The owner blinked at her low cut shirt and what it failed to cover, then drew in a breath through his nose. He turned to Maddy, extended a slip of paper in her direction. “The appraisals. Each is detailed with a price range you could demand should you choose to sell.”
Too upset to focus, Maddy barely glanced at the numbers. She had no idea where to turn, what to do now. At once, Az's face flashed before her eyes. For a brief second she recalled the touch of his hands as they'd danced at Lookout Point. Damn, why did he have to be such a total shit?
Granny's voice came into her head. Stand up far yerself, acushla. There's none else who will.
“Please, look carefully at the last piece and the figure I feel it will bring,” the appraiser said. “I confirmed the amount with my contact at Sothebys. The portrait is quite a find. Really, remarkable. Quite. Remarkable.”
Maddy wanted to scream like the best of Dingle banshees. “Which piece are we speaking of?” she mumbled, passing the slip of paper to Suzie.
The appraiser gushed a description of the fop in lilac satin, lace cuffs and flowing black curls.
“That's the one Maddy said was too hideous to keep,” Suzie said. “The only thing of any value was the frame. Lou planned to re-purpose it for something else.” She glanced at the slip of paper in her hand and looked up. “Ten million? Dollars?”
“That is correct, madam.”
“Holy. Shit.”
* * *
The first thing Maddy did after arriving at the Lodge was open a bottle of wine. Several toasts later, she left Suzie with dinner preparations and went to her third floor office. After identifying herself, the call to her grandmother's attorney went straight through to his office. “Your Honor?” she said tentatively. If she should break down with anyone, this man had proved himself to be her strongest supporter.
“Madeleine, how is the rehab project coming?”
“I'm very sorry to bother you with something that might be nothing, but I need sound advice. You were the first and only person who came to mind.”
“I'm pleased you did. Shall I come to Serenity Harbor?”
This man, so kind and gentle during the worst time of her life, was willing to drop everything and come to her aid. And he didn't even know the details.
“I need you,” she whispered and gave in to the storm of tears that had threatened to blow since the astounding revelations in the middle of a Portland diner.
* * *
The following morning, the four friends celebrated the recent influx of cash over Suzie's cinnamon scones, warm blackberry preserves and fresh brewed coffee. The sale of the Purple Fruit Loop, Lou's term for the hideous painting, would serve them well as they went to war against the political infrastructure of Serenity Harbor. Armed with the advice from The Judge who would be arriving in town as soon as he wrapped up a few office matters, Maddy outlined the next steps.
Lou begged to go to Hanson Scapes with her. For support, he said.
She would have none of it. This became her mess when she hired Az Hanson without thoroughly vetting him so it was up to her to clean it up. Over her protests, Suzie, Lou and Cori walked her to the secluded alcove at the rear of the mansion where she kept her fire engine red SUV parked. Giving advice, rendering threats, vowing retribution was the order of the day.
Cori muttered something in Spanish which, loosely translated, promised hideous deaths rising to the standards of the Inquisition on anyone who worked for Az Hanson and his banda de delincuentes. “Except for Jack,” she said. “El es un buen muchacho.”
“Too bad I have to go back to Boston to finalize the purchases of fabrics and furniture I made yesterday,” Lou said and hugged Maddy to his chest. “Don't you worry, darling. I'll do you proud.”
“I have no doubt,” she whispered, biting back the tears.
Strange, how after speaking at length with the man she called Your Honor or The Judge, she'd reached a state of calm and peace, and slept like the dead through the night. Only in the presence of her closest allies, did she find herself dangerously close to tears. Again.
“Drive carefully, Lou. Text me when you arrive.”
He brushed her cheeks free of moisture with his thumbs. “I might stay over.”
“Good for you.”
He opened the door of the Escape, assisted her into the high rise seat. “Do not, upon pain of death or extreme embarrassment, let the bastards see you cry. Hear me, Flynn?”
“Loud and clear.”
Suzie pushed him aside so she could close the door. “If you need us, Cori and I are just a broom's ride away.”
Madeleine Flynn pulled out of the small parking lot and set her car on the road toward Serenity Harbor, will and determination her lone companions.
