“Fair enough,” he said. He picked up his wine and swirled it. His smile was slow and confident. “But just know this. I’m going to do whatever it takes to win you back. I’m not going home without you, Georgia.”
27
Tuesday morning was like every other morning. Except that Georgia was still in Whispering Bay and Spencer was at his hotel room in Destin. Despite his adamant vow to stay and woo her, there was a tiny part of Georgia that had been sure he’d change his mind and go back to Birmingham. But he hadn’t. He’d called Crystal and told her to cancel all his appointments. He was on vacation, he’d said. Only he wasn’t really. They were stuck in some sort of limbo that Georgia couldn’t seem to shake them out of.
Business was slow today. The Labor Day tourist crowd had gone home.
“Do you think you and Ed can close up?” Frida asked. She slipped off her apron and tossed it in the dirty laundry. “I need to go to the bank to talk to Bruce Bailey.”
It had been three days since Black Tie Bunco. Frida hadn’t said anything about the foreclosure. Ed had told Georgia he’d take care of it. That he’d convince Frida to take Georgia’s money. Obviously, he hadn’t gotten around to it or there would be no reason for Frida to go to the bank.
“Why don’t you wait till we close? That way I can go with you.”
“That’s sweet, but like I said, this is my problem. Not yours.”
The door opened and a family of four came in. Georgia took their order. The mother was particularly chatty. They were staying in one of the nearby towns and scoping out the local beaches. Frida was gone before Georgia could stop her.
Shit.
Bruce Bailey was sure to say something to Frida about the loan restructure Georgia had proposed. And then Frida would know that Georgia had gone behind her back.
Two more customers came in. Georgia cleared off three tables and some baby spit off the floor. Finally, twenty minutes later the place was empty and she was able to confront Ed privately. He’d gone to the back pantry to place the day’s leftover bagels inside the refrigerator.
“Why did you lie to Zeke?”
Ed looked up, then calmly went back to rearranging items to make room for the bagels. “Why do you think? You’re my sister-in-law, Georgia. We’re family.”
“But it might get you in trouble.”
“We could both get in trouble,” he agreed.
“I thought you were going to convince Frida to take my money so she could pay off the bank.”
“I never said that. I said I would take care of it.”
Georgia wanted to give him a good hard shake. “Ed! She’s at the bank right now talking to Bruce. How is that taking care of it?”
He sighed and closed the refrigerator door.
The sound of the little bell above the door signaled another customer. Georgia bit back a frustrated moan.
The Bistro officially closed in five minutes, but Ed was just going to have to make do on his own.
“I’m going to the bank,” she told him.
“There’s no reason to do that.”
“Frida’s my sister. If she’s going to be blindsided by Bruce Bailey, then I want to be there to pick up the pieces.”
The customer who’d just walked in was Spencer. “I thought we could go to the beach. You did bring your black bikini, right?” He wagged his eyebrows up and down suggestively, but instead of coming across as sexy, he just looked, well, sort of goofy.
Georgia tried to hide her frustration. It wasn’t Spencer’s fault he had the absolute worst timing in the world. “I can’t go to the beach. Not right now.”
Spencer glanced at his watch. “But it’s almost closing time.”
“We still have to clean up. And it’s just Ed and me.”
“Where’s your sister?”
“She went to the bank,” Ed supplied, wrapping up another batch of unsold bagels.
“Oh.” Spencer nodded to Ed. “Need some help there?”
“I got it,” Ed said without looking up.
The door opened again. Georgia was about to tell whoever it was that they were closed until she saw that it was Zeke, along with Rusty 1 and Rusty 2.
“Hi, Zeke,” Georgia said. She nodded to his deputies. “You boys are late today.” She tried for a friendly smile, but the truth was if it had been anyone but Zeke she’d have left both Ed and Spencer high and dry.
Zeke rolled his head to the side to stretch out his neck. “We’ve been taking statements all morning from the partygoers who left before we were able to question them.”
