by Jean Oram
CHAPTER 6
Melanie hunched over her computer and propped her head in her hand. Staying up late on Sunday night to create the presentation for Mr. Valos was finally catching up with her. Evidence: what had she been thinking, flirting with Tristen yesterday? He was the enemy. A big fat hot-and-cold, keep-to-himself, flustering, sweet hunk of man.
Oh, my. She was so doomed.
As she’d tried to sleep, his words about how antiques were like people and that they sometimes got better with age had repeated over and over again. If he hadn’t said that, she was pretty sure she could have stayed mad at him. Instead, she’d jumped at the first chance to be helpful, and arranged an internship for his daughter, effective pretty much immediately. Something about cheap labor made her boss perk up. And of course, being lowest on the office totem pole, Melanie would be the one training Dot. Which actually worked out okay, seeing as the girl caught on quickly, giving Melanie hope that the two of them would find her desk’s surface again. Under all the angst and dyed hair, Dot was actually kind of sweet.
“There’s someone here to see you,” the teen said, edging into Melanie’s tiny office, her eyes round.
“Sorry, one day they will let the newbie have a bigger office.” Melanie, still seated, reached out with a leg to nudge a chair out of Dot’s way.
Mrs. Star wanted to update her will in order to give her thrice-removed nephew, Benji Reiter over in Blueberry Springs, a share of the lawn ornaments she kept in front of her home. Melanie restacked the overstuffed file folders into a tower to her left, trying to carve out a space where she could take notes.
“You can send her in.”
“It’s, uh, not a her. It’s a him,” Dot whispered.
Aaron from Rubicore appeared in her doorway, a crisp black suit making him somehow look bigger. He was practically blocking out the feeble sunshine that made its way to her back office. Melanie wasn’t sure why, but she got the impression that if this were a movie, he’d have blown her away with a bazooka by now.
“Hello.” She walked around her desk and shook his hand. He squeezed hers too hard. Annoying. She needed to use those fingers to type. “Aaron Bloomwood, is that correct?”
“Yes.” He turned and waved another man forward. A very large man. On a dog-to-human ratio he’d be a massive Newfoundland. “Your assistant said you are available.”
Melanie checked her watch. “I have five minutes before my last client of the day.”
“This is Mario LaToya, my personal assistant.” Aaron gestured to the Newfoundland at his side. “Melanie Summer.”
Mario nodded, his eyes so dark it was hard to know whether he was friend or foe.
She had a feeling he was more vicious junkyard dog than cuddly pound puppy.
Aaron took a seat while Mario remained by the door in a military “at ease” position. Melanie slipped behind her desk, feeling unexpectedly nervous.
“What can I help you with today?” She folded her hands, spine straight. “Oh, and I passed the invitation on to my sisters. Did Maya tell you we’d be pleased to attend? RSVP the four of us, please. Although she’s not sure what the proposal is that you spoke of.”
Aaron scowled. Not a big scary one, but big enough to show he was not pleased with her for some reason. Melanie would have thought he would be thrilled to hear the people he was trying to schmooze were willing to join the fun. You know, evil laughter, followed by fingertips being tapped together as the plan slipped into place.
“We were hoping to further discuss any concerns you have at the dinner prior to the party, but I hear you have immediate concerns.” The scowl was gone, his face suddenly placid and friendly. Almost.
Melanie gave a noncommittal “Oh,” and smiled encouragingly, hoping he’d show his cards. Or at least how many he was holding.
Impatience flickered across the man’s face. “We would appreciate it if you talked to us if you have concerns. Allow us to alleviate them.”
Melanie tilted her head as though confused.
Mr. Valos had ratted her out? But why?
Or was it Tristen? Maybe that was the reason he wouldn’t help her—because he was already on the other team.
Dot hovered near the door and Melanie tipped her head, indicating she could close it. Instead, the girl continued to stand there, at a loss.