Chapter 4
Thanks to a bit of legal magic and, Maddy imagined, a vast number of strings pulled by The Judge, she picked up a heavy canvas satchel at the local bank, before heading, over strenuous objections by the manager, directly to Hanson Scapes.
Jack Templeton was minding the store when she arrived. By the occasional winces and groans on his face, the young man looked like he might be suffering from a severe ear infection or a bad belly ache as he hunched over the cash register.
“Hi, Miz Flynn. How can I help you?”
She offered him a genuine smile. It wasn't his fault he worked for three of the world's biggest amoral losers. “It looks more like I should do something for you. Everything all right?”
He leaned closer, lowered his voice. “The music on the overheads? Not my choice, believe me. It's sheer torture when golden oldies return from the dead.” He shivered dramatically. “Are my eyeballs bleeding?”
Maddy took a moment to concentrate on the song currently coming through a speaker mounted high on one wall. Peter, Paul and Mary sang about having their way in this wicked world. Amen, my sister and brothers.
“Protest music not your thing, Jack?”
“Hell no. I mean, I was raised on Woodstock, be-ins and Vietnam protest songs. Figured I escaped all that crap when I left home and came here to college. Looks like Mrs. H and my folks marched to the same tune back in the day. Ya know?”
Maddy just smiled. “I believe I do. Yes.”
P, P and M segued into Joan Baez wailing about freedom being just another word for nothing else to lose. Maddy felt a spark of courage infuse into her heart. “I'd like to speak to the CFO. Might he or she be available?”
“CFO? What's--?”
Az came around the corner. “Chief Financial Officer.” With a nod for Jack, he said, “Take a break, kid. I'll handle this.”
Jack grinned at Maddy. “The plants you ordered last week are in. I'll bring them by tonight, put them where you asked.”
“Thanks, Jack. Be sure to find me; I'll give you a hand.”
“Good deal.” With a nod he was gone. Az waited till they were alone before he spoke. “Hello, pretty lady. You look extra amazing today. Special occasion?”
“Hello, Azrael,” she said, putting all the prim she could muster into her voice when what she really wanted was to spit in his eye. “If the finance person is available, I'd like to speak with them.”
“That'd be my mother. She's in the back.”
He took her arm and led her past displays of towering floor plants, through a large greenhouse filled with hanging baskets which appeared to require high levels of humidity if the degree of cloying heat was any indication. On the far side of the greenhouse, trees and shrubs, root balls wrapped in burlap, lined up like soldiers at parade rest.
“Watch your step,” he warned, taking her arm to guide her around snaking coils of garden hoses.
Focused on not tripping over her own two feet, she shifted the bulging satchel into her other hand, then made the mistake of glancing over at him. The smile in his blue eyes would melt the tarnish off a brass doorknob. “Thanks.”
Az kept his hand on her elbow. “Why do you want to speak with my mother? Everything all right at the Lodge?”
She
considered the question for about three beats of her heart. “You're welcome to join us. I have no secrets.”
He dropped his hand, took a step back, frowned. “You look … upset. At me?”
“Do I have reason to be … upset … with you?”
Az opened a door marked “Knock First. Wipe Your Feet” and showed her into a cramped room with a desk that held a listing pile of manilla folders and a rusted In and Out metal basket. Assorted garden tools hung on walls, vying for space with posters from singing groups popular in the 60's and 70's.
“Mom? You have a visitor.”
It didn't take someone who missed out on Woodstock only because she was born too late to identify a soul mate. Slim as a reed, Rosemary Hanson wore a plaid flannel shirt under denim overalls and high-top Keds. Steel gray hair fell in a single braid down her back. Startling blue eyes twinkled from behind wire-framed glasses. Her oldest son, Maddy saw, had inherited his mother's eyes.
“Well, Azrael, who do we have here?”
With a hand at the small of her back, he urged Maddy forward. “Mom, this is Madeleine Flynn.”
Rosemary came around the desk, hand out in greeting. “It's a pleasure to meet you at last. The boys have told me all about the renovations. How may I help you?”
