I knew better than to go back to the office, choosing to stay home and work from the living room where I could nap between calls if need be. There were going to be some long hours, likely, in the days ahead with the tournament, and the last thing I wanted was to be nodding off in the middle of a job.
That meant Toby forwarding emails and inquiries to me, which we’d been doing since the previous week and already had a system. Worked great for me and, honestly? I think she liked having the office to herself, though if Dad was in town, he might have been there with her anyway.
My phone rang mid-3PM nap, jerking me awake. I hadn’t even remembered nodding off, not good. I cleared my throat, Petunia grumbling next to me and kicking out her back legs into my ribs to gain a more comfortable position while I tried to answer the incoming call with professionalism when wheezing from the impact.
“Fee!” Pat’s cheerful voice greeted me, his mellow but salesy tone never failing to make me grin. “So lovely to hear from you. Ashley and I were just talking about you, wondering how you were feeling.” Everyone in town was talking about me, apparently.
I did my best not to come across as grumpy when I murmured the practiced reply of, “I’m fine, really.”
Pat didn’t linger on the preamble, a man on a mission, as always. “You were wanting to ask us some questions? Hang on, putting you on speaker.” His voice altered from crystal clear to a little tinny and distant when he spoke next. “Ashley’s here, Fee.”
“Hello, Fee!” Another chipper soul. The pair of them were so cheerful it was a wonder they could stand each other. But the husband/wife realtor duo had been working together in their own real estate company for at least twenty years now, so they either hid any animosity very well or were as perfectly suited to one another as my parents were. “Poor dear, how are you?”
Big freaking sigh. “I’m fine, thanks,” I said. “I was hoping I could ask you some questions about recent real estate inquiries. For a case.”
“Well now,” Pat said, sounding a bit excited. I could just picture his silver eyebrows going up, his cheeks flushing, that robust way he seemed to expand his already large frame with enthusiasm when he was interested or at least pretending to be. “A case, is it? How can we help, Fee?”
Ashely giggled, his slender and almost waifish wife half his size, but a powerhouse in a business suit. I’d always liked the two of them, despite the fact I knew most of their outward cheer came from the job they did.
“A case, Pat,” she said.
“I know, dear, I heard her. Go ahead, Fee.”
Okay, that was adorable. And sounded like I might get the answers I needed if they were that amenable to assisting.
“From what I understand, there’s been a lot of interest recently from buyers outside the state.” Yes, I was pussy footing around what I really wanted to know but softening them up might be a better way to go and the last thing I wanted to do was to shut down any sharing they might offer by being heavy-handed.
I needn’t have worried. “Oh, my goodness, yes,” Ashely gushed while Pat’s chuckle overrode her words on the other end of the line.
“I can’t even tell you, Fee,” he said, “how many people are interested in relocating to our little town.”
“All thanks to Olivia as mayor,” Ashley said then like her show of loyalty was required.
I didn’t comment on that while Pat murmured his agreement. “Is it also true there are a number of inquiries into purchasing local businesses?” I’d remembered that much from when I was sick on the mountain, as well. Terri mentioned how some of her friends had been approached to sell, including her.
“My, I suppose that’s the case,” Ashley said.
“We’ve brokered a few such deals,” Pat said. “In fact,” he paused a moment and the two whispered together before he went on, “we’ve been offered a tidy sum to sell our realty firm.”
Wow. “You’re retiring?” I never thought they would.
“Oh, Fee, dear,” Ashley said, sounding delighted by the prospect, “don’t get us wrong, we love it here. And we’ll keep our house for summers, you can count on that.”
“The property value is too good to sell right now,” Pat said.
“But the offer we’ve received, it’s just too good to refuse. You know, we’ve been thinking about spending the years we have left together doing what we want, as much as we love real estate.” Another murmur from Pat. “And what with Bernice and Lloyd…” Ashley trailed off while Pat cleared his throat and finished for her when my own grief clutched at my throat and chest.
“We’re both healthy,” he said, “and ready for a new adventure. Some golf, maybe. Buy a boat.” Ashely giggled at that. “Florida in the winter, who knows, maybe even somewhere more exotic.”
“Life’s so short, my dear,” Ashley said then.
I hung up after a bit of small talk and sincere best wishes, troubled as I let my phone settle in my lap, frowning at the coffee table though it hadn’t done anything to offend me. Another call to Pamela Shard at the Gazette got me her voice mail, as did a second attempt to reach her girlfriend, Fleur King.