Rusty 1 (Georgia was almost positive it was Rusty 1) stuck a toothpick in his mouth. “Had to drive all the way over to Panama City to catch a couple of ’em.” An image of him lassoing cattle popped into Georgia’s head.
“Do you have any leads?” Ed asked.
“We can’t say anything yet. Not officially,” said the other Rusty. Which would make him Rusty 2. “Otherwise it might tip off the suspect that we’re on to him.”
“That sounds promising,” prompted Georgia.
But Zeke didn’t give anything away. He ordered his usual. “Where’s Frida?” he asked, glancing around the room as he stirred some creamer into his coffee.
“She’s on an errand,” Georgia replied.
“What sort of errand?”
Georgia was surprised that he’d ask. “She’s at the bank,” she said, without thinking.
Zeke nodded.
“As a matter of fact, I should be heading there myself,” Georgia said, trying to catch Ed’s attention.
“What do you need to go to the bank for?” asked Spencer.
“Nothing. I mean, it’s sort of personal.” For one crazy minute Georgia thought about dragging Spencer down to the Whispering Bay Community Bank with her. That would prove to old Bruce that she was Moody Electronics’ CFO. Only she didn’t know if she still wanted to be CFO. She didn’t know anything right now. Except that she had to make sure her sister was going to be okay.
“You seem nervous this morning,” remarked Zeke.
“Who, me?” asked Georgia.
“Yeah. You okay?”
“Sure.”
Of course she was nervous. Her sister was about to catch her in a lie. For that matter, so could Zeke.
Speaking of sisters, Frida chose that moment to return from the bank. Her cheeks were pink, like they were sunburned, but Georgia knew Frida hadn’t been out in the sun recently.
“That was fast,” Georgia said.
“I have to talk to you,” Frida said to her. “Oh, wait, I forgot. I promised myself thirty minutes ago I wasn’t talking to you. Ever again.” She nodded to Zeke and his deputies, then gave Spencer a tight smile.
“I can explain,” began Georgia, wishing fervently that Frida hadn’t brought this up now. Not with Zeke and the Rustys looking on, anyway.
“Save it,” said Frida. “How do you think I felt when I went to the bank to try to figure out a way to keep this place from foreclosure only to discover that my own sister has already been there trying to make some under-the-table deal?”
“It wasn’t an under-the-table deal,” protested Georgia. “The terms of a loan are always negotiable in business.”
“Whatever.” Frida narrowed her eyes at Ed. “Then I find out my husband has—” She stopped mid-sentence. Her blue eyes went wide.
“Your husband has what?” Zeke asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Nothing,” mumbled Frida, reaching under the counter for her work apron. She plastered a bright smile on her face. “Do you want a muffin with that coffee, Zeke?”
Georgia shook her head in confusion. “What has Ed done, Frida?”
“I paid off the late balance on the loan,” announced Ed.
“But . . . that was twelve thousand dollars,” sputtered Georgia.
“Yep,” said Zeke. “It sure was.” The way he said it made everyone turn to stare at him.
“Zeke, exactly what are you insinuating?” demanded Frida.
>
“I haven’t insinuated anything,” said Zeke. “So, what’s the muffin of the day?”
Georgia glanced from Zeke to Frida to Ed to the Rusty’s. Nobody looked happy. “Hold on a second. You don’t think Ed stole the Bunco money?”
Zeke sighed. “I don’t think anything. I just came in to get coffee and a muffin.”
“Don’t go all Columbo on us, Zeke. Bruce Bailey told me Ed came in first thing this morning and paid off the back mortgage. In cash. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” asked Frida.
Georgia’s gaze flew to Ed. How in the world had Ed gotten twelve thousand dollars?
Rusty 1 pulled the toothpick out of his mouth. “We knew all right. We got an anonymous tip,” he said.
Zeke threw Rusty 1 a pained look.
“Sorry, Boss,” Rusty 1 muttered.
“You’re not supposed to tell the suspect where we got our information,” Rusty 2 complained.
