Today, though, his smile stretched taut against the lower half of his face and didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sorry to barge in, but I have some news I don’t think can wait.”
When he glanced apologetically Adrian’s way, she rose. “I’ll leave you to it. Good to see you, Byron.”
He blinked in surprise. “Adrian. I didn’t see you there.”
“No worries,” she replied, touching his wrist. “I was just on my way out.”
“How are Van and Edith doing these days?” he asked.
“Oh, just peachy,” she muttered, voice laden with irony. “They’ll likely be dropping in on you soon.”
He cleared his throat, nodded to her. “Thanks for the warning.”
As Adrian exited, Briar gestured Byron to the table. “Have a seat.”
He glanced over the silverware and place mats. “I’ll make this quick, but it’s probably best that you sit, too.”
“Oh? That can’t be good.” She obliged him, dropping to a chair.
Byron sat down in the chair next to her that Adrian had vacated. For a moment, he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. They rose to hers finally and he took a breath. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Briar...but I’ve been on the phone with all five of your potential investors this morning. Most of them wouldn’t tell me why, but they’ve all decided to look elsewhere for investment opportunities.”
Her mouth fumbled open. Dread, cold and heavy, culled to life within her bosom. “All of them?”
“It’s something neither of us could have anticipated,” he assured her as gently as he could. “But yes. They’re all gone.”
She shook her head to clear it when her ears began to ring. Panic began to rear its ugly head. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t, either, to be honest,” he said. “Though one of them was a little more forthcoming than the others about his reasons for leaving Hanna’s.”
Here he hesitated again, and she braced herself. “What is it?”
An awkward expression crossed Byron’s handsome face. “He claimed to have information, personal information, about you and an...intimate relationship you’ve entered into with someone by the name of Cole Savitt.”
“What about Cole?” she asked, baffled.
Byron frowned. “By involving yourself that way with another potential investor, you can see why the others would feel cheated. By entering into a relationship with him of any kind, you’ve given Mr. Savitt an advantage.”
She held up a hand. “Wait. Cole isn’t an investor. Other than his relationship with me, he’s never shown any interest in the inn.”
The frown deepened. “He hasn’t?”
“No,” she said. “I can’t imagine where anyone would get the idea that he has. Only a handful of people know about our relationship, and I know none of them would be capable of sabotaging...”
Byron’s eyes narrowed as she trailed off and her face cleared slowly of everything but shock. “Not all of them, I take it.”
She firmed her lips together as they began to numb. Locking her hands together, she watched her knuckles whiten. “No.” Glancing up at his face, she jerked her head in a nod. “There’s one who I think would like very much to see us both fail at this.”
She watched it sink in. Byron took a breath and eased back in the chair, running his hands thoughtfully over the thighs of his slacks. “Yes, that would make sense.”
“He brought you here to help me close down the inn,” she reminded him. “He’s the only one around me who never supported my decision to keep Hanna’s open. He makes it a point to regularly tell me that I should rid myself of it. And a few days ago, he told me that my relationship with Mr. Savitt was indecent and that I’ll regret involving myself with him.”
“He said that exactly?”
Thinking back over the blistering words her father had spoken to her over the phone that rainy afternoon, she nodded. “Word for word.”
Byron looked thoughtful for a moment. “I may be able to find some other investors for you. I’ll do my best. But if your father continues to sabotage our efforts, I can’t say we’ll be able to lock anyone in before the county tax deadline.”
She swallowed. “What should I do?”
“If he’s this determined to make sure the business doesn’t survive then I’m not sure what confronting him would achieve. I don’t think I can recommend it. Unless, of course, you think he’ll listen to you.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve been fighting him on this for a long time. My mother fought him for years prior to that. I even begged at one point to make him listen. I can’t do that anymore. Especially if it’s come to this....” Spreading her hands helplessly, she looked down again at her lap, determined to hide the emotions she knew were visible on her face. Grief warred with anger and betrayal for higher ground. She shook her head when he offered her a handkerchief. She wasn’t going to cry, damn it. Not over this.
She was blindsided. As much as he’d discouraged her throughout the past year, she hadn’t thought her father capable of this kind of treachery. One of the chief reasons she’d fought so hard and so long to keep Hanna’s open was to prove to him that she could. That she could succeed, choose her own path. Maybe even achieve the impossible and make him proud.
Disgusted with herself as much as him, she gathered herself carefully. That feeling she’d been all too familiar with after her mother’s death—like she was a pane of splintered glass a hairbreadth away from shattering—hovered close around her. But she wouldn’t shatter—that at least she knew for sure.
Facing Byron again, she said in a quiet but steady voice, “Thank you, Byron. Thank you so much for coming all this way to tell me this.”
“Of course. And I mean it, Briar. I will do everything in my power to get you the investors you need before July.”
She pasted the best smile she could manage on her face. It felt false, but she kept it in place as she walked Byron to his car. For a long time after the gravel dust settled, she stared after him, feeling the storm rise and churn inside her.
