by Beth Ciotta
Breakfast with Devlin had been quick but invigorating, full of meaningful looks and sexually charged silence, ending with an agreement to dine at the Sugar Shack later that night. An honest-to-God date. The anticipation had worked like a miracle drug on her hangover, buzzing through her veins even now.
After he’d dropped her back at Daisy’s house, Chloe had showered and changed into a cheery dress in protest of the dismal weather. Not even a fourth day of rain could dampen her elated spirits. Refreshed and ready for battle, she’d checked her texts, phone messages, and e-mails. To her disappointment, her dad had yet to return her call, but she’d heard back from most of the members of Cupcake Lovers, catching up with Ethel, Helen, and Judy via early-morning phone calls. Everyone agreed that they didn’t want to send off the proposal without a professional shot of Daisy. Unfortunately, Tasha had countered with an e-mail specifying an urgent rush from the editor, something about a window of opportunity. Tasha had said not to worry. She had a plan for including Daisy in the photo portion of the submission. Tasha had followed up with a personal e-mail to Chloe, which had led to this moment.
Wary, Chloe eyed the house. “What do you have up your sleeve, Madam Prez?” The rain eased from a downpour to a drizzle, and she seized her own window of opportunity. She pocketed the car keys, snapped shut the rain slicker she’d borrowed from Daisy’s coat closet, pulled up the hood, and dashed for the front porch.
She half-expected a maid or a butler to greet her, but it was Tasha who swung open the door. Perfectly coiffed, dressed in skinny jeans, a crisp white shirt, and red heels, she noted Chloe’s soaked and colorful appearance with an amused smirk. “Nice getup.”
Chloe just smiled. “Thanks.” In addition to the blue and yellow polka-dot slicker, she’d also borrowed her soul sister’s neon-pink rubber boots. Daisy couldn’t be here, so Chloe had brought a bit of Daisy with her.
Tasha opened the door wider and beckoned Chloe inside.
Chloe pushed back her hood, swiped her muddy, treaded souls on the welcome mat, then moved into the spacious farmhouse. In addition to the prestige Tasha had won by marrying an influential and obviously wealthy man, she’d also inherited this incredible home. Chloe tried not to gawk at the warm and stunning interior. She’d expected stunning, but the warm aspect was surprising, since Tasha was pretty much a cold fish. Maybe the house had been decorated by the previous Mrs. Burke. Maybe Randall Burke, thirty years his new wife’s senior and set in old ways, had stonewalled any renovations. Why else wouldn’t Tasha make her own mark?
“I’d offer to take your coat, but you won’t be staying long.”
Chloe blinked at the woman’s rudeness.
“Time is of the essence,” she went on.
“So you said in your e-mail.”
“You were a fashion photographer, right?”
“Who told you that?”
“Dev.”
Chloe shifted, bothered by the intimate way Tasha spoke his name. Bothered because she didn’t recall telling him about her short stint as a fashion photographer. Maybe he’d learned about that from Monica or Daisy?
“Are you or aren’t you proficient with a digital camera?” Tasha asked.
“Depends on the camera.”
Tasha moved into the next room and returned seconds later with a bells-and-whistles Canon Digital SLR. “Randall bought this for me for Christmas. Don’t break it. I’ll get the cupcakes.”
What? “Wait—” But the woman was already gone. Clueless and chilled, Chloe stood in the foyer, mere inches from a cozy, inviting living room, dripping rain and holding a cold fish’s camera.
“Indulged in any joyrides lately?”
Her already-goosepimply skin crawled. “Deputy Burke.”
He’d appeared out of nowhere and now leaned against the doorjamb of the dining room. Decked out in full cop uniform, wearing a self-assured, smarmy expression, he ignited a firestorm of injustice within Chloe. This man had humiliated her, violated her. It had been easy to bury her feelings when he’d been out of sight. Just now she itched to voice her outrage.
Instead she breathed and considered.
Did she really want to make a scene within Tasha’s earshot? A woman who’d no doubt twist things to her own advantage? Not to mention he still had it in his power to make Daisy’s and Devlin’s lives difficult.
