“She kept saying I stole her husband.”
Carly turned to look at her. “Well, did you?”
She burst out laughing at Lisa’s shocked expression. Lisa punched her in the arm.
“Your face!” Carly gasped. “You thought I was serious? You’re getting paranoid.”
“You try having someone scream ‘harlot’ at you in the middle of town square and see how you like it!”
“You are a very beautiful woman,” Carly said.
“You’re no help.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But what else is new, besides your wanton ways?”
“The Folly!”
“What about it?”
“I’m going to buy it.”
“What? Just like that, you’re buying it?”
Lisa laughed out loud. “The owner is even going to carry the mortgage!”
“How much are you paying?”
Lisa frowned. “Um.”
Carly laughed. “You’re buying it and you know about the mortgage but you don’t know the price? Talk about the cart before the horse.”
“I have to submit an offer and all that, but that’s just paperwork. I’m buying it! I’m… I’m doing it, really doing it. Me!”
“You,” Carly agreed. “That’s wonderful. You want me to drop you at your mom’s?”
“No, the office. I have paperwork to do.” Lisa rubbed her hands together. “Delicious, delicious paperwork.”
Chapter 8
Lisa wasn’t entirely sure how to structure an offer like this one, with the seller financing and the down payment and the whole thing, but with all her mother’s years of experience selling real estate, she was sure Penny could help. She wasn’t sure Penny would approve, but her love of selling would overcome any objections to the deal itself. Or Lisa was passably sure it would work that way.
Unfortunately, her mother wasn’t in the office when Lisa got there.
“How long do you expect her to be?”
The receptionist rolled her eyes. “She didn’t say.”
“Thanks, you’ve been a great help.”
Lisa thought of knocking on Brett’s door. He was technically representing her in this deal, but he was also representing Roland. She shook her head. That wasn’t the actual reason she didn’t want to ask for his counsel. It was because of the woman — his wife? — who’d screamed at her in the street. She’d had enough of men who ran around on their significant others. If his own wife couldn’t trust him, how could Lisa expect to trust him, even if it was just business? No, she’d rather talk to someone she could trust. If not Penny, then someone else.
She left the office and pulled out her phone to call her dad. Lou was not exactly a businessman, but she certainly trusted him. It went to voicemail. She stood on the sidewalk a moment, then realized how silly she was being. Aunt Olivia’s gallery was right next door to the real estate office, in one of those bizarre mashups that seem to happen in the cheek-by-jowl style of small-town business space.
She went into the gallery. Olivia gave a cry of joy and floated out from behind the desk, the loose sleeves of her blue caftan fluttering like wings. She seized Lisa in a hug.
“Lisa, dear, I’m so glad you came by. You haven’t seen anything by the consortium of local painters doing impressionistic Grand Canyon ultra-close-ups. It’s very exciting stuff.” She led Lisa to a section of wall space covered in small canvases. Each canvas was a single color.
Lisa squinted at the paintings, then cocked an eyebrow at her aunt.
Olivia nodded, as though this reaction were expected. “Start up close, then step slowly back. Let your perception relax, and give your intuition the freedom to romp through your color sense.”
Lisa got up close to a square of rusty bronze, then tiptoed back until her back was almost against the opposite wall. “Hmm,” she said noncommittally.
“I suppose it’s not for everyone,” Olivia said. “Now over on this wall, we have a selection of more traditional panoramic views of the canyon.” She gestured at another wall, on which she’d hung several lovely canvases with achingly beautiful sunrises and sunsets over the Grand Canyon.
“Are you calling me a traditionalist?” Lisa said, teasing her unconventional aunt.
“Would I ever say such a thing to family?” Olivia replied.
They grinned at each other and then Olivia got them settled on the comfy purple velvet chairs in the coffee nook.
“Aunt Olivia, I want to ask your advice,” Lisa said, leaning forward.
“Oh, goody. Is it about your love life?” Olivia winked at her niece.
“What love life? No, I want your advice about business.”
