“Annie.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you sell a hole in the ground?”
“Uh . . .”
“I’d really like to buy one. You know, so it can swallow me.”
“Well . . . I’ll have to ask Bob if we sell those.”
TWELVE
Bailey
“Good afternoon, Hart’s Inn. Bailey speaking.”
“I think you’ve done enough speaking for one afternoon, Miss Hartwell.” Jeff King’s deep voice rumbled down my phone line.
He had kind of a sexy phone voice, but no matter how sexy it was I wanted to hang up on him. “Jeff—”
“I’m on duty, so it’s Sheriff to you. Accusing a man of attacking you when you have no solid evidence for me isn’t the smartest thing to do in this town. Bailey, what were you thinking, mouthing off in the grocery store? Do you know how many calls the station has received in the last two hours?”
Feeling like an admonished child, my hackles rose. “Whose side are you on, Jeff, because I’m starting to worry about this town’s police force.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means your Deputy Jackass—sorry, Jackson—turned up at the inn this morning, took less than five minutes to interview my guests, and pretty much insinuated that I was making the whole thing up. It’s funny he would take that stance considering what good friends he and Kerr Devlin are. He couldn’t care less that I’d been attacked.”
The good sheriff was quiet and when he eventually spoke, I got goose bumps from the warning in his voice. “I suggest you keep comments like that to yourself, Bailey, and let me run my department.”
I knew Jeff. He wasn’t warning me because he was an asshole, far from it. He was warning me because . . . he knew. He knew Jackson was a slimeball. Of course he did. Was he running his own investigation into him?
“Well, here is a heads-up. Cooper will probably be in touch about Jackson’s attitude this morning. He and Jessica were at the inn when the deputy showed up and Coop wasn’t exactly happy with what he heard.”
“Got it. Now, let’s get back to why I called. Are you intending to continue to publicly accuse Devlin? Because I’ve got an airtight alibi and no evidence. Unless you’ve remembered something from last night that might help me.”
“No. I told you everything. And Dana Kellerman is lying by the way. She’s always hated me.”
“How did you know—” Jeff cursed, biting off his sentence. “Never mind.”
“Look, I promise I’m not going to say anything more in public. I’m sorry about today. I saw Jack and I was upset—”
“Yeah, well, apparently so was Jack.”
“What does that mean?”
“A guest at the Grand called the police. I had to send officers out because Jack knocked Stu out in the restaurant. Far as I can tell he went straight from the grocery store to the hotel to find Stu. Stu didn’t want to press any charges. Or Ian didn’t. Believe me, Bailey, if I could use Jack’s reaction as evidence I would. But I’ve got nothing.”
“Jack hit Stu?” I couldn’t believe it. “For attacking me?”
“It looks that way. Anyway, if you’ve got nothing else, I don’t know what else I can do. I’ll look into it a little more. I’m going to interview Mr. Tremaine again. And you get in touch if you think of anything.”
“Right. Thanks, Sheriff.”
“Stay safe, Bailey.”
We hung up and I reached for my cell, remembered it was smashed and that I needed to buy a new one, and started searching for my old phone book. I found it dusty and disused in the office, but in it was the number I was looking for. I just hoped Cat, Cooper’s sister, hadn’t changed it since however long ago I’d written it down.
She answered on the third ring.
“Cat, it’s me.”
“Hey, Bails, I heard what happened. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. But I mouthed off to Jack Devlin today, accusing Stu, and he just stared at me like I wasn’t even there. And then, get this, the sheriff called, and he told me Jack punched Stu. Just minutes after I told him what his brother did. What is that all about?”
“Have you told Jessica? Jack was the one that gave her the heads-up about Cooper’s liquor license. The plot thickens.”
“What is going on with him? And should I tell Cooper? That’s why I called. I wondered if I should tell him?”
