Anything But Sweet (3 page)

Chapter 3

“I
f y’all are done talkin’ amongst yourselves, we can get down to business.” Gladys
Lewis—current senior center and Sweet Apple Butter Festival president—spoke too
close to the mic with her red-smeared lips, and a screech of feedback ensued.

Reno rubbed his fingers over the intense headache hammering him between the eyes.
How the hell he got himself talked into things, he’d never know. One minute, he’d
been closing up shop and heading home, the next he’d been dragged to an event he’d
planned to avoid like a case of the swine flu.

Somewhere between a chunk of his favorite meat loaf and a thick slice of homemade
strawberry-rhubarb pie, his mother had sweet-talked him into driving her back into
town for the meeting from hell. He wasn’t buying that she’d scratched her cornea with
a flake of alfalfa and couldn’t drive.

So there he sat in the community hall with the rest of the gang, trapped on a cold
metal chair between his mother and his brother Jesse—both of whom believed the town
face-lift
was a grand idea. Realistically knowing there was only one way out of the building,
Reno searched the white cinder-block walls in vain for a hidden escape route.

Gladys Lewis’s cottony blue hair bobbled as she banged her gavel down on the podium
like she was in charge of an unruly courtroom. “Ms. Brooks will now give us the list
of lucky businesses chosen to receive the renovations.” The audience—a standing-room-only
crowd—applauded politely.

His mother nudged him with her elbow. “This is so exciting, don’t you think?”

“Electrifying.” He turned to Jesse, who sat with his long legs stretched in from of
him and his arms folded across his white veterinarian jacket. “You up for a beer after
this?”

Jesse shrugged. “Sure.”

“Boys,” their mother said in the same tone she’d used when she’d caught them hanging
from tree limbs, or chasing cows, or heading off into the woods with their BB guns
slung over their shoulders. “Pay attention, please.”

At that moment, surrounded by her crew and a couple of guys in suits, Charlotte Brooks
stepped up to the podium. She’d toned down her earlier skintight blouse and skirt
with a pair of khakis, a snug white tee, and a fitted navy jacket. But she still had
on those big-ass high heels. Her brown hair had been pulled up into a sleek ponytail
that dangled between her shoulders. And the frown Reno had left her with as he’d closed
the door in her face had been replaced with an enthusiastic smile. She radiated energy.

Reno sucked in a lungful of air.

God, the woman was as effervescent as a glass of newly poured champagne—all bubbly
and ready to go.

“Now,
that
is a knockout,” Jesse murmured.

“Out of your league, little brother.”

A slow smile spread across Jesse’s face. “I don’t mind talking her into mine.”

Reno opened his mouth to respond and was cut short by the TV host’s thanking everyone
for coming.

“First of all,” she said, “we want to thank everyone for your hospitality in opening
your homes to us for the duration of our stay. We’ve never been in a town without
motels before.”

Everyone gave an obligatory chuckle.

Reno leaned toward his mother. “What the hell does that mean?”

“There aren’t any motel rooms to rent, so the community is opening up their homes,”
his mother whispered. “Gertie West is hosting the little blond assistant.”

“What about the B&Bs?”

“Guess there weren’t enough rooms to go around.”

“The proximity of the places we’re staying are quite a ways apart,” Charlotte continued,
“but we promise that won’t interfere with our ongoing discussions as we complete these
projects. And . . . we promise not to steal ashtrays or towels.”

Another obligatory chuckle rumbled from the crowd.

A snap of impatience hit Reno. He glanced at his watch and looked around again for
that hidden exit.

“As you know in the past,
My New Town
has chosen three businesses with the greatest need of renovation.” Charlotte looked
out over the crowd and made eye contact with several in the front row. “While our
budget is tight, we always aim to give the town the most bang for the buck. After
touring Sweet earlier this afternoon, I had a talk with the producers, and this time
we’ve decided to up our game.”

A low rumble of murmurs spread through the audience.

“I
knew
it.”

Reno looked at his mother. “You knew what?”

“I knew she’d really listened to what the town told her. She knows the needs. And
I knew she’d do what was necessary to fulfill those needs. She’s a good girl.”

