by Dee Ernst
I shrugged. “That’s okay. It was interesting.”
“Probably not as interesting as you. Tell me something about yourself. Something you don’t tell other people.”
I sat back, a little surprised at his interest. “Well, I have a degree in art history, and I wanted to be a museum curator.”
He chuckled. “Well, those jobs are hard to come by. Terri said you were in real estate. That’s a leap.”
I shrugged. “I had to do something. I also like architecture, and real estate gave me a chance to go snooping into people’s houses.”
He grinned. “Now, that’s honest.”
I laughed. “Yes, well, honest is something I try to be.”
The salads arrived. There was a mixture of greens, thinly sliced cucumber, radishes, red onions and a wedge of ripe, red tomato. The dressing, served on the side, was so thick I had to spread it on the salad with my fork. It was delicious.
“How is it that the tourists don’t come here?” I asked after scraping my salad plate clean.
“We don’t tell them about it,” Steve said. “There are a few places around here that we keep to ourselves. Have you been to DeeDee and Jacks yet?”
I had, actually, every time I’d come down to visit. It was a favorite of Terri’s, the perfect dive bar, but with excellent food.
“Buck A Beer Tuesdays,” I said. “I love that place.”
“We’ll have to go,” he said. “Maybe next week?”
I froze, my water glass halfway to my mouth. What was that? Being social? A date? I’d been out of the dating scene for over twelve years, and knew I wouldn’t recognize the landscape, even with a map and seasoned guide. “Terri and I go there all the time,” I managed. “We’ll probably see you there.”
He shook his head. “What is it with you women, anyway? Always in packs. I’ve noticed that a lot more in the past few years. It’s a lot harder to approach a woman when she’s surrounded by other women.”
I pointed my index finger at him. “That’s the point.”
A plate was dropped in front of me. “More beer?” the kid asked Steve.
Steve nodded, and as Chuck moved away, Steve’s hand shot out to grab his arm.
“Hey, Chuck, be polite. Ask the lady here if she wants anything else.”
Chuck glared, then turned to me and mumbled.
“More water. Please.”
He mumbled, again and moved on.
I took a bite of sandwich. The crab cake had the perfect ratio of crabmeat to filling, and it was absolutely delicious. After three of four hurried mouthfuls, I swallowed, drank some more water and said, “So, I guess the great food makes up for the crappy service?”
Steve waited until he finished chewing. “An even trade-off, right?”
I couldn’t answer, because my cheeks were stuffed, so I just nodded.
He grabbed the check when it came. “Business expense,” he said, laughing, but I bet he meant it.
The trip back to Cape Edwards wasn’t as chatty, but we talked and even laughed. He seemed a nice man. His good looks were a distraction, and I knew those beautiful eyes and devastating smile made him seem more interesting than he really was, but I enjoyed his company. I could certainly see why Terri was so hot for him. I asked him to drop me on Main Street because I wanted to go up to Terri’s condo and change. He pulled the truck up in front of her place, blocking traffic, as I fumbled for my purse.
“Well, thanks again for lunch. I’ll be at the house in a bit.”
He nodded, half smiling. “Yeah. That was fun. So what about DeeDee’s and Jacks? Maybe without your entourage?”
I think my jaw hit my chest before I could even think. That was absolutely a date.
“Ah, gee, Steve, thanks. Really. But I’m kind of, you know, feeling my way around, and I think I’m going to just stay with my, ah, entourage for now.”
He looked at me steadily. “Listen. You’ll probably hear things about me. How I change women like most men change socks. But there are two sides to every story. And the women around here, well, they expect certain things from me. That doesn’t mean that’s how I want things to be. But, that’s how things are. Remember that.”
I gulped, thanked him for lunch, and jumped out of the car, sprinting across traffic and causing several horns to blow.
Oh, my God. Now what was I supposed to do?
I needed advice. Steve McCann, the object of my good friend Terri’s desire, had apparently asked me out on a date. I needed someone wise. Someone who knew the local landscape. And would pull no punches.
I hit the street and started walking.
Stella Blount’s shop, Tidal Gifts was crowded, and as I entered, it didn’t look like she was going to get any kind of a break any time soon, making it the wrong place to be. I smiled and waved, and headed back out the door.
I started walking down Main Street, realized I was heading right for my house, so I turned down and walked to Edwards Boulevard, the residential street that ran parallel to Main. I always liked this street. The Cape Edwards elite had built their homes there years ago, and the graceful brick Victorians still stood. As I walked by one house, under obvious renovation, I saw the McCann construction sign on the lawn and froze. This must have been Dara French’s house. Was I going to be walking right past Steve McCann after all? I ducked my head and hurried past.
Getting lost in Cape Edwards was impossible, so when I ran out of Boulevard, I simply turned right to head back to Main. I passed a small, fanciful brick building with a simple sign in the window. Yoga. Karen’s studio.
It must have been a gas station in a former life, because the main building had arched windows and an improbable round, peaked roof, and there was a space to the side that had once been a garage. Where the bay doors had been were now tall frosted windows. I went up to the door and went in.
