“If I had a dollar for every time I heard that.” Maxine straightened the scarf around her neck.
“Ladies, if we don’t get good news today, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out,” Loretta said. “A year’s worth of attorney fees is really hurting us. My Milton retired last year, and he’s begging me to take the deal and enjoy our golden years together. Buy that RV and travel. See the grandkids whenever we want instead of being tied to the diner.”
“This is crazy talk,” Maxine said. “We must keep plodding on. My Millie will be crushed if she loses her theater. Not to mention Katie here.” Maxine patted my hand. “Of course she’ll be going to New York soon to make a name for herself and getting so famous she becomes snooty and uppity and too good to talk to us and gets one of those passies like Beyonce.”
“Posse,” I said.
Maxine snorted. “Well, I can see the uppity’s already hit. Dana Lou, what about you? You’re hanging in there, right?”
Dana Lou considered her answer for the duration of the country song quietly seeping from Loretta’s speakers. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “The legal fees are starting to scare me. I lay awake so many nights.” Loretta nodded her black head in agreement. “I just worry about winning the case, but losing everything I have over the cost of the fight. And like you said, Loretta, maybe it’s time to retire.”
“You’re fifty-five,” Maxine said. “You’re young, like me. That’s too soon to hit the rocking chair.”
“I don’t want a rocking chair,” Dana Lou said. “But do you know because of my bakery, Max and I have only had two vacations our whole married life? And one of those was to go pick up new cash registers in Dallas. I could sleep in on a Saturday morning.”
“Not get coiled as a rattle snake every quarter when it’s time to pay taxes,” Loretta added.
“Oh, yeah,” Betty said dreamily. “Not worry about how we’re gonna pay for health insurance for employees or who’s gonna cover when someone doesn’t show up.”
“Now, stop it,” Maxine said. “There are wonderful reasons to fight this and keep your businesses. In Between needs you.”
“There are reasons,” Loretta said. “But they’re getting dimmer by the day.”
“But if you guys sell out, then that will just leave us,” I said. I was on a derailing roller coaster, my stomach turning over and over with nothing to hold on to and control slipping away. We couldn’t do battle Thrifty Co. alone.
“No matter what happens, we’ve fought the good fight.” Loretta flicked on her blinker then turned to the street leading to the county courthouse. “It’s in God’s hands. We just have to trust that we’ve done all we can do.” She whipped the van into a parking spot, and everyone unbuckled like we were reporting to the front lines of combat.
“Why don’t we say a little prayer?” Dana Lou suggested.
So right there in Loretta’s Chevy minivan, with the air conditioning blasting full speed and George Strait crooning about Amarillo, Loretta prayed.
“ . . . and give us the grace to know when to let go and the wisdom to accept the right choice. Amen.”
I nodded. “Amen.”
“Amen,” said Betty.
“Ladies”—Maxine undid the top two buttons on her blouse, revealing cleavage and a cross—“Lock and load.”
*
Like a deer looking up seconds before the trigger was pulled, I felt Charlie’s gaze on me before I spotted him in the room. Surely one day that sensory awareness of his presence would fade.
We filed into the courthouse, only to be directed to a room three doors down from the courtroom. The building had been erected sometime in the early 1900s, and it appeared as if this room had seen few renovations since. Faded wood paneling lined the walls, and the little circle tiles beneath our feet were in sad need of grout.
Our new attorney David Stephens greeted us, and our group surrounded him like a football team in need of the coach’s pep talk.
“Good day to you all,” Stephens said. He wasn’t already sweating, cursing, or consulting some college textbook, so he was already better than the previous lawyer. He again walked us through what to expect, his voice kind and reassuring. I hoped we were more than just dollar signs and free burgers at the diner.
“Please come in.” Judge Hollister, foregoing the robe for khakis and a polo, gestured to three mahogany tables forming a u-shape. “Do sit down.”
Charlie intercepted me as I walked toward our table. “Katie.” He seemed to struggle with what to say. I kind of struggled not to bloody his nose.
Seeing him and getting that fresh reminder that he worked for Thrifty Co. was like holding a can of AquaNet to the flames of my ire. The enemy employed Charlie. And Charlie had chosen his company over me.
“No matter what happens today, I want you to know I’m sorry. For whatever the rest of this process brings. . .I’m sorry.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak.
So I simply looked away.
“Let’s all take a seat, shall we?” The judge gestured to the metal chairs that looked like they’d just been dragged off the lawn of the county fair—the silver, fold-up variety used for events when you weren’t really trying to impress. Like now. “I’d like to introduce the three gentlemen on the special commission.” He fired off their names, and two of the men gave polite smiles, while the third couldn’t seem to make eye contact. “Now per the state law, these three have no dog in this fight, but do own land in the county. They’ve reviewed the case, reviewed the offers, and they are ready to present their decision. Their decision is legal and binding, but of course, you can appeal.” He spoke to our table of In Betweenites. “If you do appeal, this goes to a jury trial.”