Her father had some serious explaining to do. And while she didn’t think confronting him would do her much good, she needed to have the last word in the long, bitter conflict between them.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BRIAR WAS HALF tempted to ask Olivia to join her on her jaunt to Mobile. As far as meetings with her father were concerned, backup and extra ammunition were always appreciated. But she realized that she was too angry and conflicted to explain everything. The drive across the Bayway would give her time to compose herself and marshal exactly what she wanted to say.
Another afternoon storm was brewing, thanks to the building humidity. It would be a rainy drive. She should probably put it off to tomorrow, but she couldn’t possibly—not with her emotions tangling under the surface like this.
She was in the mood for a good, loud thunderstorm. Bring it on, she thought, as she slung her purse over her shoulder and glared out her bedroom window at the darkening clouds.
Her brood was interrupted by the sound of a high voice echoing through the lower floor. “Hello? Anybody there?”
She’d been so distracted, she hadn’t heard the bells over the entry door chime. The workers had departed for lunch, leaving the inn empty of activity and noise. She doubted it was any of the girls. Olivia, Adrian and Roxie all knew to enter through the kitchen.
Wandering out into the den, Briar glanced into the hall leading to the entryway.
The woman standing in front of the podium studying the pictures on the wall behind it was leggy and blonde. She had moved her sunshades from the bridge of her nose to the top of her head. She carried a large Brahmin bag and wore a black silk pantsuit that Briar would have deemed too hot and expensive for the baking heat of late June on the Gulf. The matching slingbacks
on her feet made Briar’s arches ache with pity. “Ma’am, can I help you?”
The stranger’s head turned sharply toward her voice. The eyes narrowed in a stunning face. As the woman walked down the hall, recognition slowly buzzed along the cusp of Briar’s memory.
“You must be Ms. Browning. Or do guests get to call you Briar?”
Wondering just where she’d seen that face before, Briar pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “Call me whatever you like. Are you here to make a reservation?”
“Briar,” the woman decided with a nod, breezing over the question. “It’s such a lovely name and unusual, too—which is more than the rest of us can say.”
“Would you mind me asking your name, Ms...?”
She smiled. The movement of her lips wasn’t the least bit friendly. Much coarser and more self-satisfied. “You don’t recognize me? I was here a week or so ago.”
It had taken a moment for it to click, but the self-assured smile had done the trick. Memories of that horrible afternoon before Brett hit, when she had found Cole outside in the midst of a heated debate with the same leggy blonde in front of her. “You’re Tiffany,” she said finally. Clearing her throat, she added, “Mr. Savitt’s ex-wife.”
“Oh, you can call him Cole,” the woman said in lieu of confirmation. “We both know your relationship has skipped far beyond the silly bounds of mister and miss. And don’t be shy. You can call me by my name—one he’s cursed on several occasions in your presence, I’m sure.”
Briar stared at the woman’s outstretched hand. Instead of shaking it, she tucked both of her own in the pockets of the apron she had forgotten to discard in her rush to depart for Mobile. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”
“Hmm.” Tiffany scanned her from head to toe. The sweep was critical and approving in equal measure, though Briar couldn’t have said how. She then turned her unnerving attention to the room at large and its arrangements, roaming comfortably on those pricey high-heeled shoes. “You’re a polite one. But you’ve got spine. I’m sorry to say I didn’t expect that. Your mother was the same, you know—or so I’ve been told.”
“How do you know my mother?”
“Oh, my father used to rail about her. Fifteen years back, he did everything in his power to get her to sell the inn. But she wouldn’t give an inch. Even when he resorted to threats of violence. My father liked threats, you see. Hanna Browning was one tough cookie, though. He couldn’t crack her. He was always disappointed that he didn’t get the prize. It is a prize. I can see that now for myself.”
Briar shook her head, confused by the cryptic information. “I’m sorry. Who did you say your father was?”
“Howard. Douglas Howard.” She nodded when Briar’s eyes rounded. “That’s right. My dear old daddy was once a terror for the private residents of the Eastern Shore. Those he couldn’t buy out, he cheated out of their holdings. Only a select few were wise enough to know exactly how far he would go to get what he wanted. Your mother was one of them, despite your own father’s best efforts to convince her to give in to old Douglas’s demands.”
“Douglas Howard...was your father?” Briar asked, still trying to stitch the puzzle together. She remembered her parents speaking of the man, her mother in the most heated of terms, her father in the most fearful. Their spouts about him had begun to fray the latter years of what she’d been sure was a shatterproof marriage. “But he was a local. I thought you lived in Huntsville....”
“Oh, once I hit eighteen, I lit out of my father’s house as fast as I could. He and I never spoke much after that. I moved on, made my own life. And then he died. It was a shock when his attorney informed me he left what remained of the family fortune in my hands. I thought the mean bastard hated me. But then again, he hated everybody and had to leave the money and holdings to someone.” She lifted a complacent shoulder, nearly simpered. “I’m grateful, though. It gave me a new outlook on life. I no longer had to be the lonely housewife of an overworked police officer. I could be a titan of real estate, just like my father.”