Swallowing her pride, she held his gaze. “Nice weather we’re having.”
He frowned, annoyed or confused by her sarcasm. His IQ, as far as she was concerned, was up in the air.
Tasha returned holding a small cupcake carrier and the camera’s case. “I see you’ve met my stepson Billy.”
Chloe simply nodded, surprised Tasha had referred to a man close to her own age as “son,” even if it was technically true. Adding to the ick factor, Billy actually leered at his dad’s wife. Did the man have no shame? Worse, Tasha didn’t seem to mind. Chloe wasn’t sure what she’d stepped into, but she couldn’t wait to get out.
Apparently, Tasha was just as eager to show her the door. She instructed Billy to pack up the camera, then thrust the dessert container at Chloe. “Lemon Blueberry Cupcakes with Lemon Cream Cheese Frosting and a Twist.”
“Wasn’t this recipe featured on Cupcake Wars last week?” Or maybe it was the week before. Chloe had recently watched multiple episodes online with Daisy.
Tasha sniffed. “It’s a variation. Mine’s better.”
Chloe lifted the lid and smiled. “Strawberries and red licorice.” She imagined the flavor, admired the presentation. “Creative.”
“There’s a reason I’m the president of Cupcake Lovers,” Tasha said by way of a thank-you. “Take these and the camera and get a few imaginative shots of Daisy holding a cupcake. Then get the camera back to me pronto. Larry—”
“Who?”
“The local photographer we’ve booked for the shoot. He has an advanced version of Photoshop. He’ll work magic with the pictures you take of Daisy and we’ll incorporate them into the submission.”
“Why can’t we just include a photo from a previous charity event? I’m sure someone in the club—”
“That’s already covered. In addition, we need a current professional shot, one that matches the tone of the group’s studio photos. All you have to do is snap a few images of Daisy holding these cupcakes and Larry will do the rest.”
“Sounds more complicated than it needs to be.”
“Only because you’re making it so.” Tasha raised a challenging brow. “We could just as easily move forward without Daisy and add her into the mix later.”
“Forget it.”
“Then you’ll have to act now. If you drive straight to the hospital—”
“I don’t know how to get to Pixley from here … unless I backtrack.”
“Why tack on an additional thirty minutes when you can cut through the mountainside?”
Tasha spewed directions while Billy hovered, his obnoxious smirk pushing Chloe’s buttons and causing her blood to boil. If she didn’t leave now she’d blow.
“Once you hit One-Eighteen it’s a straight shot south,” Tasha finished while guiding Chloe toward the porch.
“Call if you have any trouble,” Billy said.
As if she’d want his help. If she got lost, she’d consult the GPS on her phone. Or call Devlin or Monica or Rocky. Reeling, Chloe left the house with camera and cupcakes in hand and a creepy feeling in her gut. She’d swear that was the strangest ten minutes of her life, except, given her colorful existence, it wasn’t. Part of her couldn’t wait to get away from the Burkes. Part of her couldn’t wait to see Daisy. It all added up to Chloe dashing to the Caddy and making haste for Pixley.
Thankfully the rain had eased to a fine mist. Visibility was clear even though the skies were grey. Chloe placed the cupcakes and camera on the passenger seat next to her purse, then wiggled out of the slicker and tossed that in the backseat. She replayed Tasha’s directions, jotting them on a piece of paper she found in the glove compartm
ent. Since they were pretty straightforward, she didn’t think she’d forget, but better safe than sorry. When she’d first moved to the city, she’d constantly braved the unknown in order to get just about anywhere. She eyed the distant wooded slopes, telling herself if she could navigate Manhattan’s subway system she could handle a few winding roads.
It occurred, however, that she might lose her already-weak phone signal once she drove into the thick of the woods, and since she’d promised to check in with Monica … Chloe dialed her friend, frowning when she rolled over to voice mail. “Hey, Mon. It’s Chloe. Just now leaving Tasha’s place. On my way to Pixley to take pictures of Daisy. I’ll explain later. Please call everyone in the club and tell them not to worry. Daisy will be in that photo submission. Depending on weather, I might be a little late for the official shoot at the studio, but I’ll be there. See you then. Bye.”
