Sadie poked her head out the door of Wood U. “Dad! It’s time for your class to start!”
“I’ll talk to you later, Ray, and I’ll let you know what Harper Jones says about Paul Fenton’s backing out of their deal.”
Ray gave her a curt nod and headed back inside Wood U.
He’d given Katie a tactic she could use in her negotiation with Jones. Now to hope the man would be receptive to it.
* * *
—
Three circuits later and drooping after her walk, Katie was reinvigorated by showering with an energy-inducing aromatherapy gel. She towel-dried her hair and put it up with a tortoiseshell clip. She slipped on jeans and a short-sleeved button-down white shirt, and off she went to Tealicious.
As she toiled in the industrial kitchen, she wondered what it would be like to work alongside Brad. She’d neglected to speak to him about her arriving in the mornings to prepare some of the sandwich spreads and baked goods. Would he welcome her presence, or would he feel Katie was being too intrusive or watchful of him? More likely, as a trained chef, he simply wouldn’t need her help. If that was the case, she’d miss the work. She enjoyed baking and preparing food for others to enjoy. Still, she needed to come up with a good way to discuss the matter with Brad at the first opportunity.
Once she had the food prepared, she entered the dining room to make sure the front of the house was in order. Janine came in as Katie was adding water to the flower vases.
“Good morning, Katie. You’re up and at ’em early, as always.”
Good grief. She’d been up for hours. Why was Janine trying to kiss up to her now? As if she didn’t know. Katie buried her unpleasant thoughts and gave Janine a cheery hello.
“I just want you to know that even though this is my last day . . . you know . . . as manager—”
“Well, it is your last day,” Katie said. “You’ll certainly be missed.” She wondered if she should’ve done something nice for the girl, but under the circumstances by which she abruptly quit, Katie thought not. Still, a small gift wouldn’t hurt.
“About that,” Janine said. “I just wanted to let you know that I can help out whenever you might need an extra set of hands . . . at least until school starts.”
“Thanks.”
“I appreciate the opportunity you gave me, and I’ve enjoyed helping you launch Tealicious.”
“I’m glad.” Katie preferred not to bring up the fact that Janine had never seemed all that happy to be managing the tea shop. “What do you plan to study when you return to school in the fall?”
“Business administration. I think I might enjoy opening my own retail shop one day. Maybe here on Victoria Square.” She smiled. “If not that, I feel I’d do well in human resources.”
As difficult as it was, Katie managed to return Janine’s smile. “Good luck.” She’d certainly need it. She couldn’t have chosen any careers she’d be less suited for.
* * *
—
Reneging on the promise she’d made herself to refrain from going through the front door at Artisans Alley, Katie strode through the lobby on her way to her office. A flash of blue caught her eye. Turning to her right, she saw Regan, the girl from Ink Artistry.
“Hello!”
Regan turned and squinted for a second. “Oh, hello. You’re the woman who left Ink Artistry without getting a tattoo.”
“I am. Katie,” she supplied.
“Katie . . . right.”
“And you’re Regan . . . ?”
“Regan Mitchell. So, why’d you leave the tattoo parlor?”
“If you want the truth, Paul Fenton scared me. I don’t think he likes me.”
Regan laughed. “Paul comes across as gruff, but he’s a really nice guy when you get to know him. And he’s an excellent tattoo artist. If you reconsider, I’m sure he’d do a good job for you.”
“Have you known him long?”
She shrugged. “Since I went to work for Ink Artistry, so . . .” She looked at the ceiling as she calculated. “Just over three years now.”
“Are you an artist, too?”
Regan laughed. “Me? No. I’m working as the office manager. I’m taking classes at night to become a tax accountant.” She held out her arms to show off a number of tattoos, which included a parrot and an ivy vine. “I might need to change my image a smidgen when I start looking for work in the button-down world, don’t you think?”
“Maybe, maybe not.” People from all walks of life seemed to have tattoos these days.
They both laughed.
“Do you come to this place often?” Regan asked.
“Every day. I’m the manager.”
“Oh, cool. It’s my first time here, and I don’t know where to begin exploring.”
“It all depends on what you’re looking for—we have everything from lace to leather and stained glass to woven items.” She jerked her head toward the stairs. “Why don’t I give you the grand tour?”
“Lead the way.”
“Do you live nearby?” Katie asked as they worked their way toward the west end of the building.
“I live in the town of Greece.”
“That’s where I’m from,” Katie said.
“The rest of my family lives here in McKinlay Mill. I came to Victoria Square today to have lunch with my brother before he starts his shift.”
“Where does your brother work?”
“Angelo’s Pizzeria,” Regan said.
“What a small world! My boyfriend is Andy Rust, the owner.”
“Andy’s been wonderful to Roger—my brother. He got in trouble for possession of drugs and spent time in juvenile detention. Roger’s now on probation, and he’s lucky Andy was willing to hire him.”
“Yeah,” Katie said. “Andy’s a great guy.”
“Roger is also fortunate that when he told Andy how much he loves building, Andy introduced him to a contractor. Thanks to Andy’s influence, Roger is already working with the contractor when he’s not working at Angelo’s Pizzeria. When Roger graduates from high school next year, he’ll be able to join the apprentice program and work for this contractor full-time.”
