Her features were closed to him and he couldn’t tell if she was upset over his declaration, or annoyed about standing in the heat.
He ran a hand over the back of his neck, the muscles there tense and aching. He wanted to hold her. He wanted a second chance at living again. He wanted a lot he couldn’t have. “If we can be friends and move on with our separate lives, I’d welcome it. It’s been years since I had anyone to watch late-night TV with.” Shit. Stop. Talking. Idiot. Everything was coming out all wrong.
Lila smiled. “I did move on. And that road brought me right back here. I say moving on is overrated. How about moving forward?”
“Look, I want to keep things simple. Uncomplicated. That’s all I’m saying.” Except for the part where he really, really wanted to see her naked.
Lila leaned in and stabbed his chest with an index finger. The touch sent a line of fire all the way down his stomach to the front of his pants, tightening his balls.
“Jake. Sweetie.” Her blue eyes shone with sharp-edged emotion. “I know you’re not stupid. You may want uncomplicated, but when has life ever served up that particular dish? I for one have never had it easy. It’s always messy, in-your-face complex. I gotta deal with it. So I suggest you learn to handle it, too. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
Jake held his breath until her hand dropped away. He let it out in a long push as she stepped to the driver’s-side door and climbed inside.
It dawned on him she planned to boil his blood and then leave him stranded in the post office parking lot. Despite better judgment—not that he had ever possessed such a thing—he shrugged and figured what the hell?
And before she could back the Lexus out, Jake eased open the passenger door and slid in next to her, smiling when she turned shocked eyes on him.
Maybe he would get out of this with some semblance of self-dignity. “You’re right. Life is complicated. Now, take me to my office.”
Lesson Number Three —
Do not wait for quiet, private moments to show your man you love him; those times are too seldom. Show him in the middle of the dusty town street, in the barn while feeding the livestock, or, heaven help me, on the way to Church. Reach out and lay your hand on his arm, get his attention, and look deeply into his eyes. He will do the rest.
Chapter Five
Lila didn’t know whether to be irritated with Jake’s demand or excited by the prospect of having him all alone for five minutes.
She chose to be excited. Cautiously excited. She sneaked a glance from beneath lowered lashes before backing the car out of the lot. He consumed the entire passenger compartment with his tall frame and muscular legs, and spilled over onto the console that divided the seats. She could feel the heat from his arm where it rested next to hers.
She took a deep breath. “Um. Tell me about Reverie. How’s the home-building business recovering out here?”
Jake tapped his index finger on the gearshift mounted on the console between them, a habit she remembered from way back. He considered the question. “Tough. Natural gas money has all but dried up. There are a few folks building, but nothing like it was a few years ago.”
Lila nodded. “Are you surviving it okay?” Times had been difficult in construction, but Jake’s fairness and integrity had earned him a reputation, taking his business through the hard times—or so Granny had told her.
“As good as can be expected. I set money aside. I can maintain my core crew, including Casler. Things are picking up again and we have a big project now, out on the west side of town.”
“I see.” Lord. She sounded like an idiot. Really? Making small talk? How long could she keep this up before diving headfirst into a topic she desperately wanted to discuss? Like, how were his labs? What did the doctors say? Was he seeing anyone? And would he have dinner with her?
But what did she do instead? Smile. And nod.
“Well. That’s awesome.”
Jake turned and looked at her, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Awesome?”
Lila’s cheeks reddened under his scrutiny. “What? I can’t say awesome?”
“Absolutely. Just didn’t think you were the type to use trendy language. It’s interesting.”
She couldn’t keep her own smile under wraps. “Interesting how?”
He stopped tapping the gearshift. She knew this behavior, too. Jake was reflecting.
“I guess you’ve changed. Grown up. For some reason, I never considered what you’d be like and sound like at thirty. It’s interesting.”
“And not sexy?” Lila slapped a hand over her mouth and laughed.
Jake’s composure held, but then what did she expect? The only outward sign that her comment had an impact was a slight widening of his nostrils.
“Did I just say that?” she asked. “Sorry.”
“No. Don’t be sorry. Age definitely agrees with you. I’m sure you get a lot of men hitting on you.”
Lila thought of Mark, and how he had to frequently inform her as to when men were actually hitting on her. “I don’t know. I’m a bit dense when it comes to the bar scene and dating.”
His brows lifted in question.
“I don’t date really. Too busy with work.”
“Interesting.”
“Stop saying that word!”
“What?” He threw up his hands. “Fine. It’s not interesting. But curious. Why the hell aren’t you dating? You should be having a crazy good time right now. Age agrees with you. You’re fucking hot.”
Lord help her. He thought she was not just hot, but fucking hot. Lila swallowed and nearly choked at the sudden dryness in her mouth.
She considered a dozen different responses to this admission and settled on honesty.
“I am having a crazy good time. I’m home. With Granny and about to jump-start a new life. And a new project. I couldn’t be more excited.”
“Hmmmm.” Jake opened the passenger door as she parked outside his building. Heat washed in, covering them both.
She knew the hint of a project would have him wondering for a while.
“You gonna tell me about this project?”
