Since I knew Brandon would never forget the meeting or lose track of time for something this important, the only other option available was that he’d had a change of heart. I don’t know why I was surprised.
I’d spent a good thirty minutes fighting to get my hair lying flat—at least in the front where I could see it. I’d dug out a pair of heels, left over from my days as a corporate attorney, from the back of my closet and stuffed my poor, protesting feet into them. I’d run an iron over the wrinkles in my good black pants—and all because I thought Brandon would actually keep his promise.
Annoyed almost beyond words, I shut and locked the front door and started through the kitchen toward the stairs. If Brandon came late, he could let himself in the back way.
I was about to head upstairs when I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. My heart went into overdrive as I let myself outside. Maybe Brandon had come after all.
Thanks to the steep canyon walls and narrow valley floor, the streets of old-town Paradise are barely wide enough for a couple of cars to scrape past each other. Especially when the town is filled with tourists, parking areas are hard to come by and stringently regulated. To make life easier for shop owners, small parking areas are carved into the spaces between shops up and down the street. To keep the town beautiful for tourists, the parking areas are also cleverly disguised as mini-parks, complete with benches and flower-filled planters.
Divinity shares one of these flowery parking lots with a neighbor up the hill, so there was a good chance the shadow belonged to a passerby or a customer at Picture Perfect. I stepped into the gathering shadows anyway and tried to make Brandon appear. I was already limping, thanks to the heels, and I wondered how I’d make the walk from here to Romano’s and maintain my dignity.
It had been a warm day, but cool air from the nearby mountains brushed the evening with a hint of autumn, and the golden shimmer of aspens made the hillside look as if someone had poured peanut-brittle syrup over everything. The hills were so beautiful, they almost took my breath away.
I couldn’t make Brandon miraculously materialize out of thin air, so I turned back toward the candy kitchen. A figure loomed in the doorway. I let out a little cry of alarm, and Stella Farmer moved farther into the light so I could see her.
“Abby? Are you all right?”
Clasping a hand to my chest, I grabbed the back of a park bench to keep from falling. “I’m fine. You just startled me. I didn’t see you standing there.”
Stella’s lips curved slightly. She’s a tall, sturdy woman with mint-green eyes and firm, broad hands. The only time she’s not wearing jeans and a man’s shirt with the tails out is when she’s in the church, and that only happens when there’s a funeral.
“Sorry,” she said, and she almost looked as if she meant it. “I’ve been looking all over for you. We need to talk before you go inside.”
Stella is one of the town’s strongest opponents to changing the Arts Festival. I’d already heard what she had to say more than once, and talking to her about it right now wasn’t high on my list of priorities. “The meeting’s about to start,” I said. “Can it wait?”
The half-smile that had been playing at the corners of her mouth faded. “I’m afraid not. Duncan and I have been taking a straw poll, and we’re concerned. I hope you’re prepared to stand with us at the city council meeting next week.”
I was annoyed with Brandon, but that didn’t mean I’d turn on him in a fit of feminine spite. I shoved past her into the kitchen, picked up a tray of cream-cheese mints from the counter, and headed for the back staircase. “You know how I feel about this, Stella. You’re wasting your breath.”
“I know,” Stella said, trailing behind me, “but have you really thought this through?”
“Of course I have. Not that my opinion matters. I don’t have a vote, remember?”
“No, but you’re a member of the Alliance. If we present a united front, the city council will have to take notice.”
I laughed in disbelief and turned back to look at her. “You don’t really expect to get everyone on the Alliance to agree with you?”
“We can try.” Stella glanced up the stairs over my shoulder and lowered her voice. “Look, Abby, I know Brandon’s been paying attention to you the last little while, and believe me I know how seductive something like that can be. But don’t let it go to your head, and for God’s sake, don’t let it affect your business judgment.”
I’ve never been a violent person, but the pitying smile on her face made me itch to wipe it right off again. “I haven’t based my decision on hormones, Stella. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
She snagged my sleeve to keep me from leaving. “Your Aunt Grace would never have approved of this ridiculous idea.”