“We’d rather you and I discuss any issues you have,” Aaron said, crossing his legs. “I am confident that reasonable people such as ourselves can come to an understanding without involving the municipality.”
Mr. Valos. The sneak.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for coming to see me.” Melanie spun her chair to the side so her legs were out from under her desk. She placed her palm on a pile of folders and leaned forward, ready to stand, essentially dismissing him.
“I don’t expect you to understand how cities, towns, townships, or other municipalities work, Ms. Summer. The paperwork and bureaucracy can become quite involved in a project of this magnitude. Our financiers could become upset if we encountered delays over something so small I could have resolved it with a simple conversation.” Aaron stood, adjusting his suit jacket with a half laugh intended to suggest they were on the same side. “And you know how the government can be.”
Mario puffed out his chest, arms crossed, legs wide apart. Those scary dark eyes still watching her every move.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you had approval, Mr. Bloomwood. Congratulations.”
Aaron smiled, not giving away whether he did or not. Damn.
“As a smart woman, you surely understand where I am coming from?” The developer leaned a bit closer. Not so much that he could be considered threatening, but with Mario behind him, that was definitely his goal.
Melanie laughed lightly. “Of course. I’m sure my sisters would love to have a chance to chat with you about the resort, and dinner is such a good idea.” She held a hand against her chest, ignoring the fact that both men had moved closer. There really wasn’t enough air in here. “And personally, I do wonder what will become of Heritage Row. It’s so pretty, and I notice that one of the cottages is already gone. Only three left. Such a shame.”
“It had termites.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize they came this far north. We’d better get our place checked. Thank you for the heads-up.”
Aaron placed a hand on her desk, obviously seeing through her charade. He met her eyes with a forceful glare. “Don’t go to the municipality, Ms. Summer. Come to us.”
Melanie swallowed hard, trying not to allow her smile to vanish the way the saliva in her mouth had.
“Ms. Summer? There’s someone here to see you,” Dot said, her voice wavering. Melanie sighed in relief at the interruption. Talk about timing.
She caught a flash of black leather in the doorway. Had Mrs. Star gone for a makeover or was this yet another unexpected visitor?
“Send her in,” Melanie called to Dot. “These men were just leaving.”
Instead of Mrs. Star, Ezra the biker from the Steel Barrel pressed his way into the small room, blocking Aaron’s and Mario’s exit. “Everything okay, Melanie?” His low voice rumbled with a warning that sent a wave of both fear and relief spiraling through her bloodstream.
“These men are leaving. Thank you, Ezra.”
The biker narrowed his eyes, legs planted hip-width apart.
“Move,” Aaron snapped. He took a step forward, but the biker didn’t budge.
“I do hope you weren’t harassing this young woman.” Though Ezra was shorter than Aaron and Mario, Melanie had no doubt he could take them out in a truly gory fashion.
Rubicore’s front man glared, pushing past Ezra, who still didn’t move, causing Aaron to bounce off him and hit the door on his way out. Melanie bit her bottom lip to hide her amusement. Mario, following his boss, flashed her a curious, reassessing glance.
When the two men were gone, Ezra shut the door with a bang, and it bounced back open again. He took a seat across from Melanie, who had coll
apsed into her chair.
“You let me know if they’re a problem and I’ll take care of them.”
“Thank you.” She wasn’t going to question how, just take solace in the fact that someone would keep her safe if need be. Not that she thought she might need to take him up on the offer, of course. Aaron was just being a pushy prick. Which told her exactly what she needed to know. There was a way to stop them, or at least seriously impede their progress.
She could take them down, but unlike yesterday morning, when she’d wanted to show Tristen that she could do it on her own, she knew she was going to need help. Plenty of it.
“What can I do for you, Ezra?”
“I need a divorce.”
“I don’t specialize in divorce law, but I could recommend someone for you.” She flipped through her drawer for the business card of a local divorce lawyer.
“I want you.”
Melanie glanced up in surprise. His voice was unexpectedly soft.