Reno doubted that. “Have you even spoken to her?”

“Not yet.”

“Then how would you know she’s a
good girl
?”

“Instinct, son.” His mother turned her head, her eyes cut directly to his. “When you’re
the mother of five boys, you learn it real fast.”

“Amen to that,” Jesse murmured.

“This time,” Charlotte Brooks said, “the producers have agreed to double the number
of makeovers.” The announcement received a standing ovation.

Reno stood solely out of obligation, but he refused to go so far as to clap his hands.

“So without further ado,” Charlotte continued once the crowd quieted down, “I’m proud
to reveal the winners. Though please note these are not specifically in the order
in which they will be addressed.”

Agitation and dread twisted in Reno’s gut while he resettled in his chair, and the
provocative TV host unfolded a piece of paper.

“First on the list is the Sweet Senior Center.”

A collective gasp filtered out among the gray-haired troublemakers who’d brought
the makeover show into the town that had been his safe haven when he’d been an abandoned
child and when he’d returned from the war.

“We promise,” Charlotte Brooks said, “we’ll turn that run-down building into a fun
place you will all be able to enjoy for years to come.”

Reno hated to admit it, but the senior center could definitely use a little help.
The roof had needed replacing years ago, and no one was quite sure how to describe
the ugly shade of green paint.

“Second on the list is Goody Gum Drops. We know you gave it a good effort, Mrs. West,
and we promise to help you fulfill your dream of making your shop stand out . . .
with a more subtle approach.”

What was wrong with the red-and-white-striped candy store? Reno frowned. One look
at the place, and you knew exactly what you’d find inside.

“Third on the list,” the way-too-eager designer continued, “is Sweet Pickens Bar-B-Q.
You had the right idea, Mr. Carlson. We’ll just help you refine it a bit. Next is
the Harvest Moon Mercantile. Mr. Bodine, we know this store is over a hundred years
old and has been handed down through the generations. We want to make sure it stands
for another hundred.”

Then
Fancy Pants
got an even bigger smile on her face, if that was even possible. “For a special surprise
we’ve chosen . . . Town Square.” A raucous cheer from the crowd lifted the roof. “We
plan to give you a new gazebo, benches, picnic tables,
and
we’re going to add a playground in the northeast corner.”

That announcement brought the folks to their feet. Reno relaxed. Guess she’d gotten
his not-so-subtle hint that he wanted no part of her makeover shenanigans.

While the crowd rejoiced, Charlotte Brooks stood at the podium, looking quite pleased
with herself. She didn’t understand what she was doing, and it wasn’t Reno’s job to
educate her. But he sure wished someone would before it was too late. Drastic structural
changes couldn’t be as easily undone as switching your lunch order from a burger to
a BLT. And God knew that a small number of tourists passing through could be beneficial,
but an entire slew of them would disrupt life as they knew it.

Finally, the crowd quieted, and Ms. Brooks began to fold the plan of attack in her
hands. Abruptly she looked down and reopened the pink sheet of paper. “Oh!”

Uh-oh.

“I almost forgot.” Her coffee-colored gaze skimmed over the crowd until it landed
on him like a heat-seeking missile. “Last but not least, we are super excited to
include in our makeovers, Wilder and Sons Hardware & Feed.”

Shit.

A smirk lifted the corners of those full pink lips, and a spark flashed behind those
brown eyes. “Congratulations, Mr. Wilder.”

Anger spread through his chest in a hot flush.

“Well, big brother . . .” Jesse clamped a hand over his shoulder. “How about we make
that a whiskey instead of a beer?”

Reno narrowed his eyes at the brunette standing at the podium with a grin a mile wide
that proclaimed she’d just declared war.

While everyone in the hall stood and began to mingle and chat excitedly about the
changes to come, he and Jesse gave their mother a good-bye hug, then headed toward
the exit. The closer he came to the metal doors, the more he felt her eyes on him.
Reno glanced over his shoulder to find the troublemaker still at the podium. Smiling.

Damn city girl.

He shook his head and shoved open the steel door.

She’d learn quick enough not to mess with Texas.

Or
him.