Maddy ignored Mrs. Hanson's hand, not out of rudeness but because she needed both hands to heave the canvas satchel onto the narrow desk. Once opened, she dumped the contents over the top of the scarred surface. Tens of thousands of dollars, banded in twenties and fifties, landed with smart thumps.
“I'm here to settle my bill.”
* * *
On reconsideration, upset was too mild a word to describe Madeleine Flynn. Royally pissed came closer to the mark. In a red power suit with a tight skirt that skimmed her knees and matching spike heeled shoes which only made her legs look more spectacular than usual, she looked … magnificent.
“There's no need to settle anything, Maddy.”
She whirled on him. “In case you didn't hear me the first time, I am here to settle the bill for services performed, as well as products delivered to date. My attorney and I reviewed the contract I signed with Hanson Scapes. He assured me as long as I comply with the clause governing premature cancellation, you have no cause for suit.”
Az tried to quell his mother's repeated squawks of what the hell is going on? with a calming gesture of his hand. It did no good.
To Maddy, he said, “Please. If you're unhappy with the work we've done--”
She shook off the hand he'd laid on her arm with a brisk snap of her wrist. “I'm tired of having to repeat myself, Mr. Hanson, and would very much appreciate you taking this message back to your friends on the Town Council: I've recently come into an obscene amount of money. Enough, as my Granny used to say, to make the Pope look like a piker. More than enough, I assure you, to keep the Township of Serenity Harbor tied up in the courts for many years to come.”
“I don't understand.” Though he feared he did--all too well. Someone had blabbed and Madeleine the Magnificent was now on to the entire scheme. Aw Gawd.
Referring back to his training in crisis intervention, he softened his voice and body language. “Look, Maddy, this can all go away if you'd settle down so we can discuss it in a calm, sensible manner.”
“I'm not finished,” she spat, then drew back those magnificent shoulders and took a deep breath. “I will burn the Lodge to the ground before I let anyone turn it into a casino.”
At that Rosemary screeched, “Casino? Azrael, who wants to build a casino?”
“You should also know I have already placed a call to the office of the State Attorney General,” Maddy stated calmly. “And the state professional licensing board. Plus, I'm certain there's a few investigative reporters, print and electronic, who'd love to expose the scams you and the boys have pulled on former clients.”
Az ran a hand through his hair, debated blurting out the whole truth--if only to shut down his mother's wails. “Please, Maddy. I can understand why you think you have a right to be upset--”
“Upset?” Her bellow was loud enough to rattle the paper thin walls of the office. “Sir, you haven't seen upset.”
She turned to his pale-faced mother. “I'm sorry some of your children possess the ethics of alley cats, Mrs. Hanson. I'm also sorry they are courting criminal charges as well as civil lawsuits. Perhaps you should contact an attorney so that you can protect your personal assets before this whole situation goes any farther. Believe me, when I'm done I will take Hanson Scapes down.”
In slow, deliberate movements, she handed them both simple white business cards. “Should you have any questions, call this number. I'm sure you will recognize the name.”
She walked out and closed the door behind her with a quiet click.
* * *
Armed with the righteous fury of a woman who'd been kept in the dark too long, Rosemary Hanson laid a Vulcan death grip on the nape of her son's neck. “Find your brothers. Tell them I expect their sorry asses in here before the hour is out. Am I clear?”
Az needed only one glance at the card in his hand before a grim smile creased his mouth. The coming battle would be a bit premature in terms of his grand plan. Whatever way this whole thing came down, it was going to be a doozy.
“Did you hear me, Azrael?
“Yes, Mom,” he said with a sigh and picked up the phone.
The person at the other end of the line spoke with authority. “Town of Serenity Harbor. How may I help you?”
“Call an emergency meeting of the Town Council. Behind closed doors. No one but the executive committee.”
“Why?” the voice whined. Az wanted to reach through the phone wires and choke the little bastard. “What's going on?”
“Just do it. Now.”
* * *
By daybreak the next day, several RV's and camper style vans were parked in the staff lot at the back of the Lodge. Jack Templeton appeared at the back porch door with a man he introduced as his father, Dave.