“It’s an anonymous tip. Even we don’t know where the information came from,” Rusty 1 shot back.
“This is ridiculous. Ed would never steal and you know it,” said Frida.
“I agree. But I have to follow up on all leads.” Zeke took a sip of his coffee. “Ed, did you go down to the bank this morning and give Bruce Bailey twelve grand in cash?”
“I did,” said Ed.
“And what was that for?”
Frida’s face turned redder. “I was late paying the mortgage on the Bistro. Bruce Bailey was threatening to foreclose. The twelve thousand is what it took to get our loan back on track.”
Zeke took another sip of his coffee. “Ed, do you mind if I ask where you got the money from?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” said Ed.
Frida moaned.
Zeke looked like he was expecting Ed’s response. “All right. I’ll take that answer. For now.” He studied the blackboard where Frida posted the daily menu. “No one ever told me what the muffin of the day was.”
“It’s cherry cobbler,” said Georgia, stunned. Ed had paid off the back mortgage in cash? The coincidence was just too great. She thought about Ed’s demeanor when he’d come barreling into the closet. He’d been rattled. But that had been from catching her and Dave. Besides, according to Zeke’s timetable the tumbler had been stolen during the time they’d all been together in the closet. And if Ed had stolen the money (not that Georgia thought for a second he had), then he would have had to have it on him.
And then there was the problem of the tumbler. You just couldn’t walk out the door with it. The money was mostly in small bills. Whoever stole it would have to have a sack of some sort to put it in and Georgia hadn’t noticed anything like that. Of course, at the time she’d been so rattled herself she hadn’t focused on much of anything. Except covering up all her naked bits.
“Cherry cobbler muffin sounds good. I’ll take one of those,” said Zeke.
Ed pulled out a muffin from the bin with a pair of tongs and placed it in a bag. “Take it to go, Zeke. We’re closed.”
Georgia looked at Ed, a little startled by this new macho demeanor of his. Well, she’d wanted him to man up, hadn’t she? But she hadn’t wanted him to turn into a criminal. She mentally shook herself. Ed was not a thief!
Zeke gave Ed a resigned nod. “Let’s go, boys,” he said to his deputies.
The Rustys finished up their coffees and followed Zeke out the door.
“Frida, can I talk to you?” Ed said. “In private.”
Georgia watched as Frida followed him to the back pantry.
Spencer waited until they were alone. “Why didn’t you tell me Frida and Ed needed money?” he asked, although from the expression on his face he didn’t look particularly surprised.
“There was nothing you could do about it. Frida wouldn’t take money from me, so she sure as hell wasn’t going to take it from—” She studied Spencer’s face for any sign of something that didn’t seem right. “Where do you think Ed got all that cash?”
Spencer shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s a good saver.”
Georgia stilled. Ed said he’d take care of the loan problem. And he had. But instead of taking Georgia’s money, he’d taken money from Spencer. She was sure of it. There was no other answer, really.
Georgia’s stomach sank. First, Spencer had bailed out the Babes. And now he’d bailed out her sister’s business. He said he’d do whatever it took to win her. And he was doing it in typical Spencer fashion. With his money.
It was like her entire life was being twisted around his in some sort of double helix.
And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
28
Wednesday morning meant it was time for the Gray Flamingos’ weekly meeting at the Bistro. Frida had made an extra batch of bran muffins for the occasion.
“I’m gonna find a way to get this recipe, you know,” Earl said, chomping into his second muffin of the morning.
“Go for it,” said Georgia, refilling his coffee. She enjoyed bantering with Earl. Ted had said he was meaner than a junkyard dog. But the truth was he was more like a grumpy old bloodhound. He could sniff out your weaknesses, but unless you were directly in his path, he wasn’t going to bite.
Unfortunately, the Gray Flamingos weren’t the only group using the Bistro as their meeting place.