“That’s fantastic.”
As they neared the cabinet that contained Ida Mitchell’s handmade lace, Ida, who’d been hovering nearby, narrowed her eyes behind the thick glasses perched on the bridge of her skinny nose and gave her head enough of a shake that it made the massive wart on her cheek wobble. She clearly disapproved of Regan’s punk-rock appearance.
Still, Regan surprised Katie—as well as Ida—when she approached the shelf and carefully picked up a piece of Ida’s intricate lace. “Oh, wow! This is incredible work.”
“You . . . you like it?” Ida asked. It was so rare that she sold a piece that she seemed even more astounded than Katie.
“I love it,” Regan said. “It’s such exquisitely delicate work. Did you make it? How do you do it?”
Ida smiled and placed a hand at her chest. “Oh, my dear, once you get the hang of it, it isn’t as hard as it looks. In fact, it can be quite relaxing.”
“I read an article about it online and was fascinated,” Regan said, still fingering the lace. “I’d love to know more about the art.”
Ida practically beamed.
“And I’d be glad to tell you all about it.”
“On that note, I’ll leave you two ladies to discuss it,” Katie said. “Regan, if you get a chance before you meet your brother, please stop in my office. And, if not, I hope to see you again soon.”
“Good-bye, Katie,” Ida said. “Regan, is it? Come around here, and I’ll tell you all about my process.”
Regan grinned and waved to Katie. It was all Katie could do not to shake her head in amazement. Regan with her wild blue hair and gleaming piercings had tamed the dragon that was Ida Mitchell.
Good for her!
As she passed through the vendors’ lounge, Katie poured herself a cup of coffee, entered her office, and closed the door firmly behind her. The tiny room wasn’t yet an inferno, so she didn’t turn on the fan. She sat down behind her desk, sipped her coffee, took a deep breath, and dialed the number Harper Jones had given her the day before. He answered on the third ring, had her repeat her name twice, and then asked if she’d called to accept his offer on the building.
“No, sir. I’m calling with a counteroffer.”
“You’re what?”
Katie raised her voice. “I’m calling with a counteroffer.”
“What is it?”
Not sure whether he was asking her again why she was calling or asking what the counteroffer was, Katie went with the latter. Harper Jones might have been hard of hearing, but he understood well enough that he wasn’t getting the amount of money he was asking for. As he blustered on about how the deal was unfair, Katie tapped a pen against her desk pad.
“Please look at the situation from our perspective,” Katie said, as soon as she could get a word in. “A man was electrocuted in that building.”
“I know. Ken was my brother-in-law, for pity’s sake!”
“I realize that, Mr. Jones. Has the wiring been tested to ascertain that it’s up to code?”
“You think it’s my fault that Ken is lying dead in that morgue?”
“Of course not,” Katie said. “I’m sure Mr. Fenton’s accident was in no way your fault.”
“Accident my left eye,” he muttered. “Ken was murdered, and everybody knows it. You Merchants Association lot are simply trying to take advantage of a grieving old man.”
“Then perhaps we should talk about this when you’ve had more time to process your loss. I only took your offer to the Merchants Association because you approached me about buying the building.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the old man groused.
Katie didn’t know if Jones really thought she and the other merchants were trying to take advantage of him, or if he was using his grief as a bargaining chip. She decided to find out.
“Mr. Jones, perhaps you should take a step back, continue renovating the building, and then see if you can find a buyer willing to pay your asking price.”
“Aw, now don’t go getting your knickers in a twist,” Jones said. “Well, I guess . . . I guess I’ll accept your offer.”
Katie blinked, taken aback. She hadn’t expected Jones to cave—at least not without more of a fight.
“Does that mean you’re willing to accept the offer proffered by certain members of the Victoria Square Merchants Association provided a loan for the property can be expediently obtained?”
“Don’t think you can hoodwink me with your legal mumbo-jumbo, missy,” Jones huffed. You people have a month to bring me the money. Any longer than that and the offer is thereby rescinded. See? I know legal words too.”
“One other thing,” Katie said. “Why did Paul Fenton go back on his promise to buy the building?”
“Would you want to go do work every day where someone you loved was killed?”
Katie opened her mouth to answer, but Jones didn’t give her a chance.
“No, you wouldn’t.” With that, he hung up.
Katie replaced the receiver and hadn’t fully recovered from the conversation’s abrupt end when the phone rang once again. For one wild second, she thought it might be Jones calling back to apologize for hanging up on her. Instead, it was Nick, and he barely gave her time to say hello before he began rattling off his plans for the next day’s luncheon.
“Of course, I’ve got a confirmation from Brad. You and Andy will be there. I’ve invited Seth and his SO—significant other, but you know that . . . Wait. Why are you being so quiet?”
“I’m sorry. I just had a strange conversation with Harper Jones,” she said.
“The mean old man who owns the building where his brother-in-law was killed? Hmm . . . might need to look a little closer at Mr. Jones’s alibi for the time of the murder.”
