Flash Point

by Diane Benefiel

  Now you’re feeling sorry for yourself. She gathered her cleaning supplies in the plastic tote. Bumping open the screen door with her hip, she set the caddy on the porch before pulling the cabin door closed to lock it. “Hello. Ms. Kincaid?”

  Startled, she looked through the slanting rays of the late-afternoon sun to a man trudging up the dirt driveway.

  “Yes?” He had obviously not come prepared to tromp around in the outdoors.

  Dust coated the man’s wingtips and his dress shirt had come half untucked from his slacks. Even though the temperature was mild, he paused to take out a white handkerchief and mop his forehead. He had a large envelope clamped in one hand.

  “Let me catch my breath a minute.” He huffed a bit, then smiled at her. “I’m Frank Singleton. The lady with the boy told me where I could find you.” He approached her, hand outstretched.

  Emma shook his hand cautiously. “What can I do for you, Mr. Singleton?”

  “Make it Frank, and I’ll call you Emma. I feel like we’re friends already.” He smiled, showing a wide gap between his front teeth, then wiped again at his forehead before stuffing the handkerchief in his back pocket. He waved the envelope back and forth to fan himself.

  Emma shifted, not sure why he made her uncomfortable. “All right, Frank, what can I do for you?”

  “It’s more what I can do for you. This property you have here? It’s caught the eye of my company. We’ve got a plan to develop this side of the lake, turn the town of Hangman’s Loss from a rustic little backwater into something fine. Something fine indeed.” His smile looked false; the corners of his lips turned up but the sentiment didn’t reach his eyes.

  “What’s the name of your company?”

  “Great Mountain Developments, honey. We’re the biggest name in themed resort development in the western United States. You might have heard of us.”

  When Frank dug out his handkerchief to once again wipe his brow, Emma worried the man had overexerted himself. “Are you okay? Do you want to stand in the shade a bit?”

  “No, no. I’m right as rain. It’s a little warm out, that’s all.”

  Emma walked back toward the office, keeping her pace slow, while he trudged alongside her.

  “I’ve heard of you,” Emma said. “Your company sent my grandfather several letters. He told you he wouldn’t sell but the letters kept coming. Great Mountain put a lot of pressure on an old man in failing health.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for that. That must have been under the old management. Things are different now.”

  They approached the office and Emma motioned him toward the steps. “Have a seat here. I have some iced tea inside.”

  He heaved his bulk down on the top step, and Emma was back a moment later with a glass tinkling with ice. He gulped down half of the tea before coming up for air. “That hits the spot. Now I want you to consider what I have to say. This little operation of yours doesn’t realize all the possibilities of this property.”

  He rose to his feet, perhaps guessing that seated he was at a disadvantage. Emma leaned against the porch rail as he placed the glass next to a post. “Our company has the full support of your mayor and even some of the city council members. They realize this town has great promise and with our help there will be jobs for anyone who wants one. Hangman’s Loss would become a shining jewel among the ski resorts in the western states.”

  “I won’t sell.”

  He sputtered to a halt, looking at Emma with a flabbergasted expression. He regrouped quickly. “Now, you don’t want to say that. You haven’t heard our offer.”

  “I don’t need to. I’m not selling.” She picked up his glass, then added, “Have a good day, Frank,” before turning to reach for the screen door.

  He moved quickly, his hand slapping the frame before she could pull it open.

  “Ms. Kincaid, just hang on a minute.”

  At her cold glare, he gave her an unctuous smile. But she had seen through it; the folksiness hadn’t quite hidden the flash of mean that had shown when she’d told him no. Emma glanced over when she saw Dory approach the porch, then back at him. “Mr. Singleton, you are overstepping your welcome. You need to back off.”

  Singleton dropped his hand, acknowledging Dory with a nod before continuing. “No need to be hasty, now. You don’t want to turn us down, honey. We’re a real reasonable company. But we wouldn’t prosper if we tucked our tails and ran off whenever anybody said they didn’t want to sell.”

