Maria Geraci

by Bunco Babes Gone Wild (v5)

  “We don’t have time for that,” Viola said patiently.

  “If I had been consulted in the beginning, then we would have had time,” Bettina said. “It’s not just the locals coming, you know. Bruce has invited the entire board of directors from the bank, as well as prominent businessmen from all over the panhandle. And of course, Ted Ferguson and some of his business associates from down south will be attending. We can’t look like a bunch of yahoos.”

  “We’re not going to look like yahoos,” Pilar said, her voice rising.

  “And what’s this big white blob?”

  Georgia craned her neck to see what Bettina was pointing to.

  “That’s the tent,” Shea said. “The main room in the senior center only holds around a hundred and fifty people, but we’re expecting at least two hundred. The band and the food will be set up in the tent and the Bunco tables are going to be in the main room. When it’s time for the video presentation, we’ll have to shuffle everyone out into the tent.”

  Bettina frowned. “What video presentation?”

  Dave walked back into the Bistro with Tofu in his arms. Bettina’s demeanor instantly changed. “Did my little baby waby go tee-tee?”

  Dave looked perfectly serious as he said, “She sure did.”

  “Come here, baby,” Bettina purred, reaching out for Tofu. But Tofu only snuggled deeper against Dave’s chest. “Tofu, come back to Mommy,” she ordered in a firm voice.

  Tofu snarled and bared her teeth.

  Bettina looked taken aback. “She’s never reacted like this before.”

  Dave shrugged. “I don’t mind holding her while you conduct your meeting.”

  Bettina looked more miffed than hurt by Tofu’s rejection. “Go on,” she said, waving her hand in a general direction to the group. “What were you saying about a video presentation?”

  “Shea has prepared a short video on the history of Whispering Bay and the senior center,” said Kitty.

  “It’s sort of a montage-homage thing,” Shea said. “It’s really very good, even if I say so myself.”

  Bettina rolled her eyes. “So, not only are you not going to have a stage, you’re going to bore everyone to tears with a piece from the History Channel?”

  Georgia could feel her hackles rising. Who was this woman? And why did they all let her just walk in and take over like she was the friggin’ queen of the world?

  “Personally, I think a stage will look tacky,” Georgia said.

  Bettina narrowed her eyes at her. “What’s your name again?”

  “Georgia. Like the state.” She purposely avoided Dave’s direction.

  “Well, Geor-gia, I’m not sure what kind of experience you’ve had with gala functions, but this sort of thing is right up my alley.”

  “I think we’ve already decided there isn’t time to make a stage. And even if there were, the main room in the senior center is too small,” said Viola.

  Shea nodded. “That’s why we have to set up the video presentation in the tent.”

  “That’s another thing, Shea,” Bettina said. “A tent? Whose big idea was that? It’s still summer, for God’s sake. Do you know how hot and humid it’s going to be?”

  Shea looked like she was nearing the end of her patience. “There will be an evening breeze coming off the ocean. It won’t be that bad, Bettina.”

  “This is supposed to be a classy affair. Not a hoedown. I, for one, have no intention of going out into a hot, bug-infested tent. My hair will go flat. And you two,” she gave a little laugh and pointed to Frida and Georgia, “I’d hate to see what a little humidity will do to those mops of yours.”

  Georgia would love to solve Bettina’s hair problem. By tearing it all out. Lock by lock. “Why don’t we show the video inside then?” Georgia said, keeping her voice as neutral as she could.

  “Didn’t you hear what Shea said? We can’t fit everyone inside. The main room is too small. Face it, girls, you haven’t given this whole thing enough thought—”

  “So make the room bigger. Just tear down a wall,” Geor gia said. Where that came from, she wasn’t sure. But she loved the look her suggestion put on Bettina’s face.

  “Tear down a wall?” Bettina mimicked. “You can’t just tear down a wall.”

  “Sure you can,” Dave replied. He leaned over the table and studied the schematic for a few seconds, then readjusted Tofu so he had a free hand to point to the diagram. “This wall right here can come down.”

