Crazy Ride

by Nancy Warren

  Emily was humming happily to herself as she prepared her world famous muffin batter ready to bake her world famous carrot, zucchini and walnut muffins for breakfast tomorrow. At least, they would be world famous if anyone in the world outside Beaverton, Idaho ever tasted them.

  Joe was going to love the muffins. She thought she had a certain combination of spices that no bakery could top. And from Joe it didn’t seem such a big step to the rest of the known world.

  She could hear the rumble of his voice in her office. The man managed to do business 24/7. He seemed vaguely surprised every time she dragged his attention away from his precious deals. Tonight she planned to snag his attention in a big way. A scented bath, a little silky excuse for a night gown, and a whole night together. And if he wanted even to touch the hem of her night gown, he was turning off the cell.

  She was adding the cinnamon when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed stealthy movement at the kitchen window. She turned to see what was going on but the window was empty. However, she’d lived in Beaverton too long to believe things were ever what they seemed, so she walked over to the back door, opened it and stuck her head out.

  Sure enough, she saw a body crouched beneath her kitchen window, feet planted in the herb garden Emily had been babying.

  “What are you doing?” she asked half exasperated, half amused.

  “Shhhhh,” was the hissed reply. Madame Dior raised her head. She wore a silk scarf wrapped around her hair in a movie-star style, and even though it was evening she wore big sun glasses. “Where is he,” she whispered.

  In a house of women, he could only mean Joe. “He’s working. He’s always working.”

  “Good. Sneak away as soon as you can and come to the bingo hall.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” She doubted she was being recruited to play bingo – it would already be crowded with players. Beaverton only had the one place large enough to hold a crowd, so all town meetings – and there weren’t that many – were held at the bingo hall. Except Mondays. “There’s a bingo game tonight.”

  Madame Dior was so rattled she forgot to speak in a French accent and therefore was amazingly understandable. “Ernie’s wife’s cousin works at the real estate office and she phoned to tell Marge that he -- ” She motioned upstairs, presumably to let Emily in on the fact that she was referring to Joe without using his name -- “is planning to buy the sanitarium.”

  “Really?” Her first thought was that this would be a good thing for the town, depending on what he was planning to do with it. “What’s he planning to do with it?”

  “I hear it’s going to be a mining operation.”

  “What? Did someone strike gold?” In this town it would be fool’s gold for sure. Apart from some farming and a little ranching there wasn’t much commerce or industry. She wasn’t at all sure how she felt about a gold mine in the old sanitarium. It was a part of the town’s heritage – part of her heritage.

  Dr. Emmet Beaver had willed the sanitarium to the town. Unfortunately, he hadn’t left enough for the taxes on the property should the sanitarium one day close and the building remain empty for nearly half a century. She’d felt sad personally when the county foreclosed. The sanitarium had been in the hands of a Realtor so long they’d all mostly forgotten it was for sale. She wondered if there’d be enough proceeds from the sale to build a community swimming pool – or at least fix the running track at the high school.

  “That’s the worst part. They’re planning to dig up all the land around here to mine something nasty. I forget the name. Horrible stuff.”

  “Mining something horrible?” She needed more information.

  The other woman shhh’d her and then nodded. She glanced around, placed a finger over her lips. “Come as soon as you can,” she whispered and scuttled away until she melted into darkness.

  Emily stood staring at the freshly trampled herbs without seeing them. Joe’d found time to kiss her senseless and indulge in conversation about the town and its residents as well as her background. She’d been pleased that he was interested and mildly flattered that he was so curious about her life. Now she knew better.

  He’d been pumping her for information and extremely reluctant to share with her what business had brought him to town. No wonder he didn’t want to tell her. What was he planning to do? Strip mine all of Beaverton?

  She’d soon find out.

  She tossed the rest of the ingredients in her mixing bowl, wishing she’d bought some awful store-bought mix, gave a perfunctory stir and stuck the bowl in the refrigerator.

