by Terri Osburn
The question sounded more like an accusation, lined with displeasure and a hefty dose of venom.
“I work here,” Lorelei answered. “What are you doing here?”
Becky’s mouth flattened as she spoke through a clenched jaw. “I brought something for Mike,” she said, holding up a white bag. “Where is he?”
Lorelei knew exactly where Mike was, since he’d made sure she had his full schedule reflecting where he intended to be throughout the day. But she wasn’t going to share the information.
“He’s working,” she said in way of answer, which wasn’t an answer at all. What did Becky have to do with Mike Lowry? And why would she bring him something? Then Lorelei noticed the extra button undone on the blouse and the fresh lipstick. She couldn’t really be after . . . no way, Lorelei thought. That was gross. The man was old enough to be her father.
“I realize that he’s working,” Becky snapped. “I want to know where he’s working.”
“I don’t have permission to share that information,” Lorelei said, using what she hoped was her professional assistant voice. “If you’d like to leave him a message, I’ll pass it along.”
Right into the trash.
Becky crossed her arms, nearly smashing whatever was in the white bag. “I assure you Mike would want you to tell me where he is.”
If that were true, Lorelei would lose total respect for her new employer.
She reached for the pink message pad on her desk. “Sorry, but until I hear that from him, you’ll have to settle for leaving a message.”
The bimbo stomped her foot. “This is ridiculous,” Becky said, smacking the message pad from Lorelei’s hand. “I demand you tell me where he is.”
If Lorelei hadn’t been so startled, she might have heard the back door open again. But anger made her deaf to the new visitor as she ripped into her current opponent. “You have exactly three seconds to pick up that notepad, place it back in my hand, and get out of this building before I rip your face off.”
“Looks like I’ve arrived in time for a show,” Spencer said. Becky jumped at the sound of his voice, but Lorelei didn’t take her eyes off her adversary.
“Your time is running out,” she growled.
“You won’t touch me,” Becky said, but the quiver in her voice revealed her doubts. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Lorelei took a step forward, but Spencer stepped in front of her. “She isn’t worth it, Lor.”
“She crossed a line, Spencer. Get out of my way.”
“You always did need a keeper,” Becky quipped, drawing Spencer’s attention.
“Get out before I let her have you,” he said.
Becky ignored the order. “I wonder why she won’t tell me where Mike is. Maybe she wants to keep him for herself.”
Lorelei rolled her eyes. That one wasn’t even worth a response.
“Leave,” Spencer said. “Now.”
Becky gave one last hateful look before prancing toward the exit. Her perfume was still hanging in the air when Spencer said, “What was that all about?”
“You heard her,” she said, dropping into her chair. “I won’t tell her where Mike is.”
“Why not?” he asked. Surely he didn’t think . . .
“Because if he wanted Becky Winkle to know where he was, he’d make sure she had a way to reach him. I’m here to relay business messages, not personal ones.” Snatching the memo pad off the floor, she asked, “Anything else you want to know?”
“Nope,” he said, pulling over a desk chair and sitting down. “Except if you’re hungry?”
In her anger, she’d missed the bag in his hand. “Starving. What do you have?”
Spencer pulled two BLTs from the satchel. “Lunch.”
She should have known he’d come through. “That reminds me,” she said. “Give me your number.”
The sandwich stopped in midair. “Why? Do you want to call and breathe heavy in my ear? Or maybe send naughty text messages?” He stuffed the sandwich in his face, then wiggled his brows in her direction.
“You need help,” she said, holding the sandwich over a napkin as she pushed a wayward tomato back in. “Twice now I’ve needed to call you for something and didn’t have your number. And I don’t have a cell phone, so there will be no texts, naughty or otherwise.”
“That’s the other thing.” Leaning to one side, he pulled a cell phone from his back pocket and tossed it on the desk beside her napkin. “Rosie asked me to give you this.”
Lorelei stared at the phone as if it might grow legs and crawl away. “Where did that come from?”
“I told you,” Spencer said, wiping a dot of mayo from the corner of his mouth. “Your grandmother.”
“But I didn’t ask for a phone.” And she couldn’t afford to pay for it. Lorelei had no intention of mooching off her grandmother any more than she had to. She couldn’t afford to pay rent, or even contribute much in the way of groceries right now. The only reason she could make her first delivery to Snow was because the ingredients were already in Granny’s pantry. Anything that went beyond “need to live” was something she’d have to do without.
“I’m nothing more than the delivery guy on this one.”
She was torn. Having a phone would give her a modicum of independence. Turning the device over, she pressed the button on the bottom and the screen lit up. The background was a picture of Spencer and Champ.
Delivery guy, my tuckus.
“I suppose all new phones come with this picture?”
He leaned forward to look at the screen as she held it up. “I wouldn’t be surprised. That’s a good-looking pair right there.”
Lorelei shook her head. “What else did you put in here?”
“My number, Rosie’s number, the number to Snow’s store, the number here, and, of course, the house phone. That should get you started.”
Get her started? That was everyone she’d have any reason to call. She touched the contacts icon, and as he’d promised, all of the mentioned numbers popped up. Next to Spencer’s name was a picture of his smiling face, a selfie from the looks of it, with a gold star in the corner.
