One Less Problem Without You

by Beth Harbison

  Alex McConnell.

  Something bad was about to go down.

  * * *

  THE TEAS WERE going to be a hit. A big hit. It was just the “something extra” they’d been needing.

  Diana was an absolute magician with herbs. Prinny had tried her teas several times over the years, though they’d just been flavored ones, rather than medicinal. She had a blood orange and clove blend that she’d used for iced tea during one summer visit three years ago, and Prinny had been dreaming about it ever since. The aroma, the ethereal light green glow of it, the way Diana had served it in tall bubble glasses with sugared rims … it had all added so much to the ambiance of that summer afternoon on Leif and Diana’s beautiful wraparound veranda.

  For Prinny, socializing with Leif was rare, of course, but her father had wanted to go and visit, and he was too infirm to drive by then, so Prinny had volunteered. Now that she thought about it, that was the last time she’d been to Leif and Diana’s house. It had been uncomfortable, even with her father there, though she’d been awfully grateful for Diana’s calm demeanor at that time, as Leif, even then, had been strong-arming their father regarding his will.

  “There should be a trust,” she had overheard Leif saying to him in the other room while she was in the kitchen with Diana, chatting about little butter cookies or something equally innocuous. Exactly what men like Leif would expect women like Diana and Prinny to discuss.

  “I’ve already spoken to my lawyer about it all,” her father had said, noticeably weary.

  “Are you sure that Prinny is”—there had been the slightest hesitation—“taken care of?”

  “Of course.”

  “Perhaps you should assign me as the executor.”

  “Leif.” It was only the one syllable, but it held a strong warning tone against continuing the line of conversation.

  And so it changed to the coming Redskins season and who was in what starting position.

  When Prinny turned back to Diana, her sister-in-law was looking at her thoughtfully.

  “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Diana said, looking down and busying herself with arranging the cookies on the plate.

  “Hear what?”

  “Leif. I’m sure you don’t like thinking about your father’s will, or the need for it, much less your brother’s ideas about it.”

  Prinny had to laugh. “You’re right.”

  “For what it’s worth, he’s like that about everything. Everyone. He’s always worried about getting what’s due him.”

  “If he got what was due him…,” Prinny began.

  Diana caught her eye and nodded. “I know.”

  Prinny could read into the moment that Diana knew much more than she did about what was due Leif. In fact, Prinny could see, hear, feel, almost even taste the fact that Diana was being lied to and cheated on and that it was pounding her self-esteem into a tiny block of steel.

  “Any way to make this a Long Island Iced Tea?” she asked Diana with a smile.

  “Better. A French Sixty-nine.” Diana poured the glasses about three-quarters full, then took gin off the shelf and poured a dollop in each, adding a squeeze of lemon juice and a sugar cube from the tea supplies. Then she went to the fridge, took a bottle of champagne from the door—already opened, Prinny noticed, and ignored the thought that Diana had been drinking alone—and topped the glasses with it. She took a couple of strawberries off the beautiful tray of cookies and dropped one in each drink before holding one out to Prinny and saying, “Cheers.”

  Prinny clinked her glass against Diana’s and took a sip. It was delicious. She’d never had anything like it; citrusy and bright and bubbly, yet with that distinct caffeine hit of green tea. “Where did you learn to make this? You are a genius.”

  “I’m not,” Diana objected. “I’m just a bartender at heart. A bartender and a witch doctor.”

  “Where did you learn to concoct the teas themselves?” Prinny asked. “It would never have occurred to me to do anything but buy it.”

  “But it’s better fresh, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, definitely.”

  “The herbalist at the acupuncturist’s office where I work was retiring, and I managed to convince them all it was a brilliant idea to teach me to carry on the job. Incredibly, they did.”

  That was when Prinny had learned that Diana could make medicinal teas as well. Actually, medicine, Diana had pointed out. “Medicinal tea” implied something you could get from the grocery store and safely help yourself to without regard to quantity, but the teas she made were sometimes quite potent.