She was a quiet awhile and then . . . “Yeah. Before Jess . . . I probably would have said no. But Coop’s in a good place. And . . . something isn’t right with Jack and it still bothers me. I think deep down it bothers Cooper. He knows there’s something more to what happened. So, yes, tell him. I don’t know what it will do, if it will do anything, but I’d like to believe Jack is worth forgiving.”
“Me, too.” And I meant it. Jack punching Stu out for me was a sign of the old protective Jack. “I’ll tell Cooper tonight at dinner. You and Joey are still coming, right?”
“Someone else cooking dinner? Yes, we’ll be there. My poor kid doesn’t eat anything nutritious unless someone other than his mother is cooking.”
I laughed. “Then I’ll see you tonight.”
Just as I was hanging up, the inn door opened and Iris poked her head around it. “Heard what happened, gonna kill that Devlin, Ira and I are worried about you so we’ll be at dinner tonight, too, to make sure you’re okay, I gotta get back to the restaurant.”
And then she was gone.
Warmth suffused me.
I didn’t need Vaughn Tremaine to care about me.
I had a whole town that did.
Strolling into the kitchen wearing a satisfied smile on my face, I produced a suspicious look from my head chef, Mona. “Two more for dinner tonight.”
She stared at me through her oversized black-framed glasses. Her bright lips were pursed in annoyance. As always she wore a patterned headscarf instead of a chef’s hat over her dark hair. “It’s a little late notice.”
“I got attacked last night. Some people actually care,” I teased. “They want to have dinner with me. What can I say? I’m kind of awesome.”
Mona gave me a reluctant smile. “Fine. But I’m only letting you off the hook because of the whole attack thing. You can’t milk it forever though.”
I grinned because Mona not giving me shit for a last-minute meal change, a meal she was already cooking along with a separate dinner for guests, was her way of saying she cared about me, too.
To my disappointment Cooper didn’t react the way I wanted him to regarding the whole Jack thing. I’d pulled him aside when everyone had arrived and informed him what his old friend had done.
“I heard,” he’d said. “And?”
“Well don’t you think it means something?”
“I think it means that Jack doesn’t know who the hell he is anymore or what side he’s really on. I think it means he’s old enough to work that out for himself. I think it means I’m just getting on with my life and I don’t need any more of his drama.”
“But Coop—”
“Bailey, don’t you think after what he did to me, he should be the one to come to me and not the other way around?”
And since I knew he was right, I reluctantly let the issue go.
Instead I’d settled my guests into the dining room. They weren’t put out by the packed dining room. In fact, my loving, energetic group of friends added a warm ambience to the dining room that evening. While the guests were seated at their individual tables, I’d put together two to host my friends. Seated at the back of the room were Jess, Cooper, Emery, Dahlia, Cat, Joey, Iris, and Ira. And me of course.
Considering she had the dinner menu to cook for our inn guests and a different dinner for my private guests, Mona did an amazing job. With the help of Jay, her sous chef.
“Why don’t we eat here
all the time for Aunt Bailey’s dinners?” Joey said to his mom. “It’s so good.”
“Are you trying to say you prefer Mona’s cooking over mine, kid?”
Joey thought about this carefully. “It’s just . . . different.”
We roared with laughter at his answer while Cooper curled a hand around his nephew’s neck and pulled him toward him so he could kiss the top of his head.
“We’ve got a diplomat in our midst.” Ira grinned at Joey.
Smart as a whip, it wasn’t a surprise to us that Joey understood the word. “Maybe I’d make a good politician.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Iris groaned. “There are no good politicians.”
“Iris,” I admonished, “we have a good one sitting in our mayor’s office.”
She nodded her head, accepting that. “Okay. There are very few good politicians.”
“I could be a good one,” Joey insisted.
“With diplomacy like that, I’m sure of it.” Cat looked around the table. “I don’t know where he gets that from. It certainly isn’t from me.”
“And he hasn’t learned it from me,” I said.
Dahlia snorted. “That’s a given, sweetie.”
I kicked her playfully under the table. “Watch it, brat.”
