Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series) (27 page)

Sarah noted everything about him now that she was allowing herself to like him, to enjoy him. While they sat at the small table going over their itinerary for the day she couldn’t focus.

He even drank his coffee in a manly, virile way. She liked that he didn’t use the mug’s handle but rather wrapped his fingers around the vessel possessively.

She couldn’t admonish her adolescent thoughts. If she didn’t stop herself she might be asking to wear his ID bracelet—if he had one—to go steady.

They readied themselves and descended the stairs to the front door of the inn. Standing together at the entrance, each ready to tackle their separate missions, Benny kissed her.

His cell phone rang as he was about to leave. He stopped to pull the device from his pocket, talked into it, his eyes darted to her, and then away.

His expression morphed into something that pricked at her ease. Concern trickled into her veins. She was amazed at the automatic response she had, as though an invisible thread linked their senses.

Benny closed his phone after a few half-sentence responses to whatever was being said on the opposite end of the line.

“That was my brother.” His voice was low, his mouth a seam on his face.

“Is there a problem?”
Another one?

He laughed suddenly, but there was no smile in his eyes. “No, actually. Sal found a buyer for the house.”

“I didn’t realize…” she managed to say before falling silent.
Hadn’t realized what,
she thought?
That it isn’t time for happily ever after in Ronan’s Harbor?
How many times had the man said he couldn’t wait to get out of this town? Plenty.

“Yeah.” He raked a hand through his now-dry hair. “He, uh, said I’ve got to be out before summer starts. That was the deal he made.”

“Wow. That’s…soon.”

“Memorial Day.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. She did what she could to appear nonchalant, to hide the reality stinging her eyes and aching in the tender, freshly exposed place at the center of her chest.

“I’ll call you,” he said as he turned to leave.

****

Benny walked to his Jeep without looking back at Four Tidewater Way. He tried not to wonder if she was still standing at the door but he didn’t feel her. Something told him she’d closed the big, old wooden door tightly after he left.

He sat in the chilly leather seat, inserted his key into the ignition, and turned it. The engine roared to life. He turned at the corner of Dolphin Drive and took the unavoidable ride past Sarah’s inn. He’d been right. She was gone.

His mind churned with thoughts of Sarah and his impending leaving of Ronan’s Harbor. He felt oddly pissed off. But, at what? Or whom? Sal? Sarah?

He laughed to nobody. No, he detested that sour feeling he got whenever he disappointed someone. It was a familiar crappy feeling in his gut, like he’d eaten week-old leftover Chinese.

He had known this would happen.
Shit.
He’d told himself countless times not to get involved with anyone, particularly Sarah Grayson. Not with his uncanny knack for bestowing disappointment.
Now, here we go again,
he thought.
Double shit.

Inside town hall, he told the lady at the desk that he urgently needed to see the mayor. He knew from his days on the beat that he excelled at appearing intense.

Hell, right now he
was
intense. He owed Sarah this. Sal had manipulated him and every goddammed thing in his path one time too many. Time was up.

That thought switched his mindset and he went right back to the nagging mental image that would not relent. He saw Sarah again, peeking out from under the country quilt looking vulnerable, her pretty freckled face just like a kid’s, eyes dewy and soft.

John Reynolds strode down the hall toward him. He offered his hand, and with a congenial voice said, “Good Morning. Benny, right?”

“Yes, John, I apologize for not calling for an appointment. But I do have something I really need to talk with you about.”

“Come down to my office.” The mayor motioned with his hand and Benny followed him down the corridor.

Benny sat perched on the edge of the guest chair in Reynolds’ office. John’s eyes were on him the entire time Benny relayed what he’d learned about Clyde Stone’s plan and the involvement of Pallis, the zoning guy, as well as his own brother.

“How sure are you about this?” Reynolds asked. His voice was steady, but Benny had been trained to spot nuances in voice. This mayor was pissed.

“Only what my brother confided. But, trust me, that’s the plan.”

“I’ll get to the bottom of it immediately, Benny. I appreciate your coming to inform me.”

He tilted his head as he eyed Benny. “But, I am curious about what prompted you to share this news. After all, withholding this information would have kept your filed complaints locked solid.”

“Sarah Grayson doesn’t deserve the trouble this has caused her. I’d like you to toss those complaints in the trash where they belong.”

“Your brother’s name is on those complaints, Benny. Otherwise, I’d put an immediate rush on giving Sarah town approval.”

“I believe if you contact him, he’ll concur.” Benny tendered the mayor a smile as he stood from the chair and extended his hand. “I’d like nothing more than for this to be behind us all.”

“You know what I think?” John Reynolds asked, taking Benny’s hand. He didn’t wait for a response. “I believe you’re forming an affection for Ronan’s Harbor.”

The words sent a clench to his nerves. He felt his knee joints lock. Not possible. He was leaving by Memorial Day.

Benny thanked the mayor for his time and help, then left the way he came.

Back at the cottage, he was glad now that he hadn’t bothered to unpack his boxes. Exiting would be that much more efficient, easier.

****

Sarah stood alone in the entryway. Benny was gone but she could still feel him, smell him. She wondered how long the sensations would last.

Her mind was overcrowded with thoughts. His house was sold. He’d be leaving Ronan’s Harbor. What did that mean, she wondered? She shook her head at the thought. She knew what that meant. Although she wished she could outwardly react to the news, she felt too numb. There had been too many things thrown at her at once.

She withdrew the marble Clyde Stone had left behind from her pocket and released it from her palm with a snap of her wrist. She watched the mottled glass sphere roll away, stall and meander back to her like a little round boomerang. She sent it sailing across the old wood planks again, playing a kind of game. But, it was no game. It was confirmation of what she already knew and there was no use in delaying the inevitable. She called the insurance company.