Standing behind him was Tristen, arms slack at his sides. He blinked, closed his mouth and stepped into the room.
Well, it looked as though everyone was coming to visit her today. Lucky duck. She knew she should have worn something more fun than her boring gray pantsuit. Not that she had anything more fun. She might have to break down and ask Simone for another dress, despite herself.
Melanie moved around her desk to usher Tristen out. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bell. I’m with a client at the moment. If you’re here to pick up Dot, she can leave early.”
Tristen’s gaze flicked between her and the biker, who was sitting back, hands folded over his small paunch.
“Is this man bothering you, Melanie?” Tristen asked.
Was he kidding? Today was turning into pissing match after pissing match. There had to be something in the water, or else a bright, flashing sign outside saying Come On In and Mess Up Melanie’s Day. “No, he is not.” She enunciated the words carefully, not wanting to offend Tristen by pointing out how utterly ridiculous he was being.
“Oh my God, Dad,” Dot said, joining her father in the doorway. “This guy just totally scared away some jerks who were giving Ms. Summer a hard time.”
Tristen’s face flushed red and he came closer to Melanie, making her step back. “Is that true?”
“What is this? Protect Melanie Day?” She gave a nervous laugh and moved behind her desk again.
“Some developer trying to silence the girl, I’d say,” the biker drawled. “That the truth, Miss Melanie?”
She sighed and nodded. That about summed it up, although it sounded much more sinister coming from him. It kind of made her hands shake a tiny bit, something that her knees seemed to want to get in on as well.
Tristen was staring at her, his fists clenched at his sides, a vein in his forehead throbbing.
“She held her own,” the biker said.
“Ezra helped,” Melanie added.
Tristen was around her desk in a flash, his fingers gripping into her shoulders, his brow wrinkled with what could only be worry. “Did they threaten you?”
Ezra was up and cramming himself into the small space behind her desk as Tristen gave her a small shake to get an answer out of her. “Did they?”
“Back off,” the biker warned.
Melanie wrenched her arms from Tristen’s grasp, pushing her chair backward as anger rushed through her veins, setting her on fire. “You don’t want anything to do with Rubicore, so bugger off and mind your own business. I can take care of myself.”
“You’re in over your head.”
“At least I’m trying to make things better, and not running off scared.”
“You need help.”
“I don’t need help, thank you very much.” She crossed her arms. “I can do this without you.”
“No, I don’t think you can.”
“Really? And what exactly are you going to do for me, Tristen Bell?”
He rushed from the room, his face a fireworks display of conflicting emotions, leaving Melanie to scratch her head.
“Wow, okay,” she said with a laugh.
“You’re a real jerk,” Dot called after her father, before following him.
So Tristen was going to run away again. Why should Melanie expect anything different from the man?
She addressed Ezra. “Sorry about all that.”
“So, can you help me?” the biker asked.
“Technically, yes. But I think someone who specializes in divorce would be better, if it isn’t an amicable split.” She dug out a few forms. “Whoever you decide to go to, filling these out ahead of time will help keep the costs down, since lawyers bill by the hour.”
Mrs. Star appeared in the doorway, smiling and cradling a garden gnome. Grand Central Station had nothing on Melanie’s office this afternoon.
“Hello, dear. Oh, I’m sorry. You’re with Ezra. How are you, sweetie?” Mrs. Star reached into the room to rest a hand on his leather-covered shoulder. “Is your mother’s ankle okay? I heard she had a spill.”
“She’s fine, thank you.” He stood and offered Mrs. Star his seat.
“I’m sorry I’m late, Melanie.”
“Am I interrupting your appointment?” Ezra asked.
“Of course you are, my dear. I am not some Hells Angel waltzing in and expecting to be served, due to my intimidating behaviour.”
Ezra gave a good-natured laugh and bowed gallantly. “My apologies, Mrs. Star.”
