by Ciara Knight
“I put their offices up there because they would meet more townspeople if they worked in the square opposed to being tucked away in the inn all the time. But what about you? What kind of stunt is this?”
“It wasn’t a stunt. It happened, but he needs to understand that if he messes with us, he is going to deal with the consequences. If you don’t like how I’m handling him, you should push for Jackie’s segment to be the big spotlight business. We all know she’s the one who wants it the most and would do anything to get her day on television, or internet, or whatever this thing is.”
“That’s exactly why you’re the only one for this job. The only person who can make this work for the town.” Her cheeks tightened and her forehead wrinkled with a pensive expression.
“Why me? The one who doesn’t want to do it?”
“Jackie would mess it up by being a diva. Mary-Beth’s too out there—she’d try to turn it into some yoga coffee show or something. She’s amazing when you need someone to think outside the box, but not this.”
“Then give it to Stella. That’s who needs it and deserves it the most.”
“She’ll be second. You need to be first. Do I even need to mention how this would end before it ever began with abrasive Stella? And before you ask about Felicia, don’t. She’s the mediator for everything. The person who would negotiate and give them whatever they want. Not you. You’ll handle this with the sweet disposition you’ve always had, the dignity of a southern lady, and with the intelligence God gave you.”
Carissa wanted to argue, wanted to beg to be left out of all of this, but she couldn’t let the people down who had taken care of her after her parents left for bigger and better lives. “Fine, but if I can get Drew to work with Jackie instead, you have to accept that. And no more trying to mend that friendship. It’s dead and gone.”
Ms. Horton opened her mouth, and Carissa knew she was going to try to convince her to fix things with Jackie, but instead she popped her last bit of scone into her mouth.
No answer was better than an all-out argument that Ms. Horton would win.
She flicked a wayward crumb from her vest and headed for the door. “I need to get to a meeting. I’ll catch you later, darlin’.” She paused at the end of the table. “Remember, we’re all counting on you to make this work. You wouldn’t want our town to have to break up because we can’t keep our businesses open.”
Carissa wanted to tell Ms. Horton that wasn’t fair, but that didn’t matter. It was the truth. The town had been struggling for so long that if something wasn’t done, more businesses would have to close. Stella would be the first to go, and Carissa couldn’t let that happen. Not even if it meant that she had to publicly humiliate herself in front of the world…and Jackie.
Chapter Eleven
Drew and Carissa walked in silence through the sleet. An uneasiness settled between them, and he didn’t like it. He liked it even less than the feeling of soot smeared over his skin. For some reason he cared. Probably because she’d saved him from Mrs. Graysman when she’d seen the damage he’d caused. He’d found more trouble in a few days in this small town than Knox found in a nightclub over a weeklong party in Miami.
“When you get inside, don’t say anything. Set the box of treats on the table, open the lid, and then stay out of the way.”
The kitten purred underneath his jacket close to his chest. “You make it sound like I’m making an offering to some tribal god.”
“Ha. It kind of does sound like that.” She tightened her scarf around her neck and eyed the fashion store down the street. The one Jacqueline probably owned.
“I’ll make the offering with no deviation.” He adjusted his camera bag strap on his shoulder that kept sliding down with the snow melting on his clothes. “I don’t want to get any more of the town on my bad side.”
She bit her bottom lip in a way that told him she was keeping her words inside, so he stopped at the lightpost in front of a sewing store. “Tell me. Did I do something wrong beyond breaking a historical tree and destroying the carpet inside the Victorian home that sits as a symbol of small-town charm?”
To his relief, his words provoked a release of her bottom lip, allowing the rosebud color to flood through it again. “No. It’s not that. It’s just… I want you to consider what I proposed.” She leaned against the light pole, shivering. “Trust me when I tell you that Jacqueline is the perfect person for this show. She’ll win over every man with her looks and charisma, and all the women will want to be her. It’s a win-win.”
“If I was trying to sell dresses and a personality, sure.” He noticed the way her gaze connected with the ground and realized what the real problem was. The beautiful, sweet, energetic, talented woman in front of him didn’t believe she was good enough for the job. “You know you’re perfect. For this spotlight, I mean. The only one in this town I’ve met so far who I would want to work with on this project.”
“You’re saying that because you want me to hurry up and make the perfect product for your test shots so you can get out of here before you find yourself being sacrificed.” Carissa’s lips curled into a half smile.
“You got me.” The kitten poked her fuzzy little head out as if to see why he’d stopped walking but then buried herself back into his jacket for the warmth.
“I almost believe you. How can I doubt a man who breaks tree limbs and nearly his neck trying to save a little animal?”
“Ah, shucks, it was nothing, ma’am.”
Carissa burst out laughing. “This isn’t the Old West, and you’re not John Wayne. Don’t try that on Davey.”
The guilt halted his steps and he faced her, looking at her for the first time beyond a job he had to handle. “I appreciate your help, and as a thank-you, I’ll talk to Knox and see if I can persuade him to focus on the dress shop angle first. Perhaps I can even sell the knitting store over the bakery. No promises. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I’ll do my best.”