The company’s representative was able to schedule an appointment the next afternoon. She stood now amidst the debris and clutter of the sunroom where the sheeting hung like Spanish moss over the carpenter’s doings.

Harvey and Richie had arrived earlier to continue with their work. She’d explained the news of the foundation’s problem she’d learned from Clyde Stone.

In an incredulous tone, Harvey had asked, “And you’re just going to believe the guy?” He’d exchanged a look with Richie and she’d seen the message as if they’d spoken it aloud. They thought she was a fool.

“No,” she said perhaps too harshly. “I’m not going to
just believe
the place is falling down. But, I’ve called my insurance company and they’re sending a rep here tomorrow.”

“Want us to stick around?” he’d asked.

For some reason the offer sent the threat of tears to her eyes. She managed a soft “No, I’ll be fine.”

The two carpenters left with promises to return if she needed. She couldn’t blame Harvey for not seeing the extent of damage to the foundation. He and Richie hadn’t been hired to inspect it. She eyed the disarray of their work in progress.

Hell, she owed them thanks for discovering the basement’s water damage. Their find had produced Hannah’s box of memorabilia that seemed to have pleased her. So much had changed.

Sarah closed her eyes to ward off the beginnings of a headache. She was antsy. Her mental list grew as she found herself among the sheeted mounds in the room. She needed to call Hannah.

And Gary. It was time to let the man know that he’d have his way after all. Despite her previous unwillingness to consider Gary’s request to have Hannah’s wedding held at his damned country club, it was time to give in. There was no way she’d risk the wellbeing of Hannah and Ian’s guests.

She filled her lungs as she dialed Gary’s office phone. His long-time secretary furnished polite small talk. Sarah bit her tongue when she heard herself speaking airily like the old days, prior to Gary’s new life—playacting as if everything was just ducky.

Gary came on the line. “Is there a problem?” he asked right out.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I’d say so.”

There was silence on his end. Sarah’s fingers, wrapped tightly around the handset, quivered in their grasp. “There may be a problem with the wedding being held at The Cornelia.”

“Well, I could have told you that, Sarah Doodle.” His voice had changed from a hint of concern to the insufferable pomposity that was the man’s signature. “I’ll contact my people at the club and—”

“Hold up,” she said. “Listen, Gary. Apparently, the inn’s foundation might be in poor condition and it would be unsafe to have the wedding here. I’m waiting on the insurance company to make that determination.”

“What?” The harsh tone in his voice rang with accusation as if she’d had something to do with the crumbling of the stones holding up her house. “For God’s sake…”

“Look Gary, just go ahead with making arrangements at your club, would you? I need to contact Hannah.”

She ended the call with a shaky hand. It was true that Gary enraged her, but really the whole set of circumstances pissed her off. All of it.

She dialed Hannah. There was no answer. Sarah left a benign message that indicated she needed a return call.

Sarah got to work, blissful at the mindlessness of the task of packaging supplies for the wedding so that they could be moved to Gary’s club for the reception.

The doorbell rang and the door opened before she had a chance to get to it. Gigi entered the sunroom with a look of surprise. “What now?” she asked. “Why are you packing up everything?”

“The wedding’s going to be at Gary’s club.”

“You gave in to him?” Sarah heard the disappointment in her friend’s voice.

“Not exactly. Have a seat and I’ll fill you in.”

Sarah relayed the whole story, everything from Clyde Stone down to Jeremy Hudson’s revelation.

“Holy mackerel. Jeremy Hudson’s still pining away for his first love. Well, what do you know? And we thought he was into that girl that works for him.”

“No. Apparently,
she’s
into you. He said she thought you were
hot.
You’ve officially cornered the entire market. Just thought I’d pass that along.”

Gigi laughed and shook her head, an effusive grin decorating her face. “Oh, this is just too much fun. What else could possibly happen?”

“I slept with Benny.”

After a loud whoop and a series of handclaps, a laughing Gigi did a little jig, jumping with delight.

Sarah couldn’t help but laugh, too. In spite of the craziness and the upheaval, she
was
glad.

And, she was happy to see her friend looking and sounding so much like herself. Sarah hugged Gigi close. “Gigi, how are
you
holding up?”

Gigi pulled out of the embrace. “You mean how’s tricks since I’ve started living the best years of my life? Well, it’s been interesting. Mickey had the nerve to contact me.”

Sarah felt a zing of anger spark her blood. “He—”

“Wait.” Gigi was still smiling, anticipation dancing in her pretty dark eyes. “It’s delicious. He got home from Vegas and immediately called me with his typical apologies and promises. He loves me, he knows that now, he’s so miserable without me. You know, the whole spiel.”

Sarah felt herself relax, feeding off the vibes Gigi was sending out.

“So, what’d you say?”

“I told him that I hope he finds what he’s looking for, but it certainly is not me; and I hung up. I’ve ignored all his calls, texts, emails, and even his flowers.”

“Mickey seriously sent flowers to the owner of a flower shop?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah,” Gigi said.

The pride on her face was so endearing, again Sarah felt tears stinging her eyes. She’d been doing that a lot lately. “I’m so proud of you,” Sarah said.

“Thanks, Sar. I’m pretty proud of myself, too. So’s Sheldon.”

“Who? Sheldon who?”
Oh, Gigi, no.

“My shrink,” she laughed. “I have a shrink now. How’s that?”

“Wow,” Sarah said.

“And, before you ask, Sheldon doesn’t look like a body builder or anything. He looks like Santa Claus.”

“Well, that helps,” Sarah laughed, each silently acknowledging Gigi’s insatiable pheromones.

“Yes,” Gigi chided. “The new Gigi’s done with being a ho-ho ho.”