Then she called Daisy.
“Hello?”
“I can’t believe I actually got you,” Chloe said as she steered the Caddy toward the main road. “What a relief.”
“What’s wrong, kitten?”
“Nothing. Everything’s great. I’m on my way over with cupcakes and a camera. Ask and see if one of the nurses will help you primp. You’re going to be part of the photo submission for the book proposal.”
“I knew I could count on you!”
“How do you feel?”
“Sore but photogenic.”
Chloe smiled. “I should be there by twelve thirty. I’m taking a shortcut via Thrush Mountain.”
“What do you mean, shortcut?”
“I’m already a half hour on the opposite side of Sugar Creek. Tasha said if I took—”
“Took what? Breaking up … I … Chloe?”
“Hello?” Silence. She glanced at her phone. No signal. “Damn.” She would’ve been upset, except reception had been iffy ever since she’d arrived in Vermont. Two miles down the road she might register four bars. Then two, then none, then four. She told herself not to worry. The closer she got to Pixley, the stronger the signal.
THIRTY-ONE
Rocky swiped her muddy sneakers on a mat before crossing the polished planked floors of the Sugar Shack. Even though the restaurant served lunch from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., the dining area was practically deserted, no doubt due to the weather. Streets and parking lots were flooded, and though the rain had stopped, there was talk of another storm blowing in. Most people had hunkered down at home, preferring to stay safe, warm, and dry, but Rocky wasn’t most people. She had things to do and problems to tackle. If she drove home now, she might not make it back in time for the photo shoot, and no way in hell was she going to miss that. The flurry of e-mails initiated by Chloe regarding Daisy’s exclusion had put Rocky on guard. She could feel Tasha manipulating the situation but couldn’t guess where it was going. Maybe she was the only one, but she’d just about had it up to her eyeballs with the damned recipe book project. Yes, they’d mailed out care packages to two separate troops this month, but discussions regarding the club’s next big charity function had fallen through the cracks. Although Tasha would argue the book was their next charity project, Rocky disagreed. As far as she was concerned, this quest for fame diluted the club’s core objective.
“Look like you could use a drink,” Luke said when she plopped on one of his stools.
“Looks like you could use some customers.” Even the bar was deserted, except for two guys at the other end nursing beers and watching ESPN on the corner-mounted plasma screen.
“Mondays never kick in until happy hour,” he said, pouring her a cup of coffee. “Not to mention the weather sucks. Nash is stuck in New York because of this latest front.”
“I’m sure Jayce will keep him entertained.” She hated that she sounded so bitter, but dammit, that good-bye kiss irritated the hell out of her. What did it … he mean? For now. What the hell?
“I wasn’t going to ask,” Luke said, pouring a cup for himself, “but considering Jayce split town in a hurry I’m guessing your talk didn’t go so well.”
Blood burning, she heaped sugar into her coffee. “All I can say is I did my part. It’s not my fault he’s an obnoxious ass.”
“Mmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. So what happened with Adam?”
“He took the high road, which made me feel like a total shit.”
“Ah.”
“What?”
“Nothing. You met with Dev this morning, right? How’d that go?”
“Better than I expected.” She’d expected some sort of I told you so or I tried to warn you when she confessed the extent of the renovations needed at the inn and the depth of her financial woes. She’d expected Dev to dominate the conversation. Expected him to advise her to cut her losses and sell. Instead he’d listened patiently while she’d explained her dilemma, ultimately saying, Let’s see what we can do to make your dream come true.
“Essentially, I agreed to loosen up,” she continued, “and he agreed to back off. He’s putting together the terms for a personal loan—I insisted on paying him back—and a proposed business plan.”
Luke raised a brow. “You’re letting him manage your finances?”
“With the stipulation he teaches me the ropes. I don’t want to go to school for business like he did, but I do want to be successful and self-sufficient. Eventually. I’m surprised you haven’t asked him to teach you a few tricks instead of relying on him to handle the Shack’s accounting.”
