Finding Home

by Maddie James

  Holy shit. What in the hell had she done?

  Too tired to ponder it now. Too lethargic to move or think about it. But it was going to nag her later.

  She rolled to her left and glanced at the grandfather clock against the far wall.

  Eight-thirty-three. Which meant it was really eight-twenty-three. Which meant she should have had breakfast fixed one hour and twenty-three minutes ago. She never slept this late!

  She shot up, taking the sheets with her. “Breakfast!”

  Brad pulled her back down to the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “Relax, sweetheart. Coffee is on in the kitchen and a basket of pastries is on the buffet in the dining room. Everything is taken care of. The only guest you need to be concerned with this morning is me. And I’d just as soon have breakfast in bed.”

  Sighing, she relaxed and snuggled close. “Oh. Okay. So you…?”

  “Yes. You were sleeping like a baby and I was only gone thirty minutes. I’m fast.”

  But slow when he needed to be. Her cheeks tinged at the thought. “Um…what do you want for breakfast, Brad?”

  “You.”

  Not ready to go there again, she pushed nervously on his chest. “No, I’m serious. I’ll fix us something. What do you want? Omelet? You know I can do a great omelet.”

  Brad nuzzled her neck and smoothed his hands over her back, down to her buttocks. “No. No omelet. Not now, later. The only thing I want for breakfast is you,” he said lazily. “And since I’m your guest, I’m assuming you’ll accommodate? Bed, breakfast, and you. Perfect.”

  Why did he have to be so freaking romantic? He had to stop this or she was going to fall for all of this crap. Hook, line and sinker!

  Suzie smirked and sat up. “Smart ass. C’mon, we need to get up. What do you want?” It was a little too cozy, too familiar, too much like old times. She didn’t want it to be like old times.

  Did she?

  He tugged on a blond lock and pulled her face closer to his. “I want you for breakfast,” he moaned. “My little love slave.”

  Groan….

  Suzie backed away and jumped off the bed. Hell’s bells. He could turn her on like a light switch. “We need to talk, Brad.”

  He smiled and burrowed further into the pillows, his left leg and hip exposed from under the covers. “Hm.”

  Suzie smacked him on the butt with the back of her hand.

  “Ow!”

  “C’mon, Brad. You can’t avoid this. We have things to talk about.”

  With a lengthy exhale, Brad moved to a sitting position and looked at her. “Well, then sit.” He patted the mattress. “I’m not going to have you lording over me. At least let’s be on equal ground.”

  Grabbing the tail of the sheet, she wrapped it around her and sat. “You could cut me a little slack,” she told him. Brad grinned and lifted himself so she could easily wrap the sheet around her, leaving him uncovered.

  She tossed him a pillow. “Here. Lay that over…something.”

  Brad grinned a lazy, slack-eyed grin and did as she said. “There, you comfy?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then what do we need to talk about?”

  Men. Doesn’t he know? “Um, well, Brad we have to talk about…um…this.” She patted the bed. “Us. You and me. What happened last night. And all that.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “And…”

  “And what else?”

  “The hotel thing. We need to talk about the hotel thing.”

  He concurred with another nod. “So you start. You pick.”

  She stared at him. Why was he being so…accommodating? She watched his gaze lower to her chest and hers followed. Cleavage. He was looking at her cleavage.

  And the fact that he’d gotten laid last night, which contributed to part of his plan, was likely making him…accommodating.

  “I think I can talk about both of them at the same time, Brad Matthews, but quit ogling me!”

  He jerked his gaze back to her face. “Sorry, sweetheart. It’s that…”

  Suzie yanked the sheet beneath her chin. “Brad, this hotel thing. I mean. Why?” She fiddled with the corner of the sheet. “Did you not think what this would do to me? To my business?”

  He stared at her with a blank expression, then huffed out a breath and said, “I was thinking about you. All the time, every plan I made. With every detail. You, Suzie-Q, are why I came here in the first place. I want to be with you. And I made a lot of changes in my life to do that.”

