“The card says it’s from Joyce Daniels. She worked for Richard,” Abby said, feeling a little hysterical from lack of sleep and her rapidly depleting confidence. Everyone in town knew that “worked for Richard” meant “slept with Richard” when it came to young, pretty interns. “Where do you think I should put it? On my mantle?”
Nora looked at the flower and smoothed down her bun. “I’ve got a week’s worth of doggie doo I’ve been meaning to return to that Stan O’Malley.”
Stan O’Malley, the local mechanic and owner of Stan’s Soup and Service Station, lived one street over and had a pack of bloodhounds who loved to welcome the morning on Nora’s front lawn.
“I say you put the orchid in my collection and leave it on Joyce’s porch.” Nora slid Abby a rare smile. “I’ll drive.”
It was so unexpected, Abby couldn’t keep a laugh from escaping. It was long and loud and didn’t stop until her chest hurt and her eyes burned. “I’ll think about it.”
“You never told me his grandmother was coming,” Nora said, picking up a handful of roses and tossing them in the bag.
“You never asked.” The minute the words left her mouth, Abby realized what she’d said and paused. This one-sided thinking of hers was exactly what had landed Tanner into trouble with Ferris and Colin.
She took in Nora’s sculpted shrubs, hand-painted eaves, and house-shaped mailbox that was a way-too-perfect replica of the real thing to be anything other than custom. Every house on the block had one—well, except Abby’s. She’d torn down her mouse-occupied one when she’d moved in.
“I never asked why you wanted the statue moved so badly.” She looked at Richard and sighed. “I mean besides the obvious.”
Nora plucked a nonexistent speck of dirt from her apron. “When I was a girl I used to tinker with things—wood, metal, my dad’s tractor. Built my own dollhouse and made my own dolls by hand. Thought I’d grow up and be something, leave my mark on the world, maybe be one of those Rosie the Riveters, but at that time women didn’t travel the world unless they were a stewardesses, which are glorified housewives if you ask me, waiting on all those men in suits. I already had me a man in a suit, didn’t need another one.”
Nora waved a hand in disgust.
“Dalton Allan Reginald the Third, wasn’t he a mistake? Married him when I was barely eighteen, and he moved me here to St. Helena, a whole three thousand miles away from my family. Bought this big, dilapidated dump of a house because it had a library, instead of one of the cute family-ready bungalows closer to town. Said a man of stature needed a library.” Nora made a sound that encompassed exactly what Abby thought of Richard’s statue. “Said he married me to be a wife and a mother and run the kind of home worthy of the Reginald name, not tinker. So I became a wife and a mother, and I was damn good at both.
“Ten years it took me to get this house the way my husband wanted it, then less than a month later the son of a bitch up and died. Left me broke, with two kids to raise and this house to run.”
When Nora turned to stand by Abby’s side, she wasn’t surprised to see a little moisture in the woman’s eyes as she looked up at the three-story butter-yellow Victorian with lavender trim and a gleaming white door.
“So I ran it and I ran it well, and this house is my life’s work. It’s the one thing I can point to and say, ‘That right there is sixty-one years of stubborn passion and love.’ And next week, the Memory Lane Manor Walk will begin and thousands of people will come into my home and see what I built with these two hands. I may not have built a plane or a fancy villa in Italy, but I made this house into a home.”
Something about the tone Nora’s voice took on resonated with Abby. It was pride. Pride so deep it was difficult to talk about.
“Is it so bad I want it to look perfect?”
“No,” Abby said quietly. “It’s not.” Then she cleared her throat and turned to face Nora. “Richard’s grandmother arrives Friday. I promise you I will move the statue before Saturday’s Memory Lane Manor Walk starts.”
“Thank you.” Nora gave Abby an awkward pat on the shoulder. “I’m not rescinding my complaint with the sheriff, though. In fact, I hope he fines you, because then I can issue a GN fine as well. My eyes bleed every time I see him. It’s like he’s peeing on our beautiful street, marking his claim. And rules are rules, so if I make exceptions for you, people will start talking and the whole neighborhood will go to hell.”
