by Terri Osburn
“Not everybody is with you.” Grady stepped back as Spencer stepped forward.
“Not everyone,” Spencer agreed, “but there are enough of us to make a difference, and that’s all that matters.”
Grady shuffled from side to side, the act of thinking of a comeback clearly straining his limited intelligence. “We’ll stop you,” he said, his voice less confident.
“What exactly are you afraid of, Grady?” Spencer crossed his arms as he leaned a hip against the counter. “Change? Is that it? Anything different than how it’s always been has to be wrong?”
“Like I said, the town is fine the way it is.”
“And like I said, you’re entitled to your opinion, but I don’t agree.”
“Maybe I don’t care if you agree or not.”
“Then we have something in common.”
Confusion crossed Grady’s face, which didn’t surprise Spencer. The man could barely read, let alone carry on a debate.
“Are you here to buy something, Grady, or harass my paying customers?” Buford asked, joining them from behind the counter.
“I pay!” Grady answered.
“Eventually.” Buford stared down the cretin, who fidgeted under the scrutiny.
“I don’t want nothin’ from you, old man. There are other places I can spend my money.”
“Then go bother them.”
With a curled lip, Grady stomped toward the exit and attempted to slam the door behind him. The hydraulics at the top spoiled his plan, but the show was fun to watch.
“Sorry about that,” Buford said.
Spencer waved the words away. “He isn’t worth apologizing for.”
“He isn’t worth listening to either, but he’s right. Not everyone agrees with our ideas.”
“We don’t need everyone to be with us,” Spencer said. “We just need the ones who aren’t to stay out of our way.”
Buford handed over the receipt for Spencer’s order. “You’ve lived here long enough to know that if enough folks get riled up, this expansion plan isn’t going to happen without a fight. Talking change is how I got voted out of office, remember?”
“And we’ve been sliding backward ever since.” Spencer was no politician, but he cared enough about this town to fight for what he felt was right. Some would let it die and go live somewhere else. He wasn’t willing to do that.
“Winkle isn’t too bad,” Buford said with a sigh. “At least he’s joined the Ruby committee. That’s something.”
Spencer’s goals for Ardent Springs went far beyond saving one theater, but Buford was right. Any cooperation from city hall should be seen as a good thing.
“Speaking of, I should have revised prints by the end of the week.” Spencer stuck the receipt under his clipboard latch. “I’ll bring them by before the next meeting to see what you think.”
“Sounds good.”
With a tip of his hat, Spencer took his leave, but before he reached the door, Buford said, “I see Lorelei Pratchett is back in town.”
“Yeah, she is,” Spencer said, not sure if the man had a reason for bringing up his ex. “What about her?”
“Memories are long around here,” the store owner said. “At the risk of stepping into your business, I hope you don’t plan on getting involved with that again.”
Stallings made Lorelei sound like a disease instead of a person. The need to stay on good terms was the only thing that kept Spencer from telling the man where he could shove his advice.
“Don’t worry, Buford. I don’t intend to let history repeat itself.”
No. Things between him and Lorelei would end very differently this time.
Lorelei sat behind the wheel of the old car she once called Beluga, in deference to its size, of course, staring at the front of Tilly’s Diner, feeling as if she’d faced a firing squad and lived to tell the tale. Barely.
She hadn’t even gotten as far as filling out an application. As soon as she’d asked for one, Jeanne stated in no uncertain terms that Tilly’s wasn’t hiring. Odd considering the Help Wanted sign hanging in the front window. The waitress reaffirmed what Lorelei had told Spencer only two days before—that memories in Ardent Springs did not fade.
Which meant Lorelei was likely to get the same response from the other three food establishments in town. The pizzeria offered carryout or delivery only, so maybe they’d make an exception. She could take orders over the phone and no one had to know who they were talking to.
Oh, who was she trying to kid? By the end of her first shift, the entire town would know that Lorelei Pratchett was working the phones at Main Street Pizzeria, and business would dry up like burnt pepperoni.