Sure enough, there was a small desk and a few comfortable chairs in the entry, and a blue doorway. There was a large, airy studio off to the side. There was classical music playing, but the rooms were empty.
“Hello?” My voice echoed, and after a few seconds, footsteps came from behind the blue door.
“Chris? Hi! Come to check out the place?”
Karen looked trim and toned in a simple black sleeveless tank top, leggings, and a colorful skirt tied across her hips. Her gray hair was on top of her head, and her face glowed.
“Ah, maybe. I mean yes. Crap. Karen, Steve McCann just took me to lunch.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Oh?”
“Terri has a thing for him. Did you know that?”
She nodded. “Yes. Did you?”
I threw myself into a chair. “My day started out with me walking down to the house. I was actually going to try to do some work. They all laughed at me.”
“All?”
“Well, no. Steve was very polite. He suggested we pick out a countertop and backsplash instead. I said yes. You know that scene in Moscow on the Hudson? Where Robin Williams turns down the coffee aisle and has a breakdown because of all the choices? Well, that was me trying to decide between granite and quartz. This rehab stuff in not for the faint of heart.”
She sat next to me. “And?”
“And on the way back, he suggested lunch.”
She nodded. “That’s reasonable. How was it?”
“I don’t know where we ate, but it looked like a dive and the food was terrific. And he’s a nice man. Interesting to talk to and an absolute joy to look at.”
She lifted her eyebrows, which were unplucked and looked to be rather woolly. “Yes, that he is. None of us really know him, except Jenna. She went to school with him. She was a few years behind him, but she’s always said he was a jock and a skirt chaser.”
“He asked me out to DeeDee and Jacks. I wasn’t sure if he meant it as a date or not.”
“If it didn’t just come up in casual conversation,” she said dryly, “he probably meant it as a date.”
“Yeah. I kind of changed the sub
ject, and then as he was dropping me off he asked again and I kind of had to brush him off. But the intent was pretty clear.”
“Oh. Oh, dear.”
“And then he said that I shouldn’t pay attention to all the talk about how he chases women around, because, as he rightfully pointed out, there are two sides to every story.”
We sat there for a few minutes.
“Karen what am I going to do? What can I tell Terri?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. She seems to think they made some sort of connection.”
“Possibly. Then why would he ask me? He doesn’t even know me.”
She shrugged. “Maybe that’s why. You’re fresh meat.”
I gave her the side-eye. “I’m not supposed to be listening to that sort of talk, remember?”
She sighed. “He does have a reputation of sleeping with pretty much any woman who asks.”
“Does he get asked a lot?”
“Apparently, yes. His, ah, prowess has been discussed in some of the finest women’s restrooms in town.”
“Then…I mean, he’s not out there seducing virgins. All he’s doing is saying yes.”
She looked thoughtful. “That’s true. I never looked at it like that, I guess.”
“What about Mike? Does he have a reputation too?”
She chuckled. “Yes. For being the total opposite. Word on the street says he got burned so bad by his former wife, he doesn’t even look at women.”
I felt a wave of disappointment. Doesn’t even look? How was I supposed to appear charming and sexy if he wasn’t even going to look? “That’s too bad. Mike is so funny and just, I don’t know. He has this good-ole-boy persona going on, but he has an MBA. He was in finance. He’s probably, like, brilliant. And I usually don’t care much for beards, but his just… fits his face. I mean, I can’t imagine him without it, can you? And those blue eyes…” I felt myself smile.
“Ah, Chris?”
I‘d been off somewhere else, I don’t know for how long, thinking about those blue eyes. I looked at Karen. “What?”
“You were talking about Mike?”
“Yes?”
“It sounds like he made quite an impression.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you hear what you were just saying?”
I looked down at my hands. “Wow.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I really did say all that, didn’t I?”
“Yep.”
“It almost sounds like I’m crushing, just a bit, on Mike McCann.”
“Yep.”
“And his brother has expressed, shall we say, an interest?”
“Yep.” My shoulders slumped. “Crap.”
She poked me in the side with her elbow. “Honey, if I were you, I’d stay the hell away from that house until you figure out what you’re going to do about those McCann boys.”
“I need to find a way to get Steve’s mind off me and on Terri. That’s the first thing.”
She nodded. “That’s a one course of action.”
“Okay. So, how do I do that?”
“I have no idea.”
I sighed. “If she knew he asked me out, she’d be upset. So you can’t tell her.”
“I wouldn’t. Of course I wouldn’t.” Karen patted my hand. “You need to tell her.”
“No, I don’t.”
“What if someone else does?”
“No one else knows. Except you.” I stopped and gave her a long look. “Why do I feel like I’m in the ninth grade?”
She stood up and pulled her hair out of its knot and brushed her fingers through it. “Because when push comes to shove, all of life is like middle school.” She bent forward, the top of her head almost touching the ground, and wound her hair back up again, securing it back in place with a thin covered elastic band. Then she straightened up. “How did you end it with Steve?”
“That I was still feeling my way around and was sticking to hanging with girlfriends.”
She put her hands on her hips. The woman had wrinkles all over her face and well down her neck, but, gosh, her body was perfect. “And he took that well?”
