Bidding War Break-In

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

“What will that matter?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe it won’t, but it’s just more ammo for us.” Her fingers flew across her keyboard. “Just sent her an email.”

  “Proof of progress doesn’t matter to whoever is doing this. They know it’s an issue, and they’re against it.”

  “I’m not sure about that.” She pushed her laptop away and opened her spiral notebook. “What if that’s just an excuse, or maybe an opportunity for someone to pick on you?”

  I pursed my lips. “You mean they’re pushing the local’s buttons about the progress as a means to further their agenda?”

  “More like hide their agenda.”

  “But who, and why?”

  “That’s what we have to find out. So, who’s been on you lately?”

  “You mean this week, or this year?”

  “Honey, if we listed everyone that’s been on you this year I’d end up with carpal tunnel.”

  That got a chuckle out of me, even though it was one hundred percent true. “Well, no one really, except Magnolia Cleveland of course. Emma Crimmins and Fannie Noble, for sure.” I pursed my lips. “Anyone in that Women of Society club could be added to that list right now since they stick together like glue.” I switched to massaging the outside of Bo’s ears, and he groaned with pleasure. “Except Caroline, obviously.”

  She scribbled down the names and then tapped her pencil on the notebook. “What are the requirements to join that group?”

  I shrugged. “Beats me. Never really interested me.”

  “Maybe we should call Caroline?”

  Caroline Abernathy was a lifelong friend, a fellow sorority sister, and a well-known woman in town. One that had recently had a baby, too.

  “Why do we need to know the requirements to join the group?” I tilted my head. “Oh no. No way. I’m not joining that group of snobs.”

  “Caroline is not a snob. Hold please.” She smiled. “Siri, call Caroline.”

  Her iPhone responded. “Calling Caroline Abernathy, mobile.”

  She hit the speaker button, and she and I chatted with Caroline for a few minutes until Belle hit pay dirt. “Are you still involved with that Women of Society club?”

  “Absolutely. As matter of fact, I was just voted the president. Why?”

  Belle mouthed, “Score,” to me, and then talked to Caroline again. “I’m thinking of joining. Is that possible?”

  She coughed. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

  Belle blinked. “Um.”

  “Is this about what’s happening to Lily? Because I had a conversation with Magnolia Cleveland just a few minutes ago, and she is all in a tizzy about Lily’s push for progress in town. Said she’s starting a campaign to keep Bramblett from growing, and wants the society members to sponsor it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course she thinks I’m at fault. You should have heard how she basically threatened me at Millie’s just this morning.”

  “Threatened? That’s not becoming of a Women of Society. We have standards and rules, and improper behavior can get a society member ousted from the club. Did anyone see what she did?”

  Belle’s eyes lit up. “They sure did, but I don’t think you should kick her out. I think you should let us join.”

  “Well, technically there is an application process. You have to have certain credentials, be interviewed by the society, we have to vote you in. It takes a while to be admitted.”

  “But you’re the president. Can’t you pull some strings or something?”

  Her tone lightened. “I don’t need to. Each term, a president is allowed to choose three women she thinks would be a good fit, submit their information—I’d need a personal resume, of course—and allow them membership without the approval of the group. It’s our way of keeping things fresh and not snooty.” She paused and when she spoke again, the excitement in her voice beamed through Belle’s phone. “And I think you two would be perfect picks.”

  My eyes shifted to Belle, and I waved my hands and shook my head. I whispered, “No thanks. I’ll pass.”

  “We’re in,” Belle said, ignoring me completely. “What do we have to do?”

  “Email me your resumes. It does have charitable stuff on there, right?”

  I spoke up. “I’m a business owner, I don’t have a resume.”

  Belle sighed. “I don’t either.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s just for the file. I can add you with just your Linkedin info. Just put something together over the next few weeks and get it to me.”

  “So, what do we need to do?” Belle asked.

  “We have a meeting on Tuesday at that little brunch place over at the old Redbecker property. It’s at nine o’clock. Just show up there.”

  Belle broke out in laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re actually meeting at the property your women are complaining about? How’s that for ironic?”

  Caroline giggled. “Maybe it’s time we show these women who the problem in town really is?”

  “Sisters till the end,” Belle said.

  Caroline laughed. “Honey, that’s the way we’ll always be.”

  We gabbed a bit longer, filling Caroline in on the details of the damage to Carter’s townhome, talking about the baby, and said our goodbyes. She promised not to share her decision to add us before then, thinking the element of surprise would be priceless.

  I had reservations, big reservations. “This is going to make things worse. I don’t want to be in that club.”

  “You know that expression, right?”

  “Which expression? We live in the South. Our entire vocabulary is expressions.”

  “That’s so true. I’m talking about that one about enemies. You know, keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”

  I nodded. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  “Don’t worry sugar, I’ve got your back.” She blew me a kiss and laughed.

  The contractor for the townhome called my cell. I listened and responded while Belle prodded me to see what they were saying.

  “I’m thrilled. Yes, thank you so much. I’ll be by to check on things.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked after I disconnected the call.

  “They’re starting the clean up today.”

  “But it’s Saturday. I thought they only handled emergencies on Saturdays?”