Running her hands over her face, she tried to think of anyone in town who wouldn’t have a grudge against her. Then she remembered the newcomer. The Snow person with a shop on the corner of . . . what was it Granny had said? Dammit, she couldn’t remember.
Granny was at Pearl’s for Monday morning bridge, and the ladies did not tolerate interruptions. That meant no calls for tiny details like the location of Snow’s store. Spencer would tell her, but Lorelei didn’t know where he was, and besides, she didn’t have a phone or his phone number. So now what?
She could go back inside the diner and ask, but with her luck, Jeanne would call Snow and warn her that the scourge of Ardent Springs was coming her way. As Lorelei continued to debate her next move, feeling like an idiot sitting in a hot car not knowing what to do, she spotted Becky Winkle walking down the sidewalk from her right. When Becky turned her way, Lorelei leaned over the armrest out of view. Or so she hoped.
Then she realized what she was doing and sat back up. What was wrong with her? Bitchy Becky was not going to intimidate Lorelei into hiding.
Grow a backbone already, she mentally scolded.
But the ducking seemed to have worked, as Becky continued down the sidewalk like a woman on a mission. She crossed at the intersection and stepped into the store on the next corner. Lorelei looked up to see the sign over the door.
Snow’s Curiosity Shop.
“Ask and ye shall receive,” Lorelei said, rolling her eyes heavenward.
Now what? Did she wait Becky out and continue to melt in her metal box of a car, hoping her nemesis would exit the shop quickly? Or did she grow a set of ovaries and march inside with her head held high? As a bead of sweat rolled between her boobs, Lorelei knew what she had to do—get inside that store and hide behind something big until Becky left.
She considered the decision a compromise. Spencer suggested she not be mean to people, but Lorelei wouldn’t be nice to Becky either. So she’d avoid her. Problem solved.
Hustling down the sidewalk hoping she looked intent on her journey and not like a soldier hopping from foxhole to foxhole, Lorelei reached the store, gave a quick glance through the glass door to make sure the coast was clear, then stepped inside and took cover behind an old curio cabinet.
The shop was dimly lit, or so she thought, until her eyes adjusted. The place appeared chaotic and organized at the same time. Lorelei spun to find a row of jewelry-covered shelves running the length of a wall. Her love for anything that sparkled took over. A necklace that looked like a tiny version of the construction paper chains she was forced to make in elementary school caught her eye first.
The chain was a muted copper color interrupted on one side by a beautiful mauve rose on a bed of leaves. The detail work was perfection, and Lorelei appreciated the craftsmanship that went into the piece. She’d roomed with a woman once in LA who made intricate pieces like this, so she knew the time and love that went into something so unique.
Flipping the little tag around to see the price, Lorelei bit her bottom lip. Though more than fair, it was well beyond anything she could afford. Then she wondered if Snow offered an employee discount. The downside would be that any money Lorelei made would end up right back in Snow’s coffers. But on the upside, she’d own some to-die-for jewelry. Sliding her fingers lovingly over a string of gray pearls,
Lorelei stepped to the left and her heart stopped.
Sitting on a cloud of black velvet was the most mouthwateringly gorgeous thing she’d ever seen in her life.
A perfectly round diamond rested at the center surrounded by star points of rubies. Around those were half circles of tiny diamonds that made the whole piece look like a glittering flower with petals made out of ice. Lorelei’s hand shook as she reached for the delicate bauble, praying it would fit, while at the same time hoping that it wouldn’t.
“I doubt you can afford it,” said a voice from her left, startling Lorelei into jerking her hand back like a child caught stealing candy. Turning toward the intruder, she saw Becky’s smirk, satisfaction gleaming in her cold blue eyes. “The knockoff purse isn’t fooling anyone, honey.”
“I’m not your honey,” Lorelei said, hugging the imitation Coach bag tight against her side. “And I was just looking.” Not the greatest of comebacks, but Becky had caught her off guard. “Last time I checked, that wasn’t a crime.”