  “Won’t, like, the whole building collapse?” Bettina asked. Georgia could see Dave struggling not to smile. “If it’s not a weight-bearing wall, then it’ll be no problem, and if it is, all I have to do is build a few support beams.”

  Viola nodded enthusiastically. “That would work. And it really doesn’t matter what we do with the building. It’s going to be demolished in a couple of weeks anyway.”

  “Can you do that?” Bettina asked Dave. “I mean, you personally?”

  “Sure. I do construction for a living. I could use another set of hands, though.” Dave glanced at Georgia. “How about it?” he asked casually.

  “Me?”

  “It was your idea. Plus, I heard you say you wanted to help.” When she didn’t say anything right away, he added, “It’s not complicated.”

  “I’m sure it’s not. I mean, you do it for a living, right?” The minute she said it, she wanted to take it back.

  “Right,” he said, good-naturedly, which only made her feel like shit. She’d sounded petty, which wasn’t like her. It was this Bettina Bailey. She was bringing out the worst in Georgia.

  “Well, that’s settled,” Viola said. “Everything’s under control.” Then, as if she remembered Bettina’s presence, she added, “Maybe you can be in charge of ordering more balloons? I think you’re right about that. We can never have too many balloons.”

  “Fine,” Bettina sniffed. She glanced at her watch. “I have to get going. I have a tennis match in thirty minutes.” She pursed her lips and blew a few air kisses at Tofu, snatching him out of Dave’s arms. “C’mon, baby, Mama needs to go bye-bye.” Then she stuffed a struggling Tofu into her bag and flew out the door. All she needed to complete the picture was a broom.

  “Good Lord,” Kitty muttered under her breath. “As if we didn’t have enough to do, now we have to babysit Bettina Bailey and her balloons.”

  Shea and Pilar giggled.

  “I should get going too,” Dave said. He glanced at Geor gia. “Project Demolition starts tomorrow morning. Seven a.m. sharp. Wear something cheap and practical. Something you can toss out if it gets ruined.”

  In other words, no designer clothing. Did he think she’d wear her Manolos to do construction?

  “Sure.” What else could she say? If she protested, she would only sound childish. He was right. It had been her idea to begin with. So what if he’d seen her boobs? So what if he’d kissed her? She could handle one day working alongside Dave Hernandez. No big deal.

  He said his good-byes and left. Georgia listened half heartedly as they talked about how many tables to set up and where exactly to place the band. She still didn’t get it. Why had they let Bettina Bailey swoop in and practically take over?

  “Let me get this straight,” Georgia said, unable to help herself as she interrupted a discussion on napkins, “Bettina isn’t really on the Friends of the Rec Center committee but she’s married to Bruce Bailey, who’s the vice president of the bank and is on the city council?”

  “Don’t forget, she’s also head of the Whispering Bay Beautification Committee,” Viola said, her blue eyes twinkling.

  “Isn’t she awful?” Pilar said. Kitty and Shea nodded in agreement. Frida just sighed and Viola smiled in sympathy.

  “Why didn’t you all tell her to go to hell?”

  Shea let out a long-suffering sigh. “We’ve found it’s simpler to just go along with her.”

  “At least with Bettina pretending to be on the committee, we won’t have to worry about her bad-mouthin
g the event,” said Kitty.

  “Or trying to sabotage it,” Pilar added.

  “I think she should be put in her place,” Georgia said. “Not humored.”

  This led a round of laughter as if Georgia had been making a joke.

  “You don’t know Bettina,” said Frida. “She can be pretty vindictive if she’s crossed.”

  They all went back to studying the menu. Case closed.

  But not as far as Georgia was concerned.

  Georgia had met a lot of women like Bettina in her lifetime. Going all the way back to first grade. Bettina was the girl who bullied all the other little girls into making fun of the girl who couldn’t afford a new outfit or the latest lunch box—girls like she and Frida had been. But the Bettina Baileys of the world had also been useful. They might bring out the worst in Georgia, but they also brought out the best. It had been girls like Bettina who had pushed Georgia into making straight As and earning a scholarship to Stanford.

