Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series)

by M. Kate Quinn

  “Benny, you with me on this?”

  “Yeah, I’m with you.”

  ****

  As she pulled into the municipal building’s lot, Sarah’s cell phone sounded, flashing Hannah’s number in the display. Sarah flipped the device open.

  “Hi, Mom,” Hannah said.

  Her voice was so sweet and unassuming. It made Sarah even more aggravated that she had to jump through these hoops. She breathed in, then out, and did her best to relax in her own skin. “Hi, Honey. How was your weekend?”

  “We met with some of Ian’s work friends for dinner on Saturday. Yesterday we just kind of had a lazy day.”

  “How’s work?”

  “Fine.” Hannah’s tone changed as abruptly as a shifted gear. Temping at a law firm in the City was not what her daughter wanted for the long term, and the job had gone on for over a year.

  Her degree was in anthropology, although her father had steered her to dual-major for a more practical business degree. As much as Sarah consoled her daughter during the job crunch, and rationalized the blessing of attaining the temp spot, the poor kid’s career dream had choked to accelerate.

  She heard Hannah’s long breath on the other end. “I was just checking in. Everything good?”

  “Oh, sure, wonderful actually.” Sarah clamped her mouth shut before she spewed herself into sounding suspicious. “Busy, though. I’ve got to run.”

  “How’s the work going in the sunroom? Have they broken through the wall yet?”

  “Uh, no…” Sarah bit her lip. “There’s been a little delay. The carpenter’s not coming this week.”

  “Mom…” Panic coated Hannah’s tone. “There isn’t a lot of time.”

  “Don’t worry, Hannah. It’ll be fine.” Will it? It has to be fine.

  “Ian’s going away this weekend on business again, so I’ll come home and spend it with you. Okay?”

  “Great,” Sarah said. “See you then.”

  She entered the brick municipal building with fueled determination. She wanted this mess cleaned up before Hannah came for the weekend. And she could blissfully get back to normal.

  She held the anonymous note in her hand at the ready. The receptionist ushered her into a sitting area where she waited for an available officer.

  Soon a young man with a shiny badge and black glossy shoes came out from a doorway, offering his hand. “Mrs. Grayson? I’m Officer Carr. How can I help you today?”

  “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  She showed him the letter and watched as he studied it. He was young, probably a rookie. She silently hoped he was an overly zealous newbie who would do something big, like arrest the person who complained against her, cuff them good and haul them off to the slammer.

  “I found that shoved under my front door last night.”

  “Any idea who did this, and why?” He turned the paper over, scanned the back, and then looked at the front again.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s currently a complaint against my plans to do some improvements and host my daughter’s wedding at my inn. I own The Cornelia on Tidewater Way. I have to appear Monday night at the town meeting. All I can think of is that maybe it was whoever made the complaint.”

  She watched his face. It was an unreadable plane. She had hoped this would fire him up. “Who else would want to threaten me?” she added like a poke to kindling.

  “Well, Mrs. Grayson, I’m not sure this is technically a threat per se, but how about your daughter?”

  “Hannah? Why would she…”

  “No, not Hannah herself, but I was thinking maybe someone in her circle of acquaintances? Ex-lover? Disgruntled ex-girlfriend of the groom?”

  “No,” Sarah was emphatic. “There’s no one like that.”

  “What does Hannah say about this?”

  “I’m not telling her. She’s got much too much to deal with. No. I’m not going to her with such absurdity.”

  Officer Carr let out a long sigh, took out a small spiral-bound pad and a pen. He flipped the cover of the pad, perched his pen, and tapped his thumb on the retractor button. “Was anything disturbed at your residence?”

  “No.”

  “Be sure to contact us if you receive another one of these. I’ll just make a copy, start a file. Meanwhile, if you can think of anything else, be sure to give us a call. Spell your name, please, and leave me your number.”

  She watched him jot down her information then close the cover on his pad. He looked up and gave her a quick smile.

  “That’s it?” she asked.

  “For now.”