“What’s the star for?”
“Hm?” he mumbled.
She shoved the phone in front of his nose. “There,” she said, pointing to the little star. “What’s that for?”
“Oh.” Spencer took his time wiping his mouth and hands. “That means I’m one of your favorites.”
Lorelei struggled not to laugh. “Assuming a lot there, aren’t you?”
He flashed a hurt expression. “Are you saying I’m not one of your favorites?”
“If you mean favorite pain in my butt, you’re certainly at the top of that list.”
“Number one. I’ll take it.”
She did laugh then. The man was incorrigible. And if Lorelei wasn’t careful, all of her best intentions where Spencer was concerned would go right out the window. Along with her panties. And maybe her heart.
Chapter 11
Spencer hadn’t bothered to tell Lorelei that he’d stopped by Snow’s place to see how the cookies were selling. Thanks to a plate of samples that Snow said she couldn’t keep filled, the little treats were selling at a steady stream. It had been early in the day though. Once word spread, she’d likely sell out.
Which was good. He wanted to see Lorelei succeed. He also wanted her to find something of her own that would keep her in town. She’d reminded him more than once that she wasn’t back in Ardent Springs to stay, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t change her mind for the right reason.
“Hi there,” said a voice from behind him as he waited for his gas tank to fill. Spinning around, he was greeted by the half-smiling face of his ex-wife.
“Carrie,” he said, ignoring the punch of heat in his gut that always surfaced with these run-ins. “Um . . . How are you?”
“I’m good, Spencer. How are you?”
She looked good. Still thin. Her hair a little shorter. Darker. The blue eyes, a
lighter shade than Lorelei’s, were still sad.
“I’m good, too,” he answered.
Silence fell between them, as it had six years ago when they’d both lost so much.
Carrie’s eyes dropped to the ground, then off to the distance. “I heard Lorelei is back.”
Of course she had. Lorelei had been home for more than a week. Plenty of time for the news to run from one end of the county to the other. “Yes, she is.”
“And you’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”
You had to love the local gossip. No detail left out. And likely a few added to enhance the truth.
“How is Patch?” Spencer asked, reminding Carrie that she had another man’s ring on her finger now. A man she’d slept with long before removing the ring Spencer had given her. All of which meant who he spent time with was none of her concern anymore.
His ex-wife crossed her arms tight across her chest as if trying to hold herself together. “He’s okay. Found some work over in Gallatin. The drive isn’t great, but the pay is good.”
“Things are looking up then.” Patch wasn’t Spencer’s favorite person, for obvious reasons, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t wish them well. A loud click sounded, signifying the truck’s tank was full. As he slipped the nozzle back into the pump, he said, “It was nice seeing you,” and reached for his door handle.
“I’m pregnant,” Carrie said, jolting him to a halt.
Spencer turned slowly, his eyes landing on watery blue ones. Her bottom lip was quivering, and she’d somehow folded further into herself.
“Only a couple months along,” she said, her voice cracking on every other word. “I wanted you to hear it from me.”
He nodded, acknowledging the exchange of information, but his brain didn’t seem capable of forming a verbal reply. What was he supposed to say? That he was happy for her? That he hoped this one would make it? That this conversation was easy and he never thought about the child they’d made, who never got the chance to take his first breath?
Opening his door, Spencer said, “I hope everything works out for you.” It was the best he could do. And it was the truth. He’d never wish for Carrie to go through a repeat of what had happened to them. Spencer wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy.
His door was nearly shut when Carrie surprised him by putting herself in the way. “I want you to know that this baby isn’t a replacement for ours. Jeremy will always be my firstborn. No matter what.” The words spewed out of her as if she needed to say them as much as she needed to breathe.
Her eyes told him the words were sincere. No matter how ugly their ending had been, he and this woman had once made something beautiful.
“Thank you,” he said, brushing a knuckle along her cheek. “I really do hope this time turns out better.”
A tear rolled down her cheek as she nodded and backed away. Spencer pulled out of the gas station with dry eyes and a heavy heart. The past couldn’t be changed. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be forgotten either.
By the time four thirty came around, Lorelei was ready to crawl out of her skin. Not for lack of duties, as she’d spent the day organizing Mike’s filing system, which could best be described as willy-nilly. From what she could tell, the system made perfect sense to its creator, but she doubted anyone else would comprehend his methods. Materials were filed together by vendor instead of job, which made billing nearly impossible to keep straight. Though he seemed to have created some sort of batching coordinates, they made as much sense to Lorelei as filing the concrete vendor under “Heavy Equipment.”
Meaning no sense at all.
But while her brain tried to focus on back-ordered rebar and lumber inventory, all Lorelei could think about was how her treats were selling at Snow’s. Which was why she practically ran into the store at five minutes to five. Unfortunately, Snow was waiting on a customer at the counter, requiring Lorelei to act casual until the transaction ended and the patron took her leave. Casual wasn’t easy when she spotted three empty plates on a table near the entrance. Behind them was a sign that read Sold Out—New Stock Coming Wednesday.
