“I know you’ve shared that Danae Dawson has a flair for the dramatic. Do you think that might be the case here?” Jake asked carefully.
“Not this time,” I said, feeling utterly defeated. I instantly reached in my back pocket for my phone, only to realize it wasn’t there, and still back in the room charging.
“I need to go back and get my phone,” I said, and walked quickly outside.
“Let me come with you,” Jake said.
I stopped him. “No. You need to go claim your car, and meet Vernon Howell at the bank.”
Jake paused. He took a few tentative steps toward the bank, then back to me, the hotel key jangling in his hand. He was completely torn.
“Go,” I said. “Give me the key. Maybe just meet me back at the room once you’re squared up at the bank.”
“But I shouldn’t leave you alone right now – you’re upset, and you have every right to be,” he said, his voice brimming with true concern.
“You’re right – I am, and upset doesn’t even began to cover it,” I said, trying to choke back tears, and failing miserably. “Which means, I need to go have some very difficult conversations that might be better left in private, for right now.”
My perfect weekend had just come to a crashing halt, and I couldn’t have stopped the tears from coming if I tried. A flood of anger and the disappointment of a thousand unrealized wishes surged forth, and it was all I could do to hold myself together long enough to make it back to the Evergreen.
I steeled myself for the worst, as I came into our once picturesque double-suite, now carrying a harbinger of doom. My phone.
I went to Jake’s room for my phone, but it wasn’t on the nightstand. Or the dresser. The bed. Or beside the bed.
Where is the stupid thing? I muttered to myself. I did a quick scan within the suite, but couldn’t find it. Out of habit, I reached for my back pocket again, some part of me expecting my phone would have teleported itself there.
Nope.
Tiki lifted his head and blinked lazily at me. I scratched under his chin, and kept looking – trying to tamp down a growing sense of panic. Scanning the room, left, right, back to the nightstand, nothing.
I had gone back into my bedroom in a last-ditch effort when I heard a muffled ping, and froze. Somewhere, my phone pinged again.
What on earth? I rushed into the living room. Silence. Tiki stretched to his full length before rolling onto his back to watch me, from his upside-down vantage point.
“You look crazy Tiki – you do know that right?” I said, earning a few content tail swishes in return. Ping.
Tiki rocketed onto all fours, and I watched him scuttle under the sofa. I had to get on hands and knees to see where he went. And once I did, discovered several ill-gotten treasures, including my phone, the room’s phone, and a handful of spearmints from my purse.
“You rotten, little thing,” I said to Tiki, and couldn’t help but smirk when I heard purring rumbling from under the sofa.
I cringed when I found the hotel’s note – and squinted at my phone with one eye shut as I began to read the torrent of messages that had come in.
To say that things were bad, would be the understatement of the century. When the intrusion alarm was unable to raise anyone at our home, the police calls first went to my phone, but after several attempts I was deemed unavailable, and the calls went to James’s phone.
James had immediately tried calling me, then messaging, before finally giving up and texting Tina. Danae Dawson waited until she’d heard that dispatch had been sent to our restaurant, and promptly sped over, getting there just as Tina arrived. James was the last one to arrive on the scene, as he had taken a very, very, very expensive taxi back from Knoxville.
I winced as I read several messages, all in caps, from James. He didn’t mince words that the entire incident was my fault. I suspected he was more furious that he’d had to cut his executive hobnobbing short, than the actual damage that had been done to the restaurant.
And he had found out about my little stunt – as he put it – and would ensure that Jake Hall was put behind bars for fraud. Chills ran down my spine when I read Tina’s texts, warning me that she thought James might be heading my way – and that he had peeled out of the driveway this morning without telling her where he was headed. We were less than two hours away from Purgatory, it was certainly possible that he could be out there, waiting.
I didn’t have the heart to even play the voicemails. I needed to get back to Purgatory, and help sort this mess out.
Frantically, I glanced down at my watch. It had been thirty minutes since I left Jake at the diner.
How long did it take to transfer a car? Surely, no more than an hour.
But an hour came and went. Then an hour and a half.
Approaching hour number two, I was practically levitating from anxiety, and headed to the bank to let Jake know that I had to get going.
25
I had kept my head down and walked as quickly as I could from the Evergreen Inn to the bank, keeping my eyes peeled for James, but saw no sight of him. Rounding the corner, I rushed into the lobby of the First Jonesborough Bank, which was surprisingly massive. Beautiful pink granite floors were polished to a mirror-finish and reflections followed customers like shadows on the floors.
If the bank was this large, maybe that would explain why it might be taking such a long time for Jake to get in and out of here. I spotted the information desk and asked a well-dressed attendant if they knew where Jake Hall, the man who had just won the Porsche from Johnson Motors was.
The attendant looked at me rather strangely. “Are you Miss McGill?” he asked.
“I am.” I pulled out my driver’s license to prove it.
“Yes, of course. Will you just step this way a moment, please?”
