Lethal Suds

by Sophia Barton

  Abigail looked away. “I did. I never became one, though.”

  “How come?”

  Abigail shook her head. She didn’t want to go into this, especially not in a place this public. Even though people seemed to be minding their own business, she wouldn’t be surprised if someone overheard the conversation and relayed it to someone else, and the news would make the rounds of town. Abigail had seen it happen countless times as she grew up, and she couldn’t afford it to happen, not with this. She wasn’t about to talk about it yet, and when she was, she only wanted people she trusted to know. “It just never was in the cards. I guess I focused on other things.” Like her failed marriage.

  Lee didn’t look convinced, but he nodded anyway. “I know you’re back to sell your aunt’s shop.”

  Abigail’s eyes widened. “I’m not selling Aunt Charlotte’s shop. She isn’t selling it. It’s not mine. I have no business selling it.”

  Lee frowned. “You’re not? That’s what everyone is saying. Since your aunt got hurt, you’re taking charge of the business, and you’ll sell and leave again.”

  Abigail shouldn’t have been surprised. She didn’t like people saying this kind of thing, though. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay, and Aunt Charlotte isn’t selling. She’s been talking about leaving the shop to me once she retires, but she’s nowhere near ready to do that.”

  To Abigail’s relief, Lee smiled. “Good. I’m glad she’s not selling, and that you won’t, either.”

  “Why?”

  “Everyone knows why Randall wants to buy the shop and the others around it. He wants to build some Grand Hotel on the beach, have a lot of people come over for the summer.”

  “It would bring more dogs to groom for you.”

  “It would, and I wouldn’t say no to the money, but I won’t sacrifice the town. Besides, I’m comfortable enough with the dogs I already groom. I couldn’t get much more business without having to hire someone, and I don’t want to do that.”

  “So you’re not happy with Randall’s plans.”

  “A lot of people aren’t, like the mayor. He doesn’t want the hotel to be built, but of course, if Randall manages to get all the documents and permits, he won’t be able to stop him.”

  “I would have thought the mayor would be happy. That big a hotel means more jobs. More tourists. More money for the town.”

  “It also means that the town would lose its charm. Come on, Abby. You know as well as I do that part of the reason we get so many tourists during the summer is that they like the small town on the beach thing. They like the vibe, the feeling they’re not in the big city anymore. They like us rustic. A big chain hotel would change that, and no one wants it. We wouldn’t say no to more money and more clients, but not at the cost of losing our home.”

  Abigail understood that, although only in part. She hadn’t been part of the town for so long, and she’d lived in the city. She didn’t see anything wrong with chain hotels, but she supposed the town did, and it made sense. Everything Lee had said made sense. Abigail didn’t want the town to change, either. She needed it to stay the same because she’d changed, and she wanted a safe haven to gather her thoughts and lick her wounds. She didn’t know what she would do if the town suddenly wasn’t the safe place it always had been. “Well, Randall is going to have a hard time building his hotel, because Aunt Charlotte isn’t selling, and neither am I if she decides to retire.”

  “You’re a soap-maker, then. I didn’t imagine you doing that when we were kids.”

  “And I didn’t imagine you in the dog grooming business. But here we are. We’re not kids anymore. I guess we both grew up.”

  The bell above the coffee shop door got Abigail’s attention, and she looked up. She grimaced when she saw Randall step in, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t the only one. She opened her mouth to say something to Lee, but before she could, a man rose from one of the tables in the back and strode toward Randall. He looked angry, and Abigail held her breath.

  “There you are,” the man said.

  Abigail recognized him. Dewey was the handyman in town. He had been for decades, so although she couldn’t remember ever talking to him, he was familiar.

  Randall took a step back. “Dewey. To what do I owe this pleasure? Are you here for lunch?”

  Dewey glared at Randall. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I want from you. You hired me to do a job, and I did it. I want my money.”

  Randall chuckled. “Of course. Why don’t you come by my office—”

  “I already did. I came to your office several times, and that secretary of yours told me you weren’t available. I’ve had enough, Randall. Either you pay me, or I take you to court.”