Her eyes softened, jaw softened…and his heart softened.
The wind whistled in between the buildings, sending a chill through the air, but when she stepped closer to him, it was as if a bubble of heat surrounded him. “Thank you. If you can convince the powers that be to focus on another business, I’ll do everything I can to help you win over the town.”
He stepped into her personal space, but this time she didn’t back away from him. “Why don’t you want the world to see you?”
The happiness gleaming around her dulled. “It’s complicated. That’s an over-lunch conversation, not a standing-on-the-sidewalk talk.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” He scanned the storefronts, looking for something else to say to end the awkward moment.
“You city boys really are slow, aren’t you?” She brushed past him and headed for the stairs.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, feeling like he’d entered the conversation a minute too late to follow it.
“I just gave you an in. That lunch date you’ve been begging for, you know?”
He chuckled. “Begging is a strong word.”
“Maybe, but not as strong as your stench.” She waved her hand in front of her nose. “I think that kitten must’ve added a new cologne to your jacket.”
“Great. I guess I’ll need to go and change again before our date.”
“Nondate, business luncheon. And you’re not getting out of this that easily. She touched his arm but then stepped away with a mischievous tilt to her head. She stood on her toes and messed his hair, tugged his scarf so it was loose. “There, you look perfect.”
The way her eyes and tone dipped lodged a lump in his throat that he had to force down before he could speak again. “For a firing squad at the recreation center?”
“First of all, it isn’t a recreation center. It’s the former business and apartment from my ex’s family.”
“As Lori would say…ah, awkward.” He shifted between feet and eyed the building. “Does it bother you that I’m up
there working in his old place?”
“I thought it would, but it doesn’t. Seeing it being used has actually helped me move forward. Don’t tell Ms. Horton that, though.” She took his arm. “Now stop stalling. Come on.”
Nerves chiseled at his resolve to enter the building. He hadn’t been this apprehensive since he had to breach a compound during his service days. At least most of the time he knew who was friend and who was foe. Not here. “What do I do once I put these on the table and open the box?”
“Stand out of the way and focus on Snowball. The women will flock to you with that big ball of cuteness.”
“Thanks. I didn’t know that you found me adorable. Good to know.” He winked, trying to keep the mood light and happy, because when Carissa smiled, she lit up the gloomy winter day.
“Don’t even try it, Mr. Party Planner. You know I meant the cat.”
“Okay, baker.” He reached for the door at the same time she did, covering her hand with his. If he didn’t have his glove on, he could imagine how soft and warm her hand would be, but he did have his glove on, and he shouldn’t have those thoughts.
“And don’t look so frightened,” she said and then turned the knob and opened the door into the geriatric gang ghetto.
“Here goes nothing, Snowball,” he whispered to the little girl in his coat and then headed inside behind Carissa, glad to have the human shield to Davey at first entrance.
Before the glowers could turn to words or physical contact, Drew set the box on the table, opened it, and backed away. Despite wanting to stay warm, he removed his coat so the ladies could see Snowball. Carissa was right… There was a smelly wet spot on his coat.
The music cut off and they approached with snarls and grunts. Davey led the charge until his nose crinkled and he stopped at the table. “Those Southern Man Bars?”
Carissa shot him a speak-you-fool look.
“Yes.” Drew returned his attention to the kitten, who drew Ms. Gina over.
“Isn’t that precious. Come look at this little guy.” Ms. Gina lit up like she was on stage again. Her liver-spotted hand with painted coral nails patted Snowball’s head. “So precious.”
“This is Snowball,” he announced.
“Where’d Snowball come from?” Mrs. Melba asked.
Carissa stepped into the center of the crowd. “Our local hero here saved her life. Fell out of a tree and was coated in soot, but in the end, he saved her from exposure and breaking her little neck lodged in the chimney.”
“I saved a cat from a tree once,” Davey said, as if his save was better than Drew’s.
The women crowded around him, and based on Davey’s ears doing the jig and his hands wringing, this wasn’t doing Drew any favors. Then his nose twitched like a rabbit back and forth, up and down. He shifted focus to the box. “Bet he ruined them, but guess I should try them anyway. Just to judge him and his bad cooking skills.”
Carissa remained silent, but a tightening of her cheeks told Drew that this was going in the right direction.
“I’m taking my life in my hands here, ladies. Look at that man all covered in grime and shame. Didn’t even think about getting dirty. Even I know you don’t want to open the flue of a chimney if it hasn’t been used in years.”
Drew wanted to open his mouth and protest that he couldn’t know that it hadn’t worked in years, but with the shake of Carissa’s head, he knew better. So he held his breath, waiting for Davey’s response on his offering. Based on the women cooing, he’d already won them over. Well, at least Snowball had.
“You should take her with you as a pet.” He held Snowball out to Ms. Gina.
“Can’t. They got rules against that,” Davey announced with a judge’s authority. “They’re always making up stuff to make our life miserable. But in this case, I agree. That little thing would cause us all to have allergies and fleas come spring.” He shoved a bar into his mouth, and his face stretched until there were few wrinkles left. His eyes were wide and his lips smacked. Then he spotted Drew watching him and smashed his face together again. “Ain’t bad.”