  “I’ll repeat myself. I won’t sell, and you’ll have to accept that. Now step back.” He stood closer than was comfortable and Emma refused to back away. Dory stepped onto the porch and Emma saw the hammer she held gripped in one hand.

  Singleton also noticed the hammer. Keeping an eye on Dory, he addressed Emma. “Hold your horses, little lady. I want to explain our offer. We’ll give you fair market value for this property. But we’re not willing to take no for an answer. It saddens me to say, but when individuals stand in the way of prosperity for a community, then other means might have to be brought to bear.”

  Emma frowned. “Do you mean arson, Mr. Singleton?”

  He looked at her shrewdly. “I heard you had yourself a little fire, honey, but that’s not the way Great Mountain does business.” He held out the envelope. “Look over our offer. I think you’ll see that it’s advantageous to you. I’ll contact you in a day or so and see what you think.”

  She took the envelope reluctantly, and with a wink he started back down the steps.

  “You are wasting your time,” Emma called after him. “I won’t sell.”

  “You read the offer. I’ll be in touch.” He waved, then climbed into his dusty sedan and drove away.

  Scowling, Emma pulled open the screen door. “What an unpleasant man. But thanks for having my back, Dory.”

  Dory grinned before preceding Emma into the office. “No problem, chica. That’s what friends are for.”

  Chapter Ten

  Tramping along the path that followed the lake, Emma gave up trying to stifle her internal debate. The effort wasn’t doing her any good and the thoughts continued to buzz around her brain like angry bees. She was on her way to Brad’s. But was it really a good idea after what he’d said that morning? She’d been thinking it over all day, at least when obnoxious developers weren’t hounding her. Not that her mind was on Brad because he’d asked her to think about it. She just couldn’t help it. How many times in a woman’s life did a compelling, magnetic man tell her he had been waiting all his life for her?

  She knew, though, that those feelings would go away once he heard the full story, once he really knew who she was and what she came from. She’d tell him everything. It would be like ripping off a particularly sticky bandage—painful, but once done the agony would be over. Brad would realize she was too mixed up, and then she would be free to get along with her life without the emotional maelstrom he brought out in her. She refused to think how empty that life would be without him in it. She would survive it, just as she had survived before.

  A flash of blue speared across the path in front of her, and Emma followed its flight through the trees. A western scrub jay. She’d checked out a bird book from the local library and was pleased that she could identify the species. But where the beauty of the mountain environment usually soothed her, this afternoon her stomach knotted with nerves.

  Following the curve of the shore, she hiked until reaching the slope that led toward the log house. The large front windows caught the reflection of the granite mountain peaks across the valley. She almost hoped he would be busy or not at home so she could put off their conversation, but she resolutely climbed the steps and crossed the wide porch to knock on the door.

  Emma’s already unhappy stomach sank to her toes when she heard a feminine voice call out, “I’ll get it,” from inside. He had a visitor, a female visitor. Oh God, could she have picked a worse time?

  Already backing across the porch, Emma checked her movement when the door sw
ung open. The woman looked to be in her mid-forties, quite trim with a short, stylish cap of blonde hair and choppy bangs above bright blue eyes.

  “Hi.” She smiled broadly and Emma realized she was looking at an older version of Maddy. This woman had to be Brad’s mother, and her guess of mid-forties was probably short by a decade. Her stomach stayed in her toes.

  “Um, hi. I, ah…” Emma paused. What was she going to say? I was coming by to tell your son my life story? That when he kisses me my mind melts and I’d like him to do it again? “I see Brad has company, so I’ll come back later.”

  “Mom?” His mother opened the door wider and Brad appeared. “Emmaline.” His rich voice, the grin that flashed suddenly when he caught sight of her, the warmth in those forest-green eyes all combined to make Emma want to jump him right there in front of his mother. Pushing those crazy thoughts out of her head, she took another hasty step in retreat.

  “Sorry. I didn’t know you had company. I’ll talk to you later.” She had almost made it to the steps.

  Her eyes sparkling with curiosity and humor, Brad’s mother said, “Nonsense, you come right on in. I’m Trish Gallagher.”