  And while the Bettina Baileys of this world might not be very nice, they had it all. While the Frida Hamptons had . . . well, not much. Frida had a business she was a slave to, a husband who—while being really good-natured—didn’t carry his load of the weight, a tiny apartment, no kids, and probably not much money in the bank. But then, was Geor gia really any better off than her sister? Sure, she had a top-notch education and enough money saved that she didn’t have to worry about finances for a while, but she was hus bandless, childless, and now even her job seemed unstable.

  It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t.

  She remembered back to her sophomore year at Stanford when she’d almost flunked out of Financial Accounting. For one crazy weekend she’d considered dropping out of school, or the very least changing her major. But she hadn’t, of course. She picked herself up by the bootstraps and studied her ass off. She’d even managed to squeak by with a B in the class. It hadn’t been easy. But she’d done it. She’d steadied her course and kept her eye on the goal.

  Which is exactly what she needed to do now. This was no time to be feeling sorry for herself! She’d let Spencer cool down. She’d call him daily, be sweet and caring and thoughtful. She wouldn’t be stupid and pressure him again. He’d realize soon enough that he needed her.

  She sat back in the chair and rejoined the conversation on the napkins. Everything was going to be all right now that she had a plan.

  9

  Seven a.m. sharp. That’s what the man said and Georgia didn’t intend to be late. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail, then dressed in the blue jeans and oversized T-shirt she’d bought yesterday in Destin. Since she’d originally planned to only be in Whispering Bay for a couple of days, she hadn’t packed much—just a few outfits and a couple of bathing suits. But a trip to Target had solved that.

  She’d stocked up on the type of clothes she normally never wore—bargain-priced shorts and shirts. And practical underwear—the kind that came packaged in threes and she’d never get caught dead in—but the granny-style white cotton briefs provided much needed skin coverage in the cheap ill-fitting jeans she’d bought for Project Demolition.

  By the time Georgia descended the stairs it was quarter to seven. There were only a couple of customers in the Bistro. She placed the two large stainless-steel coffee mugs she’d bought at Starbucks yesterday on top of the kitchen counter, then immediately thought better of it. She tried to hide the mugs from Frida, but she wasn’t fast enough.

  “I can’t believe you went to Starbucks behind my back!”

  “I was shopping and needed a pick-me-up. Besides, you’re out of to-go mugs, right?”

  Frida suddenly looked defeated. “Right.”

  Georgia thought she detected more than just a competitive envy. “What’s wrong?”

  A customer walked in. Frida took his order, then handed it over to Ed to fill. “Sorry,” she said to Georgia. “I’m just a little sensitive. By the time Ted Ferguson finishes building his version of Condo World, businesses like mine could be extinct. The Bistro by the Beach could very well be pushed aside for a Starbucks.”

  Georgia had never thought of that before. She tried not to look guilty. “I think you’re going to be surprised by how much business you’re going to pick up from this condo project. And if a business like Starbucks does try to take you over, then you just have to fight back.”

  “It’s Starbucks! How do I fight Starbucks?”

  “By being better than them.”

  “Easier said than done,” Frida muttered.

  Georgia filled both mugs with coffee. She added cream and sweetener to one and left the other one black, then screwed on the lids. “We’ll talk about this later. I promised Demolition Dave I’d meet him at exactly seven.”

  “Why don’t you like Dave? He seems like a really great guy.”

  Georgia stilled. “What makes you think I don’t like him?”

  “I don’t know. I just sort of get a strange vibe from you whenever he’s around.”

  “I guess I still feel weird about the whole boob-flashing thing.”

  “He saw my boobs too, you know.”

  But he didn’t kiss you, did he?

  For a second, she thought about confiding in Frida. Not about her role in the condo deal, of course. Frida didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind for that. But about the whole Dave-kissing thing.

