by Lola Karns
“What game?”
“Where my cousin or I will make partner, depending on which one of us can more successfully turn a profit.”
“What happens if you win?”
“I go back to New York as the victor.”
“And if you lose?”
“I go back to New York. That’s the expectation. And with what dad just said, he made a deal under which everyone loses.”
His jaw was noticeably tenser as he stared ahead, seemingly oblivious to the buildings on Main Street. She fought a shudder that couldn’t be dismissed as a chill. Since that day on the porch, she’d known he wasn’t going to stay.
“Good luck with that, if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t. That’s why I have a plan.”
Chapter 21
James parked outside of Jo’s Diner.
“Aren’t you banned?”
“I called ahead. One minute. I need to get.... here...” The paper handled sack threatened to burst from the weight, but he needed all the binders. Claire baited him with a side eye glance and arched brow but pretended not to notice. He held the door open for her.
“Hey there stranger.” Jo was in the kitchen rather than at the counter. “They’re in the corner. I’ll be over in a minute for your orders.”
“Good. Everyone’s here.” James put his hand on her lower back. She didn’t flinch, which was a good sign. He straightened his shoulders and pulled on a fake layer of confidence. He had one shot to get this right.
Walter’s bald spot gleamed like the chrome on the tables. George wore flannel, and Officer Connor sported his uniform, looking far more businesslike than the rest of them did. “Claire?” He gestured to the spot beside Walter and commandeered a chair from another table and set it at the end.
Jo arrived with a notepad and a pot of coffee. “The usuals all around?” Three heads nodded.
“Just a sticky bun and coffee for me and put this all on my bill.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll take a side of sausage.” Walter gruffed.
“A two by three for me – scrambled.”
“With cheese on both eggs and hash?” Jo drummed her pencil as she looked at Claire. He envied their easy rapport.
“You know it. Thanks.”
James took a long sip of coffee. He didn’t gulp because a burnt throat would be bad, but the coffee cup prop gave him moment to center his thoughts the same way popping an antacid did.
“I’m glad you were all able to attend. I have a proposition for you.”
George drummed his fingers on the table. “What do you want to cancel now?”
“Nothing.” Although Walter and Bob warmed to him, George remained adversarial. Probably because he worried what would happen if his wife’s soaping shenanigans became public.
“Word of Adena’s improvement is starting to leak.”
“Well congratulations to you, but I don’t see how this affects the police force or the city.”
“No. It doesn’t. Not directly, but you are one of the movers and shakers in this town. Adena has several potential suitors.”
“So, you sell the company to someone else. What more damage can they do?” Walter huffed.
“Plenty. They can keep the power production plant and dissolve everything else. They could sell the plant for parts and shutter it entirely.”
Worry crossed George’s face.
“There’s another route, but it won’t be cheap, at least not initially.”
“Of course not.”
“Adena becomes a public private partnership with increased reliance on renewable energy. Best case, I’ll work through Fordham to be the private component. You only need to buy fifty one percent.”
“Easier said than done. There are regulations not to mention the city’s empty coffers.” As he’d expected, George pushed back.
“You rallied around the train display to keep small businesses afloat. You can do this.” He reached into the bag at his feet and gave everyone a thick white three ring binder. “I’ve outlined a few possible ways to restructure corporate ownership ranking the costs, benefits, and challenges of each method. Have your lawyers and regulators go through this, find any flaws that we can fix. I have an additional ten copies available. The one thing we don’t have is time. I need to know which, if any path, Belkin will pursue within ten days. And even then, if I can’t convince the partners at Fordham, Fordham and Schmidt this is a good deal, they could still sell the company from under you. But I believe in you. I believe in all of you and your commitment to this town so strongly, that if you go the municipal bond route, I’m prepared to make a personal investment of $150,000.” A collective gasp rose.
“Do you have that kind of money, kid?”
“Even after paying my fines, Officer Connor, I have ways to access money for investments. I assure you, I don’t throw good money after bad.”
“But you said you were going back to New York. Who runs the show here?”
His heart drummed against his rib cage at Claire’s question. “As per the summary on page—let me see your binder for a minute—page 163, I stay on as a board member and consultant. It’s not running the show—I think there are stronger in-house candidates for that role—but staying local would allow me to keep travel costs to a minimum. I also want to point out that Adena would continue to provide a home for the holiday train display and any successors would be asked to guarantee the operation in perpetuity.” Claire smiled. The way her eyes twinkled, he couldn’t tear himself away to look at Walter, even though he wondered if he’d realized he was one of those in-house candidates.
“The Sunny Side goes here. Short stack, two by scramble, two by fried. I’d mortgage my house to buy a municipal bond if it would keep Adena open. I’ll be right back with the rest. More coffee?”
“Yes, please, Jo.”
As everyone dug in, James leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He’d set his thought train in motion. Only time would tell if anyone else wanted to share the controls.
CLAIRE GLANCED IN THE backseat of James’ car as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“You’re serious about all this?”
“Like a heart attack. Yes.”