Lila smiled and this time didn’t attempt to dull the wattage of her smile. “Of course. There are no secrets between us.”
He grunted and crawled out of the car. “Have a good one, babe.”
Lila held on tight to the endearment for a moment and then backed away from Jake’s office and headed for Granny’s.
Catching up on all of Granny’s usual errands was taking Lila more time than she would have imagined! She couldn’t figure out how one little old grandma could be so busy with the local ladies’ auxiliary, Bible study, fund-raising for veterans, bowling, potluck dinners, Friday night cards, and animal rescue.
She hadn’t even made it to Miss Pru’s, for crying out loud!
“Lila, here’s a list. The people at the IGA will help you find it all. Just ask for help at the check-cashing counter.”
Lila took the grocery list from Granny’s outstretched hand, examining the slanted script. She didn’t bother reminding her grandmother she’d been grocery shopping on her own for some time now.
“What are the chicken livers for?”
“Nate. He won’t eat anything but chicken livers. Be sure to get the freshest. He won’t eat ’em if they’re over a week old.”
Nate. The cat. Good grief, when did the woman start feeding the cats chicken livers?
“And while you’re down there, you can check out Miss Pru’s place. Judith said that turd Howard put a demolition notice on the building yesterday.”
The doorbell chimed and Lila almost sighed aloud in relief. “That’ll be Steve Ann. I’ll let her in and then I’m off to the store. And to conduct recon!” She smoothed the shawl across Granny’s shoulders and rubbed her good arm. “It shouldn’t take too long.” How long could it take to buy chicken livers and eyeball a building?
Steve Ann blew into the house, all hustle and bustle, her arms empty for a chang
e. “Good morning, Lila. How’s Mrs. Gentry this morning?”
“She’s doing okay, but I think she’s worried about her hair.” Granny had demanded a hand mirror to investigate the status of her short white curls. The do reminded her of the style sported by the former governor of Texas, Ann Richards: high, tight, and white.
The nurse patted her own ash-colored coiffure. “Give Mary Jo a call over at the Curl ’n Swirl. She might be able to fit her into the schedule on short notice.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.” She danced a half circle with Steve Ann, laughing as they rearranged themselves in the tiny entry.
“Granny has a grocery list for me, so I’d better get going.” The intense heat of midmorning blasted her in the face as she stepped out onto the carpet of turf-like grass on the porch.
Steve Ann lingered at the glass door, a frown marring her pleasant face. “Hon, is that what you’re wearing to the IGA?”
Lila looked down at her short silk skirt and matching blouse. She’d chosen it specifically for its neutral color and breezy fabric. “Is there something wrong with it?”
The nurse pursed her lips, her hands planted on generous hips. “Well, not particularly, unless you want to make Janie Armstrong green with envy. Otherwise, it’s a little much for the grocery.”
“Oh.” Lila’s shoulders drooped and she slipped back inside. As she squeezed past Steve Ann, she managed to mumble, “Thanks. It’s been a while.”
“No problem, hon. We’ll get you…ah, reassimilated in no time.”
“Right.”
Dressed once again, this time in denim shorts, sandals, and a white T-shirt, Lila plunged into the heat, crumpled shopping list in hand. The walk to the town square flew by as she reacquainted herself with once-familiar landmarks.
The Bell County Courthouse dominated the square with its Renaissance Revival style and bold, boxy lines. Lila took in the restored dome and clock tower, missing from the grand white structure since the 1930s. It made the building seem complete finally, and she suddenly realized how lacking it had truly been all those years she was growing up.
On the east side of the square stood the Book Nook, directly next door to Melinda’s Kitchen, both new businesses she didn’t know. On the west side, the Farmer’s Bank—been there for years—and on the north side, the Curl ’n Swirl, an old favorite with the retired set.
A large white sign on the south-facing building caught her eye. Stepping across the street and into the shade of the veranda, she read the sign on Mr. Goodwin’s General Store.
Demolition Notice. Typical verbiage. Blah, blah, blah. Except no public hearing or committee meeting. No information on who filed the application for demolition. And certainly no notice regarding the historic status of the building.
Miss Pru’s.
This was the place. And it appeared her Granny was right. Someone had it in for the building and they were willing to violate city policy and procedure to get rid of the thing.
She stepped off the sidewalk and backed into the street for a full view. The four bay windows of the upper story were boarded over. The four windows flanking the bay, two on each side, were open, but the leaded glass had seen better days. Paint flaked away from the masonry brick, and the rigid aluminum canopy, bisecting the smaller overhead transom windows from the large store windows, sagged with weather damage in several places.
Nothing that couldn’t be salvaged and restored. Though that opinion was based on a cursory exterior inspection. She had no idea what the interior was like.
Lila remembered the storefront from her childhood. Mr. Goodwin, a kind old widower, had sold candy, sodas, and good memories to the children of Hannington. She’d savored many a Coke float inside those four walls while mooning over a certain football player.
Now the city wanted to demolish it. She couldn’t let that happen. Not when she knew it once belonged to her family and might be housing yet more secrets of Prudence MacIntosh.
If she could buy it before the thirty days were up.