“Understood.”
“Good, because I wanted to give you this, and I don’t want any confusion about it being a bribe.” Nora pulled an envelope out of her gardening apron. “This is because I’m a bigger person than you.”
Not wanting to ruin this beautiful bonding moment with her neighbor, Abby opened the envelope. Inside was a newspaper clipping with the marriage announcement for Randal Jackson Jr. and Susette. Attached to it was an old, faded photo of them, standing in front of the carriage house—which was absolutely a residence. It had a little front porch and flower boxes filling the windows, and it was the evidence she needed to fix everything.
“I don’t understand. Why would you sink me with the council then give me everything I need to prove your accusations wrong?”
“I’m giving you those because I know what it’s like to lose everything and have to start over, and you’ve been working so hard on that cheese shop, I thought you had the right to know I didn’t sink you.”
“But the paper quoted you,” Abby countered. “It was right there in black and white.”
“I was merely repeating facts given to me from an extremely credible source.”
“Credible?” Abby laughed and held up the envelope that was in direct conflict to that statement. “This says differently.”
“I didn’t discover the photos and article until after the interview. I went digging through the HPC archives when I began to wonder why the one person who had the most to lose would . . .” Nora dusted off her gardening gloves and stuck them in her apron before picking up a stuffed teddy bear someone had placed next to the statue. She plucked distractedly at the fur around its ear, and when she looked back up, her face of wrinkles was pursed with empathy. “Babs was my source. She told me that the carriage house being a residence was all hearsay.”
“So you want to explain to me why you lied to Nora?” Tanner said to Babs the second he took a seat at his kitchen table, working hard to keep his anger in check.
“Oh dear,” Babs said, her voice raw as she gripped the NINERS CAN SUCK IT coffee cup tighter. “I never meant for it to go this far. I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”
“An hour ago I would have believed you,” Tanner said, sitting back in his chair, because an hour ago he would have sworn his day couldn’t get any shittier.
Not only was Colin still not talking to him, but Wreck had taken a dump in his work boots, then his dad had said Babs was in the kitchen and wanted to talk. Not to mention he hadn’t seen Abby since Friday when she left to fix a problem that, turns out, wasn’t her fault.
Not that it mattered anymore since Ferris called, which hadn’t accomplished much more than cementing the fact Colin would never speak to him again. And, ah, shit, now Babs was crying. And Gus was glaring.
“She’s trying to make this right, son,” Gus said, resting his hand on Babs’s frail one.
“I get that, and I appreciate that. But bottom line, people got hurt.” He looked from Gus to Babs and, tears or not, he wasn’t letting up. “This town thinks Tanner Construction participated in submitting falsified paperwork to a county-run board, Ferris is no longer considering Oakwood as a viable option, which means my partner is most likely going to quit, and Abby—”
God, Abby. His heart broke just thinking how she was going to take the news. “The most amazing woman I’ve ever known is going to face the same kind of ridicule she did when her husband walked out, and all because she was trying to m
ake your shop amazing. So please, tell me where you saw this going.”
Babs blanched, her tired and red-rimmed eyes going wide on her face. “I have messed everything up, haven’t I?” She shook her head a little, and even her apricot halo seemed older, sadder. “I only meant to stall, to buy more time, so I told Nora that I didn’t know if the documents existed, but Ferris might know and she should call him.”
“Babs wanted to give Ferris a reason to come home,” Gus interjected gently.
“That house is just so big, and at night when I sit down to dinner and I see all the empty seats . . .” she faded off and stirred her coffee for the fifth time in so many minutes.
“Ferris is a busy man. He would have made his father proud,” Gus said, and Tanner wanted to ask him how a son did that, because obviously this prick who didn’t visit his mom and wore loafers was doing something Tanner wasn’t.