“You should try to get Beverly Westman on your side. She was the last non-native Belkin to get a stable business going and she’s in the small business association. Evan and Kay O’Meara who run the tavern would be good. Mike Mitchell, the photographer you fired, his wife is an O’Meara and part owner. You might need to do some serious butt-kissing, or in-bar drinking, but he’s a good guy.”
“I have a formal meeting with George and the mayors of a couple of a neighboring towns scheduled Monday afternoon, and I have a time blocked out to call the other potential revenue sources and set up additional appointments. I wanted to meet with Belkin movers and shakers first.”
“You flatter me too much. My grandpa was the leader, organized, respected, not me.”
“Claire, you have the chief engineer bandana. You’re the heart of this town.”
“You exaggerate. But, yes, I’ll allow that you were right. People in Belkin see me as one of their own. They protected me when they saw you as a threat. I’m no leader though. I can direct my projects, but when it comes to seeing the forest beyond my tiny trees, I’m not organized. I’m utterly overwhelmed.” Confession lightened her soul. She waved her hand toward the backseat. “Why did you do this? It seems to me you can’t make partner and be here.”
He chewed his lip rather than answer. At the stop sign, she waved to Poppy Grant. Her mom turned to the car, baby in the carrier and shrugged her shoulders as she furrowed her brow.
“The lights?” Will’s shout penetrated the car’s interior. Jennifer turned and pointed toward the roof. Will was on a ladder with a string of lights dangling to the ground.
James steered the car around the corner and down her street. He said nothing. Twice his lips moved as if he were prepared to speak, but he didn’t. He pulled into her dri
veway.
“Okay then.” She put her hand on the door pull, “I’ll take a—”
James stopped her with a hand on the knee and another on her shoulder.
“You asked why.”
“I did.”
“You.”
She gazed into his gold flecked eyes before turning her body to face his as best as she could in the car seat. Revisions to the train display circled in her mind. She had the eyes right, but after she fished his figurine out of the trash bin, she’d need the single hairbrush to update the cupid’s bow of his lips.
“The short answer is you, the long answer loops back around to you too.” His thumb traced a line down her neck. “You helped me realize there is joy in this world that money can’t buy. I don’t want to be partner and spend my days making deals over scotch and cigars without a care as to what happened outside the room where money is made. The way people in this community rallied when I cancelled the train display, well, I think I’d rather build than destroy.”
“I like to restore and revitalize rather than destroy, myself. Your touch is rather distracting.” His hand slid off her skin and onto her coat sleeve. “Don’t stop. You haven’t fully explained how I fit as a reason.”
“You changed everything for me. You opened my eyes to the beauty of a sunset, and how to find purpose and joy in the smallest details.”
Her hand drew circles on his knee, matching the pace of the ones he made on her nape. The outside world began to disappear in a fog.
“When did you get so close?”
“I could ask you the same question.” His words came in a caramel and coffee scent. “Especially since I’m trapped behind the steering wheel.”
As she realized how much of her body invaded the driver’s seat, Claire swallowed, and flinched.
“I have the worst breakfast breath.”
“I don’t care.”
His lips pressed against hers. She nipped his lower lip. Jo’s sticky-bun sauce had never been more delicious than sucked off James’ mouth. His fingers gripped her hair, pulling her closer. Happiness and heat coursed through her veins. James’ kiss exceeded her memories until she forgot the past and future. He was the present.
The horn honked. Claire startled and it sounded again.
“My elbow,” she bemoaned.
“Or mine.” James leaned against the driver seat, signed, and then chuckled. “We fogged the windows.”
She glanced around. Only a slim stripe of her garage remained visible. She laughed. “I should put that in train display – I don’t think I’ve fogged windows before.”
“Never?” He arched an eyebrow.
She leaned in, ready to kiss the smirk right off his lips “Well, maybe with paint and a brush in the minit—” He stopped her with a hand to her coat-covered chest.
“As much as I enjoyed kissing you and in spite of my wanting to do it again and again and again, your breakfast breath is truly terrible. I probably have some minty tums or gum around here somewhere.”
“So romantic.” She leaned back in the passenger seat as he began to search the myriad hidey spots. The house had started to reappear through the windshield fog.
“Never mind. I’ll go brush my teeth.” She opened the door and climbed out. As she leaned in to get the binder, she took in the tight grip James had on the steering wheel and the weird way his jaw clenched. He looked ready to down some antacid.
“Want to come inside, City Boy?” A slow smile stretched across his face as he looked at her. Right answer. “You’ll hate the décor, though.” She stood, slammed the car door, and stared at the house.
She had never, ever invited a man—or even a boy when she was in high school—into Clem’s home, but this was her house and it was time to make it her home. The other car door shut. When James’ shadow approached her own, she extended her hand. His fingers laced with hers.
“There are trains in every room.”
He squeezed her hand and raised it to his lips. If that didn’t derail him, nothing would.
Chapter 22
James arrived twenty minutes before closing on Christmas Eve, only ten minutes later than Claire had asked.