She climbed the concrete sidewalk again and peered at the notice taped to the inside of the window. Posted June 19. Twenty-nine days ago. Before she ever made into Hannington.
Lila’s blood pressure escalated and her skin went tight all over. This was total BS. According to Granny, the notice just went up. And they were claiming the waiting period was expiring?
The fate of the building would be decided today, but not by some out-of-touch city bureaucrat. It was local. And it was personal.
She spun around, facing the knobby limestone facade of the county courthouse. Marching across the street, she dodged the few cars crawling down Main during the early afternoon and pushed through the heavy oak doors of the courthouse. Lila skidded across the waxed marble floor of the entry in her haste, nearly losing her footing in the thin strappy sandals she’d chosen in place of her more sophisticated summer heels.
“Ma’am, you take care now. Enough people’ve fallen there who wasn’t paying attention.”
Standing straight again on two firmly planted feet, she caught the concerned gaze of an elderly black man on a high-backed stool. The shine on top of his bald head rivaled the sheen on the marble under her feet. He sat behind a low-slung security desk, which was nothing more than a folding table with some change trays laid out for personal items.
She hurried over to the table, her sandals slapping the floor and sending an echo up into the dome-shaped vestibule. “I need to track down the owner of the Goodwin building across the street. Where can I find deed records?”
He smiled, causing the wrinkles in his weathered face to sink deeper. “Oh, yeah. That Goodwin building been up for sale forever. You want to register a complaint with the city about the owner?”
“Why on earth would I want to do that?”
“Many people don’t like that building. Don’t matter if it was a candy store at some point.” He placed heavy emphasis on the word candy, like it was an idea worthy of scorn. “People figure time’s come to tear the thing down once and for all. Put something decent up in its place.” He grunted, folding his arms over the rounded belly straining against the sky-blue cotton of his uniform.
Wait a minute. She put her satchel on the table, leaning in closer to the man, one hand on her hip. She felt the hurried beat of her heart beneath her cotton top.
“Why don’t the people in Hannington like it?”
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a gnarled index finger. “Young lady, you ain’t from around here, are you?”
She shook her head, letting the man believe she was an out-of-towner.
“Well, lemme just say that it had an indecent beginning. Lots of illegal activities, if you know what I mean. Some old gal ran, uh, an escort service out of there back before the turn of the century.”
Despite her need to get to the records room, Lila had to ask. She had to know: “What happened to the woman? And her business?”
He unfolded his arms, placing his hands flat on the table in front of him. Glancing toward the open doors of the vital statistics room in an obvious effort to be discreet, he licked his lips and met her eyes.
Oh, yes. He had a story to share.
“After operating there for some years, and it’s my understanding the mayor condoned her business and her gals, a new sheriff was elected and she got run out of town shortly thereafter.
“She didn’t go peacefully. Oh, no. Way my daddy used to tell it, she got run out at the end of a double-barreled shotgun with the town hot on her heels. She had a man here in town, a regular customer who liked her, but he wadn’t here to help her.”
Lila listened, dying to know the outcome of what surely were Miss Pru’s last days in the town of Hannington.
“What happened then?”
The old man shifted his body back onto the stool, the springs in the seat creaking with his weight. “Nothing really. Most of her girls were already gone by then. The rest got run out with her. Boardinghouse tried to make a go of it for
a while, but no one could stand sleeping in the place. Said funny things happened there. Noises and creepy things.”
Lila picked her bag up off the table after he had a peek in the open zipper, and secured it across her shoulder.
Could his story be true? “What was the woman’s name? Does anyone know?”
He scratched the glowing bald spot on his head, his eyes screwed closed until the whites disappeared. “Something Irish. MacIntosh or MacIntush. Something like that.”
He knew her name. Was it possible Miss Pru fled town like he claimed? Drawing back from the table, she looked around the empty vestibule. She had to buy that building. Now.
“Deeds?” she asked in a whisper.
“Basement, room 35.”
From Miss Pru’s journal concerning politics and bribery:
I am not anything special.
The mayor took the liberty of reminding me of this today, as he sat in my parlor.
On the surface he seems harmless enough. Of average height and build, he has rugged features lined from years squinting across hot Texas hillsides. A hardworking, decent man, one would assume.
But a puritanical fire burns in his eyes, lighting him from within. The fire burned bright today. I knew to guard my words and actions closely.
One of the newer girls carefully rubbed his shoulders, trying in her own way to diffuse the tension in the air.
I may not have the fire of the righteous, but when backed into a corner by a lawman such as he, one who regularly pretends to be against the very evil he promotes, yes, even takes money from those he objects to, I do well defending my own.
I am aware my place is not the only fancy house operating on this end of Hell’s Half Acre, as the mayor was so kind to remind me. Houses like mine are allowed to operate as a necessary evil to control men’s baser urges and keep the community safe.
There are other hurdy-gurdy girls, and one or two madams paying the mayor for the privilege, but I can admit none possess the presence of mind to treat customers with the genuine respect or courtesy as I do.
I digress. Back to the mayor.
Deconstructing Lila (Entangled Select) Page 4