H
ours later, Charli passed through large rock columns and an ornate, electric, metal
gate. She drove up the gravel drive through a canopy of live oaks that shaded the
road and cast shadows on the tall meadow grass. Within moments, she’d parked near
a big barn and stepped down from the Hummer.

The day had been long, and she looked forward to a hot shower and a good sleep. She
grabbed her purse and Pumpkin off the passenger seat, then turned to look across the
wide driveway at the ranch-style home. It wasn’t a huge house, but she could imagine
a family of four or five living there comfortably.

A rock face gave the home an immediate sense of character. Dormer windows dotted the
second story, and a covered veranda held gorgeous glazed pots brimming with red geraniums,
bluebonnets, and yellow lantana. Two crimson rocking chairs on either side of a small
rustic table tempted her to sit and unwind. Though exhaustion drained every muscle
in her body, she could think of no better time to thank her hostess for the temporary
housing.

The woman she’d spoken with on the phone had been warm and friendly and more than
happy to loan out the little apartment over her barn. Charli knocked on the front
door. When no one answered, she figured her hosts must still be at the post-announcement
punch-and-cookie reception. Though she’d missed an introduction there, she’d make
sure to meet them and offer her gratitude as soon as possible.

Initially, she’d been given the choice of several places to stay—a couple of bed-and-breakfasts,
even the six-bedroom home a few of her crew had chosen. But the idea of a little
space and privacy after working side by side with her crew and the community every
day, six days a week for six weeks, sounded more appealing. When the small apartment
had popped up in the mix, she’d reached out and grabbed it.

Shading her eyes against the setting sun, she scanned the area surrounding the house
where dozens of cows in assorted shades of black and brown grazed in the tall grass.
Live oak and elderberry dotted the landscape at the back of the property in a picturesque
pattern. The entire landscape was pretty enough to photograph and display. No makeover
necessary here. The place was nicely done and well loved.

With Pumpkin snuggled in her arms, she walked around back and found another covered
veranda equally inviting as the front. A nice-sized backyard spread out to where
an arbor and a weathered grape-stake picket fence as well as an eight-foot wire
fence enclosed a sizeable garden. Charli kicked off her shoes and walked across the
neatly mown lawn to the wooden gate that hung between the arbor posts.

She inhaled the freshly turned soil and the crisp scent of foliage topping zucchini,
peppers, onions, and an assortment of other delicious vegetables. She’d always wanted
a garden, but it had never been in the cards. First, as a kid, she’d moved around
too much. Now her job required a good amount of travel for long spurts at a time.
She was rarely home at her ultramodern Studio City apartment anymore. To even attempt
keeping a single tomato plant alive would be futile.

“It’s pretty here, isn’t it, Pumpkin?”

Her dog gave a girly bark.

“Good thing there’s a fence, though. Otherwise, you’d be up to no good.” She gave
the dog a little rub on the head. “Let’s go check out our temporary digs, shall we?”
Charli went back to the Hummer, grabbed her suitcase, then climbed the stairs on the
inside of the barn. She set aside dog and suitcase and, as instructed, retrieved the
key from under the
HOWDY
doormat.

From the moment she opened the front door and set down her suitcase, she felt right
at home. Pumpkin trotted into the living area—a space decorated with soft leather
furniture. Big enough to be roomy but not overly large so as to feel cavernous. Granite
countertops highlighted the open kitchen and island bar. Above the room were exposed
beams that gave the whole place a country vibe. Although there were no deer heads
or stuffed jackalopes—which apparently were a bit of inside Texas humor.

She wandered down the hall to find a large master bedroom with a king-sized bed and
heavy but tasteful furniture. Past the master, she discovered a smaller bedroom surprisingly
decorated in happy shades of pink and purple. A toddler-sized bed adorned one side
of the room, while a toy chest overflowing with stuffed animals and Barbie dolls occupied
the other. The large back wall had been embellished with a mural of a stone castle
with golden turrets set in a field of bluebonnets. A white pony with a flowing mane
stood on a grassy hilltop, while a smiling goldfish jumped from a bubbling brook.
Also on that grassy hilltop stood a fairy princess in a sparkly pink gown and her
Prince Charming, who was properly outfitted in a suit of shining armor.