“You’re here.” She threw her arms around him before he’d entered the church basement.
“Of course. My flight back from New York got held up a bit.”
“But sounds like it was worth going out in person.”
“Yup. You should have seen the looks I got when I declined the opportunity to become a partner alongside Danny, but I’m done with the sham competitions. My father wasn’t happy, then again, his long suffering girlfriend dumped him so he wasn’t in a good mood to begin with. In the end, everyone agreed to reducing me to research consultant. Mr. Schmidt made my new role a condition of his retirement.”
“Put this on.” She handed him a blindfold.
He waggled his eyebrows. “Can I use it on you later?” He laughed when she playfully hit his arm.
She led him through the crowd and to the main display, slipping a magnifying glass into his hand before pulling of the blindfold.
“Go find your Christmas present, City Boy.” She nudged him then stepped away. She’d dropped him off in front of Adena headquarters. He peered inside the lobby, where a ridiculously small train circled inside the lobby.
“I should have paid better attention.”
“Look at the parking lot.” Jo’s little boy, Kevin responded to words James didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud.
A generic black sedan stood out. The vehicle tilted to one side as if... He laughed. “Someone let the air out of tires.” He raised the magnifying glass. A tiny piece of white appeared tucked under the windshield, but he couldn’t see anything inside the car.
“Keep looking!” Walter’s voice rang out from the conductor’s station. James looked up. Walter’s eyes twinkled, but more surprising Bob waved. He almost waved back, but on impulse saluted. Bob smiled. The man had teeth!
He scanned the crowd for Claire. She was engaged in conversation with Mike Mitchell and a teenage girl he didn’t recognize. He straightened his spine. The photographer had made his distrust clear, but given time, maybe they could call a truce.
“You’re looking in the wrong spot.” Beverly Westman’s dulcet voice drew his attention back to the central area. “Although, one’s beloved is always a welcome sight.”
“Indeed. Thinking of beloved, I managed to bring back a red-velvet cheesecake for you. It’s in my car so don’t leave without it.”
“You sweet thing. You remembered that from our meeting last week. Look closer to town.” She sashayed to her much shorter husband, who stood on tiptoes to kiss her hello. Hope swelled in his heart. He looked at Main Street but didn’t see a difference. A piece of white in the fall trees drew his attention. The neighborhood was done in fall colors, with most of the trees either awash in color or bare so the houses were visible. A narrow strand of white draped from one of the leafless trees. His house.
“Are you going to make use of that thing you’re holding or is it only for show?” Miss Jones shouted out. He whipped his head toward the voice. She sat in a folding chair behind him. “Hurry up. You’re blocking my view.”
He raised the magnifying glass. Half a dozen or so miniaturized white plastic forks jutted from the lawn. He turned back to Miss Jones.
“Your handy work?”
“Not mine, young man. But I gave my blessing to it and to you, so long as you keep your trash receptacles off the sidewalk.” She nodded her chin.
Dinah, the Mayor’s wife moved in beside Miss Jones. “Mine too. Not that it matters. Come on Celia. That chair can’t be comfortable.”
“Not yet. I have to see how this plays out. Now back to work with you.” She waved her hand a James.
Claire crossed toward him. “Well?”
“I’m immortalized as the butt of jokes.”
“You’re in the right area, City Boy but keep looking.”
With the magnifying class in
hand, he crouched to find a different angle. Two pairs of legs dangled down his front porch steps. “It’s us.”
“It’s you. The female is a bit dicey – rush job.”
“That has to be you, then.” He pulled her against his chest. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.”
“Are they going to kiss, again? Ewwww. Gross.”
Claire chuckled. He had no idea who spoke, but it sure sounded like the kid from that first day on the porch.
“Last call!”
“What’s Walter talking about. Is there a bar?”
“Last loop of the train before it retires to the home station for the night.”
They watched the train, arms wrapped around each other’s back. His breath eased with the clickity-clacks. The headlight illuminated the track and surrounding scene for a gloriously brief moment and then it was gone, like a sunset.
“I like that term.”
“Which?” He turned his head and met her gaze as she spoke.
“Home station.”
Her pupils dilated, as if she understood the unspoken belief that she was his home station.
“I wonder what changes you’ll make to next year’s display.” Having heard more than one story involving trains and engagement rings, he had one in mind, but he’d need Walter’s help to pull any sort of surprise on Claire.
The train whistle blew.
Her lips brushed against his in a whisper of a kiss.
“For luck.”
“A home needs love, not luck.” He leaned toward her and parted her pepperminty lips. She melted into him.
“Get a room,” shouted Jo.
“Gross!”
“It’s about damn time.” Miss Jones muttered.
They turned to look at her.
She shrugged. “What? You two remind me of me and Everet. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
Claire’s laughter filled the air as she nudged him. “Ready to go?”
His life hadn’t been sidetracked. He was on a new journey. He slid his hand down her arm and interlaced his fingers with hers. “With you? Anywhere.”