  Brad stepped out and took Emma’s hand, tugging her forward. “Mom, this is Emmaline Kincaid. Emmaline, my mom.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Gallagher. It’s Emma, and I really don’t want to intrude.” She tried to free her hand but Brad wasn’t giving it up.

  “It’s no intrusion. Bradley, you bring that girl into the kitchen.” She beamed at Emma. “Maddy and I decided Brad needed company this evening and we descended on him. We brought everything we needed for a nice dinner of barbecued chicken. We even brought paper plates, since Lord knows this boy needs to get some real ones.”

  The woman was a force to be reckoned with. Before Emma could make her escape, she was ushered into the kitchen with Trish telling her how Brad was about to fire up the barbecue and if Emma would slice the watermelon, dinner would be ready in twenty minutes. Standing at the counter, Maddy offered a quick smile while she chopped tomatoes and dumped them into a big bowl of mixed salad greens.

  Brad tugged her close to whisper in her ear as his mother opened the refrigerator. ““It’s no use arguing. She’ll simply roll over you and you’ll end up staying anyway. Relax and enjoy.” He gave Emma’s hand a squeeze before he released her and walked out the kitchen door, presumably to fire up the barbecue.

  In short order, the kitchen table was set using paper plates and plastic cups. Trish set down a platter of barbecued chicken, and bowls of salad and country-fried potatoes were added. Emma brought over the watermelon and they all sat down.

  “Wow,” Emma said, eyes wide, “this is quite a meal, Mrs. Gallagher.”

  “You call me Trish, honey. I know half the time Brad just has a bowl of cereal for dinner so every now and then his sisters and I make him a meal.”

  “Not that I don’t appreciate it, Mom, but I can cook when I want to.” Brad leaned back in his chair, his thigh brushing Emma’s.

  “I know you can, sweetie. But I also know it’s hard to go to the trouble for only one person.” She eyed Emma speculatively.

  She shifted uneasily under the scrutiny and was relieved when Maddy leaned forward, pointing at Emma with her fork. “Did that guy Singleton from the development company go by your place today?”

  “He did and I told him I wouldn’t sell. He was obnoxious.”

  “What do you mean?” Brad’s voice held an edge. Emma shrugged. “He seemed to think if he told me how wonderful his offer was with enough force, I’d sign on the dotted line.”

  “What kind of force?”

  Emma decided she wouldn’t want to be opposite Brad in an interrogation. He had a directness of purpose that was hard to deny.

  “It was nothing, really. He crowded me some, tried to keep me from going into the cabin. Dory walked up with a hammer in her hand. That helped him rethink his attitude.”

  “Emmaline, if he comes by your place again, I want you to call me. And make sure you have your cell phone with you when you’re out of the office.”

  “If I thought he was really a threat, Brad, I would have called right away. He was obnoxious, but not dangerous.”

  “You don’t know that.” Brad’s voice brooked no argument. “Someone hired Randall to torch your place. That certainly could have had much worse consequences than just the garage burning. Next time you see Singleton, I want you to call me. I’ve seen him around. He’s staying at the Bluebird Inn so I’ll pay him a visit regardless.”

  Uncomfortable with Maddy and Trish as an avid audience, Emma sighed. “Okay, but don’t get mad for being called out over nothing. He left me with an envelope that he said held some terrific offer.” Emma shrugged then dipped a potato wedge in ketchup. “I haven’t opened it.”

  “Good for you.” Maddy piped in. “I saw him with the owner of the property across the street from the café this morning. I sure hope she doesn’t sell.”

  “Won’t matter if she wants to sell if the city council doesn’t change the zoning,” Brad said.

  “What do you mean?” Emma asked.

  “Just that.” He took a sip of beer from a long-necked bottle. “The city council will have to vote to change the zoning for anything higher than two stories in town. This outfit wants to go big. And your property? It would have to be zoned for the type of commercial development they want and I’m not sure the votes are there on the council.”

  Maddy snickered. “Good. That means Mean Marla hasn’t gotten her talons into all of them.”