  There had been many sleepless nights when a stressed-out Prinny had wondered what kind of tea Diana could make to knock her out, but they weren’t that close. Though they got along when they saw each other and there was that hum of sympathy between them, it was always understood somehow that Leif wouldn’t like it if they were close, and they wouldn’t like it if Leif was pissed off about one more damn thing, so they had kept a cordial distance from each other.

  So when Diana had arrived at the store and needed work, it was easy for Prinny to jump right into the idea. Especially when Diana had explained that her ingredients came from a prominent distributor who was very stringent about quality control. Prinny had been surprised when she talked about control over herb distribution until Diana had pointed out, obviously, pot.

  “That’s the least of it,” Diana had said. “A well-stocked tea cabinet could literally kill you.”

  “Literally?” Prinny had a horrible vision of some hapless puppy getting into a kitchen pantry and consuming some horrible herb. “Or do you mean if you add rat poison and poisonous mushrooms and whatnot?”

  “Literally. Seriously, Prinny, never piss your homeopathic practitioner off. It could be deadly.” She’d considered for a moment. “If only because of allergies. You should make sure you have a waiver for people buying medicinal. You don’t want someone suing you because they got the sniffles.”

  Prinny wasn’t as business-stupid as people sometimes seemed to think she was.

  Alex was the only one who took her seriously enough to bat her ideas around with her.

  She probably asked too many questions and lingered too long over his concerns, but that was only because she wanted to spend more time with him. Not probably; it was obvious. It was just really damn unfortunate, because he was married and that was that. Unhappily, yes, but married nonetheless. And nothing could ever come of them together.

  Yet even so she enjoyed her moments with him; the repartee, the back-and-forth, and sometimes just the reassuring sound of his voice. Actually, often it was the reassuring sound of his voice that she needed. Because often she was up against the wall in terms of proving herself.

  Over and over again.

  “So I signed the lease for the place next door,” she said.

  “Good,” he said. “Good.”

  “And I had an idea.” This was probably going to be a tough sell.

  “Did you?” He looked interested.

  “I did. Today. It hit me suddenly, but I am absolutely sure it is the way out of all of my problems. To make the business grow like nothing this town has seen in a long time.”

  “You certainly have my attention.”

  He was playing with her. She amused him. He liked this; it added levity to his life that wasn’t usually there.

  Her heart both broke at the idea of his heavy life and bloomed at the idea of lightening it.

  “You might think it’s crazy,” she said, smiling.

  He smiled back and shrugged and gave his familiar mantra. “It’s your money. Now tell me. What have you decided? As I recall, it was workshops.”

  “Well, yes, workshops. That was the plan initially. And I still want to do them,” she hurried to add. “But I came up with a little extra something that’s going to make the business take off.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I want to get a liquor license.”

  “A liquor lic
ense.” He frowned. “And open, what, a bar?”

  “Actually, it began with tea. I wanted to sort of turn the place into a teahouse.”

  “I’m sorry.” He was concerned. “Did you say tea? Like you drink?” He mocked drinking a cup of tea, pinkie out and all. “That kind of tea?”

  She nodded. “Yup.”

  “Not edibles, at least.”

  She laughed. “Nope. I have a person who makes medicinal teas, and I’ve been enjoying them for a few days. It’s really amazing how well they can work. But then it occurred to me—there are metaphysical shops and there are bars, but there’s no place doing both.”

  He leaned back and steepled his fingers in front of his face for a moment, then sighed, returned his gaze to her, and said, “This is going to set Leif into orbit, you know.”

  That was another thing she loved about Alex. He understood Leif. He understood the kind of selfish man he was, and the kind of muscles—legal, financial, and emotional—that Leif was willing to flex in order to crush her.

  In fact, maybe most important, Alex understood that Leif wanted to crush her.

