At the River’s Edge The Chesapeake Diaries (35 page)

She was dead on her feet when she arrived at her house and barely could stand in the shower. She’d discovered muscles she’d forgotten that she had, and none of them were happy about having been reawakened. She dried her hair, pulled a long T-shirt over her head, and collapsed onto her bed. Tomorrow would be her first day of double duty—restaurant in the morning, the law office at two. She fell asleep wondering if perhaps she’d been a tad cocky about her ability to balance both.

On Wednesday morning, Jason drove through the gates of his yard slowly, his eyes fixed on the old stone building on the other side of the fence. Sophie’s car was parked by the door, the lights were on, and rock music was drifting across the lot. He could see a form
moving about behind the front window. If things were different between them, he’d park next to her and go inside, help her out with anything she might be doing.

Funny how things can go from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye. One minute you’re at the start of something big; the next, you’re chopped meat. He was still trying to figure out how that conversation had escalated so damned quickly.

Sophie bossing around the guy who’d been trying to deliver mulch was probably a good place to start. Jason accusing her of buying the property out from under him would probably be right up there on the list. As if he had any right to it in the first place. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted the accusatory tone, but there was no taking it back. She’d been on a verbal tear, and there’d been no way to stop her at that point.

He’d wanted to explain that he’d had the mulch piles dumped near the fence because his heavy equipment was parked on the other side of the lot. Until recently, he’d had no reason to expect that someone else—least of all Sophie—had bought the building next door. It never occurred to him that anyone else would be interested. He’d just assumed that the building would, in time, belong to him.

He reminded himself of what happened when one assumed.

He did, in fact, feel like an ass.

All of which did nothing to resolve the situation. If he hadn’t been so pissed off, he would have told her that moving those tons of soil and mulch wasn’t as easy as picking up a shovel. He’d paid to have them
dumped there, and he’d have to pay someone to move them. If he’d had time to cool off—and if she hadn’t stomped away—he’d have explained that sooner or later those piles would be gone, because he’d have sold and delivered it to his clients. Hell, some of that mulch would be spread around her grandfather’s garden by the end of the week.

That she had actually purchased that place was still gnawing at him. Yes, she’d told him that she bought a restaurant, but it had never occurred to him that she meant the place next door. He didn’t think of it as a restaurant. To him, it was a stone building that would make a great retail shop. All along, he thought she’d been talking about some other place, some other place that he didn’t know about. There was still a lot about St. Dennis that he didn’t know.

He parked the pickup and got out, the day’s work schedule in his hands. His crews were already there, waiting for their assignments. He tried to put the argument with Sophie behind him while he walked across the lot.

“Hey, boss, did you see someone’s in that place next door?” Kevin, one of his foremen, asked.

Jason nodded and started to go over the assignments.

“What do you suppose is going in there?”

“It used to be a restaurant,” someone said. “Nice place. We used to go there when I was a kid.”

“Be nice if it was a restaurant again. We could stop in, pick up lunch. Convenient,” another of the guys chimed in.

“Wonder who bought it?”

“If you girls are finished gossiping, I have the schedule
for today.” Jason held up the clipboard. The last thing he wanted to hear was how great it would be to have a restaurant right next door. As if that were a good idea.

Fifteen minutes later, he was back in the cab of his truck, his work crews settled and the scope of each job reviewed. He’d turned the key in the ignition, but he was having a hard time driving away when he could see Sophie through the glass. He wanted to talk to her, but what would he say? He was sorry that she was upset over the mulch piles, but he couldn’t just wave a magic wand and have them disappear. He couldn’t apologize for being upset that she beat him to the property, because he’d be lying. What good was an insincere apology? He hadn’t been exaggerating when he told her that he’d planned his business expansion around that property.

Besides, didn’t she owe him an apology as well? How was anyone supposed to have known that she was opening a restaurant there? Lennie the delivery guy hadn’t known, but she’d yelled at the man as if he should have. For that matter, she’d yelled at Jason as if somehow he’d known and had made the decision to store the mulches and soils in that particular spot just to irritate her.

He was having a real hard time reconciling the crazy woman who’d been yelling like a banshee in his yard just the day before with the woman who’d brought him into her bed just a few days earlier. That woman,
that
was a woman he was starting to think of as the one who could be worth staying with. The unreasonable harpy? Not so much. Which one, he wondered,
was the real Sophie? How to get through to the former without reawakening the latter?

And how was he supposed to go about making things right when he really hadn’t done anything wrong?

Chapter 21

S
OPHIE
hit the ground running at six
A.M
. By seven she was in the hardware store picking out the paint for the chairs and tables and carrying her newly purchased supplies to her car. She’d slept so soundly that when the alarm sounded that morning, she’d bolted upright as if she’d been shot. Aching and tired, she’d dragged herself downstairs for coffee and drank her first cup hanging over the railing on the small back porch, telling herself that by the time she finished the work at the restaurant, she’d be in shape and feeling fine. Somehow her back and her arms weren’t getting the message.

The sun had already warmed the dining area when she arrived on River Road and she carried the boxes of paint, rollers, and brushes into the building. She wished she could leave the door and windows open, but the smell from next door was still too strong. She wondered if there was something that could be sprayed on those piles, like the stuff she saw advertised on TV that refreshed fabrics.

She moved all of the furniture to the perimeter of the room before spreading a newly purchased drop
cloth on the floor. She lined up the chairs, opened the first can of black paint, and went to work. She painted the first chair, then stood back to assess the completed job. The paint she’d chosen was a semigloss, and even as it was drying, she knew she’d made the right choice. Sophie liked the way the paint accentuated the lines of the chair. She moved on to the next chair, and the one after that. Her arm was getting a little tired, but determined to stick to her schedule, she kept going.