  “But I don’t understand.”

  He leaned closer. “Suzie. My grandmother died six months ago.”

  “Oh no…” She reached for his hand. Large and strong, she loved his hands.

  He shook his head. “Yeah, I miss her, but she lived a full life. Thing is, she wanted me to live a full life, too. She left me a good chunk of money with instructions to follow my dream. My dream, Suzie-Q, is right here. With you. In Legend. And Lake Lodge? That’s part of my dream, too. My own business. A wonderful woman by my side. Family.”

  Stunned, Suzie sat watching his face. His gaze played over her and he waited. What could she say? He had it all planned out. But what would happen if she couldn’t fulfill the rest of his plan? His dreams. Give him that family?

  He squeezed her hand. “Sweetheart,” he softly said. “You don’t have to say anything now. We’ll work all of this out. Let’s think it through.”

  How could she think of anything else? Bewildered, she looked away.

  “You’ll see. It will be great.”

  And frowned.

  He leaned closer to kiss her cheek. “Oh, and I nearly forgot! When the hotel is built, it’s gonna be the two of us again. Chef de Cuisine and his sous chef.”

  Grasping her face in his hands, he looked longingly into her eyes and whispered, “You and me, baby. Like old times.”

  She blurted, “But I don’t see why you need to tear down the Lodge. Why can’t you fix it the way it is? Renovate it or something?”

  Why can’t you do something that won’t put me out of business?

  What about me? My dream?

  He shook his head. “The structure is too bad. It would take too long, too much money, Suzie. Better off razing the thing and start from scratch.”

  He rose then, tossed the pillow aside and walked toward the bathroom.

  Better off starting from scratch?

  Maybe he’d be better off starting from scratch with a new relationship. Someone more his age who could give him kids. Thing was, he had it all figured out. Did he not realize that sometimes plans don’t work and dreams don’t come true?

  “I am getting a little hungry,” he called from the bathroom.

  “Yeah,” she said, not directing her response to him. “Yeah. I’ll go fix that omelet.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Monday

  Martin McClain opened the front door of The Emporium and was amazed. The old bar had been cleaned and polished so that the beautiful grain of the burled walnut shone. Tall, elegant stemmed glass mugs proclaiming “The Emporium” in forest green letters were hanging from the brass hooks above, waiting for customers. A cappuccino machine and other black-and-stainless gadgetry gleamed on the wall cabinet. Coffee beans were roasting, with an aroma so rich his mouth nearly watered. The walls were the same deep green as the lettering on the mugs, and the hardwood floor had a shiny new coat of polyurethane. The huge room was an eclectic variety of displays: jewelry, clothing, wooden toys, hand-carved walking sticks, dulcimers, glass dust catchers of various sorts. Some of the wares he recognized as having been made by one or another of his cousins. A lot of his family members were into the old time crafts. He also saw a display of books and wondered about those. And about the Native American art that filled a walnut-and-glass case along one wall. Large, low-slung leather club chairs were interspersed with the displays, as if inviting one to sit and visit, or read. At the far end of the room was a small stage with a striking floral arrangement placed i
n front of the classy walnut and brass lectern.

  The place was inviting, yet professional. It was as nice as any ritzy store in Knoxville and much classier than anything he’d seen in Gatlinburg. It made him want to stop and browse. And this was saying something, because Martin McClain was not a shopper. It took a moment for Martin to get his bearings and remember why he’d come here.

  Then Midnight appeared. That was the only way to phrase it. Maybe she’d been standing there the whole time, maybe she’d just stepped out of the stairwell. But she made absolutely no sound. She was just there. And looking very, very good.