  Prinny knew it, too, of course, but that was where her resources left her. She knew that he wanted her to go down, but she wasn’t sure where he was burying the land mines.

  “Do I care?” she asked Alex. “I mean, there’s nothing he can do. I could invest every penny into a miniature horse farm in Monaco and he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on, right?”

  Alex grimaced. “He’d try. He’d make an argument about your sanity, and then, as your next of kin, he’d probably try and get power of attorney.”

  “I should get married,” Prinny commented.

  She didn’t really mean it, but she was struck by the way Alex stiffened when she said it. His reaction to the very word sent a shock of negativity into the room.

  “Has someone proposed?” he asked, just a little too casually. He tapped his fingertips on the desk three times. “I didn’t know you were with anyone. I apologize.”

  She laughed. “I’m not, but I can see the advantage of a marriage of convenience!”

  His shoulders relaxed fractionally. “So no fiancé.”

  “Nope.”

  His face colored slightly, and he quickly added, “And no miniature horse farm?”

  She shrugged. “Never say never, but so far it’s just Cosmos.” She slumped back in her chair and regarded him. He was just so cute. There was such a charming boyishness under his tailored suit and serious visage. “What do you think of the tea bar idea? For real.”

  “For real?” A smile played at his mouth. She knew he found her charming. That was one of the many things she found charming about him. He seemed to see who she really was, and he seemed to like it. “I think it could be a great idea.”

  She hadn’t been expecting that.

  “Please tell me you’re not pulling my leg,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Not at all. If your new person is as good at this as you say, and word gets around about it, I think it’s a very reasonable segue into retail for you. If you’re mixing teas and spirits, I see the possibility of doing that retail as well.”

  “We already do retail!” she objected.

  He waved that off. “Four, five thousand bucks a month. You’re not a serious presence.”

  But they needed to be. She now had two employees, plus her own salary, and her rent was going way up. And she had absolute faith that it would be worth it, because of the tea and the added room for workshops, but even for a psychic absolute faith sometimes wobbled. “We will be.”

  “You can be.”

  His phone rang; he looked at it, and she noticed a tiny muscle twitch in his jaw. He pushed a button, and the ringing stopped.

  “No calls after hours, huh?” she joked, noting that she’d been sitting there half an hour past the time when his secretary usually left. They were alone in the office.

  A shiver ran through her.

  It was her. Britni. She’d been trying to have a talk with him for some time now. He was avoiding it. Everything was a fight between them. He was avoiding her.

  “Some conversations are better had through voice mail,” he answered, and she noticed the light was gone from his eyes. His tone had changed, and the playful air between them had gone stale.

  Not only did he not want to talk to her, but probably the only reason he was still here, spending his valuable time talking about miniature horse farms and gypsy teas, was because he didn’t want to go home.

  She wanted to prod him on the subject, but it was none of her business, and the last thing in the world she wanted was to let her stupid crush on a married man get out of hand.

  It was one thing to admire qualities in him and hope to perhaps one day meet a man who possessed some of those same qualities, but it was quite another to be glad at signs that he might be a bit less than in love with his wife.

  “I’d better go,” she said, because a moment longer and she’d be asking pointed questions that were none of her business. She stood up. “I’ll look into the liquor license and e-mail you the ratified lease as soon as I have it.”

  “And the information on the new employee,” he added.

  “The…?”

  “The tea girl. The one who’s making the teas. Send me her information and W-4 and whatnot.”

  “Oh. That.” Prinny sank back into her seat.

  “Prinny?”

  “Yeah, I have a nonstandard arrangement worked out with her. I’m compensating her rent in the unit upstairs from the shop and then paying the rest under the table.”

  Alex sighed and his chair squeaked as he leaned back, templing his hands before him. “And why is that?”

  “Because it’s easier?”

  “For whom? It’s illegal to pay or compensate over a certain amount without filing a 1099. I don’t suppose you were planning on filing a 1099?”