  “Johnny said he heard what’s been happening, and he wants to stick it to the snobs.” I smiled. “My words, not his.”

  Johnny was the owner of the company contracted to do the repair work on the townhome. He was local, but apparently wasn’t opposed to growth in Bramblett.

  “Wow.” She jotted his name in her notebook. “Score one for the good guys.”

  I didn’t look at it the same way. “I hope this doesn’t backfire on him. I’d hate for that to happen because of me.”

  Belle blew out a long breath. “I honestly don’t believe this is because of you.”

  “ I do.”

  “Get over yourself woman. You’re not that big of a deal in town.” She giggled, but I knew she was serious.

  “But you heard Magnolia. She is planning to come at me.”

  “She’s deflecting. You’re not the problem, you’re the distraction. Something’s going on that we don’t know about, but I know you, and I know you’ll figure it out.” She closed the notebook again and packed up her things. “I’ve got to run. Matthew’s coming for dinner tonight, and I have to figure out how to make what I’m making, or we’ll be ordering pizza.”

  “Ew. There’s no good pizza in Bramblett.”

  “I have a feeling it won’t be like that for long.”

  “I hope so.”

  She walked over to me and crouched down to give Bo a goodbye rub. “And you,” she said, pointing at me, “need to set a wedding date so I can start shopping for a bridesmaid dress.”

  “Maid of honor dress, and I will. Eventually.”

&
nbsp; She nodded. “Right. When pigs fly.”

  “That could happen.”

  She laughed. “Wish me luck tonight. I’m making fish.”

  “Ew. Good luck.”

  Bo and I stayed on the floor for a bit longer. He went back to snoozing and snoring, and I fretted about joining the Women of Society. If ever a bomb was going to explode in Bramblett County, I knew when I walked into that café on the Redbecker property, that would be the time.

  Chapter 5

  I pushed my reservations, and okay, my fears, aside and headed over to the townhome. I wanted to thank Johnny in person and offer any help I could. First, I dropped Bo off at home, fed him a much deserved snack, and with a tongue swipe over the better part of my face, went on my way.

  Signs posted on the entrance to Carter’s townhome made my stomach flip. Stop the Madness, the most prominent sign, had an X marked through madness and underneath it someone had written psychos. I would have laughed, but I sensed the division of the town, and that worried me.

  I unlocked the door and walked into a cleaned up space, thankful and almost giddy. It wasn’t repaired obviously, but it was definitely a start. “Johnny, this is amazing. How did you do this so quickly?”

  “Ryann gave me the code.”

  Three men were busy patching up holes in the walls.

  I pressed my palm into my chest. “I can’t believe it. You’re amazing. Thank you.” I walked over to the each of the men and thanked them individually.

  “What’s happening to you ain’t right, Lilybit. You didn’t do nothing wrong, and we’re set to get this place shaped up right quick for you, so you can sell it and get that money for the scholarships.” He pointed to the shorter of the three men working on the walls. “Buddy here? He’s got a kid going into high school next year. He might could use that scholarship in a few years, and we want to do our part to make sure you get top dollar for this place.”

  Buddy smiled at me. “We’ll have it in shape in a few days Miss Lily. We promise.”

  My heart fluttered. “Y’all are amazing. I’m so thankful.” I snapped a few photos of the progress with my cell phone.

  A smile spread across Johnny’s face. “Let’s head upstairs. We’ve already done a bunch up there. Got my guys working overtime to get it done, and it’s shaping up but good.”

  The upstairs walls were already repaired, the holes in the walls weren’t even noticeable. Since we’d left the paint from the builder in the closet, Johnny said he’d use that to cover the patch marks. I breathed a big sigh of relief.

  We talked about what else needed to be done, and Johnny said he hoped to have it done in a week. I thanked him at least a hundred more times and knowing I’d be in the way, left them to their business.

  I sent Belle the photos via text and told her to enjoy her night with Matthew and drove home. Dylan was coming over, though I had no intentions of cooking. He promised to bring the grub, and I was fine with that. When I pulled into my driveway, I had to park behind his truck. There were no lights on inside of my comfy little bungalow, and I knew something was up.

  It was something I knew I’d love, too.

  I went in through the side entrance, and the scents of garlic and something else I couldn’t identify captivated me. Light instrumental music played softly in the background, and two candles added a muted, romantic glow to the otherwise dark family room nearby.

  Dylan approached me and handed me a wine glass filled with something I knew wasn’t wine. “Where’s Bo?” I stayed away from alcohol because my body and mind couldn’t tolerate it, and Dylan knew that, but I liked to get sparking grape juice and feel fancy every once in a while. He appeased me by drinking it, too, even though he preferred beer.

  “Snoozing in your bed. Guess he had a busy day.” The side of his mouth twitched.

  “You fed him people food, didn’t you?”

  Every time Bo ate beef, he fell into an hours long food coma. I wasn’t complaining, but I knew there was a motive to Dylan’s actions.

  He played innocent. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Right.”

  We walked into the family room to a small feast on my coffee table. Baked potatoes, asparagus, and filets steamed with buttery garlic smells made my stomach growl. The two candles sat in front of the plates. “Wow, you went all out. Thank you.”

