Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  The doorbell-ringer shattered that dream and had now taken the liberty of opening the screen door to rap sharply on the front door.

  “Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll go away?” Tina offered hopefully, shearing a large peel off with a satisfying flick, then reaching for another apple. She inspected it quickly before setting to work.

  Resigned to my fate, I wiped apple slush from my hands on a dishtowel and slung the towel on the counter. “I bet you dollars to donuts I know exactly who is on the other side of that door. And if we ignore her, she’s just gonna come crawling in through a window.”

  “Oh … that one,” Tina said.

  “Yep.” I offered Tina a final glare, then trudged out of the kitchen and clicked the foyer lights on. A tower of teased blonde hair wobbled in and out of view from the front door’s half-panel of inlaid stained glass. The wobble of someone teetering on sky-high heels and still not being tall enough to see over the top pane of glass.

  Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and placed my hand on the knob. I swore I could already smell the cloud of perfume before I even opened the door.

  3

  Danae Dawson. She was one of two swampcats that prowled the foothills of the Smoky Mountains; the other being her equally revolting sister, Ranae, who had a knack for selling over-priced vacation homes in the area to tourists. And neither of whom I wanted to see darkening my front doorstep at any hour.

  Danae was wearing a low-cut tight red blouse that threatened to produce a wardrobe malfunction at any moment. Although she was just a few years older than James and myself, the tanning beds along with an endless proclivity for sniffing out the local drink specials had not been kind to her. And although the Botox helped a bit, she still resembled a permanently surprised owl who struggled to blink.

  “Molly!” she drawled, adding several consonants to my name as she peered around my shoulders. “Always good to see you love,” she said, and moved in for a hug and an air-kiss to my cheek before I could stop her.

  A gangly young man whom I didn’t recognize, trailed in behind her clutching a tripod and a dark gray camera bag. Taking a color cue from the University of Tennessee, THE TENNESSEE SUN glowed in crisp orange lettering across the bag. “Uh, where do you think we might want to set up?” he asked.

  I straightened my spine until a satisfying crack rippled across my shoulders. What I wanted to do was yank that tripod out of his hands, and smack Danae Dawson right into the next county with it.

  However, seeing as we were both members of the same church, albeit infrequent parishioners, I could do no such thing. Not only would my grandmother have rolled in her grave at me even contemplating such unladylike behavior, it was a dangerous business pissing off a Southern woman. Particularly one who wielded the power of the pen in a handful of nearby small towns. Towns like Purgatory, where everyone seemed to know your business before you did.

  “I tell you, we were all just tickled pink when James came back home from the Army, and y’all ended up buying the old King’s Hill Farm here,” she said, flicking her hands in the air as if she were advertising products on a game show.

  “Danae, if you might remember, he was in the Air Force, not the Army.”

  “Right,” she chirped on. “Like I said, same thing – in the military. Anyway,” she paused, before starting to meander toward the kitchen and staircase, “I’m guessing James is still getting ready?” She pressed her lips together, and glanced up the stairs, craning her neck skyward as if she could divine James through the pressed-tin ceiling tiles.

  Tina peeked around the corner long enough to assess the situation and shoot Danae a warning glance, signaling that the kitchen was strictly off-limits before ducking back out of sight. While Tina may have been out of sight, she most certainly wasn’t out of earshot. Her apple-peeling pace had changed from her trademark rapid-fire snick-snick-snick, to something that sounded like a three-year-old practicing Morse code.

  “Danae, I’m sure sorry to tell you this, but I’m afraid you’ve wasted a trip. James isn’t here this morning,” I said, stepping between her and the kitchen. An extended sn-iiiiiii-ck echoed from the kitchen and I could almost hear the smirk playing across Tina’s face.

  Danae’s perma-smile wilted a bit at the edges. “Oh? Are you sure? I mean – I just double-checked with him the end of last week.”