“I didn’t want to call him and waste his time with nonsense,” Babs said.
“Of course you didn’t,” Gus said in understanding, and Babs nodded. Suddenly, Tanner felt like the third wheel in his own kitchen.
“So I . . . I made reasons to call him. Found questions to ask him, and hoped if he heard enough little questions, easy things he could help me with, he’d come home and we could work on this together.”
And then she wouldn’t have to ask, Tanner thought sadly.
“I didn’t want to be a burden,” Babs whispered, and her tone just about did Tanner in.
He had been floored when Ferris called, saying he was going in a different direction—one that didn’t involve two hundred acres in the hills above St. Helena. But when Babs had shown up, admitting to being Nora’s big source, Tanner had lost it. He’d been so angry he’d had to take a walk to calm down, which only gave him time to think about how Colin was going to take the news—how Abby was going react—which only made him angrier.
Only now, listening to Babs talk about her screw-up of a son and watching her try not to cry, Tanner softened a little.
“But the little things weren’t working,” she went on. “He’d just send me e-mails with the answers, then when it became just the name of a contractor to call, I got desperate and did a lot of things I’m not proud of,” she admitted. “But Ferris is just like his dad—impatient and hates waste. So I knew if the project went on long enough he would come back and take it over. Then Abby came on board with her sunny we-can attitude and got you, and then things started happening. Ferris stopped returning my calls and e-mails altogether. So I lied to Nora and she took it to the council.”
“Ah, shit,” Tanner said, gripping the back of his neck.
“Watch your Ps and Qs,” Gus scolded, and Tanner resisted pointing out there wasn’t a single P or Q in his statement, just like he didn’t bother with the fact Gus swore like a sailor. Most of Tanner’s four-letter vocabulary came straight from swinging hammers with his old man as a kid. His old man who—hold up? Did he just put his arm around Babs Hampton?
He did and Tanner couldn’t believe it. His dad was actually courting their client. It was obvious from the way the two were acting that they were more than familiar. Just how familiar, Tanner had no desire to find out.
He did, however, shoot Gus a look, which Gus ignored because he was too busy whispering to Babs. Man, this project was turning out to be some awful nightmare that kept getting worse and worse.
Tanner cleared his throat. “Babs, do you realize lying to a county-regulated board not only made us all look bad, but also jeopardizes any future project that has Tanner Construction, Abby Designs, or Hampton Group on the paperwork? They could be up for additional scrutiny.”
“I know,” she said and the first tear fell, and didn’t that make him feel like a class-A jerk. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Well, first you and I are going to the HPC and explaining everything.”
“Everything?” Babs went completely pale, and Tanner felt for her. Standing in front of her peers and neighbors and explaining she lied because she was lonely was going to be hard—and awful. But not as awful as it would be if the project sank like the Titanic.
“It’s the only way to get the bottlery reinstated as a finalist and have the newspaper retract their article,” Gus said, then gave her hand a little squeeze. “And if you want, I will stand right by your side.”
“Ferris is going to be so upset, and the last thing I want to be is a burden,” she said to Gus, and Tanner was sensing a pattern. A pattern that hit him in the stomach like a fist when his dad said, “I know, honey. I know.”
Because, holy shit! Is that what his dad felt like? A burden?
Sure, they’d had some growing pains being new roommates, and Tanner joked daily about burning his dad’s chair and finding a new home for Wreck, but he’d never really do it. He kind of liked the chair. It reminded Tanner of being a kid sitting in his dad’s lap while they watched the game. And Wreck wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t inhaling Tanner’s underwear and messing in the house. Hell, Tanner was even starting to like eating on the couch.
And okay yeah, he was a little preachy about diet and physical therapy, but only because he wanted his dad to get better—
So he could move out, Tanner thought.