The bank attendant led me down a gleaming hallway, around a corner and into a posh sitting room. Several small glass-paneled fridges held all varieties of juices, chilled coffees, and water. He told me to help myself, then quickly walked away.
Minute after minute ticked by. I flicked through a couple of the business and jetsetter magazines strewn across the coffee table, waiting – listening for Jake’s voice.
Something wasn’t right. I poked my head out into the hallway, but only heard the hushed productive noises of a typical bank going about its day. And that’s when I saw a flash of green swish by in a reflection off the floor.
I raced toward the end of the hallway just in time to see the unmistakable green Porsche … being whisked away by a tow truck. Washington County Sheriff’s Department was neatly stenciled in iridescent black and gold lettering on the truck’s door.
I went straight back to the information desk and up to a visibly startled attendant, and demanded to see a manager. The attendant paged and rang a few buttons, and in a moment, a tiny, leathery bird of a man approached.
“What is going on?” I asked.
The manager sported eyebrows that had evaded tweezers for decades and offensive cologne poured off him in a noxious fog, so thick I could taste it on my tongue like oil. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he moonlit at the local cemeteries as a bone collector.
“I am sorry for the inconvenience and delay, Miss,” he said. “The transaction is just concluded. We gave Mr. Jake Hall what was due him, and he has departed. There is no need for you to stay longer. You are free to leave, unless there is other business?”
And I didn’t buy a word of it. “Departed? Departed for where? Something stinks like old cheese around here, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
The ancient manager steepled his gnarled fingers together, as if he welcomed the challenge. “You are certainly most welcome to spend the remainder of your day in our lounge if you like. The decision is yours,” he said, and crept back to whatever hole he’d slithered out from.
My heart told me Jake wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. But I knew in a million years that Jake would never have left Tiki behind. My ph
one buzzed again in my pocket – and the realization hit me like a piano dropped on an unsuspecting coyote.
It was a crazy idea, and I wondered if it would work. I pulled out my phone and punched in Washington County Sheriff’s Department into the GPS. The attendant looked at me nervously when I laughed and bolted across the lobby.
The department was 3.4 miles away. And a very friendly storytelling center docent was happy to take me over, as there were precious few cabs to be had in town.
Had I not known where I was headed – I would’ve believed the docent dropped me off at one of those mega-churches that the South seems to sprout up like corn fields. The Washington County Sheriff’s Department was a handsome red brick building sprawled into three wings. The center courtyard flew a proud collection of flags, including with the triple-starred Tennessee flag, alongside the Stars and Stripes, whipping in the wind.
The only clue that people might be being held against their will there, was the lack of windows that normally accompany any building, and a tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire that looped around the back quarter of the property. The colorful pansies dotting the pristinely manicured flowerbeds hugging the entryway almost seemed out of place. As if they were too cheerful to be planted where they were.
I went through two sets of metal detectors and scanners, then sent my purse through an x-ray machine before I finally reached the intake desk, and a very disgruntled looking clerk perched behind a clear wall of what appeared to be bullet-proof glass.
“Identification, and sign in here please,” he said, sliding a clipboard through an envelope-sized window slot.
I scrawled down my information and passed my driver’s license to him, along with the clipboard.
“Nature of visit?”
“I believe that there may have been a mistake, and you’re holding my friend, Jake Hall – on some trumped-up charges,” I said firmly.
“Oh, right – ‘cause everyone in there’s innocent,” the clerk snarled.
“Well, do you have a Mr. Jake Hall back there or not?”
“What’s it to you?”
I glared at the man, who had about three chins too many. “I noticed you also did not answer my question.”
The clerk flinched, just slightly, but noticeable enough.
“I think you do, and I demand to see him,” I said, as evenly as I could muster.
“Now we’re demanding things are we?” the clerk snapped.
“Well, could you at least tell me what he’s being held for?” I asked. It was a good thing the sheriff’s department saw fit to keep this pudgy bastard behind plate glass. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how many people would throttle him if given half the chance.
He smacked a sheaf of papers roughly against his woodgrain laminate desktop. His eyes glittered meanly in his heavy-set face. “Fine. If Jake Hall is someone you call a friend, you might want to make yourself some new ones. Because that joker’s gonna be transferred tomorrow over to state, on felony charges.” He gleamed as he shared the news.
“Felony charges? For what?” I fought to keep from yelling, as I didn’t want to get up close and personal with the inside of a cell myself.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but fraud and kidnapping,” he said, with a nasty gleeful smirk.
I laughed under my breath. It took very little gumshoeing to figure out what was going on here. James had verbatim told me via text that he would make sure Jake Hall saw time behind bars, and it seemed by sinking his real estate deal, I had made him angry enough that he had made good on his threat.
“Let me take one guess who Jake Hall has been accused of kidnapping? Molly McGill – is that right? The same Molly McGill that’s standing right in front of you? And also, the same one related to the state’s most popular celebrity chef. And with every reporter on speed dial?” I said, pressing my palms against the countertop and leaning forward until my nose was an inch away from the glass. “Why don’t you take a look at that driver’s license right in front of you, and tell me what it says.”