  “He said to tell you he was sorry, but he accidentally double-booked himself with a signing over in Nashville.” I hated the lie as I said it, but I also wanted to soften the disappointment enough to nudge Danae to re-schedule. I had zero intention of letting her know James was expecting me to fill in for him and do the interview instead. He could tell her that himself if he cared so much about reporters.

  “Well shoot,” she muttered, looking to her camera … man? boy?, for answers.

  I seized the moment and stepped towards the door, willing her to take a hint. “Like I said, sorry you had to waste a trip. But, maybe you could come back in a few weeks – we’ll have the new fall menu going, plus we’ll have lots of new seasonal products in the store, and you can set up a time with James then.”

  But she didn’t budge. Instead, she glanced around the living room as if contemplating the best place to settle in and wait. Her shoulders slumped, and if I didn’t know better, she seemed to radiate genuine disappointment.

  “I guess I was just really hoping to get a jump on The Knoxville Herald, because I mean I know they’ve got the big story next week,” she sighed. “And well, I guess it makes sense – that they would get the story – I guess I was just hoping James might want to give his hometown paper first dibs.”

  And with that, she did sit down, as she looked up at me with her moist brown eyes, her expression was expectant. Like a pouting child counting on their charm to come roaring in to save the day.

  Something did come roaring in. A wave of confusion at what she had just said.

  “What big story next week?” I asked. A very long sn-iiiiiiiii-ck reverberated from the kitchen before Tina gave up all pretense and stepped into the living room beside me.

  “Oh you two!” Danae giggled, swatting her hand at us as if shooing away the absurdity of the question. She cupped perfectly manicured fingertips against her cheek, whispering loudly, “The new store?” She tried to wink, but instead was only able to pull off something that vaguely resembled a nervous twitch.

  I was suddenly so afraid … so dumbstruck, that I couldn’t bring myself to speak. To utter aloud any one of the swirling questions forming in my mind and give the situation power to materialize.

  “I tell you what, you ladies are certainly good actors – I’d give you both an Academy Award. Look at you two, trying to keep the big scoop secret,” Danae giggled again, this time adding air quotes with her hands to “secret”. “It really is ok, everybody already knows. That’s why I was hoping to catch James this morning.”

  Tina grabbed my arm, pulling me toward her as we both clutched each other for support. “Molly, I think we can spare some time and coffee this morning for Danae and do a sneak-peek interview with her? Don’t you think?”

  And that was all the encouragement Danae needed. She shot off the couch as if launched from a cannon and bear-hugged us both.

  “Oh I knew you guys wouldn’t let me down, I just knew it!” she screeched, her body restless with renewed energy. She snapped her fingers at her camera man. “Roy! Go get that folder out of the car.” He nodded and quickly came back with a thicket of papers held together in a crisp white folder. ‘Roth Contracting and Architects – A family company since 1992’ glittered in gold script across the folder.

  “Now, I promise y’all – I’ll keep everything hush-hush, but I am just dying to talk about these new sketches!”

  “I think we can safely say that makes three of us,” I said, and ushered us into the apple-strewn kitchen, and shot Tina a look of blue-murder.

  4

  The air outside was cool and damp as I finally ushered Danae and Roy to the fr
ont door. Danae hugged me again on her way out, and even took a chance and gave Tina a giant hug. Normally, Tina would’ve greeted such a gesture with a glare of contempt at best, or a colorful tirade of personal insults at worst. But she seemed to be just as stunned by the morning’s turn of events as I was, and stood motionless as Danae embraced her.

  “I’ll be on pins and needles waiting for your call! A VIP dinner!” Danae whooped, as she carefully tiptoed her way around mud puddles and slipped into the passenger’s side of a gray sedan. Roy tucked the tripod across the backseat, and turned to give us a quick wave. Then they were off. The porch railing pressed hard against my shoulder as I leaned against it for support. I watched as the sedan crunched down our gravel drive, past the restaurant and store, and disappeared down the two-lane blacktop that lead back into Purgatory.