  Chapter Four

  On Monday evening Sarah and Gigi sat in the back of the room at town hall. The parsons’ benches gave Sarah the feeling that they were in church rather than a court room, which was fine considering she was praying.

  She tried to read the faces of the township committee members as they sat in high-backed padded chairs behind the large rectangular table at the head of the room. None of them, not even her friend, Mayor John Reynolds, looked her way.

  John called the meeting to order. Gigi patted Sarah’s knee and gave an encouraging little smile. “We’ll fix this,” she whispered.

  Sarah scanned the room. She recognized everyone, or at least the ones she could see. She knew the clerk, Tim Conover, his wife Betty was a co-member with Sarah of the Ronan’s Harbor Garden Club.

  The Zoning Officer wasn’t someone she knew by name but his starchy face was familiar. Sarah had seen him, slight and skinny with hunched bony shoulders, at the bank and at the post office. Plenty of times she’d spied him walking his fuzzy Brillo pad of a dog along the roadside, letting the little guy pee on everybody’s plants. She bristled. Maybe she’d give him a citation, like a citizen’s arrest or something, for illegal piddle.

  The rhetoric faded in and out of Sarah’s attention like a radio broadcast with poor reception. Her mind reeled with what she wanted to say while snippets of conversation about replacement snow fences and new stop signs on Main Street filtered into her ear.

  She’d practiced how she wanted to defend her plans. She’d rehearsed it over and over in front of her grandmother’s cheval mirror. But now all her thoughts jumbled into one clog of nothing.

  “Mrs. Grayson,” the Zoning Officer said, snapping her to full attention. “We’re here in regard to your land use at Four Tidewater Way, the bed-and-breakfast known as The Cornelia Inn.”

  “Yes,” she said, the word bursting out like a gunshot in a tunnel.

  “Sarah,” the mayor interjected, his face stoic but his eyes kind. “It’s come to our attention that you’re doing some construction at your establishment, yet we have no building permit on file. A detailed report with the specifics of your project is required to obtain a permit.”

  He looked down at the paperwork in front of him. “Additionally, we’ll need you to initiate the conditional use process for your inn for holding catered events. In order to do so, you’ll need to fill out the proper paperwork and file with initial payment. Mr. Pallis here can provide you the forms.”

  “John…Mr. Mayor.” Sarah stood up from her bench, keeping her attention on him and not Pallis, the zoning guy. “It’s just a matter of tearing down a store room wall to add space to my sun porch. I just want to hold my daughter’s wedding at my residence. Why do I need to go through all of this? It’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

  “Please re-examine the town regulations regarding inns such as yours. It clearly states that no parties of any kind will be permitted on the premises,” Mr. Pallis interjected. “And no one may perform construction in Ronan’s Harbor without first obtaining written consent.” He clucked his tongue. “We must all follow the same rules, Mrs. Grayson.”

  She felt the heat of blood rushing to her cheeks. Calm down there, Barney Fife. “Well I think it’s abominable that someone would lodge such a complaint.” She stood straighter.

  “The bottom line, Mrs. Grayson, is that you have sides
tepped proper channels. A town member bringing it to our attention is not the issue.”

  Gigi stood now, pressing close to Sarah, their shoulders melded like two comrades in a foxhole.

  “How long does this process take?” Sarah asked.

  “Minimum three to four months, perhaps as many as five,”

  “The wedding is June first. That’s two months away.” Panic squeezed her vocal chords making her sound like a cartoon mouse to her own ears. “The invitations have already been mailed. What am I supposed to do now?” She cleared her throat.

  “I suggest you petition immediately and perhaps consider an alternate location,” Mr. Pallis said. His head angled at a challenging slant, giving Sarah the thought that it wouldn’t take much to slap the sphere right off its long scrawny post.

  “Sarah,” John Reynolds said. “If you have any further questions, please feel free to contact me.”

  And just like that the meeting ended and Sarah watched dazedly as a clerk came out of the wings with a black garbage bag in her hands and fussed about, filling it with empty Styrofoam cups and napkins used by the councilmen.