  “Of course, of course. Why don’t you come with me to my office now? We’ll take care of that right away.” Randall paused. “But wait. I actually have an appointment in a few minutes. We can decide on another day, though, maybe tomorrow?”

  Somehow, Abigail doubted Dewey would get what he wanted. Randall sounded like he was trying to avoid meeting with him, and considering how angry Dewey was, Abigail understood it.

  Still. It looked like Randall either had money problems or didn’t pay the people who worked for him. As far as she was concerned, it was one more reason not to sell the shop to him.

  When Abigail went back to the shop, her mother was there. She and Aunt Charlotte were behind the counter, their heads close as they whispered. They looked up when they heard the door, and Abigail smiled. They’d always looked like each other, almost as if they were twins, and age hadn’t changed that. “Mom. I didn’t expect you to come by.”

  “Charlotte asked me. She wants me to man the counter while you go in the backroom and make soap.”

  That gave Abigail pause. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. I’m sure you remember how it went the first time.”

  “You are,” Aunt Charlotte said. “You’ll never be ready if you don’t try. I promise I won’t be angry if you ruin the ingredients again. It happened several times to me, especially in the beginning, so I expect it to be perfect.”

  Abigail wanted to insist she wasn’t ready. She didn’t feel ready. She didn’t want to fail, but she understood where her aunt was coming from. She couldn’t exactly say no, not when she knew the shop depended on this. Aunt Charlotte had always made her own soap, and it was one of the reasons people bought it. Tourists found it adorably local and probably bought it because they wanted a keepsake, but they only were in town during the summer. The shop needed to keep its clients even over the winter, and that meant the locals. The main reason they came here was that Aunt Charlotte made great soap.

  Abigail sighed. She wouldn’t get out of this. “Fine. I’ll try.”

  Aunt Charlotte beamed at her. “Good. Have you heard what happened just now?”

  Abigail had to force herself not to smile. She was pretty sure she knew what Aunt Charlotte was talking about. “What just happened?”

  “Randall. He just had a fight with Dewey in the middle of the coffee shop.” Aunt Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “That’s where you were, isn’t it? Unless you’d already left.”

  Abigail shook her head. “I was there. I heard them fight, although I didn’t quite understand what they were fighting about.”

  Aunt Charlotte looked around as if she expected someone to pop out from between the soaps. Once she was sure they were alone, she leaned over the counter. “Everyone’s been saying that Randall has money problems. Dewey isn’t the only one he hasn’t paid for work he’s done on the house.”

  Abigail wasn’t sure she’d understood. “The house?”

  “The one he shares with Martha, his wife. It’s this huge thing at the edge of town. Ugly, if you ask me, although of course, no one did. Anyway, he’s been working on it ever since he and Martha bought it, although I guess saying he’s working on it isn’t quite right since he doesn’t actually do anything himself. As far as I know, he’s been using Dewey for a lot of the small
stuff. Dewey is pretty good. He worked on the shop, too.”

  “Randall has money problems,” Abigail’s mom interrupted. “So far, it’s only been hearsay. Apparently, he hasn’t paid other workers, but since they’re not from here, we don’t know much about it. Dewey is different, though. He lives in town, and he’s not happy at being strung along by Randall.”

  “So why would Randall want to buy the shop and the other shops on the street if he has money problems?” Abigail asked.

  Aunt Charlotte rolled her eyes. “That’s why he wants to buy. If he manages to get that hotel built, he’ll earn the money he invests in it back, and much more. It would attract more tourists to the town, especially rich ones.”

  “How can you spend money you don’t have to make money?”

  Aunt Charlotte shrugged. “It might not make sense for you and me, but apparently, it does for Randall. He’s never been very smart, and he doesn’t seem to have a problem getting himself in debt.”

  “He probably hasn’t thought it through.” Because if he had, he would have realized the town wasn’t ready for this. It might never be.