  “We both deserve a relaxing night with good food and amazing company, don’t you think?”

  I agreed. “When’s Belle coming by?”

  He laughed.

  We sat next to each other talking about our days. I nibbled on my food as Dylan told me his latest campaign strategies to win his reelection. I thought I was listening, but when he waved his hand in front of my face and broke my stare mode, I realized I’d been distracted. “You’re barely eating, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t hear a word I said.”

  I set down my plate. “I did. You said your campaign manager created new posters and they’re going up tomorrow.”

  “I said that five minutes ago.” He set down his plate and squeezed my knee. “What’s going on?”

  I told him. I told him more than I realized I’d felt, and it surprised even me.

  “You have a right to be worried. You’ve been targeted before, so you know what it feels like. Don’t discount your feelings, but don’t blame yourself. We’ll find who did it, and they’ll have their day in court.”

  “But that won’t stop people from thinking I’m poison to Bramblett.”

  He rubbed the days’ worth of scruff on his chin. “They are wrong, and so are you.”

  As much as I wanted to eat, to show him I appreciated the food and the effort, my stomach wouldn’t let me. The knots and twists in my gut wouldn’t tolerate the food, no matter how good it smelled. “I’m sorry. I love that you did this, I really do.”

  He smiled, pressed the side of his body into the back of my couch and pulled me to him. “Leftovers always taste better anyway.”

  We stayed snuggled together and spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about an easier time, when all that mattered was what movie we’d go see at the drive-in, or what someone did at school. That’s what people who spent their formative years together did to heal, talked about their shared past.

  Hours later, when I could barely keep my eyes open, Dylan sent me off to bed, promising to clean up and see me the next day.

  * * *

  I woke up with an almost fresh attitude and some serious bedhead. I checked the rats nest, and when I knew there wasn’t anything alive in it, prepared for my own battle.

  After handling my daily duties, which consisted mostly of personal hygiene and Bo, I got to work. A good night’s sleep revived me and set me on the right path, and I planned to hit the ground running to reestablish my credibility and find out who destroyed Carter’s home.

  And my first stop was Magnolia Cleveland’s.

  While pulling up my jeans, standard weekend attire for me, I realized something. Magnolia Cleveland never wore jeans. She always dressed up, always looked like she was heading out to a nice restaurant or the country club, but she never, ever wore jeans.

  Except that’s exactly what she had on when she stood outside the gathering crowd after Carter’s home was vandalized.

  She answered the door and grimaced when she saw me, but covered it up immediately with a fake smile. “Lily Sprayberry. What a pleasant surprise.” She glanced at her watch.

  It was Sunday morning, not even ten o’clock, and she was already dressed, her makeup fresh, and hair up in a funky twist with small tendrils dangling near her face.

  Who got all dolled up like that on a Sunday morning? Church goers did, and I knew that, but since I hadn’t been recently, it slipped my mind.

  “Magnolia, I think it’s time we talk.”

  She kept herself locked between her front door and its frame. “Oh, that’s sweet, coming here to apologize, but I’m leaving in a minute for church. Besides, words mean nothing without
actions. Didn’t your momma teach you that?”

  I refused to sink to her level, and when the urge to return her sass subsided, I spoke. “I love your outfit, Magnolia. In fact, you’re a fabulous dresser, a fashionista, for sure.”

  She blinked. “Lily, I don’t have time for this—”

  I cut her off. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not dressed well. You’re always so…so well put together. Dresses, floral hair clips, silky shirts, skirts, everything is always perfectly matched and lovely.”

  She almost smiled, but caught herself and her eyes hardened. “What’re you trying to say, Lily?”

  “Just that when I saw you standing outside of the townhome, you know, after it had been vandalized?” I saw the strain in her neck, the bulging veins, though her mouth didn’t flinch. I pretended to chew my fingernail for a moment and then I pointed it at her. “You were in jeans and a sweater. Jeans. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so dressed down.”

  She blinked. “Don’t be silly. Of course I wear jeans.” The usual confidence in her voice disappeared. “Now, I’m running late because of this nonsense. Have a nice day.” She pushed on the door, but her husband, Dominic pushed it back open.

  “Mags, get away from the door. Let me handle this.”

  The door opened enough for him to see me. I smiled. “Hello, Dominic. Lily Sprayberry, remember?” I wasn’t a fan of Magnolia’s husband. In fact, I didn’t actually know anyone that was.

  Dominic wasn’t Bramblett County born and bred, and anyone that knew him knew that. He hailed from Chicago, and his cold hearted personality rubbed a lot of people in town the wrong way, me included.

  Everyone thought he was involved with the mafia and intended to bring it to North Georgia, but in small towns like mine, rumors got out of hand easily, and often started because of fear of the unknown. Dominic was Italian. His dark hair, dark eyes and olive skin with almost Roman god statuesque features made that observation obvious, but so did his last name, Scratachelli. I’d heard Magnolia took his name officially, but half the town couldn’t pronounce Scratachelli, so we all still used her last name.

  Dominic looked like the kind of guy who’d hate that, too.