“Those shoes are the only crime going on in here.” Becky lifted her nose an inch higher, making Lorelei want to punch her in it. What the hell was wrong with gladiator sandals?
“I would prefer you not harass and insult my customers,” said the store owner, popping up out of nowhere behind Becky. Were these women ninjas or something? She hadn’t heard either of them approach.
“I’m your customer, too,” Becky said, as if this gave her permission to carry on insulting Lorelei all she wanted.
“And if this nice lady was insulting you, I would intervene on your behalf.”
Lorelei assessed the woman taking up her defense. Thin, dark brows rode high over eyes the color of cognac, daring Becky to keep the confrontation going. She didn’t know if the store owner would go so far as to throw the tacky dresser out to protect a complete stranger.
Becky snorted. “You’re new around here, Snow, so let me give you a tip. No one in this town would describe Lorelei Pratchett as a nice lady.”
“As far as I can see, she hasn’t attacked anyone, unprovoked, as you have.” The proprietor kept her patient, customer-service tone as she added, “And if she wasn’t nice, she’d have told you by now that your entire outfit deserves a felony charge.”
In that moment, Lorelei decided she wanted to be Snow when she grew up. Becky’s mouth gaped and her eyes darted from her floral-pattern capris and mustard-yellow blouse to the two women standing before her.
“How dare you insult me?” she asked.
Snow didn’t seem fazed by Becky’s question. In fact, she ignored it, asking one of her own instead. “Did you come in to buy that Wagner waffle iron you’ve now visited four times?”
Becky huffed as she stomped her foot. The woman actually stomped her foot. Who did that?
“I wouldn’t buy a thing from you, Snow Cameron. And don’t think I won’t tell my friends about this. You won’t be seeing any of us in here ever again.”
As the petulant child made her exit, leaving the heavy scent of bad perfume in her wake, Snow mumbled, “Thank God.”
In shock from the entire encounter, Lorelei hesitated before speaking. When she did, she said, “You’re my hero.”
A husky laugh escaped full red lips. The woman smiled, but Lorelei was too busy wondering what brand of lipstick she was wearing to smile back.
“Do I have something on my face?” Snow touched her cheek as she spoke.
“Oh, no.” Lorelei shook her head. “I’m sorry. That lipstick is the perfect shade of red. I was wondering where you’d gotten it.”
“Believe it or not, it’s called Red Lizard. I bought it last year in a store far away from here.” The smile returned. “I’m Snow Cameron. I’ve heard a lot about you, Lorelei.”
Great. They’d already gotten to her. “I hope you’ll give me a chance to refute anything you’ve heard.”
“No worries,” she said. “Miss Jessup cleared up most of it.”
Bless Pearl’s biased little heart.
“Only most of it, huh?” Lorelei grinned, hoping to charm the newcomer into offering her a job. “The rest is probably true. I appreciate you chasing Becky off like that, but I feel bad if that’s going to cause you to lose business.”
Snow shook her head. “Her set comes in and looks around, but they never buy anything. Becky has done it so many times, I’ve taken to following her around to make sure she isn’t sticking things in that ugly purse of hers. You never can tell with some people.”
Lorelei liked this woman more and more by the second.
“Were you looking for something in particular today?”
“Uh . . .” Lorelei hesitated. The store wasn’t overrun with customers, which meant it was unlikely Snow was hiring. But she had to try. “As much as I’d love to buy several pieces of this jewelry,” she said, gesturing toward the shelf beside them, “I’m actually looking for a job.”
“Oh.” Snow’s smile slipped. “I haven’t thought about hiring anyone. I’m open six days a week, closing at five for the most part, so I can handle the hours by myself.”
“That’s fair,” Lorelei said. She’d known this was a long shot.
“The Main Street Festival is coming up at the end of the month. I could use some help then.”
Five days’ worth of work at the end of the month. Not what she needed, and she couldn’t turn down work elsewhere to be available for that one week, but it was something.