“So, any word from Tom?” Cooper said abruptly.
Silence fell over the table.
Then Jessica let out a chuckle. “Apparently, Joey doesn’t get it from his Uncle Cooper, either.”
We laughed while Cooper threw me a look of apology.
“It’s fine.” I shrugged. “Really. Tom emailed me. He’s staying in Philly with family. He uh . . . well he quit his job in Dover and has decided to try to move on elsewhere.”
“How do you feel about that?” Cat said. “I mean, you guys were together a long time.”
“I’m okay with it. I don’t want him to be unhappy. I’m kind of glad that we’re starting over fresh away from one another.”
“So you haven’t told him about the break-in?” Emery asked.
“No. There’s no point. I . . . Maybe in a while we’ll be able to do the friend thing but I want time apart for now.”
“God, you’ve had a terrible few weeks,” Iris stated the obvious. “Things can only get better, Bailey.”
Wanting a subject change I thought of someone else I hadn’t seen in a while. “How’s Ivy?” I asked after Iris and Ira’s daughter. Ivy had been my best friend growing up, but she’d had aspirations of becoming a screenwriter. She’d gotten into UCLA’s school of film and television, worked her way up from intern on productions to assistant manager, until she started to make it with her screenwriting. That’s how she met her fiancé, big-time director Oliver Frost. Up until they met, Ivy had kept in touch with me, and had visited Hartwell every summer. I hadn’t seen her in three years. I hadn’t heard from her in a year.
Ira scowled. “Who knows?”
“Ira,” Iris reprimanded him for his angry tone.
I was concerned. “What’s going on? Is Ivy okay?”
The table quieted as we waited for Iris to answer.
“We don’t know. Every time we call her to check in she gets off the phone as quickly as possible, giving us excuses about how busy she is.”
“Maybe she is,” Emery said.
“No.” Ira shook his head. “Ivy has always been busy but she never let that Hollywood stuff go to her head. She’s always had time for her mother and me. Something isn’t right.”
“Why don’t you go out and see her?” Cooper suggested.
“I want to.” Ira threw his wife a belligerent look.
Iris scowled. “Don’t look at me like that, Ira Thomas Green.” She turned to us to explain. “I have never been the kind of mother to mollycoddle or get in my daughter’s business when she hasn’t asked me to.”
Cooper frowned at her. “Well maybe she needs you to.”
“Exactly.” Ira raised his glass to him.
From the expression on Iris’s face I could tell she wanted to argue with them both, but was conflicted. As for me, I was worried about my old friend. “Iris . . . maybe you should.”
She held my gaze for a moment before she gave a reluctant nod. “We’ll try calling her again, try getting through. If not . . .” She looked at her husband. “We’ll go there to see her.”
In answer Ira simply reached for his wife’s hand.
I looked away from them, letting them have their moment with as much privacy as possible, and my gaze fell on Emery. She stared at the older couple with such longing wistfulness I felt an answering ache in my chest.
“Hey, Em.” I smiled at her. “The pork loin okay for you?”
She jerked her gaze away from Iris and Ira. “What? Oh. Yes. Thank you. Delicious.”
The wistfulness was wiped clear of her expression now, and I wondered curiously about it. Oh, how I wanted to solve the mystery of Emery Saunders.
Patience, Bailey. Patience.
“I invited Vaughn to dinner,” Jessica said. “But he was really preoccupied.”
I scowled at the thought of Vaughn joining us for dinner and my tone was sharper than I intended when I offered, “He’s busy with his hotel in New York; he doesn’t have time for dinner with us.”
“Well, yes, but he was concerned about you,” Jess said. “He called Cooper pretty early this morning to tell us to check in with you.”
My heart started to beat a little too hard, a little too fast, and a cold sweat prickled over my skin. I didn’t want to talk about Vaughn. I’d been enjoying dinner because it was taking my mind off the bastard.