Briar was beginning to understand, slowly but surely. “So you’ve come back to gain what he lost.”
“More or less,” Tiffany admitted, easing a hip onto the arm of the sofa. Her long legs crossed. “More to get what he couldn’t. Wouldn’t it be a laugh if I got my hands on the deed to Hanna’s Inn? Things are different now, with Hanna gone. But I didn’t count on her daughter to be as iron-willed as the previous innkeeper.”
“You thought wrong,” Briar stated.
Tiffany nodded. “I’ll grant you that.” She smiled that acerbic smile again. “But still, things are different. You’ve managed, despite your admirable efforts, to lose all your investors, haven’t you? And I know for a fact that the county tax office will come knocking on the door with their foreclosure notice any day now.”
Briar’s lips parted in surprise. “You...you were the one who told them...”
“About your indecent relationship with another potential investor?” Tiffany laughed. “No, that was your father. Though I admit, it was my idea. I simply planted a little bug in Hudson’s ear and made him think it was his idea. He doesn’t think too much of your new boyfriend.”
“You’ve been working with my father? For how long?”
Tiffany waved a dismissive hand. “A week or so. He heard the name Howard and became very cooperative. He’s been much more helpful than my other informant.”
As Tiffany’s voice lowered and her eyes sharpened, the dark light in them was more noted than ever. They had come to it—the point Briar sensed the woman had wanted to drive home since she had walked through those doors.
Briar’s gut churned and she shook her head. “No. I won’t believe you.”
She let out another tinkering laugh. “Love. It blinds, my dear. I have no doubt that you love him...and that you have some hold over him. He became very uncooperative after only a few weeks under your roof. But Cole came to Hanna’s for one reason and one reason only—because I needed him to. As Douglas Howard’s daughter, I couldn’t afford to take the chance that I would be recognized. But Cole was a stranger and a former investigator. The perfect inside man.”
“You can’t make me believe he would’ve done that for you,” Briar told her. She wanted to pace, to press a hand over her heart, which had begun to pound against her sternum like a battering ram. But she couldn’t move. She could hardly breathe....
“You’re right about that. He didn’t do it for me. He did it for his son.”
Briar’s mouth fumbled, the protest dwindling before she could give it voice.
Gavin.
I’d do anything to have him back...
She sucked in a staggered breath and had to fight not to reach out for something to catch her balance. Her head was spinning. But even as her world spun itself off its axis and fell at her feet, she knew she couldn’t show weakness. Not to this adversary. “You’re not going to stop,” she said, instead. “Whatever I do...however long I fight...you’re never going to go away, are you, Tiffany?”
“Now at least we’re beginning to understand one another.” Clucking her tongue, Tiffany rose and walked to Briar, patting her arm. “You’re pale. Maybe you should sit down.”
“No,” she said firmly. She lifted her gaze to Tiffany’s face. “I think you should leave. Now.”
Tiffany regarded her for a moment then nodded. “Very well. My job’s all but done here, anyway. I’ll give you a generous price for Hanna’s—even if you wait until the foreclosure notice is delivered. I’m much more fair-minded than my old man.”
“I would rather see the inn and everything in it broken up and auctioned off than in your hands.”
“Sleep on it,” Tiffany suggested as she veered toward the exit. “When you’re facing true ruin, you’ll come knocking on my door. I’m sure of it.” Back in the entry
way, she set a card on the podium and turned back to Briar with that Cheshire-cat grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Briar.”
Briar turned away, facing the bay. She watched it blur as the bells chimed and the entry door closed at Tiffany’s back.
Cole’s horrible ex-wife was wrong about one thing at least—Briar would never be closer to true ruin than she was at this very moment.
* * *
COLE FELT GOOD about the changes he was making in his life. He’d found a place to live. He would sign the papers tomorrow morning and move in within the next week. Over the past few days, he had also gone job hunting. He knew his ten years of police credentials and referrals from former captains and partners were enough to get him through the door of the jobs he would prefer to have in the security field.
So, as long as he was looking at the big picture, within a month he would have what he needed in place to ensure that Gavin could live comfortably with him whenever Tiffany allowed visitation.
She would be generous—because he was damned sure she didn’t want to do jail time. That wouldn’t fit into her grand scheme. And whatever she had planned for the inn, he would figure it out. Together, he and Briar would make certain that her mother’s legacy had the legs and stability to make it through the long haul.
And he would make sure that what he and Briar had built would do the same.
Once he settled into his new place and steady paychecks began rolling in, he would look into buying a new vehicle, even if he had to sell the Harley. The motorcycle had served him well, but it would be smart to have something safer for Gavin’s sake.
He couldn’t wait to introduce Gavin to Fairhope. To introduce Gavin to Briar. And for them to start a life together, as a family.
A life and family, he thought, with a shake of his head. Who would’ve thought he would have a chance at either again? After long last and longer unhappiness, he would have the kind of life he wanted. Needed. The kind of life he had lost all hope of ever having after Tiffany’s accusations had sent them to court, and he’d watched everything fall through the cracks.
A Place with Briar (Harlequin Superromance) Page 24