“My boy told me of your troubles, ma'am,” the gray-haired man in jeans and a I Love NY sweatshirt. “My friends and I are here to help. We're a group of craftsmen, carpenters, electricians and plumbers. Retired and bored out of our gourds. Feed us a couple three times a day, chip in something for gas once in awhile, we'll fix you up real quick.”
Jack said, “I called my dad after yesterday's dust-up at Hanson Scapes. I think the whole county heard the screeching after you left. Man, that must have been some house to grow up in. Bet the old man croaked if only to get himself some peace.”
“John Francis,” Dave Templeton thundered. “Watch your mouth.”
Maddy smiled. “It's all right. I did my share of screeching. I'm sure some in the next state heard me.” She turned to Jack. “What about your job? The internship?”
“I'm okay,” he said. “As long as I document the progress with photographs and you are willing to sign a couple papers, I'm golden.”
Maddy looked at the men grouped behind the Templetons. One wore a khaki campaign hat over a balding head and an olive drab jacket with military patches down the left breast. Another sported a Rip VanWinkle beard. And she was pretty sure that was a holster around his waist and tied to one thigh. A third made himself busy by setting up some sort of intricate work bench which she assumed by the presence of saw horses would hold a fancy buzz saw and other man tools.
“Where do you want us to start, Dave?” the medaled vet asked.
Maddy sputtered for a few minutes, then said, “I have no idea what to say--or how to thank you, Mr. Templeton. Believe me, you are the answer to my prayers.”
“I'm a licensed contractor in New York and Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine,” Dave said. “How about if me and the boys take a look around the place, get back to you in a bit?”
“That'd be great. Thank you.”
Jack followed his father down the steps and headed for the gardens. Over his shoulder he called out, “While they're doing that,
I'll unload the supplies for the rock gardens. You need anything, Miz Flynn, we're here for you. Don't forget that.”
Lou appeared at one side, Suzie at the other. “Finally,” he said. “Things will start moving.” He clucked at the collection of motor vehicles and tents in the lot. “Looks one of those refugee camps the UN sets up.”
“I don't care if they're little blue Martians or a band of Pygmies from the hidden reaches of the Congo,” Suzie claimed. “As long as I have my work island and Tor Range in place before the month is out.” She rubbed her hands together with an enthusiasm Maddy had not seen in her friend in much too long. “Better get my pots warmed up. I got myself a herd of hungry men to feed.”
By the end of the day, Dave Templeton had a report for Maddy on what still needed doing and what would have to wait until inspectors from Augusta or Boston could be brought in for their decisions.
“First of all,” he said after a sip of fresh coffee supplied by Suzie. “Man, that is good.” He glanced up and offered the chef a wink. “Don't tell the wife, okay? She's watching my caffeine intake.”
Suzie gave his shoulder a squeeze. “It's our secret. Got any special requests for meals, Dave?”
“Anything as long as it's hot and there's plenty of it.”
“Ten-four,” she said with a smart salute and retreated back into her domain.
Maddy refreshed Dave's cup from the carafe Suzie had left behind. “Before you give me the bad news, you should know I have more money that God, so don't let the fear of tight finances influence the facts.”
He sneaked one of Sue's mini scones and scarfed it down in two bites. “My lord, that woman can bake.”
Maddy chuckled. “She's dying to try out more recipes. We have ourselves a new captive audience.”
Dave set down the mug. “My buddies and I agree--and this is no shine job--the work done so far is top notch. Couldn't have done better ourselves.”
For some bizarre reason she wasn't surprised--which only added to the confusion which wore the name Azrael Hanson.
“Where do we go from here, Dave?”
* * *
The next few days became a whirlwind of activity with Maddy at the helm, ably supported by her co-captains, Cori, Lou and Suzie. True to his promise, Jack Templeton arrived daily, occasionally with room-mates in tow, to work on the landscaping. Secretly, Maddy figured the young men's interests might lay more in the realm of food as opposed to labor. Didn't matter; she was at last seeing the gardens return to their former glory.
Welcome to Serenity Harbor Page 10