Crew arrived home shortly after. Instead of dumping my troubles on him, however, I chose to discard my worries of the day when his happy smile at seeing me reminded me far too often lately I’d been a downer.
I was not going to be that wife, no way. And so, we spent a lovely evening making dinner (him cooking, me watching, in case you were wondering) before curling up on the couch with a movie and some quiet time that really hit the spot as much as his lasagna had.
When I woke the next morning to a soft kiss goodbye, Crew already dressed and ready to go, I was grateful I’d chosen to enjoy him instead of being a negative Nelly.
“I’ll see you in a few days,” he said, hugging me from the side of the bed, kissing Petunia on the top of her wrinkled head. “Call me if you need anything.”
It was clear he wasn’t comfortable leaving me just yet but was trusting I’d be okay on my own and I smiled and kissed him before hugging him tight.
“I’ll be fine,” I whispered, keeping my rising sorrow at him going away to myself. I’d gotten used to having him home every night again and from the regret on his face he was feeling the impending separation, too.
“I’ll call you tonight.” Another kiss and he was up and gone, his overnight bag slung over one shoulder, the front door closing behind him quickly enough he missed me crying silently into my pillow because I was a silly ninny.
Made me wonder if he left so fast so he could wipe away a few of his own tears in the privacy of his truck. While Crew was a tough guy on the outside and did what had to be done no matter what, he was softer on the inside than I used to give him credit for, a part of him I now loved more than anything.
Lucky wife, happy life.
When I got up, showered, readied myself to head to the office, I was again grateful I hadn’t pushed him about the O’Sheas, about the fact I knew he had to be in on secrets with Dad, that I didn’t dump my anger at Daisy and the Hawthornes and my own frustrations about my health into the last night we had together for a while. I might have been self-absorbed sometimes and had a redheaded temper in spades, but I was learning.
Nothing made me happier than making him happy.
Emile’s instructions took my attention as I reviewed my coming job after clearing my inbox at the office. I headed for the lodge in the cool afternoon after dropping my sleepy pug at The Iris with Mom. I’d done a bit of research the previous morning into poker tournaments and what to expect, but frankly, a lot of what I read kind of went over my head. I did know this was a freeze-out tournament, in which players who burned through the chips they bought in with were eliminated when said chips were gone. I also knew that meant play continued until the person to end up with all the chips took home the bulk of the winnings, the second, third and fourth place winners taking smaller cuts, etc. The pool of money for the payout was drawn from the entry fees, so it was a set amount based on the 150 players registered for the event. Considering I’d only ever played a few small cash games and never had really gotten the hang of it despite Crew’s attempt to teach me, this was a pretty simple setup, from the sound of things, so I shouldn’t be too lost. I couldn’t help, however, some lingering nerves as I exited my car and crossed to the entry to the White Valley Lodge, entering the icy white foyer with false confidence walled around me and my tummy doing faint backflips.
The last time I’d been here I’d had a gun pointed at me. The time before that? Well, let’s just say my previous visits to the lodge usually ended either in murder or threats to my life, so I didn’t exactly have a great feeling for the place to begin with. That was fair, right?
I bypassed the entry to the dining room/ballroom area where players lined up to complete their registrations, wondering if I’d get the gist of play by the time the next few days were over. A peek past the registration desk gave me a view of the room set up beyond the double doors, tables set with six chairs, and large numbers on placards in silver stands displaying the designated seating for each of the players. While a random draw for seats meant some of the best players would end up vying with some of the worst, it wouldn’t take long for those tables to wrap play and the cream of the crop to move on. I liked the idea of mixing up play like that. Felt honest to me, somehow, and how cool for newbie players to get the chance to sit across from legends they likely watched on TV?
I headed directly for the front desk, deciding to connect with the general manager of the lodge before I touched base with anyone else. My friend, Alicia Conway, might be able to give me some insights into what to expect and, since the Patterson affair had separated us, I made every effort these days to ensure she knew there were no hard feelings.
Besides, it was only respectful to speak to her first.
I was glad I made that choice. The moment I caught sight of her, my protective radar flared a warning signal, and I was barreling toward her like a freight train with munitions for a fight she was visibly holding back from beginning with the tall, suited black man who loomed over her like he was going to crush her underfoot.
***