  She’d have taken Lydia and Olive with her, but they were already at the bingo hall. They went almost every week – and if she knew her aunts, they weren’t going to be too pleased if their game was interrupted for a town meeting.

  She yanked off her apron and stuck it on a hook by the back door, and was about to slip out that way when she realized that Joe would be able to see her from the windows of her office. She might as well go through the front way and tell him she was going out.

  Even though she was on her way to talk to him it was still a shock when she bumped into him – their bodies actually bumped – in the hallway.

  “I was coming to find you,” he said, in that deep, rich voice she liked too well.

  “Oh, I was on my way out. Do you need something?”

  “No. But, something’s come up on another deal I’m working. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh.” The dismay she felt was all out of proportion to a guest leaving. Even a paying guest who hadn’t asked for an AAA, frequent flyer or library card discount on the room rate.

  He must have heard the wistful note, for he moved a little closer. “I’d like to stay longer, but I’ve got other clients, other deals cooking, and I can do everything else from my office in New York. I’ll be back later, probably. Once things get rolling.”

  Her thoughts tumbled around so she couldn’t grasp a single one. There was the sense of regret that the most intriguing man she’d met in a long while was leaving so soon, dismay that a fast-lane workaholic was bent on destroying Beaverton, and frustration that she was already regretting the end of an affair that hadn’t even started.

  When she got to the bingo hall, she noted an ominous buzz from inside – a hive of very anxious bees.

  Forcing a calm smile to her face she walked in. As she’d suspected, almost everyone in town seemed to be there. The buzzing amplified then died down as people recognized her. She nodded, hugged, patted shoulders and kept going until she found a place at one of the long tables beside Aunt Olive and Aunt Lydia.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I was almost going to win, that’s what happened. All I need is B17 and I’ve got a bingo, but old busy body Napoleon stopped the game. I’ve got a mind to sue him, that’s what.”

  Since winning cards paid all of two bucks, Emily figured the emperor must be shivering in his Hessian boots.

  “All right, I think most everybody’s here now. I call this town meeting to order,” Ernie said into the microphone. Since he was the Bingo caller he’d naturally taken the role of MC for tonight’s meeting. He looked very important, and Emily supposed that since the information came from his wife’s cousin he felt some responsibility in taking charge of the proceedings.

  Napoleon, who usually ran things, seemed a bit perturbed, but then everyone was likely perturbed about the news.

  “This ain’t a town meeting, it’s a bingo game,” Aunt Lydia muttered, but not loud enough for anyone but those closest to hear.

  Ernie went on. “Most of you have seen the stranger in town. Young man putting up at the Shady Lady, name of Joe Montcrief.”

  A few people looked at Emily as though she might be surprised by the news that she had a guest staying at the B&B. She nodded.

  He went on. “Joe was spotted this morning touring the sanitarium with a Realtor. My inside sources tell me he’s planning to buy the sanitarium to use it as the headquarters of
a strip mining operation.”

  There was a collective gasp of shock, but Emily controlled hers. How could Joe blow into town, see how special it was, and still plan to destroy it?

  Ernie continued. “He’s going after the mineral rights under our soil so this company can mine the phosphate. I looked on the Internet and I could show you some terrible sights. Ladies and gentlemen, our farms, our fields, our flower gardens our parks and recreation areas are all at risk. My source—”

  “It’s Marge’s cousin who’s the source, we all know that,” somebody yelled.

  “Be that as it may, we have to stop this mining venture. After they’ve pulled up our land to mine the phosphate, they’ll then desecrate the memory of the good doctor Emmet Beaver by tearing down the sanitarium to make a mining office.” He paused for dramatic effect. “We have to stop him.”

  “How?” a voice from near the back called. Emily didn’t have to turn her head. She knew it was Wilton Norris, her nearest neighbor who liked to bring her presents. Small things. A pretty rock he’d found in the garden, flowers, an avocado, whatever caught his fancy. He was a sweet, gentle man in his late sixties.