Beside me Betty groaned and Loretta just shook her head. While the judge continued to talk, Charlie and his boss consulted with their legal team. Our lawyer seemed to have his wits and then some, but he wasn’t a team. Thrifty Co. came with a group of attorneys in dark suits that reminded me of the mafia. Everything about them was fancy, from their tailored attire to their polished leather shoes. They spoke in hushed tones and occasionally stole glances our way. If they were trying to intimidate, they were doing a fabulous job.
“I’ll just get out of the way and let the special commissioners get to the business at hand.” The judge threw up his hand in a kind wave, then walked out the door.
Maxine stared toward the door, her face scrunched into a frown. “He didn’t even look my way.”
“You’re thirty years older than him,” I whispered.
She looked at her chest. “Not all of me is.”
The man introduced as Mr. Spellman stood up. “Thank you for coming. We know this is a difficult situation, and we don’t want to drag this out any more than it already has been. We have spent many hours studying the documentation, and we feel confident we have made the best decision for your town.”
Maxine reached beneath the table and slipped her hand into mine.
“We believe the town of In Between has proven the addition of Thrifty Co. on the requested property will benefit your community economically and progressively and find in their favor.”
Our table exploded into gasps and protests, and the man paused to let the shock settle in. We were going to court. It was the last thing I wanted. And I didn’t even know if the other businesses would continue in the lawsuit.
“We understand the first offers for buyouts were declined,” said Mr. Spellman. “Citizens of In Between, do you still stand by that decision?”
“Yes,” I said. “We do not accept their offer.”
“Thrifty Co., do you have anything to add?”
Charlie’s boss Mr. McKeever stood and addressed our table. He wore a fitted pin-stripe suit, a smile meant to calm, and teeth too white and straight to be real. “We’d like to submit a final offer to you folks.”
“We’re not interested,” I said.
Loretta planted her elbows on the table and leaned in. “What kind
of offer?”
McKeever lifted his chin in a curt nod, and Charlie stood.
“I’d be glad to explain that.” Charlie smoothed his tie and approached our table. It hurt to look at him. “We have a settlement we think will be much more to your liking.” Charlie handed each member a manila folder, and when he got to me, our eyes met . . . locked . . . held.
How could you do this? I wanted to ask. My heart was somewhere on the floor, and he and his cronies were walking all over it.
“Oh, my,” said Mrs. Gleason.
Beside her Mr. Henry gave a low whistle.
With a shaking hand, I opened the folder. And saw enough zeroes to know it was over.
“Your property and businesses mean a lot to you,” Charlie said. “And we realized our initial two offerings didn’t honor that. We consider this our first investment in the community we’re excited to be a part of.”
I knew Charlie had somehow gotten us more money. He’d said he was trying to help, and this was obviously the end-product of all those late hours he’d put in.
It was the last thing I wanted.
“My clients will need to discuss this,” our attorney said. “And I’ll need time to thoroughly study the new proposal.”
“You have ten days,” Charlie said. “Then we’ll need to know an answer.”
“But please keep in mind your alternative,” Mr. McKeever said. “A trial is a lengthy and costly experience. We employ over a hundred people on our legal team. They’re some of the best minds in the nation.”
“You need to ask yourselves if you’re prepared to pay for legal counsel another six months,” Charlie said. “Or even two or three years.”
McKeever put his easy going grin back on. “But spend some time with those numbers. Could it change your life? Could it make all your money worries disappear? Please give it some thought.” And then he went in for the kill. “We truly want you to be happy. In Between will be our home. And we want you to be a part of our success. We hope you find our check generous. Because we care about this town. And we care about you.”
“You care about your bottom line. We’re just a check to you. A drop in the bucket compared to what you’ll make over the lifetime of your store.” I stood to my feet, my heart thudding so loud, I could hardly hear my own voice. “You care about us? What about my theater? It’s an Art Deco architectural work of art that’s irreplaceable. Can you bring plays to this town? A beautiful location for entertainers or guest speakers?” My words caught in my throat. “Can you change lives like that place changed me?”
“Katie—”
“No, Charlie.” I held out my hand to hold off his advance. “How can you take that from me? You can’t find any other property in this entire town to build on? It’s that important to you? Years ago my parents restored that building from the shell that it was as a beacon to their lost daughter Amy. Then it found me instead. And saved me.” Tears slid down my cheeks like rivulets of rain. “Don’t take it. I’m begging you, don’t take my theater.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Parker Scott,” said Mr. McKeever. “I think you’ll find our offer to be incredibly generous. Your parents will have enough money to rebuild, most likely even retire.”
“You don’t get it.” I hated them. I hated this company and everything they stood for, every treacly word coming from their truth-spinning lips. “I hope one day someone puts a price on something you love.” I locked my cold eyes on Charlie. “And I hope you watch it ripped from your hands, your life. Then you tell me how much that precious check really means.” I picked up the financial offer, lifted it high.
And ripped it to shreds.
I watched it fall to the floor like confetti from the devil’s hands.
As I charged out the room and out into the sunlight, I knew there would be no chance at an appeal. There would be no trial.
My Valiant was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“I have my dress,” Frances announced the next Friday night at her rehearsal.
We gathered in the sanctuary, waiting for all the family and wedding party to show up. So far we were still lacking a groom and his brother.