Bettina Bailey and the Bunco Bunnies were there too. At first, Georgia had stewed about it, but as Frida had pointed out, a customer was a customer. And Frida could use customers. Even Tofu was present. His little head stuck out of Bettina’s bag watching the comings and goings in the cafe. Georgia had scooped up the crumbs from the apple cinnamon muffin bin and placed it on a plate for him. After all, Tofu couldn’t help who he belonged to. The little dog had seemed appreciative of the gesture. Bettina had questioned the number of calories per crumb.
“Why does she come here if all she does is complain about the fat grams?” Georgia asked Frida.
“I think deep down she just can’t stay away.”
Georgia glanced around the cafe. Ed had been missing all morning. “Where’s Ed?”
“He’s on an errand. But don’t you really mean, where did Ed get the money to pay off the bank?”
She and Frida had avoided this conversation for an entire day now, but they couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“Are you still mad at me for going behind your back with Bruce Bailey?” Georgia asked, waiting for Frida to lay into her. She deserved it, she supposed, even if her intentions had been good.
Frida sighed. “I should be mad. But right now all I can think about is where Ed got that money from. He’s still refusing to tell me. I’m assuming you’re the one who told him about the foreclosure notice?”
Georgia nodded. “It just sort of . . . popped out. But I didn’t give him the money,” she rushed. “Although, I wanted to.”
“I know you didn’t give him the money. I saw the look on your face yesterday when I came charging in here demanding to know how Ed had paid the bank. You looked just as surprised as I was when Bruce told me.” She sighed. “I could kick myself, you know.”
“For what?”
“For basically giving Zeke Grant my husband’s head on a plate. With Ed refusing to tell anyone where he got that money, it makes him public enemy number one.”
“I think the Rustys are having way too much fun with this whole missing-money caper.” Georgia paused. “You know, Spencer’s the only person who could have given Ed the money.”
She eyed Georgia. “Did he tell you that?”
“No, but it doesn’t take an accounting degree from Stanford to figure that one out.”
“Ed is being really stubborn about all this. If Spencer gave him the money, then why won’t he tell Zeke?”
“It’s a guy pride thing. He and Spencer have probably taken some secret oath.” Although, Georgia wasn’t sure why Spencer hadn’t mentioned it to her. She should confront him on it. But if she did, then it would be out in the open and she’d be officially i
ndebted to him.
“Speaking of Spencer, why is he still here?”
“He says he won’t go back to Birmingham without me.”
Frida looked surprised. “That’s kind of romantic.”
“I guess.”
“Georgia, what’s gotten into you? A week ago all you wanted was for Spencer to get down on his knees and pop the question. He’s done it. He’s made the grand gesture in a big way. So what are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know.” Which was the truth. What was she waiting for?
“I think I know what’s wrong.”
Georgia held her breath. “You do?” God, she hoped so. Maybe Frida could explain it to her.
“It’s the old saying, ‘be careful what you wish for.’ Maybe now that the thing you want most is within reach, you’re afraid to go out and grab it.”
“Maybe.”
But that wasn’t it. Georgia was certain. Before, she’d had the excuse the Bistro was in danger. And she wasn’t about to abandon her sister in her hour of need. But the Bistro wasn’t in danger anymore. At least not for a while. So why was she still hanging around town? Why wasn’t she going back to her old life?
Because the truth was, she wasn’t afraid to reach out and grab what she wanted. The truth was that for the very first time in her life she didn’t know what it was she wanted. And because going back to her old life meant going back to Spencer. One hundred percent. And one hundred percent of the old Georgia Meyer didn’t exist anymore. There was a part of her still stuck in that closet with Dave. Maybe it would be stuck there forever.
“Hey, whatever happened to that marketing plan you were working on for me?” Frida asked.
“You really want to see it?”
“Sure.”
“Does this mean we’re okay? I mean, I have noticed that you’ve been talking to me. Even though you said yesterday you were never going to talk to me again.”
Frida grinned. “I know you couldn’t help yourself, so yes, I forgive you for going behind my back with Bruce Bailey and spilling the beans about the foreclosure to my husband.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Georgia laughed. It felt good. She hadn’t laughed since—
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