Olivia cocked her head to the side. “Business advice? From me? My dear, I’m the artistic one in the family. Your mother is the business-oriented one.”
“You say that, but look at this place. You’re running a business here. And who’s to say an art gallery doesn’t have more in common with a coffee shop than a real estate agency does?”
Olivia’s eyebrows rose. “I do run this place, and at a small profit, I might add.”
“See?”
“That settles it. What do you want to know?”
“How much should I pay for the Folly? And how much cash do I need to keep in reserve for expenses? How long will it take to be ready to open? Do you think I’m making a mistake in buying the Folly and starting a coffee shop? Don’t you think the town of Moss Creek needs somewhere for people to gather?” Lisa spit out all her questions in one breath, then slumped in the chair, feeling overwhelmed at the size of the project she’d taken on.
Olivia’s eyes took on a shine. “Yes, yes, yes! This town needs a center of focus, a fulcrum. Bring them in for the coffee, change their lives with the art. It’s a brilliant plan. We can do this.”
Lisa blinked at her aunt. “We? Art? What are you talking about?”
“The combination coffee shop and art gallery, of course. Why else did the spirit lead you here to talk to me? Something inside of you knew that this was meant to be.”
“Oh.” Lisa sat back in the overstuffed chair and ran her hands along the fuzzy purple velvet. It would be easier to have a business partner than to go it alone.
“Besides,” Olivia said, “it means more working capital and a base of operations here until the Folly is fixed up. I was there for a séance last fall, and it was in pretty rough shape. No way the health department will give it a permit without some work.”
Laughter bubbled up out of Lisa. She put her hands over her mouth to stop the giddy laughter, but it was no use. Lisa’s Last Chance Café was going to be a reality. “Aunt Olivia, I love you! This is going to be amazing. I already have a name picked out. I want to serve coffee and pastries, maybe cupcakes with whimsical toppings. I want to host an open mic night. Art on the walls will fit in perfectly.”
Olivia put her hand on Lisa’s forearm and gave it a squeeze. “That’s wonderful. But now it’s time to talk turkey. Just how much working capital do you have? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
*
“It’s a little unorthodox to have a painting as part of an offer to purchase,” Brett said, frowning over the rumpled and coffee-stained pile of papers Lisa had plopped onto his desk.
“It’s a watercolor sketch,” she said.
“Indeed. A little unorthodox.”
“We think it shows that we’re in earnest. A real piece of art as part of the offer.”
“I’m not saying it’s not a nice painting.”
“Watercolor sketch.”
“Right. But—”
“The house, the coffee, the beating heart of a community. She really captured the idea, I think.”
Brett sighed. “Look, Miss Chance. What really convinces a seller is cold hard cash. Art is fine, but cash is king. If you’re going to try to get Mr. Comstock to sell to you at a discount because of a, um, watercolor sketch, then—”
“Oh, well, no,” she said, pointing at the stack of p
apers. “If you’ll look at that page there, you’ll see that we’ve got the cash part covered.”
Brett lifted the page and squinted at it. A moment later his face brightened. “Oh! That should be quite convincing. I thought I’d heard you mention fifty thousand, but…”
Lisa’s face reddened, remembering the overheard conversation with her ex. “Aunt Olivia cashed out a retirement account. We’re holding back some to do the repairs and renovations, and to buy supplies, but we can bring a full eighty kay. Cash.”
He nodded. “Cash tends to be very convincing.”
A smile spread across her face. “This is so exciting!”
Brett put his hand on hers. “Yes, it really is.”
She frowned and pulled her hand back. The idea of a married man hitting on her was repulsive.
“Sorry,” he said, turning back to the stack of paperwork. “Let me just get this into the shape of an official offer, and I’ll get it right over to Mr. Comstock.” He hazarded a glance up at Lisa, who was still frowning. “I’ll call you when I have his response.”
*
Lisa and Olivia stood arm in arm, grinning like Halloween jack-o-lanterns, watching Roland Comstock put the painting and the cash into the trunk of his Cadillac. He came over once more to shake their hands.