“No, it isn’t that. I got the feeling Paul Fenton had been scared off from buying the building . . . that maybe he believed that whoever killed his brother might be coming after him next.”
“Why?” Nick asked. “What’s so special about that old building? I mean, no offense to you or to the other merchants on the Square, but I can attest to the fact that these old buildings are money pits. Don’t get me wrong—Don and I love Sassy Sally’s, but it’s constant upkeep. It’s not like the walls are made of gold or anything.”
“You’re right,” Katie mused. “The building shouldn’t have anything to do with Ken Fenton’s death or with Paul Fenton’s decision to back out of buying it . . . you know, other than the fact that his brother was killed there.”
“Yeah, sweetie, don’t worry about that. One of my guests told me the other day that Ken Fenton was involved with some shady people at one point.”
“What kind of shady people?”
“I don’t know. My friend Fiona can tell you more about Ken. She’ll be at the luncheon tomorrow. Maybe you can ask her then.”
“Maybe so. Thanks, Nick.”
After speaking with Nick, Katie sent an email to everyone in the Merchants Association asking that interested buyers meet her on Monday at noon at Tealicious. They had a contract to pound out.
Eight
Not long after Katie sent the email to the Merchants Association, there was a tap on her door. She called for her visitor to come in and was glad to see it was Regan.
“Hi, there,” Katie said. “How did you and Ida get along?”
“Great. She’s going to teach me how to tat lace.”
Katie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s wonderful.”
“Yeah. So, I was wondering if you’d like to join me and Roger for lunch.”
“I’d love to.” Katie put her computer to sleep, grabbed her purse, and led Regan out the side entrance.
“I’m proud of Roger,” Regan mused, as they walked to Angelo’s Pizzeria. “He’s come so far.”
“He’s lucky to have such a supportive sister.”
“I’m lucky, too. He’s a good kid.”
They walked into Angelo’s and Andy came out from behind the counter to greet Katie with a kiss.
“To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” he asked.
“We’re here to have lunch with Roger,” Katie said. “Have you met his sister Regan?”
“I have.” He smiled at Regan. “Good to see you again.”
“Nice to see you, too, Mr. Rust.”
“Please call me Andy.” He looked back toward the counter. “Erikka, can you manage without me for a few minutes? I want to have lunch with this rowdy crowd.”
“You got it, boss.” Erikka gave him a wink and a smile. “By the way, Katie, Nick invited me to his luncheon tomorrow welcoming your new Tealicious manager.”
“I hope you can make it. Brad’s a terrific guy . . . easy on the eyes, too.”
“Uh-oh . . . sounds like Andy had better watch out,” Erikka said.
“Hardly. Andy has nothing to worry about.” Katie smiled up at her boyfriend, hoping Erikka hadn’t put crazy suspicions in his head. Of course, he already knew Katie was hoping Erikka and Brad would hit it off.
A lanky boy with dark hair and large brown eyes came up and draped his arm around Regan’s neck. “Hey, kiddo.”
“Hey, yourself. Katie, I’d like you to meet my brother Roger. Roger, this is Katie. She’s Andy’s girlfriend, and she runs the artisans’ arcade next door.”
“Cool.” He stuck out a hand.
Katie gave his hand a shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Roger. I’ve heard good things about you.”
Roger gave his sister a teasing grin. “You been lying to this woman?”
&nbs
p; “Nope. Everything I told her was a hundred percent true.”
“Regan is very proud of you, Roger,” Katie said.
Andy asked if everyone liked pepperoni, and when they said yes, he asked Erikka to make them a large pizza. “Roger, you and I can get the drinks. Ladies, sit wherever you’d like.”
“Very funny,” Katie said. There were only two small tables in the place.
Regan took a seat and she and Katie faced each other. The men returned with cans of pop and sat down beside the women.
“So, Katie,” Roger said, after taking a long drink from his pop, “how do you know Regan?”
“I met her yesterday at Ink Artistry.”
“Awesome. What did you get?” he asked.
Katie laughed. “Scared off. I turned into a complete chicken.”
“I, for one, am glad about that,” Andy said.
“Why did you change your mind?” Roger asked Katie.
“Paul intimidated her,” Regan said.
“Aw, he’s an all right guy.” Roger took another drink of his pop. “He can come across as a butthead sometimes, but he’s cool.”
“I’m sure he is . . . and that he’s an excellent tattoo artist . . . but I don’t think he likes me very much,” Katie said. “It’s my own fault. I told him I was sorry for his loss—you know, his brother just died—but then I went on to ask him some questions that were none of my business.”
“Like what?”
“Roger,” Regan chided her brother.
“No, it’s okay,” Katie said. She lowered her voice. “Paul’s brother was murdered. I wanted to know who might’ve wanted him dead. I mean, I was there when Ken was electrocuted.”
“She’s lucky she wasn’t seriously injured . . . or worse,” Andy added gravely.
“Whoa, that’s mega,” Roger said. “I’m glad you’re okay. For what it’s worth, there are probably a lot of people who wanted Ken Fenton to take a dirt nap. The guy was an A-number-one jerk.” He looked at his sister. “I’m sorry to say that about Paul’s brother, but it’s true.”
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