  Another clerk approached her with paperwork, asked for a signature, and dashed off with a promise to give her a copy.

  The men stood from their chairs and talked among themselves in hushed tones, all impervious to the fact that they’d just dropped a bomb on her life.

  She turned her gaze to Gigi. “So that’s that?”

  “My pea shooter’s in the car,” Gigi said.

  The clerk returned with paperwork, offered a conciliatory “thank you,” and strode away. Sarah folded the papers and shoved them into her purse.

  Shuffling through the crowd of exiting attendees, Sarah eyed the room. When the bottleneck dissipated she saw him—Benny Benedetto stood alone in the aisle in a black windbreaker with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. His eyes bored into hers.

  The hairs on the back of her neck came to attention, and she reached to rake fingernails over the surface. She willed her body to “knock it off.” This was not the time to delve into her encounter on the dance floor.

  “Your Rottweiler is here,” Gigi said under her breath.

  She pulled from his gaze and shook her head. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Are you kidding? Think about it, Sarah. Why the hell would a guy brand new to town come to one of these boring town meetings? He wanted to see you.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Doubt coated her words and she couldn’t help but let her eyes flutter back his way. Was that true? The bright lighting didn’t detract from her memory of him. He was still appealing, cute in a broody kind of way.

  Gigi nudged Sarah again. “At least maybe tonight won’t be a total waste. Go talk to him.”

  “For crying out loud, Gigi, my world is crumbling. Let’s just get out of here.”

  “Only if you look at me and tell me you are really not interested.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Look at me.”

  Sarah met Gigi’s gaze and couldn’t keep the smile from forming on her lips. “Okay, we’ll just say ‘hello.’”

  They did a ridiculous-feeling sideways stride along the pew-like benches toward where he stood. She felt his gaze on her skin.

  “Hello.” Her heart throbbed like a time bomb.

  “Hi, Sarah,” he said. His voice was low. Well, maybe not low, but far from exuberant.

  This is a mistake, her mind warned.

  He gave Gigi a nod accompanied by a slight smile. “Gigi.”

  “Hey there.”

  “What, uh, brings you out tonight?” Sarah could almost feel Gigi’s mental thumbs-up approval.

  Benny shrugged a big, toned shoulder. “Keeping up on town doings.”

  Silence hung in the air, thick and choking like smoke. Sarah’s mind reeled with absurd comments she’d never say. Remember being wrapped around me on a dance floor the other night? See these lips you kissed? Want to do it again?

  She had to get the heck out of there. Her body had taken over her mind and she had the stark thought that the man was not even interested. Embarrassment coated her like varnish.

  “Well, it was nice seeing you again. Good night, ladies.” He proceeded to move into the line of departing attendees.

  Sarah pulled her eyes over to Gigi. “I’m an idiot.”

  “No, he is.”

  Sarah’s heart hiccupped. Her mouth pinched into a tight pucker, one that felt perfect for shooting peas.

  ****

  Sarah and Gigi drove back to The Cornelia together, sitting in the front seat of Sarah’s car as animated as crash test dummies.

  Finally, Gigi spoke. “You better not be beating yourself up over there.”

  Sarah asked sarcastically, “What specifically about this night are you referring? My bombing with the town over the complaint, or my pathetic approach to a guy clearly anxious not to speak to me?”

  “Don’t. You’ll fix the town’s issue and so what about the guy. He’s probably gay.”

  Sarah didn’t share Gigi’s confidence. The town problem was far from solved, and she guessed that it would be quite a while before she’d allow her guard to waver again when it came to men. Of one thing she did feel confident: No way, no how was Benny Benedetto gay.

  A car was parked in her wide driveway and she groaned with recognition. What the hell is Gary doing here?

  “Look. It’s Captain Viagra,” Gigi announced as if it was a good thing.

  Sarah smiled despite his presence. She loved Gigi’s nickname for her ex-husband. “Perfect end to a perfect night. Just perfect.”

  “Want me to go in with you?”

  “No, Gary I can handle.”

  “Looks like Pippi Longstocking’s with him.”