  Prinny shook her head. “She needs to stay somewhat … anonymous.” There was no way he was going to let this slide.

  “Don’t tell me you’re handing Leif an immigration cupcake to bite into.”

  “Worse, I’m afraid. It’s his wife.”

  Alex looked at her for a moment in stunned silence, then laughed. “His wife? His wife is working at Cosmos now?”

  Prinny nodded, but she wasn’t sure what his laughter meant. “She makes the teas.”

  “How on earth did he let that happen?” He frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe your problems with him are over if he’s letting you employ his wife in what I believe he last referred to as ‘that patchouli-scented, idiot-filled box of magical rocks.’”

  Anger rose in Prinny. “He said that?”

  “Oh, come on, you know he always says that kind of thing.” Guilt filled him. He didn’t think highly of Leif but he didn’t want to hurt her with Leif’s words.

  But, yes, she knew. Of course she knew. In fact, Leif often even brought her mother into it, talking about her “voodoo” and, yes, the “magical rocks” and various other weird little insults about her interest in spiritual things.

  Alex cleared his throat. “I guess he’s had a turnaround, then. At least as far as respecting the fact that the business has legs. That’s refreshing news.”

  “He has?”

  Alex shrugged broadly. “He must have, if his wife is working there, right?”

  “Oh. Yeah, no, he’s not. He doesn’t know she’s there. In fact, that’s why I don’t want her pay to be traceable. Actually, that’s why she doesn’t want her pay to be traceable. She doesn’t want him to find her.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I’m afraid not.” Prinny looked at him imploringly. “And she’s got a talent that she’s finally able to use, with confidence, without that jerk breathing down her neck. I know it’s ironic that she’s working with me—”

  Alex scoffed.

  “—but it’s obvious to me that it was meant to be. She needed a place where she’d be welcome and understood. And si
nce she and I both have no desire to incite Leif, it works out perfectly.”

  “Unless you consider the fact that you’re handing Leif added reason to want to blow you out of the water and added ammunition with which to do it.”

  “He doesn’t even know she’s there!”

  “If his wife has disappeared without an apparent trace, he’s going to find her. Or have someone find her. Come on, Prinny, that’s child’s play for a man with his resources.”

  “I’m not so sure. In a way, she’s hidden right out in the open. Just in a place he’d never look. He hates me; he’d assume his wife is aligned with that viewpoint, and always has been. He definitely would never think she’d come to me.”

  “Did she ever call you from her phone?”

  “No! She has a TracPhone.”

  “Car?”

  “I don’t know. I think she dumped it somewhere.”

  He started to say something else, then stopped and shook his head. “This is a ridiculous conversation. Suddenly I’m plotting a movie. Look, it’s none of my business what you and she do; there are no legal implications that I know of. But Prinny”—he leaned forward and looked so deep into her eyes that her breath caught in her chest—“he is a powerful man. A powerful, spiteful man. And that makes him a powerful, spiteful enemy for you.”

  A ripple of fear corseted her. “He’d never take a chance on actually harming either of us.”

  “I hope not,” Alex said. “I really and truly hope not.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Chelsea

  “Please,” Andrew whined from his “work recliner,” a leather study chair that was really closer to a stiff, sleek leather torture device. It was about as far from a La-Z-Boy as humanly possible. “If I sit around this place one more night, working until my fingers ache, I’ll die. My fingers are starting to permanently look like they’re doing spider impressions.”

  “You were just out night before last!” Chelsea said, laughing. She’d seen the pictures of him with his other girlfriends. She knew he liked her best, but part of her had envied the carefree fun the rest of them were all out having. The high heels, the tight dresses wrapped around still-hot bods, the actual makeup. The energetic music that blasted from bass-heavy speakers. The pregaming bottle of champagne that kicked off a night of Vodka Cranberrys out on the town. She remembered that fun fondly, but as if she were small and feeble, remembering the glory days.