  It had taken every ounce of self-composure I had not to break down and lose it in front of Danae. I’m a terrible liar, always have been – with zero poker face. With Tina’s help, I plied Danae with enough caffeine to drop a horse, and it didn’t take long for it to kick in. Once it did, she couldn’t talk fast enough.

  Danae proudly gushed that she had been able to sweet-talk Fred Roth into giving her a few color copies of the site sketches for James’s “super-secret-squirrel-project”, as she had so delicately put it. Although she didn’t have financials for the construction build-out, she did have an address and the offer price on the property.

  “I tell you what, once I got that phone call from Ranae – I knew in my bones that this was the big story I’d been waiting for,” Danae yammered on, as Tina refilled her coffee mug.

  I fanned the architectural drawings across the dining table as calmly as I could manage. I’d held the first drawing less than two seconds before setting it down. Mercifully, Danae hadn’t noticed, but my hands shook so badly from adrenaline that the corners of the paper trembled.

  “So, Danae – I’m sure we can guess, but James has still been a bit evasive at how he got the jump on such a great location,” I ventured. “He just said he had a great tip, uh … from Ranae, and well, had to run with it.”

  I rolled the dice. I had to. If I had any hope of pulling off this charade, Danae had to believe she was the one getting insider details, when in fact – it was the other way around. If Danae got so much as a whiff I had been clueless about this new store – that would’ve been the news headline. I could see it now. ‘Celebrity Chef Shocker! Co-Owner Clueless About Empire Expansion!’ I hoped the lie sounded convincing enough and I hadn’t just shot myself in the foot.

  Danae took a long sip of coffee and nodded her head. I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief and fought hard to hold it in.

  “It was a little bit of luck. Ranae would never admit that of course, but I know it’s true,” Danae snickered. “Do you guys remember the story earlier this summer, when one of Knoxville’s most popular Chinese restaurants burned down over July 4th weekend? The Jade Dragon?”

  I remembered details from the Moon Landing better but nodded along anyway. Anything to keep Danae talking.

  Danae leaned forward and flattened her hands against the tabletop, a gesture that could only signify one thing for a reporter. A scoop.

  “Well,” she began. “They’re still investigating, but rumor has it that it wasn’t a random grease fire at all. Old Mr. Lian from the Peking Phoenix across the street was furious he’d been passed over for a restaurant award, and that the Jade Dragon had got one. It seems that quite a few bottle rockets were accidentally launched onto the roof of the Jade Dragon to celebrate Independence Day. And once Mr. Lian got busted for selling illegal fireworks over Labor Day weekend – I mean y’all, they said this stuff fired off like it was weapons grade – it didn’t take long for the fire chief to start putting pieces in place.”

  “And Ranae?” I asked cautiously.

  “So, Ranae has been scouring locations in Knoxville for the past few months, right?”

  Tina kicked my foot under the table. There it was. The secret link. My tongue glued itself to the roof of my mouth, and I helplessly nodded along – not trusting myself to even try and speak.

  “You didn’t hear it from me, the fire chief – he’s married you know,” she whispered, “but he was the one who told Ranae that the owner of the Jade Dragon wasn’t so sure he wanted to rebuild after all. And for the right price, could probably be persuaded to list his property. And of course, from there you know the rest,” she offered, as if stating an obvious fact, and drained the last of her coffee. Tina eagerly poured her another cup, even though Danae tried to wave her off.

  I pawed at the sketches again. Even in rough strokes and broad watercolors, Roth had certainly done beautiful artwork. I could almost hear the buzz from excited customers as they meandered through the two-story space Roth presented. A clean expanse of exposed red-brick walls opened up to a rustic, wood-beamed ceiling. Copper store-front lanterns welcomed wisps of shoppers coming in to explore. But the one piece of information I desperately needed was nowhere to be found on the site sketches.