I tried to keep my eyes off the door. “The one from Dallas?”
“No, I’m wearing my mother’s dress.”
“The giant, eighties poufy thing you hated?”
“No, my mom’s cheongsam. It’s a traditional Chinese dress she wore right after her ceremony. Her grandmother bought it for her and had it shipped to the United States.”
“I think that’s perfect.”
“It’s red. It’s going to clash horribly with your dress.”
I smiled at my friend. “Nobody’s going to be looking at me.”
“My mom broke out her old sewing machine, and we let out a few seams and secured some buttons. I’d fought it, but when I tried it on, it was just . . . right. It was that feeling I’d been looking for. None of the others made me feel like a bride.”
“Sounds like everything is in place.”
She took a few deep breaths, as if the air around her bridal head was too thin. “We’re going to try and wrap up tonight early. I still have so much to do, and you really look like you could use the sleep.”
Translation: You look terrible enough to scare small children, and I only want happy tears at this wedding.
The doors to the sanctuary opened, and in walked a smiling Joey and Charlie, who looked like someone had just run over his dog.
Good. I hoped he felt as miserable as I did. I hoped it haunted him for the rest of his excessively handsome life. I hadn’t seen or talked to Charlie in a week. One long week of anger and what-ifs.
Joey made quick work of greeting his future in-laws, high-fiving and fist-bumping with each of Frances’s siblings and hugging her mom. He stuck out his arm to shake hands with Mr. Vega, but Frances’s dad was having none of that. Joey was pulled into a bear hug so intense, his eyes went round.
“Hello, Katie.” Charlie stood near enough that his arm brushed my shoulder.
A hundred things I wanted to say flashed through my mind like a slideshow on high speed. But I settled for one snippy word. “Hi.”
“I’m sorry about the settlement.”
The words were like a stinging slap to my face. “Right.” I left him standing there, deciding I’d rather talk to Frances’s brother.
The rehearsal lasted an hour, one agonizing hour in which I had to stand ten feet away from Charlie, as his brother and my best friend pretended to exchange their vows. Finally the associate-pastor said, “It is good,” and set us free to move onto the final phase of the evening, the rehearsal dinner.
My twisted, knotted stomach said I couldn’t eat a thing, but I would go and put on a good face for an hour, then excuse myself and return to Maxine’s. My grandmother and I had graduated from Golden Girls and progressed to a series about a gang of Harley riders who liked to beat people up. Maxine said I could learn a few things from that show.
Giuseppie’s was an old post office converted into an Italian bistro five miles out of town. They served homemade pasta, butter-dripping bread, and the waiters occasionally crooned at your table. Frances’s father had wanted Mexican food, her mother Chinese, so of course, Frances chose another country entirely.
Frances’s father wouldn’t hear of my driving to the restaurant alone and wasn’t satisfied until I was buckled into the back of Joey’s SUV, Frances beside me and Charlie riding up front. It was a painful sojourn in which Frances and Charlie did all the talking, and I sat there as quietly as Joey.
We arrived at the restaurant, and Charlie opened my door.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“Katie, wait.” He latched onto my elbow and gave a pointed look to the happy couple. “A moment, please.” Between the resolve on his face and the pressure on my arm, I knew saying no was not an option.
Frances and Joey walked into the restaurant hand-in-hand, lost in blissful, kissy wedding talk. Oblivious to my plight.
“I get that you hate me, but do not bring it in to that restaurant. This is their night, and we’re not going to be a distraction.”
“Distraction.” The man needed a dictionary. “Is that what you call your company devouring part of my town? Is that what this has been for you?”
“You know that’s not how I—”
“Spare me.”
His hand slid down shoulder, like it had a million times before. “No matter what’s between us, I do not want to see you lose your theater.”
The nerve! “You want me to calmly get through tonight? Then don’t speak to me, don’t touch me, don’t—”
“Well, hello there.”
Dread soured my stomach as I placed that voice.
It could only be Ian—standing behind me.
God, give me the strength to get through this day without maiming another human being.
I turned around to face my ex-boyfriend. “Hi.” My voice was as welcoming as a swarm of yellow jackets.
Ian studied the scene, that analytical brain no doubt in overdrive. The hostility between Charlie and me had to be as heavy as Loretta’s cast-iron skillet.
“So. . .tough few weeks, huh?” Ian’s smile was surprisingly melancholy. “Sweetheart, I really fell for your little theater. I wanted it to make it. Really.”
“Do not call her sweetheart.” Charlie curled an arm around me, ever the attentive fake fiancé.
“I know you wanted it to work out, Ian.” Unlike Charlie, who apparently couldn’t care less if the Valiant fell to ruin. “Thank you for helping us. It was. . .strange to have you here. But we couldn’t have gotten as far as we did without you.” I slipped from Charlie’s embrace and leaned into Ian, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”
“When are you leaving?”
At Charlie’s rude question, I blasted him with one of Maxine’s evil eyes, using way more eyebrow than necessary.
Ian just smiled. “I’m headed out early tomorrow. Thought I’d have one last dinner with the locals, and someone said this was the place to be. And you’re here celebrating. . . or drowning your sorrows?”
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