“We’re partners, remember? Have to give him something to do so he doesn’t horn in on my managing style. Besides, numbers bore me.”
“Mmm.”
“What does that mean?”
She grinned. “Nothing.” Just then her phone rang. After a glance at that screen, she answered. “Hi, Monica.”
“Have you talked to Chloe?”
“Not since yesterday. Except for the e-mail exchanges about the photo shoot. Why?”
“She left me a message. She’s on her way to the hospital to take pictures of Daisy. Has something to do with the book submission. Said she was leaving from Tasha’s, so I guess it was Tasha’s idea. I don’t know. I just … the roads are bad and Chloe’s a nervous driver. I tried calling, but it keeps rolling over to voice mail.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Rocky said. “She may be a nervous driver, but she’s a capable person. She survived New York City all those years, didn’t she?”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“I hear you.” Although Rocky wasn’t worried so much about Chloe losing control of the car as taking a wrong turn. What route had she taken? If she ended up on one of the logging roads in this kind of weather, chances of getting stuck and stranded in mud were high. “Do you have a time reference?”
“She left the message just shy of noon. I just now heard it.”
Rocky glanced at the time. Twelve forty p.m.
“I called Daisy’s hospital room to see if Chloe was there. She wasn’t.”
“She’s probably taking her time because of the weather. Do you know which route she took?”
“Not exactly. But Daisy said she mentioned Thrush Mountain.”
An area comprised of winding roads and prone to flooding. Suddenly Rocky’s own concerns ratcheted a notch. “Let me make some calls. I’ll be in touch.”
“What’s wrong?” Luke asked when she disconnected.
“Nothing,” she said without humor. “I hope.”
* * *
Devlin ventured up to the third floor of the store around 12:45 p.m. He’d wanted to check on that ceiling leak earlier, but he was determined to demonstrate his trust in Chris and crew. Employees who felt appreciated rather than second-guessed or dominated were more likely to stick around rather than jump to a competitor’s ship.
Devlin also had been waylaid by Rocky. Given her pride, he knew it had cost her to ask for his financial help and guidance. Sensitive to the downside of his c
ontrolling nature, thanks to Chloe, he’d treaded lightly, offering options. His gut still sided with selling that money pit, but he’d finally absorbed a facet of his sister’s stubborn determination. This was about more than clinging to a childhood dream. This was about making her own way, her own mark on the world. A notion he well understood.
His only regret was that she hadn’t left his office in a lighter mood. He suspected that was because of her breakup with Adam, but when Devlin had tried to pry further she’d shut him down. The same way she cut him off every time he brought up Jayce. Next time Devlin saw Luke, he’d have to pick his brother’s brain. He had a theory about the rift between their sister and Jayce. Devlin wanted to hear it.
“As you can see, we roped off the affected area,” Chris said. “Moved racks and covered merchandise with plastic. We lost about four dozen casual shirts, due to water damage, and the ceiling tiles need to be replaced.”
“Could’ve been worse.”
“The day’s still young. I’ve got Cal Perkins booked to locate and repair the leak, but he’s backed up with two other clients. Been a lot of damage due to the heavy wind and rain.”
“And we’re due to get hit with another storm later this afternoon,” Devlin said.
“If it rolls in before Cal works his magic, could get ugly in here.”
“I’ll call my cousin Sam. He reroofed his house last summer. Maybe he can run over and do a temporary quick fix.” But just as Devlin went to dial, his phone chimed with an incoming call.
“Devlin, I’m worried about Chloe.”
“Gram?”
“She said she’d be here before twelve thirty and she’s not. I sensed trouble the moment she mentioned Thrush Mountain.”
“Wait a minute.” He held up an apologetic hand to Chris and swung away. “Chloe told you she was driving over via Thrush Mountain? That’s out of the way.”
“Not if you’re coming from Tasha and Randall’s house.”
Devlin massaged his temple. “What was she doing over there?”
“Something to do with the photo shoot.”
Christ.