  Gigi knew Gary’s shiny new wife’s name was Piper and not Pippi. It was her way of easing Sarah’s tension.

  Sarah was grateful. “Don’t leave; wait till I get rid of him.”

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” Gigi said. “We for sure need a drink after this fun-filled evening.”

  As soon as Sarah opened her car door, Gary emerged from his ridiculously oversized SUV. He hopped to the ground from its lofty carriage as though he were young and spry. His pained grunt gave him away. She smirked.

  “What’s going on, Sarah?” he asked, leaning back against his vehicle. He shook his head at her, his face a shadowy scowl in the glow of her outdoor lighting.

  “What do you mean going on?”

  “John Reynolds called me.”

  Well that explains John’s mood at the meeting. “It’s nothing, Gary. I’m handling it.”

  “You are, huh? Didn’t I tell you it was too much to take on Hannah’s wedding? Seriously, Sarah you’re your own worst enemy.”

  I can think of a worse one, Captain Viagra. She sighed like a bored southern belle “It’s not your concern.”

  “It most certainly is. Hannah’s my daughter, too.” Even in the dim light she could see the vein in his forehead bulge to the surface like a blue snaking highway on her GPS screen. “I proposed that we have the wedding at my club. It would have been so elegant, but you and your hairbrained ideas…”

  Sarah turned her gaze to the truck’s interior. Piper had unbuckled her seatbelt and knelt on her seat, reaching back to the bolstered child in her seat. Toddler Tina looked pissed at the stuffed toy her mother dangled at her.

  “Your family’s waiting, Gary. You should go.” She turned away from him, determined not to look back.

  “You call me if you get in more hot water, Sarah Doodle.”

  She made like she hadn’t heard the all-too-familiar condescending nickname; wishing, if fact, that she really hadn’t.

  ****

  They shared a bottle of chardonnay in Sarah’s apartment. Sarah pulled a bag of chips from the pantry, plied it open. “Here, help me eat these so I don’t O.D. on them.”

  Gigi reached into the bag and withdrew a cluster of the delicate golden slices. “Anyt
hing for you, pal.”

  “So, okay, what happens if there isn’t enough time?” Sarah asked between her crunching mouthfuls. “What am I supposed to do with sixty people on June first?”

  “Well, I’m sure Captain Viagra has a solution.”

  “Yeah, but over my dead body…”

  Sarah buzzed through a sequence of chips like a beaver jawing on a log. “I could try talking to Mrs. Mayor, Gretchen Reynolds, at the Garden Club meeting on Friday. Maybe she can lean on her husband.”

  “It’s worth a try. Maybe you can find out who initiated the complaint and you can approach them and see if they’ll relent.”

  “Well, after thinking about it, I’m not sure if I want to confront somebody crazy enough to slip late-night anonymous notes under my door. It’s just freaky.” She shrugged. “Anyway, how would I find out who it was?”

  “Ask John Reynolds.”

  She snickered. “He’d tell Gary that info before he’d tell me.” She had an idea. “You think it’s on the paperwork they gave me tonight?”

  She didn’t wait for Gigi to respond. Instead she found her purse where she’d flung it on the kitchen chair and fished inside for the folded documents.

  She brought them back to where Gigi sat licking her finger clean of chip salt. Sarah unfolded the papers and turned on a table lamp. She scanned the verbiage.

  “Does it say?” Gigi asked.

  “It’s refers to the complainant.” Her eyes rushed over the text. In a box at the bottom was a hand-written three-line summary of the meeting’s outcome. In essence, it was a polite way of conveying she had to do their bidding or there’d be no improvement to her inn. And no wedding, either.

  She looked further. At the bottom left was John Reynolds’s signature as well as Zoning Officer Nicholas Pallis’s. On the bottom right just below where she’d scratched her name onto the designated line there was one more signature, a name etched above the line marked “Complainant.” Her mouth clamped tight.

  “What?” Gigi said. “Why do you look like that?”

  “The name’s here all right.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Benjamin Benedetto.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Gigi darted over to look at the paper. “Well, holy shit.”