  But Randall wasn’t from here. Aunt Charlotte had said he and his wife were still working on their house, so they probably hadn’t been here long. “How long has he lived here?”

  Aunt Charlotte and Abigail’s mom looked at each other. “You know, I’m not sure,” Abigail’s mom said. “Ten years at the very least. He’s who he is, but Martha is such a dear.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand her. She could get a divorce so easily.”

  That was new information. Abigail felt a bit guilty about gossiping, but it wasn’t mean-spirited, and honestly, she’d missed it. She didn’t like it when she was the one being gossiped about, but this was different. She especially wanted to know about Randall because, well, she didn’t like him. She didn’t like how pushy he was when it came to the shop and Aunt Charlotte, and she wanted to know everything there was to know about the man so she could make sure he wouldn’t bother Aunt Charlotte more than he already had. “What about his wife?” she asked.

  “Everyone knows she hates him. Honestly, I would hate him too if he were my husband.”

  Aunt Charlotte swatted Abigail’s mom on the shoulder. “Hush. We don’t know if she hates him.”

  “Maybe not, but we’re pretty sure she does. She’s a good woman. I don’t understand why she married him.”

  “Love is blind,” Abigail said. That got both her aunt and her mother’s attention, and Abigail looked away, her cheeks heating. She knew better than a lot of people how blind love was.

  She decided to stay out of the conversation for now. She could feel her family’s gaze on her, and she didn’t like it. She knew they would both be there for her if she wanted to talk, but she didn’t. She didn’t even want to think about Kevin and what he’d done. She was done with him and that part of her life, and she had to focus on the future.

  Apparently, soap was the future.

  Since Abigail wasn’t looking forward to trying to make soap, she didn’t say anything as Aunt Charlotte and her mother went on talking about Randall’s wife. From the sound of it, they both liked her, and they didn’t understand why she was still with Randall. Abigail didn’t, either. She didn’t know the man, but he hadn’t been pleasant to her and to her aunt.

  She did understand how someone could stay with her husband for a long time even when love wasn’t there anymore, though. She understood how hard it could be, especially if you didn’t have a family that could help you get back on your feet. She couldn’t judge Randall’s wife, especially not when Randall could be a perfectly fine man. The only reason Abigail didn’t like him was that he was pushing to buy her aunt’s shop, but that was only one side of him she knew. Maybe he was a more pleasant man outside of that.

  She quietly snorted. It didn’t sound like it from what she’d heard about him. She wouldn’t judge him on what she didn’t know, though. What she did know was that he was unpleasant, pushy, and that he didn’t take no for an answer. It didn’t bode well, but she also didn’t wish him ill will. As long as he stayed away from the shop and from her, Abigail didn’t care what happened to Randall.

  Abigail was relieved to be closing on her own again. She knew how the shop worked now, so it wasn’t a bother. She’d had enough of her mom and Aunt Charlotte’s glances. Not only had they been reminded of the reason Abigail had moved back home during the conversation about Randall and his wife, but Abigail had ruined her second batch of soap, and it still stung. No matter how many times Aunt Charlotte had told her it was okay and that she’d done worse in the beginning, Abby couldn’t help feeling she’d failed. She had felt that way so many times in the past few years that she didn’t know how to succeed anymore, and she didn’t like it.

  She realized the only reason she thought this way was that she felt down. It wouldn’t last forever, but she couldn’t wait for it to end. She had to change the way she thought, and it wasn’t easy. After so many years feeling like she wasn’t good enough, she had to remind herself that she was, even if she hadn’t been good enough for Kevin. Who cared about Kevin? Not Abigail.

  Or at least, she was trying not to. But Kevin had been part of her life for so long that it was hard to think about a future without him in it, no matter how much she disliked him now.

  “Abigail, right?” a man asked.

  Abigail turned to the side toward the bookstore. She’d meant to visit, but she hadn’t yet had the time. She smiled at the man closing the store, nodding at him. “That’s right. I’m Charlotte’s niece.”

  The man nodded. “I’ve been watching you come and go over the past few days, and I was planning on welcoming you to the town.”