“I have no idea. I wasn’t sure he’d even asked me on a date, remember?”
She shook her head. “I know. It’s a whole other realm of understanding, and I’m sorry I can be of no help. Unless you want to stay for my next class? You could probably use a bit of relaxation.”
I pulled myself up off the chair. “No. With the way my luck is going, I’ll pull six different muscles and end up flat on my back for a week. But thanks.”
I let myself out and stood, feeling the sun beating down on my face.
She was right. I had to figure out what to do with those McCann boys.
I got a text from Marie Wu, asking me to meet her at Bogey’s at seven.
I texted back yes and found her at the bar, sipping what looked to be a very cold martini. She was a striking woman, Asian, with sleek black hair and porcelain skin. She’d managed to save me a seat, and I slid in beside her.
“I’ve got all sorts of interesting news about Celeste and the Coop,” she said.
I felt my jaw drop. “Already?”
She grinned. “There are certain advantages to small-town living.” She took out her phone and hit the screen. “Amy Cortland McCann has made two inquiries, one last year and one this past March. Just looking at tax records. Celeste is paid up and there’s no issue there, so Amy tried another route.”
“What do you mean, route? You mean foreclosure? Surely the property is paid for?”
She nodded. “It is, and there are no liens. But she was looking for code violations, complaints, any summons issued by the building department…anything she would be able to use to apply pressure. Nothing’s there. Celeste is a dear, but Connie is the brains behind the operation, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t let anything slip.” She sipped her drink. “I handled a case for them, oh, about eight years ago. Somebody had bought up the property behind theirs and was trying to get a right-of-way so it could be developed. It went nowhere.” She sipped. “Then the sisters bought the property, because Celeste always wanted a pond, and I think there were ducks. Anyway I got to know them both, and Connie is an absolute shark about the business.”
“So, Amy McCann is going to make a play anyway?”
She nodded. “Probably. I called around, and she’s had at least two independent appraisals done. That bit of property is worth a fortune, but if Amy wants it, she’ll have to pay full price.”
“Do you know Amy?”
She made a face. “Anyone who has any dealings with real estate in this part of the state knows Amy. She’s tough as nails and has made some brilliant moves in the past, but she’s very much a slash-and-burn developer, so folks around here really don’t like to sell to her. But if the money is right…” She arched her eyebrow. “What’s your interest in all this?”
The bartender was hovering, so I ordered a glass of wine. “I like Celeste and Connie. I have gotten to know them over the years. I’ve eaten in their kitchen. I helped them weed their garden. They remind me of my grandmother, and when you’re as short of actual family as I am…” I shrugged. “And they have cultivated this fantasy that we’re from the same village in Italy, so we may as well be blood.”
She sipped some more. “Well, my guess is they’ll sell to Amy so that Connie can move from the state facility she’s in now to a private nursing home. Connie’s still sharp, it’s just her body that’s failed.”
“So, they want this? I keep thinking that they’re two poor old ladies getting forced out.”
She made a noise. “No way. Nobody has ever forced those two to do anything. And I’m sure they’d rather have anyone else buy them out. Any other developer around here who’s interested will probably back away when they find out Amy is involved. She fights hard. Usually she fights clean, but going against her can be unpleasant.” She downed the rest of her drink in one quick gulp, closing her eyes and shudd
ered slightly. “Ah, that really gets the tension out.” The bartender delivered my wine, and she ordered another.
“So no one would object if Amy put in a mall or outlet center?” I asked.
The bartender bought her drink and I watched as she sipped.
She shrugged. “It’s a hard call around here. We really need the ratebles. Our schools are old, the roads are crap…the county wants more taxable spaces, and Amy would probably provide that. Nobody wants to see all that beautiful green space get eaten up by concrete, but it’s going to happen eventually.” She sipped.
Something clicked in the back of my brain. “Is it zoned mixed use? I mean, what about condos or apartments?”
She looked thoughtful. “It can be rezoned easily enough, if the county sees a profit in it. Why? Do you know anyone with six or seven million dollars to spend?”
I drank some wine. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“It’s too far from the water to be of any use as seasonal rentals.”
“Sure, but how about basic loft and studio space? I don’t know the market here at all. Would those sorts of units sell?”
She nodded. “Sure. Affordable housing, especially for the younger people, is really at a premium right now.” She sipped some more. “Who are you thinking about? I can practically see the wheels turning.”
I grinned. “Daniel Russo.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Daniel Russo. Who’s managing the retail project across the street from my house. We lived together for eleven years.”
“Oh, that’s awkward.”
I shook my head. “No, not really. It was over a year ago, and I think we’re both ready to be just friends.”
“Good luck with that. I’ve never had that happen. In my life.” She downed her drink, shuddered again, then flagged the bartender. “I have to go.”
I drew back. “You’re not driving, are you?”
She shook her head as she slid her credit card to the bartender. “God, no. After two of these, I can barely walk. Uber out front in ten minutes.” She sighed and slid off her bar stool. “I hope you can get this Daniel Russo guy to throw his hat in the ring. And I hope he has the balls enough to go against Amy.”