  Her black hair hung straight down her back as always. She wore a little more makeup than usual, maybe, causing him to be drawn into the depths of those incredible black eyes. Her milky white skin was translucent. Not that he could see much of it. She was wearing a black business suit that looked as if it had been made for her, or on her, and black leather stilettos with dangerous-looking pointy toes. The large diamond studs in her ears and the diamond-and-emerald ring on her left forefinger winked at him. She was sex, beauty, and professionalism all at the same time.

  Martin wondered again what this amazing woman was doing in his little hometown. Why was she so much trouble? And what could he possibly do to induce her to stay?

  He felt himself staring.

  “Good morning, Miz Shelby.” Look at the wall. At the blown-glass black bear. Anything but her.

  “Martin.”

  “You wanted to see me about something?” he began.

  “Yes. I asked you here to talk about our future.”

  “Our future? Our future? What do you mean by that?”

  “Just what I said. Our future. Yours and mine. And Legend’s. I’ve been thinking a lot about it the last few days, especially after that town council meeting, and I want to share some ideas with you. That’s why I left the message on your machine at the office over the weekend. So you’d hear it first thing this morning, and come over before we open for the day. I have a feeling that we don’t have time to waste.”

  She was talking crazy. Martin wondered if he needed to be concerned about another attack by a long pearl-tipped straight pin, with or without accompanying voodoo doll. But he liked listening to her twangy New York accent, watching her beautiful mouth move, even when she wasn’t exactly making sense. She was wearing a dark purplish-red lipstick that made her lips look even more delectable than usual. He would’ve said that was impossible before seeing it today. He took a deep breath, deciding he’d just let her talk.

  “Go on,” he said, moving over to one of the high stools by the bar. “I assume there’s coffee in it for me at least?”

  “Of course. I just roasted some new beans.” She walked over behind the bar and spent a few minutes dealing with the beans, grinder, and then putting the grounds in to brew with some water she poured out of a large glass jug bearing a fancy label. Imported water, he’d guess. Nothing plain about this woman, not even the water she used to make coffee. Amazing.

  “About the other day,” they both began. Then chuckled.

  “Ladies first.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath, blew it out. “The other day. I should have talked to you first, before contacting Daniel about the websites. I knew better. But I was excited about the prospects and wanted to give him a chance at it. And in just a few minutes of conversation with him, I’d forgotten I should have spoken to you first. I apologize.”

  He could see what the apology cost her and appreciated it.

  “One thing about that. How did you contact him?”

  “Well, that’s easy. He stops in every day after school. Didn’t you know?”

  No, he didn’t know. Had no clue. Why did it hurt him to hear this? Martin took a moment to digest the information and his own reaction to it. “He comes here and does what?”

  “Helps me. He’s helped clean and polish, haul whatever I need to have hauled. His cousin Joey and their friend Tyler have been so much help. But mostly Daniel. He never misses a day. This makes me feel awkward, Martin. I thought you knew that. I thought he’d told you.”

  “He comes to the office after school, but I’m sometimes out, and when I’m there I’m often distracted. Geez. You probably think I’m one of those dads that don’t care.”

  “So one day when Daniel was helping me with the polyurethane…”

  “You got him to polyurethane your floor?”

  “We read the instructions and did it together. Why?”

  “Nothing.” Martin could barely get his son to do basic chores around the house. Willingly painting a floor? No way.

  “So we were working on that. And maybe Joey was here too…yes, that was it, and they were talking computers and websites, and Daniel said he’d done yours, and that got me thinking about what a great tool the site is for you, and I got the idea of a group of sites for the stores here and linking them…and I just got caught up in the concept. I mentioned it to Betsy next time she was here, and she said talk to you. But I started talking with Daniel and we got carried away with the possibilities.”

  “I see you’re easily caught up in the excitement of ‘marketing Legend,’ as you said the other day. I saw it then and it’s flashing in your eyes now. I can believe you’d have forgotten to talk to me. Of course Daniel should have mentioned it to me, too.”

  “Maybe he was afraid you’d say no.”

  “Probably would have.”