  There was a long pause. Ernie said, “I don’t know.”

  “We have to stop the deal.”

  Murmurs of agreement greeted this statement.

  “Maybe we could bribe the young fellow to make sure the deal falls through,” said Edgar Kew, the barber. “That’s how they do things in big cities, you know.” He’d never been farther than Boise in his life.

  “With what? We can’t even afford to pay the taxes on the place, which is how it’s getting sold out from under us in the first place,” Ernie reminded them.

  Napoleon rose, his hat adding height and turning the rather small man into an imposing figure. “Vee must organize an army, and rout ze oppressor!” he said, shaking his fist to heaven. Or in this case, the faded brown beams in the ceiling of the old hall.

  “Bribery and violence,” Olive muttered. “Just what we need. Can’t you do something?”

  Emily rose from her seat. “If we could come up with the tax money then maybe we could stop the sale.” She’d been thinking about this since she first heard the news but that was about as far as she had been able to think. “If they see that the citizens don’t want the area mined then maybe they’ll think twice.”

  The heads around her nodded, and there were lots of murmurs of agreement. But everyone was still looking to her for the answer.

  “Or, maybe we could come up with an alternative buyer for the property.”

  “The farming sucks. All this place ever had going for it was that it’s quiet and has pretty scenery. At least a mine would give us some jobs. And some taxes.”

  But the people who lived here weren’t the kind who wanted jobs and industry. They liked their quiet life. Most of them needed it.

  “What about tourism?”

  Emily’s bed and breakfast was the only accommodation, and she wasn’t exactly turning eager travelers away from the door, but she agreed that tourism was an avenue better pursued than phosphate mining.

  “We need a draw,” Edgar Kew said.

  “What, you mean like a lottery?”

  “No, a tourism draw. Like the Grand Canyon, or the Eiffel Tower.”

  Somebody yelled from the back, “We’ve got the biggest Beaver in the United States. World probably, what if we advertise ourselves as Beaver Capital of the World!”

  Emily put a hand over her eyes.

  Ernie said, after a long pause, “I like the fact that people are coming up with some creative ideas. Maybe we could use the sanitarium to make money.”

  “But who’d want that old place?” Madame Dior asked. “No one goes to places like that any more.”

  “It would make a great setting for porn movies,” Gregory Randolph said.

  “Good idea.”

  “Maybe we could have a reality show there,” said Lydia. “We could have one of those Survivor shows.”

  From beside her, Emily heard: “Survivor, Beaverton. Can you stay in this town and still keep your wits?”

  “Shh,” Emily said to her aunt, trying not to laugh.

  “Good thoughts,” Ernie said, taking charge once more. “We’ll form a committee to think about all these ideas and come up with some new ones. My wife’s been taking notes, so all your suggestions are written down.”

  “That’s great that you’re going to have a committee, Ernie. But what abut Joe?” Lydia asked.

  “He’s leaving tomorrow,” Emily said.

  “No. He can’t leave yet. We need time.”

  “Yeah. We need to keep him here while we do our own deal.”

  “Right. How do we do that?”

  “Kidnap him?”

  “Hold him for ransom?”

  “No, no.” Olive said. “We don’t want him to suspect we’re keeping him here.”

  “Good point, Olive. Can’t have his office getting suspicious.”

  “I can give him car trouble,” Gregory Randolph said. Gregory was a brilliant mechanic. Like Emily he was a product of the town. His parents had met in the sanitarium and later married and settled in the area. Apart from a tendency to break into opera at unlikely moments, his mother was a model parent. His father claimed he’d been abducted by aliens, had escaped and that they would return for him since he knew their secrets. He built a shelter in the back yard and took his family into hiding during every full moon.

  Gregory had grown up normal apart from being tone deaf and claustrophobic. When his dad died they buried him in the shelter and closed it up permanently. Greg lived with his mother, but everyone knew he had a thing for Jayleen Priddy at the grocery store.

