn’t help myself, I laughed. “No tricks. I’m just who I am, and thankfully, Greg loves me the way I am.”
“Whatever. Keep your secrets close. I’m glad Greg found the one. We just weren’t made for each other. It’s sad when people hold on when they are clearly wrong for each other.”
My recent encounter with Michael and Sandra popped into my head. Those two should be running to the divorce lawyers rather than fighting out their drama in front of everyone they met. I wondered if Rachel knew I used to be a divorce lawyer in what seemed like another life. Before I got a chance to ask, she spoke again.
“Hey, speaking of the love of my life, I’ve got another call coming in from him. I guess I’ll see you when you get back. Have a great vacation.” Rachel didn’t even wait for me to respond, the phone reception we
nt dead. So, Rachel was seeing someone. I’d have to ask around Bakerstown on my next visit and see who had the woman so worked up.
I stepped into my front yard and groaned at the length of the grass. Since the walk was taking up our Saturday, I realized I needed to pull out the mower and spend my afternoon in the fifth-worse chore on my I-Hate-to-Do list, yard work.
Emma barked at me as I walked through the backyard to the garage, where Greg had stored my mower. For the last few months, Greg had mowed the lawn before I could even consider doing it myself. I’d been spoiled and didn’t even think of the task anymore. He said it relaxed him. One more reason I’d never really understand men.
By the time I finished the backyard, Greg sat on the porch watching me. I dragged the mower over next to the garage. I smoothed my hair, knowing it had to look like a witch’s nest, and strolled toward him, taking the cold beer he held out to me as I reached the steps. Sinking onto the step next to him, I took a drink, feeling the cold liquid do its magic on my throat and thirst. “Thanks.”
He pulled a piece of grass out of my hair. “I would have mowed tonight. In exchange for your spaghetti marinara.” He took a sip of his beer. “But I have to admit, you have an interesting method of mowing. You plan on doing those little squares all over the yard?”
“Don’t complain. It might not be in pretty little diagonal rows like you mow, but it’s done. And I guess that means you owe me dinner.” I pulled my sweaty T-shirt away from my body. “As soon as I get a quick shower.”
“I’m broke. What if I grill something? You have any steak in your freezer?” Greg looked hopeful.
“Paying for a vacation will do that to a person.” I shook my head. “No steak, but I have some frozen tuna you could take out. I’ve been trying to avoid shopping since we’ll be on vacation.”
“That will work.” He frowned. “How did you know I paid off the trip?”
“Rachel called and asked me if I was looking forward to the cruise.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket, checking for any missed calls while I had mowed the yard. I tried to sound casual. “Did you know she was dating someone?”
A smile crossed his lips before he answered, “For real, or to try to make me jealous?”
I hadn’t considered that possibility, but I’d assumed her statement to be true. “I guess I don’t know. Would she go that far, since the two of you haven’t been a couple for such a long time?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her. When it comes to Rachel and Sherry, they both like playing games.” He kissed me on the forehead. “That’s why I love you. You are what you appear.”
“Sweaty and a hot mess?” I stood and headed to the back door. “Make my dinner, sweetheart, I’m starved.”
“No, I like your sweet and selfless demeanor more.” He followed me into the kitchen. “You have stuff to make a salad?”
I shrugged. “Not sure. I’ve been eating out a lot.” My statement made me think of my lunch with Amy. I paused in the doorway. “Did you know Diamond Lille’s is in some sort of best diner contest?”
Greg was already bent down, looking through the produce drawer. “If they taste her meat loaf, she should win, hands down. But this is the first I’ve heard of it.”
I headed upstairs to my room and a quick shower. Greg usually knew all the gossip, since his dispatcher was also the town fortune-teller. I guess Esmeralda’s nose for news didn’t include the more mundane events of South Cove.
When I got back downstairs, a cucumber and onion salad sat marinating on the counter and Greg was outside with Emma, playing tug-of-war. Emma was winning. At just under a year old, my golden retriever was strong. She could outrun me when I let her loose on the beach. And, as I watched, she let Greg win one, because she was as much in love with the guy as I was. The dog had a big heart.
I slipped outside into the summer air. The day had cooled after the sunset, but still, the temperature felt warm and comforting on my bare arms. I’d thrown on a sundress and even a little lipstick before I came down. A girl had to try once in a while.
Releasing the chew toy to Emma, Greg answered his phone and went to the grill to flip the fish. As he listened to the other side of the conversation, the final question he asked made me take notice. “You sure everything’s okay?”
I curled up on the porch swing, my feet tucked under me. I rated the possibility of Greg going out on a call fifty-fifty from that one question. He closed the grill lid and lifted his head. When he saw me, he used the slow, sexy smile reserved for when he wanted something.
I raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. “I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow then. Your other boss just gave me the evil eye.”
“I did not,” I protested, making Greg laugh again. “Whatever. Tell Toby I’ll see him tomorrow.”
After concluding his conversation, Greg took the other end of the swing. “You look amazing.”
I stretched my legs out and rested my feet on his thighs. “Thanks for noticing. What’s going on with Toby?”
Greg ran a finger down the bottom of my sole, and I about jumped off the swing.
“Stop tickling.”
He ran the finger down my foot. “Then move your feet, woman.”
I sat up and swung my feet toward the deck floor. “Better?”
“Not really, but at least I’m not tempted.” Greg took another swig of beer. “Toby’s over at The Train Station. Someone thought it would be funny to splash red paint on Harrold’s window.”
“Who would do that?” I thought about how old Harrold had looked when I’d visited earlier.
“Kids. At least that’s Toby’s take on the situation.” He nodded to the grill. “I think the tuna’s done.”
I reached out and held his arm back. “I don’t think this was a prank. I need to tell you what Carrie said this afternoon.”
CHAPTER 3
Greg had listened to my recounting of the story, then had called Toby back and relayed the same information to him. Of course, the story didn’t change anything. Whoever had thrown the paint was long gone, so determining if it was a local teenager or Lille’s new boyfriend wasn’t something that could be handled before morning.
We ate dinner, then Greg kissed me and left to visit Toby at the station. In the past, I might have ignored my niggle of worry and chosen not to pass on the gossip. Greg and I had argued enough times about me playing investigator—his words, not mine—so I decided that oversharing would be my new go-to process.
I’d already run and was walking into work when my cell rang. Glancing at the caller ID, I saw the name flash on my display. How in the heck had she already heard about the vandalism? “Darla, what’s going on?”
“I’m calling to ask you the same thing. You didn’t call me to say whether Amy and Justin were on board for Friday’s trial run. And will Greg be there?” I could tell Darla had me on speakerphone.
“You already at the office? I didn’t think the winery opened until eleven on weekdays.” I slowed down my walk, taking in the red paint splattered on The Train Station’s window. Luckily it blended in with the brick surrounding the window and nothing had hit the large wooden door. Harrold could scrape the damage off with a putty knife mostly. I sighed in relief. After Toby’s call last night, all I could think of was how I’d feel if someone had attacked Coffee, Books, and More.
“It doesn’t. I just like to get my contacts and to-do list done early before I open. You never know what your day will bring.” Darla paused a beat. “So, did you talk to Amy?”
I put The Train Station and its newly decorated window behind me before I answered. “I did and they’ll be there at five. Justin has a late Friday afternoon class. And Greg cleared his schedule.”
“Perfect.” I could almost hear Darla checking our attendance off on her list. “Now, one more thing. Tell me everything you know about the vandalism.”
It took me the rest of the walk to convince her that I had no inside knowledge, even though I was dating the local police detective and had hi
red another one of South Cove’s finest to work part-time at the coffee shop. By the time I got to the store, Sasha Smith, our intern-turned-real-employee was waiting at the door. During the summer months, Sasha worked with me and Toby two days a week, then switched to a later shift starting on Friday. I’d worried that we wouldn’t have the business to hire her on full-time when she first started, but besides the normal seasonal increase in traffic, I’d had a huge uptick in locals on the book side of the shop, mostly, I thought, because of the new book clubs that we ran out of the store. Thursday afternoon was Sasha’s after-school bunch, then Friday nights was Aunt Jackie’s mystery group. Sasha was leading the Friday group this week, too, so my aunt and Josh could help with the walk.
Sasha tucked a paperback mystery into her purse. “If you’d been a few minutes later, I might have figured out the killer.”
I grinned. My staff always knew how to fill a few extra minutes. And their referrals were gold to my hard-core book customers. “I’m sure you’ll have time to finish today. I don’t have a lot of prep to do.”
“I’m not so sure. Last night, Jackie texted me a list of things that needed to be taken care of before this weekend. I guess she couldn’t reach you.” Sasha flipped on the lights and marched to the back of the shop, disappearing into the back room. She came back a few seconds later without her purse, brandishing a sheet of yellow paper in her hand. “Here it is.”
I should have been happy my aunt had taken the time to make a list of the work needed to be done before the walk on Saturday, but honestly, I wanted some reading time myself. Diving in to a good book was my way to escape from the stress of the world. And even though my own shop had been ignored by the vandals and their non-helpful painting style, The Train Station’s attack had bothered me more than I let show. At least to Greg.