  Georgia took a sip of her coffee. Maybe it was better to let sleeping dogs lie. She needed to focus on mending her relationship with Spencer. Not dwell on some innocent-never-to-be-repeated kiss.

  She picked the second mug off the counter and turned to leave when she spied a pile of mail tucked back in the corner. A letter with a registered seal lay on top. “Who’d you get a registered letter from?”

  Frida averted her gaze. “The bank. It’s no big deal.”

  A registered letter from a bank certainly was a big deal. Georgia picked up the letter and broke the seal.

  “Hey! That’s private.” But Frida didn’t make an attempt to take the letter away.

  Georgia quickly scanned the contents. “Frida, they’re going to foreclose on the Bistro!” she whispered fiercely.

  Frida didn’t look surprised. “I figured that’s what it was. I just didn’t want to read it.” Frida glanced over at Ed, who was cleaning off a table. There were no customers waiting in line. “Let’s go outside,” she said to Georgia.

  Georgia picked up the letter and the two mugs and followed Frida out to the parking lot. She clicked the door opener to her Honda Accord and placed the coffee mugs in the drink holders, then turned to face her sister. “That’s the reason you don’t have any to-go mugs, isn’t it?”

  Frida nodded. “We fell behind in the payments a few months ago. I’ve tried scrimping on inventory to catch up, but it hasn’t helped.”

  “What does Ed think you should do?”

  Frida didn’t say anything.

  “Ed doesn’t know?” Georgia could hear the hysteria in her voice. She tried to calm down. “Why doesn’t he know?” she demanded.

  “There’s nothing he can do about it. It will only screw up his mojo—”

  “His mojo! I can’t believe you’re being so calm about this. What are you going to do if you lose your business? Where will you live? You never finished college and you don’t have any experience doing anything else.”

  Frida shrugged. “I can wait tables. I can live in a trailer or even a tent. It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m with Ed, I’ll be happy.”

  Live in a tent?

  Georgia thought she might faint.

  It was like listening to their mother all over again.

  “What if you get pregnant?” Georgia narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to raise your kids the same way mom raised us? Moving around all over the place without a real house or—”

  “Ed and I decided a long time ago that kids weren’t for us. So you don’t have to worry about that. Like I said, it’s just Ed and me, and I can be happy anywhere.”

 
Georgia scanned the letter again. Frida had ten days to come up with twelve thousand dollars or the bank was going to start foreclosure proceedings. Okay. She took a deep breath. Twelve thousand dollars was definitely doable. “I’m going down to the bank on Monday and pay this off. Then we’ll figure out some sort of budget—”

  “No.” Frida shook her head. “I’m not taking money from you.”

  “Then call it a loan.”

  “No loans either. You’re not even sure you have a job anymore, Georgia.”

  “I do so have a job! I’m just on a two-week hiatus.”

  “I thought you said it was a vacation.”

  “Same thing.”

  “I might not know Spencer as well as you do, but he doesn’t seem the type to forgive and forget. Do you really think he’ll let you go back to work for him after you told him to fuck off?” She didn’t wait for Georgia’s answer. “Maybe this foreclosure thing is a sign I should give up.”

  “Of course Spencer will forgive and forget,” Georgia said. At least she hoped so. She tried not to let Frida see her uncertainty. “This is no time to get up on your high horse and it’s not time to give up. I have plenty of money lying around doing nothing but collecting interest. You’re my sister. I want to help.”

  “That’s really sweet, but I can’t let you.” Frida gave Geor gia a peck on the cheek. “This is my problem and I’ll take care of it myself. I’ll go to the bank this week and talk to Bruce Bailey. He’ll let me work something out.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Promise me you’ll stay out of this.”

  Georgia clamped her mouth tight.

  “Promise me,” Frida repeated.

  Georgia grit her teeth. “I promise.”

  10

  The Margaret Handy Senior Center was located a mile down the beach from the Bistro. Georgia could have walked, but then she’d have to trek back during the hottest part of the day. Plus, she had the two mugs of coffee to bring along. She pulled her car into the parking lot alongside Dave’s truck.