Did the sign apply to her stuff? Crumb-covered plates had to mean yes. Unless selling dirty plates was a new trend she’d not caught in the latest Martha Stewart magazine. Not that Lorelei read Martha Stewart.
As Snow handed the customer her bag full of goodies, another patron walked through the front door. Jebediah didn’t see Lorelei standing near the jewelry as he stormed toward the counter like a man on a mission.
“I understand you’ve branched out to selling food goods, Ms. Cameron. Is this true?” Jebediah asked upon reaching the counter.
He didn’t even offer so much as a howdy-do in greeting. What a blowhard.
“You’ve heard correctly, Mayor Winkle,” Snow answered, unruffled by the man’s arrogance and lack of charm. “I’d let you taste a sample, but the goodies were gone before two o’clock.”
Lorelei did a mental happy dance at the news.
“Where did these goodies, as you call them, come from?”
“I have a local supplier. Why?”
“I need to make sure these items are safe for our citizens,” the mayor replied.
Lorelei almost outed herself by yelling, “Bull!” What did he think? That Snow was selling brownies laced with PCP?
Snow flashed a friendly smile. “I can assure you that these baked goods are totally safe, except maybe to the waistline.”
The mayor tapped a finger on the glass countertop. “Ms. Cameron, forgive me, but I’m not sure your word is enough to settle the matter.”
The friendly smile vanished. “Did someone file a complaint with your office? Or has the clinic been overrun with locals complaining that a cookie they bought in my store made them sick?”
The man answered through gritted teeth. “No complaint has been filed, nor have I heard of anyone getting sick. At least not as of right now.”
“Then maybe you should tell Harvey Brubaker that my selling cookies and breads three days a week isn’t going to cut into his local grocery monopoly.” Snow delivered the suggestion with a head tilt and one raised brow. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. It is closing time.”
Lorelei could practically see the steam shooting out of Jebediah’s hairy ears. Served the man right for butting his nose in where it didn’t belong.
“If those cookies are made in someone’s home, that needs to be made clear so patrons are aware that the supplier isn’t licensed or inspected.”
“Duly noted,” Snow said, stepping out from behind the counter. “I’ll add a sign saying so to the display. Now I do need to lock the door behind you.” She swept an arm toward the exit as if to say, “After you.”
Jebediah Winkle’s twitching jaw indicated loud and clear that the man wasn’t used to being dismissed, let alone virtually thrown out of an establishment. Especially not in the town over which he ruled. As Lorelei ducked behind the same armoire that had shielded her from his daughter the week before, the older man stomped through the exit, sending the jingling bells overhead into a cacophony of noise.
Flipping the lock into place, Snow turned in Lorelei’s direction saying, “I really don’t like him.”
“Then we definitely have something in common.” Lorelei stepped into the light. “Thanks for not outing me.”
“Even if you wanted people to know, I wouldn’t have told him where the stuff came from.” The store owner pushed up the sleeves of her sweater. “Jebediah Winkle has been trying to bully me since the day I opened this place. He even referred to me as a foreigner at a council meeting.”
“I was born in the city limits and he’s never liked me either,” Lorelei said. “If that makes you feel any better.”
“What did you do that was so awful?” Snow asked.
“I was born on the wrong side of the blanket.”
“And that was somehow your fault?”
“Apparently,” Lorelei said with a shrug. “
But enough about ancient history. So the treats sold out?”
“They sure did. As soon as anyone tried a sample, they were hooked.” Snow paused with the shade pulled halfway down the door as she glanced from side to side at the spaces in front of the building. “Where’s your car?”
“Parked over on Margin. Everyone in town knows the two-toned monstrosity as mine, so I left it near the post office.”
“That’s two blocks away,” Snow said. “It’s over ninety degrees out there.”
“Which is why I’ll need my second shower of the day before dinner.” But Lorelei didn’t want to talk about the weather or the unattractive odor floating from her armpits. “They really liked the cookies? How about the breads? Not too dry?”
Snow chuckled. “Geez, woman. Did you bake them or give birth to them?”
How could Lorelei explain how important a few batches of cookies were without sounding like a complete loser? And how did she tell this near stranger that she’d never accomplished anything substantial in her life, let alone made something with her own two hands that had any value? At least not to anyone but herself.
She couldn’t. Which meant turning down the dork-o-meter.
“I’m looking for feedback to see if the next shipment needs any changes.”
“The only thing that needs to change is the quantity,” Snow said, hopping back around the counter and pressing a button that opened the cash drawer. “Here’s your seventy percent of the sales, and I’ll need double the amount of product on Wednesday.”
Lorelei stared at the money in her hand, which wasn’t much, but it would go a long way toward replenishing the ingredients she’d used from Granny’s pantry. “Did you say double?”
“I did,” Snow said, sliding the drawer closed. “Oh, and I gave you a name. Hope you don’t mind.”
“A name?” Lorelei was too busy calculating how she was going to bake twelve dozen cookies to follow the topic change.
“The first customer wanted to know where the cookies came from, and I panicked and said Lulu’s Home Bakery. It was the first thing that came to mind.”