“You know what would be fun?” I forced a grin. “Photo albums. Emery and Jess haven’t seen my photo albums. I have photos in there of Cooper, Cat, and me as kids. I’ll go get them.”
Iris seemed bemused. “But we’re eating.”
“We can do both.” I waved off her comment and fled the dining room.
I was just walking down the hall to my office when I heard the footsteps behind me. Several footsteps. Dear God.
I strode into my office and turned to find Jess, Dahlia, and Emery in the doorway. I gave them a teasing smile to cover my sudden uneasiness. “I don’t need a chaperone around my inn. Or chaperones.”
Jessica eyed me. “You seemed upset that I asked Vaughn to come tonight.”
“I’m not upset.” Oh, was I upset. “I just, I mean why would you do that?”
Jess made an uh . . . duh face. “Because he helped you out last night.”
Right. I kept trying to forget that part. “Well what did he say exactly?”
“He was . . .” She frowned. “He was very cold. Distant. More so than usual. Extra-Vaughn-like. So . . . what did you do?”
My first instinct was to drop my jaw, stamp my foot like a teenager, and demand to know why she’d assumed that I had done something to him. However, in all my trying to force thoughts of Vaughn into the background today, I knew I’d already decided not to tell anyone that Vaughn had rejected and mortified me. That would stay between him and me.
It wasn’t just a pride thing on my part. I just . . . as much as I didn’t want to save Vaughn Tremaine from himself (knowing I’d get flattened in the process), I also didn’t want Jessica and Cooper to stop being friends with him. In their own way, they were a balm to that infuriating man’s brooding soul. I didn’t want to take that from him just because he was a cowardly asshole who didn’t think I was good enough to be in a real relationship with him. Good enough to fuck but not good enough to—
Okay.
Still angry with him.
“Nothing.” I shrugged, proud of myself for being so nonchalant. I wasn’t exactly known for being able to mask my emotions. “I was shocked that he stopped by to help.”
“Yes, shocked, but thankful, right?” Dahlia frowned at me.
“Yes, Mom.” I rolled my eyes as I pulled open the drawer that held the old photo albums. I grabbed a couple and strolled back out of the office. “I showed gratitude to Vaughn Tremaine,” I assured them.
“Oh, Bailey, dear.” A guest, Ms. Schubert, strolled out of the downstairs restroom and stopped as she caught sight of us. A wicked glint of mischief glittered in her blue eyes as she came right up into my personal space. “I’m so glad that handsome man of yours was here to keep you company last night after that terrible ordeal. I must say it made me feel safer knowing he was here. Although, for future reference, my dear, my room is right above yours and I could hear everything. Of course, you were quite loud.” She giggled like a little girl. “You made an old woman very envious.” And with a conspiratorial chuck of my chin, Ms. Schubert strolled on upstairs to her room, leaving shocked silence in her wake.
Firm hands gripped my biceps, and I was hauled back into my office by Dahlia and Jess. Emery held the door open for them. They shoved me gently inside and then slammed the door closed.
Oh, holy hell.
I stared at them, my cheeks hot, my heart pounding. “Soundproofing,” I announced, my voice all high and squeaky. “It’s next on the list of things to do.”
“Showed gratitude?” Dahlia repeated my words from earlier, throwing her hands on her hips. “I thought you meant you said thank you, not that you let him screw you.”
You have no idea. “I . . .”
“Well?” Jessica stared at me in concern.
I glanced from her to Emery, who was biting her lip, like she was trying not to smile, and Dahlia who looked pissed I hadn’t told her.
“Fine!” I threw my hands up in embarrassed exasperation. “I fucked Vaughn.”
Emery blushed beetroot at my coarse language. “Oh my.”
“You wanted to know, Aurora,” I huffed, planting my ass on my desk.
“Elsa,” Jessica muttered.
“What?”
“She’s Elsa not Aurora.”
“Really?” Dahlia stared at her like she was crazy. “You want to argue which Disney character Em looks like or ask our friend how the hell she fell into bed with a man she hated two days ago?”