  “Why?”

  She handed him a steaming cup of coffee, Columbian. Black. Without asking, she knew that’s how he’d want it.

  Martin made a point of looking carefully at the mug. “Your coffee mugs are nice. Elegant. You like things elegant, don’t you, Miz Shelby?”

  “Elegant? Yes. I like nice things. And I want my customers—my guests—to feel I’ve made an effort to make them comfortable. As if it’s a treat to come in here. So they’ll want to come back.”

  He looked around the large room with its beautiful displays. People were going to feel that way about it, he’d wager. He did, and that surprised him.

  “This is a real fancy place. It looks like it belongs in the city. Not like it fits in Legend. This is just not the way we do things here.”

  “Oh, Martin, please don’t say that. That attitude can kill anything! I’ve seen it happen in retail loads of times. Management decides it can’t change the way it always sets up a display, or the way marketing is always done, and the customer loses interest and goes somewhere else.”

  She lowered her voice, and with her hands flat on the gleaming bar top, leaned a little toward him. Her black eyes flashed. “That could happen to Legend. If our local people don’t care enough about it to make it the best it can be…to capitalize on what makes Legend unique…” she gestured at the local crafts surrounding them. “Some other small town will take advantage of the niche market and bring in the people. And the business. And the money. And Legend will just fade away and die.”

  It had a ring of truth to it. “Assuming you’re right, why would it matter to you?”

  “Legend is my home now. I want to live and work here and make lasting friendships. Friendships that matter.”

  “It’s not just about the money?”

  “You must be kidding! If I was interested in maximizing my income potential, this is not where I’d be living. You know I was in New York City most of my adult life and traveling the rest of it?”

  “Yeah. I think that was mentioned to me somewhere along the way. So why come here?”

  “A lot of reasons. Quite honestly, some of them are none of your business. But the main reason is I wanted to have a home and friends. And have meaningful work again. I miss that.”

  The fact that she hadn’t said she’d had a home and friends before wasn’t lost on Martin. She’d had meaningful work, but not a home and friends? How did anyone live like that?

  “Basically just a fresh start?”

  “Yes. Small Town America is something I’d never experienced as an
adult. I lived in and traveled to big cities. Of course, I saw all kinds of places with my family when I was a kid.”

  “Where’s your family now?” He hoped he wasn’t getting too personal, but realized he really wanted to know.

  “My parents move a lot. They’re both artists, so they can live anywhere. Dad does Native American arts and crafts.” She gestured to the walnut and glass case. “And Mom writes poetry. It’s in her Irish soul. I have the collection of her poetry books here. Talk about a niche market. But she actually sells some of them; mostly online with their website, sometimes at readings. They don’t make loads of money on any of it, but they’re incredibly happy. And they managed to raise my sister and me without too many major incidents. Money isn’t everything. I do know that, in case you’re wondering.”

  That stung. He had been thinking of her as a spoiled rich woman, come to the little burg to impress everyone and then move on. What purpose there’d be in that, he didn’t know. Now he was starting to believe what she said. She wanted a home. If her parents had moved a lot when she was a kid, and then she didn’t feel at home in the city, that made sense. He wondered if there’d been a husband or boyfriend, or a series of them, in the city, and whether that was part of what drove her away. He didn’t know her well enough to get into that discussion. Not yet. But he definitely wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about Midnight Shelby. The realization surprised and scared him. It felt like the beginning of a relationship, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that. Assumed, too, that she wouldn’t be interested in a hick like him. Maybe as a fellow business owner, but nothing personal, surely? Yet there was something….

  “Martin, what is it that bothers you about attracting new business and new people to Legend? Surely you knew your website would help speed that along.”

  “My son created the website without my knowledge when he was twelve years old. I made him take it offline for a little while, and then Betsy and some of the others got on my case, and I gave in. It does help business, of course. I’ve had a few sales come my way, and several other potentials, because of it.”