  The list price. What was the freaking list price? I started to ask, but stopped short. If I were in on the story, I would already know how much James had offered for the now defunct Jade Dragon. Asking that question would overplay my hand.

  Danae had said something. I’d missed it. “Do what?”

  “I said, do you think y’all will try to open a restaurant in Knoxville too, in addition to the new country store?” She blinked expectantly at me.

  “I, um. We’re still working the financials out on that,” I finally stammered and tried my best to smile.

  “Well, y’all definitely should – I mean that would be a smash hit in Market Square.”

  Market Square. Jade Dragon. Now, I at least had a firm address of where this doomed store was threatening to open.

  “Danae, I hate to ask this – but James took our folder from Roth with him this morning, on his trip. Is there any way I could borrow yours for a little bit? James asked me to verify some of the paint colors and finishes, and I totally blanked that I would need our folder for that.”

  Tina looked at me like I might spontaneously combust at any moment, and it was my turn to try and kick her under the table. Unfortunately, my legs are as long as the Grand Canyon – and I accidentally kicked Danae in the shin, earning a shrill yelp for my efforts.

  “I’m so sorry! Tall girl problems, I was just trying to re-position,” I said.

  “It’s ok,” she muttered, leaning down to rub her shin.

  “Like I said, I know it’s a big ask but … I could make it worth your while?”

  Danae considered. “I’m listening,” she said.

  5

  James McGill rolled the windows down of his jet-black Ford F-350 and let the cool fall breeze rush into the cab as he contemplated his October schedule. His book publisher had just emailed, and wanted to finalize the cover design for his new Christmas book. Fred Roth had indeed pulled through and produced some excellent initial renderings of the new store. And now that the debris from the Jade Dragon fire had been cleared out, he couldn’t wait to meet the building inspector this afternoon for the next round of inspections.

  Barring any catastrophic surprises uncovered in the inspections, he could press forward with the deal, and hopefully get to closing by the end of this month.

  Ranae had really done him a solid finding this place, and getting it nailed down as a pocket listing. He knew he’d paid a premium for that, but it would be worth it. Prime downtown real estate in one of Tennessee’s hottest new markets with a base price of $1.7 million was a steal.

  Against the hilly roadside, a green traffic sign shimmered ahead, the raindrops reflecting the headlights and twinkling like early morning stars.

  Knoxville – 7 miles

  Even though he’d taken the scenic routes down Highway 411 and 441, he was making excellent time this morning. The interstate would’ve been quicker, but far less picturesque. East Tennessee was beautiful a
ny time of the year, but when the tree canopies of the Appalachian hills officially announced fall in hues of brilliant brick reds, sunset oranges and yellow topaz, few things on earth could compete. Getting away from the concrete jungle was well worth the added drive time.

  James was just picturing the new store again, when his phone rang. Narland Beasley, the Editor-in-Chief of The Knoxville Herald was calling. James punched a glowing blue button on the center dash to answer.

  “Narland, how are you, so good to hear from you,” James oozed in a practiced tone.

  “Ah, James I’m glad I caught you.”

  “I cannot wait to finally get to meet you in person.” James didn’t have to schmooze that part at all. An interview with The Herald was a big deal, and if he played his cards right, Narland might even be willing and able to open a few doors with the series editors at Scripps, one of the food and travel networks headquartered in Knoxville.

  “Now, I know you’re probably calling about the interview, I should be there in—”

  Narland cut him off. James’s personality was big, but Narland’s was bigger.

  “James, I hate to call with such short notice, but I was wondering if we could meet for dinner and drinks instead of lunch? There’s a ribbon cutting at Hillcrest Memorial today for one of their new wings and I need to be there for it,” Narland said.

  There was no ribbon cutting scheduled at the hospital that day, nor for the next day for that matter. The knowledge that James had a notoriously short temper was no state secret. Narland simply wanted to catch James off-guard, and set the stage early that the only person in charge of Narland Beasley, was Narland Beasley.