“Ladies, it has been a real pleasure,” he said. “I believe the Comstock house is in good hands with you.”
Lisa smiled to herself as she noticed Aunt Olivia checking out Roland’s physique as she shook his hand. Her aunt had never married, but had always appreciated the male form.
“The pleasure is all ours,” Olivia said, still holding Roland’s hand.
“I’ll have to stop in and sample some of that coffee next time I’m in town,” he said, looking deep in her eyes.
“Pastry, too, don’t forget,” Olivia said.
“Ok! Thank you for everything,” Lisa said, ready to get moving and uninterested in watching her aunt flirt.
“Wait,” Olivia said, squinting at Roland. “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”
“I don’t think so,” Roland said, extracting his hand from hers.
“I feel almost certain that we’ve met before.”
“Probably just family resemblance between me and the rest of the Comstocks,” he said, quickly going around to the driver side door of his Cadillac. He waved a hand out the window at them and gunned the engine down the driveway.
Olivia’s face worked silently, like she was flipping through a slideshow in her mind’s eye.
Lisa jingled the keys in her hand, ready to go inside and start making plans. She took a step toward the house, but Olivia’s shout stopped her.
“Aunt Olivia, what’s wrong?”
“If he thinks he’s going to get away with it twice, he’s got another think coming.” Olivia ran to her car and jumped in, peeling out and flying down the driveway after Roland.
Chapter 9
Lisa stared after her aunt’s car. Had she started drinking again? And how was Lisa going to get home, when her aunt had been her ride?
“Fine, then. I guess I’ll go in alone,” she said to herself.
The keys felt good in her hand. She stepped onto the porch and admired the woodwork. She put the key in the door and tried to turn it. It stuck. She pushed harder, then wondered if she had the wrong key. Was it the key to the back door? She switched to a different key and jiggled it in the lock.
“Meow.”
Lisa looked down. The hugely pregnant cat was back, sitting on the bottom step of the porch stairs.
“Hey, kitty,” Lisa said softly. “How are you today, gorgeous?”
The cat looked at her, twitching the tip of her tail.
“Looks like you’re going to be a mama kitty,” Lisa said, leaving the keys in the lock and creeping slowly across the porch.
The cat’s tail twitched faster. A board creaked under Lisa’s foot and the cat took off at a dead sprint across the yard and into the carriage house. Lisa jogged after her, reaching the carriage house just as the cat scrambled back up into the hayloft.
Lisa stopped, not wanting to scare the cat more.
“Come on, kitty, I’m your friend. You don’t have to hide, baby.”
She sighed. Abandoned at the Folly, and now the cat wouldn’t come out and see her. It felt like a tiny echo of the feeling she’d had when she caught Dylan cheating.
“No. Don’t be silly,” she scolded herself. She took out her phone and called Carly, who answered on the first ring.
“Hey, where are you, lady business tycoon?” Carly said.
“Some tycoon. I’m at the Folly without a ride home.”
“Oh, honey, what happened to your aunt?”
“I don’t know. She was acting so weird. But that’s not why I called. I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
“Two, actually. Or maybe three.”
Carly laughed. “Then name them in order and we’ll see how things progress.”
“Ok, so first I’m going to need a ride home. Would you mind picking me up?”
“That one’s easy. First favor granted. Next?”
“Next, there’s a feral cat that seems to be living here, and she looks pregnant. Would you call the vet? Is Dr. Schrader still practicing?”
“No, he retired a couple years ago, right after we had to have Peaches put down. But he sold the practice to some new doc. I have the name here somewhere.”
“Ok, good, I just want someone to look at this cat if we can, or at least tell me what to do about the kittens when they arrive.”
“Second favor granted. Next?”
“Next, I was hoping you could book me a time for that handy husband of yours to look at this place and talk about renovations.”
“Gideon’s all yours after he gets home from today’s job. In fact, I may have to call him to knock off early.”