  “Great idea, Gregory. But how do we stop him taking a bus or something to get out of town?”

  Lydia rose to her feet. “We’ve already figured that part out. Emily’s going to sleep with Joe.”

  “God, give me patience,” Emily muttered under her breath. She started counting slowly to ten, but Lydia wasn’t finished yet.

  “Joe’s got a sex problem she’s helping him with.” She glanced around the assembly and then grinned. “Not that I couldn’t have cured him a lot faster.”

  Emily smiled over gritted teeth, feeling every eye in town stare at her. Lydia had trapped her in her own lie.

  Surprisingly, Olive came to her aid. “She doesn’t need to sleep with the man if she doesn’t want to. He’s so sweet on her he’ll stick around given half a chance. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Emily shot her aunt a grateful smile and talk moved to the committee which was forming to find another buyer for the sanitarium. Naturally, she was asked to join the committee and she agreed. She’d moved back here out of loyalty to her gran, but now that the town was threatened, she realized how much she loved it. Somehow, she was going to help save Beaverton.

  The town’s young doctor, who’d done a residency at the local hospital and liked Beaverton so much he decided to stay, was also appointed to the committee in his absence. Of all times for him to take a holiday, Emily thought, when they could really use his calm good sense. Maybe Dr. Gord Hartnett even had some ideas, or connections.

  She barely listened to the rest of the meeting. She wondered how she was going to keep Joe hostage without his knowledge. Sure, he was going to have car trouble between now and tomorrow morning, but how on earth was she supposed to stop him from finding alternative transportation?

  Her skin felt hot and cold as she relived the steamy kisses they’d shared. Maybe Lydia was right. She should seduce the man and keep him naked and so busy that he’d forget all about work.

  Except she was nothing like her female ancestors. She’d never specialized in the erotic arts. When the intimate healers used to talk technique she tuned them out. She was bored by sex long before she was old enough to think about doing it. Somehow, that boredom had never lifted. Oh, she liked sex fine, but you had to be careful or it could lead to huge complications. Messy, emotional one
s she didn’t want.

  She had to admit, though, that there was something appealing about the idea of seducing Joe – or in letting him think he was seducing her. Yes, that was it. Maybe she could give him a little encouragement. Enough that he’d want to stay to get her into bed. He wouldn’t be the first B&B guest who’d tried.

  Since the interrupted bingo night continued once the meeting was over, Emily was able to talk to Gregory Randolph without anyone noticing. Once she’d obtained his promise to pay Joe’s car a visit before five tomorrow morning, she walked home alone. The air was sweet-scented and quiet, the stars bright in the clear sky.

  When she entered her own garden she savored the pleasant sense of coming home. What they were planning to do to Joe – make sure his car was disabled and so force him to stay -- was wrong. She accepted that. But saving the town was right. Feeling unsettled, she strolled through her garden and let the scents of jasmine and rose soothe her. The Queen Elizabeth, a mass of soft pink smudges in the fading light, drew her in, so she had to lower her face and breathe in the fragrance. Beside it grew a very nice Honor, its blossoms white as the moon, its scent so light she had to close her eyes and concentrate. How much honor was she demonstrating, she wondered, stroking a satin petal, sabotaging one man’s business in order to save her home?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The light wasn’t on in Joe’s window, and Emily had a momentary pang that he’d gone to bed early in order to make a crack of dawn start in the morning. Then she realized that the office light was still shining and he was illuminated like a man on a TV screen. His face was drawn in concentration and he was pecking away at his computer keyboard.

  That man needed desperately to loosen up.

  She entered through the kitchen door and then went to the office.

  As she’d suspected, Joe had his head bent over the computer. He was tapping away and simultaneously talking on his cell phone thanks to a hands-free device. The service was always hit and miss inside the house but clearly today it was fine.