That caught Mrs. Malter’s attention, and she shuffled over there with her walker. “Let me try one.”
Ms. Gina remained with the furry friend she’d made, but her hand kept missing the cat and petting his chest. Something told him she did that on purpose, but he kept his trap shut. The things he’d been forced to do today… They didn’t pay him enough for this, yet he stayed. Out of duty, honor, or stupidity, he wasn’t sure.
“These are the best ever. Tell us the truth. Carissa made these,” Ms. Gina accused.
Carissa grabbed a bar of her own. “Let me taste this. No way this outsider can bake as well as me. I just told him what ingredients I used, and then he added to that.” She took a dramatic bite and cooed and exclaimed and then tossed it down. “He does know how to bake. Well, I guess I’m not needed around here.”
Davey put his arm around her. “They ain’t that good. You’re the best baker ever. He just got lucky. I’m sure he stole your recipe or something.” The man grabbed two more bars. “He’ll have to prove himself more than this.”
Prove himself? How much more did these people want from him?
“He’ll have to bake something for the next town hall meeting. Guess we’ll see then if he’s to be trusted. Or if he’s a lying, thieving, recipe-stealing outsider.”
Carissa swished through the room, grabbed Drew by the arm, and shoved him toward the door. “You did it. You won Davey over,” she whispered.
He wasn’t sure he’d done that, but he did want to finally get this project moving. “Here, you take Snowball. I’ll return to the bakery tomorrow, and we can figure out a real plan to work together on this.”
“Oh no, you don’t. That isn’t my kitten. Besides, I sent a text for the vet to come here, and no pets are allowed in the bakery. It’s against code.”
“But this little girl is going to shed all over everything. Besides, it needs to stay here in town when I leave. This is her home.”
Carissa ignored him and raced out of the building, leaving him holding the cat, watching Davey who looked like he swallowed the canary. He stormed upstairs to Lori, who sat on the couch with her feet up and the heat blasting again.
“You. I blame you.” He set the cat on her chest and held his hands out to the radiator. His fingers were stiff from the cold and took a second to uncurl.
“What happened to you? Or a better question, what did you do now?”
“I listened to you. Now I own a cat, I’m working with a woman who doesn’t want to do the show, and I baked. That’s right. I baked. And look at me. My hair is a mess, a cat went on me, and my shoes are still covered in ash, all because I listened to my assistant when she told me to play nice with others. Look what nice does to a person.”
She doubled over, laughing hysterically.
“This isn’t funny. I’m no closer to having test shots and the perfect set and product. I’ve got a call with Knox that I keep putting off, but I have nothing to tell him.”
“I think you have plenty to tell him.” She snickered. “You tell him that you’re the new town hero, which means you’ve won the town’s approval.”
“How do you know all this?” he asked, eyeing Lori holding the cat wrong. After it rolled off her body and she had to catch it midair before it hit the floor, he decided to take Snowball back.
“Thin walls.” She sat up and pointed to her cell phone. “And Mayor Horton called. Apparently Knox sent an attorney to her office this morning and demanded the contract be signed by the end of today or the deal’s off. He’s tired of the small-town politics and didn’t like the mayor telling him this project was a go and then not returning the contracts yet. You have a couple of hours to convince Carissa to tell the town that this project is a definite go, or by the end of the day, you’ll be fired.”
Chapter Twelve
The afternoon invited the sun out to warm the air and made for a pleasant walk over to Maple
Table, where Carissa found Drew seated with his laptop and folders in front of him.
Her heart slowed at the realization that this was a business lunch. For some reason, she’d convinced herself that Drew Lancaster enjoyed her company as more than a business relationship. Perhaps her dating meter needed to be adjusted after all these years.
The front door chimed over her head. Heat blasted her as if she’d entered a furnace instead of a restaurant. “Hey, Doris. Think you can turn down the heat a little?”
She laughed. “Broken again. Sorry. I’ve got Mickey coming now.”
Carissa uncurled her scarf from around her neck and shoved it in her oversized bag full of junk and headed for Drew standing next to the table with arms open. Maybe it was a date.
He stepped aside and pulled her chair out for her, causing her to face the fact that her overactive imagination was in super mode. The kitten popped her head up out of his bag, and he quickly shooed it back inside. “Shh. You agreed to stay out of sight.”
She slid into her chair and pointed at all the stuff on the table. “What’s all this?”
“I know I promised to convince Knox to focus on Jacqueline’s business, but I already had this proposal together for you, so I thought I’d share it anyway. You know, just in case you come later in the project.”
She browsed the images of decorated cakes and cookies and pies. All of them looked like Martha Stewart followed a 1950s Betty Crocker recipe and Vera Wang styled it. Processed. Perfect. Plastic.
“What is it? You don’t like these? Remember, it has to look appealing.”
“That’s just it. They do, but they look, well…” She didn’t know how to say what she was thinking without being rude.
Drew studied the photos as if to uncover what she saw. “Tell me. It’s okay.”