Sweat glistened along the clerk’s hairline as he read my license.
“Does it look like I have been kidnapped to you? Standing here of my own free will – and trying to get my so-called kidnapper set free? In what world does that make sense to you?”
He puffed his cheeks, which were rapidly turning puce. “Well. You could have that Stockholm Syndrome, for all I know.” The man was a dog with a bone, and he was not about to let it go.
“Let me tell you what’s going to happen if you don’t release him right now. One – I don’t think you have nearly enough probable cause to actually make those charges stick.” The man shifted in his chair, and it groaned under his weight.
“And two, if you have an ounce of common sense in that fat head of yours, you will listen to me very carefully. I am about to call every single reporter in Tennessee and have them run this story.”
At that, he stood up, his chair sailing backward from the force. “I think you got about five seconds to clear out of here, before we book you for harassment.”
I clicked open the contact list in my phone and pressed it close to the glass, and began scrolling through. “You’re about to get the story of a lifetime if you don’t let Jake Hall go right now,” I yelled, no longer able to keep my voice down.
I needed to make a scene, and it was working. A deputy peered around a partition to see what the commotion was, and I eagerly waved him over. Confused, he ended the phone call he was on, and pulled the clerk aside.
The clerk turned his back to me, and with a flurry of his hands, and in hushed tones, gave his version of what was going on. The deputy clicked open a computer screen, the blue glow illuminating his face as he typed in information and read things I could not see.
He stood, then crossed the office space over to me, looked at my license and compared the picture to my face. “You’re Molly McGill?”
“Yes, sir – I am,” I said, standing up as straight as I could.
The deputy took a deep breath, sighed, and shook his head, then slid my license back to me. “Wait here, please,” he said, and placing a hand on the clerk’s shoulder, they disappeared from view. I strained to hear the raised voices echoing from behind a partition, but heard enough. The charges weren’t going to stick. Not even with a crooked judge and all the glue in the state of Tennessee.
And that they were going to have a civil suit on their hands before sunset, if they didn’t let Jake go.
My heart leapt into my throat as I heard a few grudging apologies muttered, and Jake’s voice answering back. Moments later, a mechanical buzz unlocked a plain white metal door, and looking a little rougher for the wear, Jake stepped through.
The rays from a thousand suns couldn’t match the light that played across Jake’s face as he saw me, and rushed over to hold me like we were the last two people on the planet.
26
And that is how the love of my life proposed. Against the gorgeous backdrop of a silver prison fence.
“The moment you came back for me, I knew,” Jake said, running his hands through my hair, pulling me in close. “I think I knew it the minute you told me where I could shove my pie truck,” he laughed.
“But your brother, and the business in Colorado,” I stammered, feeling both guilty and elated at the same time.
“We’re not ready to launch yet, and rumor has it that a very popular restaurant might be in need of a GM,” Jake winked. “And since the impound lot has agreed to release the Porsche, and have it shipped, or sold, whatever the preference, I think that leaves us with plenty of options.”
As we made our way back to the Evergreen Inn to pick up Tiki and the truck, Jake told me that ever since our first afternoon together, he had begun to imagine what life might be like with me. Not purely physically he explained, but blushed when he said so, but as a partner. A wife. “Or a missus,” he grinned.
He said he had never come across someone with so much fire and spunk.
Which was actually quite funny, because up until the YIPPEE PIE YAY showed up on my doorstep, I wasn’t sure I had any spunk or fire left in me.
But the fire burning across my core now, assured me that I most certainly did.
Both James and Tina were waiting for us as the YIPPEE PIE YAY crunched its way back up the gravel drive at our farmhouse in Purgatory. My heart softened a bit, as I watched James’s face melt from fury to complete and absolute awe.
“I told you this was going to work,” Jake said, squeezing my hand tight, before we both stepped out of the truck.
James took a few eager steps toward us.
“James, I would like to introduce you to my fiancé, and our new GM, Jake Hall,” I said with as much conviction as I could. Tina beamed over his shoulder and silently mouthed, “I told you so!”
James walked over to Jake, and each man paused, carefully regarding each other. I nervously glanced at Tina.
We all breathed a sigh of relief when surprisingly, James extended his hand – and welcomed Jake to Purgatory, and invited him into the farmhouse.
Tina rushed down the steps and nearly knocked me over with a huge hug. “So, Sweeney Todd turned out to be quite the charmer, didn’t he Flower?”
I hugged Tina until she swatted me away. “Now enough of that, we might need to follow them in and referee,” she said.
But, it turned out that refereeing wouldn’t be necessary.
As we followed James and Jake to the porch, we all couldn’t help but laugh when James paused and said, “Jake I have a serious question for you. Might that truck be available, at a family discount?”
Epilogue
With Jake taking the reins as the new GM, the new fall restaurant menu came together quickly. And we were thrilled to host one of East Tennessee’s newest food critics to a VIP table, on our grand reopening, hoping that she would relish all the attention.
Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology Page 131