Jesus, he was as bad as Ferris. So what if his dad drove him nuts and gave him shit for his life choices? That’s what dads did. They wanted their kids to grow up and make something of themselves and—Tanner looked at Gus, looked at his hunched shoulders and work-roughened hands, and how old he seemed, and felt his throat tighten.
His dad had swung hammers nearly every day for the past fifty years. And he was tired and lonely—and he wanted more for his son.
He pushed because he cared.
“My dad is right,” Tanner said past the shame in his chest. “The best thing to do is get reinstated as a finalist so we don’t lose any time off the schedule. We’re still on course to get the shop ready in time for the Memory Lane Manor Walk inspection.”
Babs looked shocked, then her face crumbled. “You’re still going to help me?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Why?”
Because today I’m not going to let down another person in my life. Because for all the times it got hard and I should have been there for Abby, this is the time I’m going to follow through.
“Because that’s the job you hired me to do. And because my father raised me to push through to the very end.” He looked at Gus and smiled. “He didn’t raise me to be the idiot I’ve been lately, but he did raise me to be a man of my word. Plus, I think we can win.”
CHAPTER 16
Abby pulled the plastic covering off the barstool and ran her finger along the new leather.
It was perfect. The distressed dark wood of the legs and seat back were the perfect contrast to the rich, buttery seat cushion. They were elegant enough to catch the eye, make a statement, but comfortable enough to order a bottle of wine and a cheese platter and stay awhile. And they looked amazing next to the new steel countertops.
But even that didn’t lighten her mood.
Abby took the envelope Nora had given her and poured the contents out on the counter and tried to figure out why Babs would lie. The only reason she could think of was to set Abby up.
A deep sense of sadness washed over her at the thought. It had taken two hours to come up with a plan and three seconds to realize she was stuck. If she went to the board with her proof, everyone would know Babs had lied. If she didn’t, Abby would forever be Richard’s dishonest wife. And until she had answers to why Babs had lied, Abby didn’t feel comfortable ratting her out.
No one had bothered to ask Abby her side, and she’d had a good reason for waiting to report the missing money. She hadn’t known it was missing. She was so busy trying to figure out what she’d done wrong in her marriage, the last thing she’d thought to do was check the
ir bank account.
“Is this seat taken?”
Abby didn’t have to turn around to see who was behind her. Her body was giving her clear signals of who that sexy voice belonged to.
“I only got one out,” she said, looking at the mile-long bar, which was obviously lacking barstools. “The rest are still in the back room covered in shipping plastic.”
“I don’t mind sharing,” he said and, before she could protest, slid his arms under to effortlessly pick her up and, after stealing her seat, plop her down on his lap.
Her legs dangled off to the side, and he wrapped his arms around her until she rested her cheek against his chest. He was so big, his body practically swallowed hers whole.
She smoothed down the skirt of her dress and he smiled. “Pretty.”
He looked damn good too. Not pretty. Tanner could never look pretty. He was rugged, wearing a day’s worth of stubble, and smelled too much like sawdust and sex to ever be considered pretty. Not that she had any complaints. Not a one. She didn’t want pretty in a man. She wanted Tanner—big, scruffy, and incredibly sweet.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Looking for you.”
Abby had come here to be alone, to think. Now that she was here, she realized she was tired of being alone. She’d spent the past seven years alone and it felt really great to be a part of a “we” again.
“Babs was Nora’s source,” Abby admitted softly. “She lied to the council to—well, I don’t know why, but I have proof the carriage house was a residence and that she,” Abby swallowed, “lied.”
Tanner searched her face and his concern was so genuine she busied herself with the contents of the envelope so she wouldn’t cry.
“I see.” His arms came around her as he moved the photo and news clippings to read them. “And yet you have the proof and not the council?”
She nodded and released a breath. Sinking back against his chest, she stared at the new countertops and decided Tanner had a really comfy chest—reassuring and warm. Just what she needed tonight.
From the Moment We Met Page 24