“Aunt Grace would have been first in line to vote yes,” I assured her, “and I’m more than capable of making this decision without your help.”
Stella leaned in closer, and something flashed in her eyes that left me feeling a little nervous. “Decisions like this need to be made with the
whole
business community in mind. Some shops might do all right if we cut off traffic for nearly a week, but what about those of us who don’t sell little trinkets and candy? What are we going to do if access is shut down for four days?”
We’d been over this ground a million times before, and I had no patience with it now. “Maybe you should take another look at the proposal,” I said. “Brandon’s planning to set up parking lots on the edge of town, and there’ll be shuttle service every fifteen minutes to the shopping district. If I remember right, you’ll have a shuttle stop twenty feet from your door. How much closer do you need it to be?”
Stella’s eyes narrowed. “You’re assuming that Kevin Horvath will agree to rent that stretch of land to the city for the parking lot. Do you know something I don’t?”
“No, but Kevin’s not unreasonable.” At least he wasn’t
most
of the time. “And we’ll find out in a few minutes, I’m sure.”
Stella gave another dismissive flick of her wrist. “You know what Brandon is trying to do, don’t you?”
“Expand the Arts Festival?”
“He’s
trying
to put us out of business,” Stella snarled. “And if this idiotic measure passes, he just might get his wish.”
That accusation nearly knocked me off my feet. “Why on earth would Brandon want to put you out of business?”
Even though she was a step or two below me, Stella lifted her nose and managed to look down it at me. Her mouth puckered as if she’d just swallowed a handful of Sour Patch candy. “Because he can’t stand the fact that we’re doing well.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. “Oh, please, Stella. You and Brandon aren’t in competition with each other. You don’t even sell the same kind of merchandise.”
“No, but Duncan and I have one of the prime locations in town. Brandon has made it quite clear that he’d like to relocate.” She arched an eyebrow. “Need I say more?”
Retail space downtown
is
at a premium, and property values have shot up in the past few years, but her suggestion was so outlandish I nearly choked. I thought about Brandon’s claim that no one took him seriously and wondered if he knew just how wrong he was. “Even if what you say is true,” I said, struggling for patience, “Brandon would never deliberately put another store out of business.”
Stella’s expression grew grim. “If you believe that, you don’t really know Brandon. He’s ambitious, Abby. He’s trying to dig a foothold here in Paradise, and he’s using the rest of you to do his dirty work.”
This conversation was so far beyond ridiculous I couldn’t believe we were having it. I climbed a few more steps. “Even if Brandon
does
have some nefarious plan up his sleeve—which he doesn’t—there are more effective ways to plot a takeover.”
“Not if he wants to fit in when it’s all said and done. And not if he wants to keep his more . . . gullible . . . friends from seeing what’s right in front of their noses.” Stella stepped onto the landing, and her smile turned sugary sweet. “Frankly, I’d be offended if I were you, Abby. But, then, maybe you don’t mind being manipulated.”
Since the year I turned ten, my mother has been warning me to hold my tongue when I’m angry. It’s probably good advice, but I’m not known for taking advice—good or otherwise—and sugarcoating my words when I’m upset has never been my style. “I don’t know about that,” I said. “But I definitely resent the way you’re trying to manipulate me right now.”
Stella’s voice grew whisper-quiet. “I’m not manipulating you, Abby. I’m giving you a friendly warning. If you don’t wake up soon, you’ll regret it.”
A chill inched up my spine, but I wasn’t going to let Stella intimidate me. “Don’t you think you’re being a little overly dramatic? My suggestion for you is to talk to Brandon and then really listen to what he says. I’m sure he could set your mind at ease.”
“I couldn’t do that, even if I wanted to,” she said. “He’s not here.”
Hearing someone else mention it made my stomach knot with worry. Brandon might stand me up, but he would never forget tonight’s meeting. It was too important to him. I’d already wasted enough time talking to Stella, so I mumbled an excuse and climbed the rest of the stairs. To my surprise, the crowd was standing-room-only.
If Brandon was coming, he’d better get here soon.