  Abigail couldn’t help but smile. “It’s a bit late to welcome me since I grew up here, but thank you.”

  She thought she remembered him from when she was a kid, but she doubted he’d owned the bookstore back then. He wasn’t that old, and Abigail had been in the bookstore more than she’d been at her house when she was a teenager.

  The man stepped closer and offered her his hand. “Roger.”

  “Abigail, but you already know that.”

  Abigail shook Roger’s hand. He was older than her by at least two decades, but he didn’t look bad for being over fifty. He was tall, and his hair was almost entirely white, but he stood tall, and he looked strong.

  “I’d heard you grew up in town, and Charlotte told me about you,” Roger said.

  “I don’t think she said anything about you,” Abigail said. She was curious. It wasn’t like Aunt Charlotte not to say anything about her neighbor, even if it was the next-door shop owner.

  Roger chuckled. “Well, she doesn’t know as much as she wished she knew about me. I don’t mind small towns, but I could do without the gossip.”

  Abigail laughed. “You and me both. I’m not used to it anymore. I spent a lot of time living in the city, and it’s quite a shock to come back and have people constantly ask me what I’m up to, why I came back, things like that.”

  Roger gave her a kind smile. “In my experience, either you tell them and wait for the storm to be over, or you guard that secret as if it’s your firstborn.”

  Abigail shook her head. “Eventually, they’ll find out. They always do. But in the meantime, it’s peaceful.”

  Roger’s smile changed to a grimace. “I suppose you’re right.” He smiled again. “I won’t ask you why you’re back in town, then.”

  “I’d be grateful.”

  He gestured at the bookstore. “Are you a book lover?”

  “I was when I was a child, but I have to admit I didn’t have a lot of time to read in the past few years. I need to change that, though.”

  Roger beamed. “I always welcome new clients. Come by anytime.” He paused and frowned. “Unless you’re one of those who read on your phone?”

  “I sometimes do, but there’s nothing like the feeling of paper in your hand when you’re reading. I’ll come by.”
It was a promise. She didn’t like the woman she’d become in the past few years, and she wanted to change. She was ready for it. She just had to find the time and the courage to do it. It was easy and familiar to stay the person she’d become, and it was the way Kevin liked it.

  But Kevin wasn’t in Abigail’s life anymore, and he never would be again. She had to stop thinking about her life with him. He didn’t have a say in what she did, not anymore. Never again.

  “I heard Randall was trying to buy your aunt’s shop,” Roger said, looking away.

  Abigail was starting to hate this kind of gossip. “He’s certainly trying, but Aunt Charlotte is stubborn, and she’s not selling.” She looked at the store. “I bet he talked to you, too.” It would make sense if he needed the space to build his hotel.

  “He did. I don’t want to sell, although I have to admit it’s tempting.”

  Randall would be one step closer to his hotel if Roger sold the bookstore to him. Abigail didn’t say that out loud, though. Roger no doubt had his reasons to want to sell the store. “You don’t enjoy being a store owner?” she asked instead.

  “I enjoy it very much. Owning a bookstore was a dream I had since I was a young adult. I’ve always loved books. It’s not as much of a dream as I expected, though. It’s hard to pay the bills, and there’s so much paperwork.”

  “I don’t know about paperwork yet because Aunt Charlotte does all of that on her own, but I believe you, and I understand the bills problem.” She hesitated. “You’re thinking about selling?”

  Roger hesitated. “I don’t want to sell. I might have to, but it’s not my favorite option.” He smiled at Abigail, but she could see it was forced. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll be here when you decide you want to start reading again.”

  “I’m not worried.” But she was. If Randall had other people to talk to, maybe he wouldn’t come back for a while, and he would leave Aunt Charlotte alone. If there was no one else, though, if all the other shops on the street had already been sold to him, it would be a problem. From the little she knew about Randall, she doubted he would take no for an answer. He would continue to come back, to ask, to bother her and Aunt Charlotte, until he got what he wanted.