“I’d appreciate the chance.” Something compelled Lorelei to be totally honest. “You should know that some people in town don’t see me in the positive light Miss Jessup does. In fact, a lot of them have reasons not to think much of me. Seems only fair you know that before giving me a job. I’m serious when I say I don’t want to cost you any business.”
With narrowed eyes, Snow studied Lorelei. She looked to be weighing the pros and cons of the situation. If the scale came down on the side of the cons, Lorelei wouldn’t blame her one bit.
“I appreciate your honesty,” Snow said with a nod. “If you’re available during the festival, the spot is yours. But in the meantime, if you have something I can sell, bring it in.”
Lorelei blinked. “To sell?” Could she part with a few of her meager belongings?
“Sure,” the woman answered. “Do you make anything? Jewelry, hats, crafts of any kind?”
She’d been called crafty more than once, but not the way Snow meant. “Afraid not. I used to sew back when I was in high school, but I haven’t threaded a needle in a dozen years.”
“Then maybe it’s time to get back to it,” Snow said as the bell over the door jingled. “Got a customer. Feel free to look around. Maybe you’ll get an idea of something you could make. Fill a void, as it were.” Without waiting for a response, the owner was off to help the newcomer.
Lorelei took the offer to wander around the store, racking her brain to think of anything she could make that Snow could turn into money. She’d dabbled in making a skirt or two in home ec, but she’d never been very good at it. Watching someone else make jewelry didn’t mean she had the skill for it either, but then there was no lack of pretty baubles in this establishment.
The more she pondered, the more Lorelei realized the mistake she’d made chasing a worthless dream for so long. Her twenties were the decade she was supposed to find herself. To get good at something.
Lorelei had gotten good at one thing—slinging plates. And if anything, she’d lost herself instead of the other way around. This might as well have been her first day out of high school, and she had about as many answers as the clueless eighteen-year-old she’d been back then.
Maybe the pizzeria was still an option.
Chapter 7
Spencer pulled his truck up to the garage door, relieved the day was over. Between his run-in with Grady, faulty measurements on the Leeds house, and the missed delivery of semigloss varnish at the workshop, the afternoon had sucked. But it was nothing a cold beer and a happy dog couldn’t cure.
; Though some quiet time with Lorelei would be even better.
Imagining an evening with Lorelei tucked against his side put a smile on Spencer’s face as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. He expected Champ to rush through the door, but when he pushed it open there was nothing but silence to greet him. That was strange. If Rosie had let the dog out early, Spencer would have been rushed by seventy-five pounds of black Lab as soon as he stepped out of the truck.
Concerned and confused, Spencer traveled back down the stairs and headed for the house. Halfway across the yard he spotted Lorelei sitting on the porch swing. She met his eye as he reached the top step.
“I think you’ve been thrown over for a pretty girl,” she said, gesturing toward the black Lab leaning against her knee. She was scratching behind his ear, and the dog looked to be in ecstasy. Spencer tamped down the punch of jealousy.
“I don’t blame him,” he said, ambling down the porch. “I’d fall at your feet, too, if rubbed the right way.”
Lorelei gave him a stern look. “Don’t start the flirting already. I’m in a weakened state and don’t know that I can fend you off.”
That sounded positive to him, but her eyes told him she wasn’t kidding. Looked like her day wasn’t much better than his had been.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked.
Lorelei chewed her bottom lip, her eyes focused somewhere near her orange-tipped toes. “I tried to get a job at the diner,” she said, her voice so quiet he had to strain to hear her.
He could see how well that went by the look on her face, but he asked anyway. “No luck?”
A heavy sigh served as her answer.
“Did you try anyplace else?” he asked as he settled onto the swing beside her.
“I considered the other restaurants in town, since waiting tables is my only marketable skill, but doubted I’d have better luck.” Running a hand through her hair, Lorelei sat back. “Then I tried that Snow’s Curiosity Shop, thinking maybe someone who doesn’t know my history would give me a chance.”
Seemed like a good idea. One he should have thought of for her. “No luck there either?”