  “Haven’t you gotten over calling her Mean Marla?” Brad asked. “You’re not in high school anymore. Besides she’s always been nice to you.”

  “A lot you know. She only acted nice to me because she wanted to get in your pants.”

  Emma smothered a laugh when Brad cleared his throat.

  “Maddy.” Trish looked more amused than horrified.

  “It’s true. Once she decided Brad wasn’t going to play house with her the meanness came out.” Maddy reached for the platter of watermelon as she shot her brother a grin. “Reporting how I see it, champ.”

  Brad shook his head before leaning across the table for the watermelon. He raised his eyebrows and, at Emma’s nod, set a slice on her plate before selecting one for himself.

  Emma sat back, sipping her iced tea while listening to Brad, his mother, and sister. She didn’t feel excluded; she couldn’t because one or the other of them would ask her opinion or try to get her to take their side in a discussion. She loved their give and take, the ease they showed enjoying the company of people they were completely comfortable with. Meals like this were not a part of Emma’s history. She’d often fantasized about having a family and living in a big noisy house but had never known it in reality.

  She caught Brad’s eyes on her, dark gaze watchful. Not wanting him to see too deeply, she turned away and tried to focus on the conversation.

  “I’m closing the café for the day. You’ll come, won’t you, Emma?” Maddy asked her.

  Emma sat up abruptly, having lost the thread of the conversation. “I’m sorry. I guess my mind wandered. Come where?”

  Maddy cast an arched look at Brad as if thinking that’s where Emma’s mind had wandered.

  Brad laughed and draped an arm over the back of her chair. “My busybody sister wants to know if you’ll come to the Founders’ Day picnic. It’s at the park by the lake. There will be screaming kids, teenagers making out behind the bleachers, and the usual deadly games. We hold it in the late spring to try to keep it local, before the summer people come.”

  “I wouldn’t want to miss screaming kids, but I’m not exactly local,” Emma said.

  “You are now, and don’t listen to Brad. The kids have a great time. There’ll be a softball game and the booths are a lot of fun.” Maddy laughed. “Especially Dunk a Hunk. All the ladies love that one.”

  Brad shifted uncomfortably.

  Emma smiled. “Dunk a Hunk?�
�

  When Brad drummed his fingers on the table and refused to answer, Maddy snickered. “We get a couple of the town hunks to sit in a dunk booth. Even get some who are not so hunky. Contestants pay for the opportunity to throw a ball and try to dunk them.”

  “Sounds fun,” Emma said.

  “Oh, it is. Especially since tradition has it that the hunk gets to kiss the first woman who dunks him. Brad always has a line of women when he’s the hunk.”

  Brad tipped back his head to study the ceiling, making Maddy giggle.

  “It’s a fund-raiser for the police department,” he growled. “I’m not doing it this year.”

  “Oh, yes, you are,” Maddy proclaimed. “Hunks around here are few and far between, and you’re the best we have.”

  “Cut that out. I don’t know whose stupid idea it was to start that anyway.” Amused by Brad’s obvious discomfort, Emma patted his hand in consolation. “You’re exceptionally brave to make such sacrifices in the name of charity.” He skewered her with a look. “I’ll do it if you go.”

  “Well, I—” Emma was startled by his sudden intensity.

  “And you have to try to dunk him.” Maddy cut in.

  “Well, now that it’s settled let’s get this dinner cleaned up and we’ll leave you two alone.” Trish rose and carried her dishes to the counter.

  “Wait, I didn’t agree to anything,” Emma exclaimed.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Brad muttered beside her. “Both of them always assume you’ll fall in with whatever they want you to do. Standing up to them is like trying to stop the tide. They’ll wear you down until you agree just to get them to leave you alone.”

  Maddy sailed regally from the table with her plate in one hand and the platter of leftover chicken in the other. “I heard that and I don’t know what you’re talking about. The picnic starts at noon, Emma. You can come early and help set up.”

  Which, Emma thought as she brought her load from the table, proved Brad was right. It looked like she was going to the Hangman’s Loss Founders’ Day picnic.