“You’re the sweetest.”
“Just like candy. You go on and think about your renovation plans, and I’ll go do the fairy godmother thing.”
Lisa smiled as she slid her phone back in her pocket. She’d known Carly since grade school, when they’d been the tallest and shortest girls in class. Kids had sometimes tried to tease them about the height difference, but after Carly bounced a rubber kickball right into the lead bully’s face no one had bothered them much.
She went back up on the porch and jiggled the key in the lock again, and this time it turned, letting Lisa into the wonderland of her new house. The front entrance hall was dusty, and she sneezed three times as she passed through into the parlor. She paced the length of the room, imagining it filled with adorable little bistro tables and happy patrons.
She went into the library and gazed at the walls, imagining them filled with paintings, and comfy sofas grouped around the room under them.
Lisa was contemplating the floorboards of the dining room when she heard a soft tap tap tap on the front door. She ran to the door and flung it open to find herself staring into a face that looked like Rocky Balboa’s at the end of the first Rocky movie. Swollen lip, bruised cheek, one eye purple and nearly swollen shut.
“Hi,” she said, standing in the doorway, trying but failing not to stare.
“Hi. I’m Dr. Morris.”
“Yes,” she said, trying to make sure she looked into his open eye instead of the one that made him look like Quasimodo in that Hunchback movie.
“Um, I’m here about the feral cat?” he said.
“Oh! Right. Sorry. Of course you are. I’m Lisa, by the way,” she said, holding out her hand. “Lisa Chance.”
He shook her hand. “Good to meet you.”
“Good to meet you, too.” She paused. “I have to ask. What happened to you?”
“I fell out of a tree,” he said with a sigh.
“A tree?” she repeated.
“A tree.” He looked at her with his one good eye, then sighed again. “You want the long version or the short version?”
“I g
uess I can take the short version. As long as it’s longer than ‘I fell out of a tree.’”
“Fine. I was on Jake Peterman’s property,” he started.
“Peterman? He was the one who wanted to buy this place,” she gestured at the grand house around them, “and turn it into condos. Condos, if you can believe it!”
“Oh, I can believe it. The reason I was in Peterman’s ponderosa was that I had to reach a nest before he had the tree removed.”
“Hmm.” Lisa’s gaze wandered off the veterinarian’s bruised face and onto his surprisingly broad shoulders.
“Just because a bird is off the official endangered list doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be protected,” he said. “But a man like Jake Peterman doesn’t see it that way. Bird comes off the list, he sees it as open season on an old nesting tree.”
“Real charmer.”
“Yeah.”
“So you fell out of the tree trying to rescue baby birds.”
“I did.”
“Were the birds ok?”
He smiled. It was a scary grimace with all the bruising and swelling, but his one open eye twinkled. “They were fine. I hadn’t quite reached the nest. The fall convinced me to call in a truck with a lift instead of winging it.”
“If you had wings, it would’ve been a whole different story,” she said.
“Right,” he said, chuckling. “But where is this mama cat?”
She stared at him another moment and then shook herself and pointed at the carriage house. “She’s in there. The cat, I mean.”
“Ok, let’s go and see if we can coax her out for a little visit.”
They walked across the courtyard to the carriage house and peeked inside. The cat’s eyes flashed green in the darkness.
“There she is,” Lisa whispered.
They tiptoed in, hoping not to scare her, but the mama cat swished her tail twice and then leapt and scrambled up into the hayloft.
They stood looking up at the loft’s edge.
“I think that’s where she makes her home,” Lisa said. “Should we try to climb up there, or…?”
“Hmm, no, I don’t think so,” Dr. Morris said.
“Oh. Uh, sorry. No more climbing.”
He led the way back outside. “She doesn’t show any signs of being sick or aggressive, which is good. I don’t want to scare her off before the kittens come. We should be able to catch them before you have an entire feral cat colony.”
Last Chance for Murder (Lisa Chance Cozy Mysteries Book 1) Page 5