The sound of car tires out front drew her attention. Sophie straightened up, hoping to see a black pickup parked next to her SUV, but instead of the truck, there were two sedans, one on either side of her car. She opened the door and stepped out just as Brooke, Steffie, and Vanessa hopped out of one and Lucy Sinclair Madison and Ellie hopped out of the other.

“We came to help,” Brooke told her. “Jesse said you could probably use a few extra hands this morning, so we thought we’d come over to see what you need.”

Ellie handed her a cardboard container of coffee and a small white bag. “We thought we’d bring you a little something from Cuppachino. There’s a strawberry pecan muffin in the bag. Brooke made them this morning, and I for one can attest to their deliciousness.”

“Thanks so much,” Sophie said, one hand on her heart. She’d never expected anyone to offer help, not even Jesse. That the women she was still getting to know wanted to pitch in touched her. “I appreciate the coffee and the muffin, but really, you don’t need to …”

“Of course we don’t. But we’re happy to,” Vanessa
assured her. “We all own our own businesses and we all know how hard it is to pull everything together, especially if you’re on your own, the way most of us were when we first started.”

“Besides, we heard this was going to be the new ‘in’ place in St. Dennis, and we wanted to be able to say we knew it when,” Lucy added.

“Guys, this is so nice of you.”

“Then invite us in and show us around.” Brooke took Sophie’s arm, and the others followed them into the dining room.

“I was just starting to paint the chairs,” Sophie explained.

“They look fabulous. So much better in black,” Ellie noted, and the others nodded their agreement. “Good call.”

“I’m debating on whether to paint the tables to match or some other color,” Sophie said.

“The lines are very clean and simple,” Steffie noted. “I’d think maybe white. Two coats of the most durable white you can find.”

“I think maybe you’re right,” Sophie agreed. “I’ll need a trip back to the hardware store. I only bought black.”

“What color for the walls? And what kind of artwork? Window treatments?” Lucy grilled her.

The questions continued as Sophie showed them around the kitchen.

“These dishes aren’t bad at all.” Brooke opened a cabinet and took out a plate. “I think under all the dust, they’re all plain white.”

“White plates on a white table?” Ellie asked.

“Black place mats,” Lucy said.

“Could work.” Ellie turned to Sophie. “Didn’t you say you wanted some photos to enlarge to hang in the dining room?”

“I thought old photos of my grandmother and her friends would be just the thing, since I want to showcase St. Dennis here.”

“Black-and-white photos on that big wall out there would be awesome.” Brooke nodded. “We have some photos of the farm from back in the 1940s when my grandparents had it, if you’re interested in seeing those.”

“I’d love to. Especially since I’ll be buying eggs and some produce from Clay.”

“My mom has lots of photos from the inn over the years,” Lucy said.

“The Inn at Sinclair’s Point is a St. Dennis landmark,” Sophie noted. “I’d love to include a few of those if your mother doesn’t mind.”

“She won’t mind,” Lucy told her. “Just don’t be surprised when she shows up with her notebook and camera in hand. When I told her what you were doing, she got so excited. You know she’s going to want to write about it for her paper.”

“Anytime.” Sophie thought about all the free publicity a well-timed article might generate. “I’d love to have her come after we’re finished with the renovations.”

“Maybe we can have Mom do before-and-after articles. That would certainly draw interest to your place.”

“Thanks for your ideas, guys. I appreciate it.”

“Now, what can we do?” Ellie asked. “Put us to work.”

“Jesse said you’d be in the office this afternoon by two, so let’s get on with it. We can talk décor while we work,” Brooke said.

“I’ll take the dishes out of the cupboards and wash them,” Lucy volunteered. “I’ll stack them out here on the counter and you can sort through them and see what you can use and what you need to replace.”

“That would be great, Lucy. Thanks.”

“I can help Lucy.” Steffie followed Lucy into the kitchen.

“I can help paint,” Brooke told her.

“Me, too.” Vanessa stepped up.

“What can I do?” Ellie asked.

Sophie stopped to consider what else needed to be done right away.

“What are you calling the restaurant?” Ellie knelt to look at the sign Cameron had stood against the wall the day before.

“Blossoms,” Sophie told them.

“Blossoms.” Ellie turned to her. “After your grandmother, my great-aunt, and Violet?”

Sophie nodded.

“I love it! Does Violet know?” Ellie stood, her hands clapped together.

“Not yet.”

“I won’t let on, then.” Ellie promised. “But we need to scrape
Walsh’s
off that front window and paint the new name on. I can do that. I’ll just need a razor blade to get the old paint off. What color do you want to use for the new name?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. I wanted to repaint the old sign, and I had a new logo in mind.”

“Let me see.”

Sophie pulled her notebook from her bag.

“Just the three stems of flowers, tied together with a ribbon.” Sophie held up her sketch. “Not very artistically done, but I think you get the idea.”

“I like it.” Ellie nodded. “I like it a lot. Mind if I play with the design? It would look great on the sign and on the window, and you could use it on the menus as well. I did some design work when I worked in PR.”

“Ellie’s great-grandmother was a famous artist.” Vanessa had been leaning over the counter, listening. “Her mother was a painter, too.”

“I had no idea,” Sophie said.

“My mother actually did have a lot of talent, much more than I, though she didn’t pursue it as much as she should have. Time ran out on her, I guess. She stopped painting when she got sick. I can paint a little, but I’m not in her league, nor that of my great-grandmother.” Ellie handed the notebook back to Sophie. “But I’d love to work on that design for you.”