“Are you here to get rid of that wife of yours? I heard the two of you were separating.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Elsie owes me five dollars,” the older woman announced triumphantly. “That’s my sister,” she added for Melanie’s benefit. “She’s over in Blueberry Springs, and says it’s the best place on earth.” Mrs. Star gave a snort. “That place has nothing on Muskoka. Wouldn’t you say?”
Melanie slipped the divorce lawyer’s business card into Ezra’s hand, in case he changed his mind about hiring someone who knew what he or she was doing. At the same time, she studiously avoided Mrs. Star’s attempt to get her involved in the ongoing battle between the woman and her absent sister.
The biker shut the door on his way out and Melanie relaxed. Back on schedule and back to normal.
“What was the kerfuffle out there about someone harassing you?” Mrs. Star asked with a severe look, almost daring Melanie to hide the truth.
“The developer out on Baby Horseshoe Island wanted to discuss things, that’s all. He’d rather I chat with him before talking to Mr. Valos.”
Mrs. Star snorted. “Mr. Valos couldn’t help you save his own life. Now, what about that fellow yelling in the parking lot? What’s he about?”
“What fellow?”
“He was yelling at two men, saying they needed to leave you alone.” Mrs. Star was practically aquiver. “Does he like you? Is he your man? A fine fellow, defending you like that. Mrs. Kowski said there was a guy eyeing you at the boat show.” Melanie’s client pressed a palm against her bosom, eyes twinkling.
“There wasn’t a guy eyeing me. Was the man outside with a teenage girl?” she asked, barely daring to let herself hope that much.
“Yes.” Mrs. Star leaned forward, eager for her to confide all.
Melanie sagged into her chair with a sigh. Why was Tristen protecting her? Or was he only protecting Dot?
“He said they needed to leave you be because you were a lone woman and wouldn’t cause them any problems.”
“He did, did he?” She leaned forward again. Well, she might just have to show Tristen Bell that he shouldn’t underestimate her. Just because he wasn’t going to help her didn’t mean she was going to roll over and not make a difference in this world.
* * *
Tristen sat on the dock and closed his eyes, nudging Max’s heavy body off his warm feet. What was Melanie getting herself into with Rubicore? And having a member of the Hells Angels defending her? The woman was in over her head and didn’t even realize it. Normally, Tri
sten would walk away, but with his daughter working so closely with Melanie and rubbing elbows with her dangerous acquaintances, she could become a target, or worse.
He squelched the urge to take action, to destroy the enemy by any means, and in the process ground his jaw so hard a tension headache formed.
Dot paddled over on her pink inner tube, sporting the anklet he’d bought her for her thirteenth birthday. He’d almost forgotten about it. He’d spent hours looking for just the right item. A chain that was delicate, yet wouldn’t break if she acted like a kid; a heart charm that was classy, but still spunky. Something she could wear anywhere, anytime, any age.
But maybe not swimming. He debated asking her to take it off, but was worried that, if she did, it might slip between the boards of the dock and be lost forever.
“You don’t have to watch me, you know,” she called. “Mom lets me swim alone.”
“I happen to like hanging out on my dock, thank you very much.”
“Holy grouchy pants. What worm crawled up your—”
“Don’t use that tone,” he warned.
“So, you enjoy sitting here, scowling at the trash barges going by?”
“I’m not scowling.” He relaxed the muscles that were pinching his mouth.
“Yes, you are. You glare at them while they pass.”
“Have you looked in the bay?” It was only a few hundred feet across, really just a cottage-lined bulge in the river before it wove its way through the Port Carling locks and into Lake Muskoka. “They’re dropping debris, which is going to wash up on my shore. How am I supposed to get a thirty-foot fir beam out of the water?”
Dot shrugged, her attitude back. “Who cares?”
“I do.”
“Then help Melanie stop the development. And I mean more than just yelling at those bullies in suits.”
Tristen tried to pry his hands out of the fists they’d formed, but found he couldn’t. The tension had spread all the way down to his thighs.