Abandoning Stella by the door, I found space on the goody table for the mints and wedged myself into a conversation with Rachel Summers and Gavin Trotter. I’ve known Rachel for years, although we’ve never really been friends. She graduated from high school two years ahead of me, and now she runs a shop a few doors down called Candlewyck. The business seems to be doing well, but Rachel’s just biding her time there until someone discovers her and whisks her away to a career as a plus-size model.
Gavin’s a former high school football coach who settled in Paradise about five years ago to run a sporting goods store. He’s opinionated and a little rough around the edges, but he’s a nice enough guy, and I’d rather talk about ice hockey than listen to Stella any longer.
Keeping one eye on the door in case Brandon showed up, I indulged in small talk with Rachel and Gavin until Duncan Farmer squaddled up to the front of the room and started the meeting.
Two hours of name-calling and accusations later, I shut the door behind the last of the stragglers and turned off the light. Only a few stray pieces of candy remained on the table upstairs, a fact that left me feeling hopeful about the future, but Brandon never had put in an appearance, and that worried me.
It was after ten o’clock by then, and I was more than half-convinced something had happened to him. I just couldn’t imagine why else he’d miss the meeting—even if he had wanted to avoid dinner with me.
Acting on impulse, I ran up the outside steps to my apartment, changed into more sensible shoes, and hurried outside again. A cool breeze was blowing into town from the mountain valleys, and it only took a few minutes for me to regret coming outside without a sweatshirt, but Man About Town was only a couple of blocks away, and I didn’t plan to be outside long.
Man About Town takes up all of a two-story building built around the turn of the last century. For fifty years or so, the J.C. Penney store did business there. Since then, half a dozen tenants had moved in and out, but Man About Town fits in so neatly, it’s easy to forget it hasn’t been there forever.
I half-expected to find lights on and Brandon hard at work, but the windows were dark, the store looked deserted. I checked out the cars parked nearby, but I couldn’t see Brandon’s 4Runner anywhere, so I turned toward home.
Paradise at night is a great place to be. City ordinances ban the use of neon lights, so the sky looms huge and black overhead. On clear nights like this one, the stars look like powdered sugar sprinkled on a velvet background. A few stragglers were making their way home from the meeting, and cars lined the streets in front of restaurants and nightclubs. Even though I was by myself, I didn’t really feel alone.
I was just passing the art emporium when I heard the roar of an engine and saw lights sweep across the side of a nearby building. An instant later, a red Dodge pickup pulled out of the small parking strip between the emporium and the used book store. With a squeal of tires, it shot onto the street and disappeared around the corner, but not before I saw the customized license plate that belonged to my brother.
That was just strange enough to pull my attention back to the moment. I hadn’t noticed Wyatt at the meeting, but maybe I’d just missed him in the confusion. His absence wasn’t nearly as unsettling as Brandon’s, so I decided not to worry about it and tossed around the idea of driving over to Brandon’s condo to make sure he was all right.
But what if he
had
had second thoughts about taking me to dinner? Even worse, what if he was there with some other woman? I didn’t think I could bear the humiliation of that, so in spite of my vaguely unsettled feelings, I told myself to wait until tomorrow. No doubt Brandon would show up at Divinity early in the morning wearing an embarrassed grin and brandishing some lame excuse. I’d pretend not to forgive him just long enough to convince us both that I wasn’t a pushover. He’d tease me for a while, and we’d be right back where we’d left off by nightfall.
Having decided that, I hurried home again. I’ve been living in this upstairs apartment since my marriage fell apart. While I was floundering, looking for a place to get back on my feet, Aunt Grace had come to the rescue, just like she had so many times in the past.
The apartment is a far cry from the Sacramento condo I shared with Roger while I thought we were happy. There’s not a stick of furniture that matches any other in the whole place. Everything I own is secondhand, a castoff from friends or relatives. I have Aunt Grace’s old plaid sofa-bed and Uncle Butch’s dinged-up coffee table in the living room. Near the door is the hideous space-age chair that used to belong to my parents. In the bedroom, I sleep on my grand-mother’s bed and keep my clothes in a dresser that came from the Goodwill. By themselves, the pieces are wretched, but together they suit me in some strange way I can’t explain.