Chapter Three

 

James walked into his childhood home with Jane and Eliot. The smell of cilantro, coming from a big pot heating on the stove, met his nostrils. He welcomed the warmth not only of the comfortable, homey kitchen but also of Milla’s smile.

“James and Jane, come in out of that awful cold,” Milla said, wiping her hands on her apron. “And there’s my favorite grandson! Do you like avocado, Eliot? I’m making you a vegetarian black bean soup and chopping some on top.”

“Grandma!” Eliot yelled and rushed into Milla’s waiting arms. He hugged her tight. “I like everything you cook.”

Milla’s smile grew bigger, if possible, and her silvery blue eyes twinkled with these words of praise. “Oh, it’s good to see you, little man. I’m so happy that your mom and dad brought you over.”

Sitting at the kitchen table, James’s father, Jackson, wearing his favorite overalls and a warm plaid shirt, said, “Don’t crush the boy to death, Milla.”

“Pop-Pop!” Eliot shouted. He tore himself from Milla’s arms and ran to his grandfather, who lifted him onto his lap. In a stage whisper, Jackson said, “See if you can get your grandmother to give us some tortilla chips with the soup. She won’t let me have any.”

Eliot’s brows drew together.

James exchanged a rueful glance with Milla.

Milla said, “Tortilla chips are not on your stroke prevention plan, my love.”

“I already had a stroke,” Jackson replied darkly.

“And you won’t have another as long as you take care of yourself,” Milla said cheerfully.

“You okay, Pop-Pop?” Eliot asked, his golden brown eyes big with concern.

“Fit as a fiddle,” Jackson declared. “But you and I have a mission to accomplish.”

“We do?” Eliot asked.

“Sure, go into the TV room and see if you can find what it is.”

Eliot scrambled down and raced into the adjoining room.

“What’s going on, Pop?” James asked.

“I picked up one of them Lego dinosaur sets after you called and asked us to look after the boy tonight.”

Jane said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Are you kidding?” Milla said and laughed. “Jackson likes putting those things together as much as Eliot!”

“Maybe it’ll take my mind off the trouble about to hit this town,” Jackson said curtly. “Best undiscovered small town, hmpf. Won’t be for long. Gonna be like when Home Doctor took over Henry’s Hardware and Supply, a place I built from the ground up, only this will be on a bigger scale.”

“Pop, that’s why Jane and I asked you to watch Eliot tonight. I’m meeting with my friends to see exactly what’s going on and what we can do about it. I don’t want to see Quincy’s Gap change either.”

Jane said, “I don’t know. Exposing Eliot and the new little one to a bigger group of people might be good for them in the long term.”

James stayed quiet. Jane was entitled to her opinion, he was entitled to his. Keeping the peace between them meant more to him right now than trying to get her to see things his way. He wanted Eliot and his little girl to grow up in the same small town he had. What was wrong with that?

Jackson, however, felt free to speak his mind. “Jane, I’ve come to love you like a daughter, but you are dead wrong.” He banged his fist on the table. “There’s nothin’ wrong with our town as it is. It’s a good place to raise children. You want to take the boy to a bigger place, take him to visit Charlottesville, Richmond, or Harrisonburg, but bring him back to where he knows his neighbors and friends.”

James couldn’t help but agree with his father, but he said nothing.

Milla stepped into the breach. “Jane, dear, how have you been feeling?”

“Fine, thank you,” Jane said.

“I know how to make homemade ice cream and could make you a batch of your favorite flavor,” Milla offered.

Jane put a hand to her stomach. “That’s a kind offer, Milla, but not now. Maybe another time.”

“We’d better go,” James said. “Thanks for taking care of Eliot.”

“I’ll tell him we’re leaving,” Jane said and went to find her son.

Milla said, “You don’t have to thank us, James. He’s our grandson and we love him to pieces. He’s welcome here anytime. You know that.”

James stepped over and gave Milla a hug. “I’m so glad Pop found you after Mom died,” he said into her dusty blonde curls. He turned to his scowling father. “Try not to worry yet, Pop.”

Jackson grunted.

Jane returned. “Eliot’s got the package open and half the dinosaur built already.”

Jackson’s chair scraped the floor as he got up. “Better get in there.”

James put his hand on the doorknob. “Are we getting that big snowstorm the weatherman keeps warning us about, Pop?”

“I’ll let you know when the hound next door starts howlin’. Until then, nope,” Jackson said and disappeared into the other room.

“Is he okay?” James asked Milla in a low voice.

Milla walked over to them. “Cranky as ever, but I’m up to the challenge! We went to the doctor today and all Jackson’s reports were excellent, so we’re on track. Now, you two try to enjoy your dinner and take your time getting back. When you open the door, watch that Prince Charles doesn’t get out—oh, dear, I’m sorry,” she said, putting her hands to her cheeks. “Sometimes I forget he’s on the Rainbow Bridge playing with other dogs and waiting for me.”

Milla’s beloved dog, a corgi, had passed away in his sleep shortly after Jackson and Milla were married.

“No need to apologize.” Jane hugged her, then they left.

When James and Jane arrived at Mamma Mia’s, they found the supper club members already seated at a big round table covered with a pristine white tablecloth. Red napkins were folded at each place. Dozens of Italian flags hung from the ceiling and colorful paintings depicting scenes around Italy hung on the walls. A recording of Maria Callas singing from Madame Butterfly met his ears. James thought the décor had improved for the better since the last time he’d been at the restaurant.

The supper club members greeted James and Jane, and then James said, “I hope we’re not late. We had to drop Eliot off at his grandparents.” He looked around. “Where’s Lindy?”

Gillian, dressed in a purple cowl-necked sweater, sat next to Bennett. “It’s parent-teacher night at the high school. She and Luis had to be there.”

“Can we order soon?” Bennett asked. “Being angry at Murphy made me work up an appetite.”

James said nothing about the donut holes. Why should he guilt Bennett when he’d been eating cheese puffs all afternoon?

Lucy had changed from her deputy’s uniform and wore a fuzzy blue sweater that brought out her eyes. “I already know what I want. Hurry and decide, James, before the waitress comes back.” She smiled at Jane. “How are you feeling?”

Under the table, James gripped Jane’s hand. She looked up from the menu she’d been studying and said, “Fine, thank you, Lucy.” Returning her gaze to the menu, she said, “I think I’ll go with the chopped salad minus the house dressing. How about you, James?”

James looked at the description for the chopped salad. Crispy prosciutto, tomatoes, blue cheese, avocado, and house dressing. While it sounded good, James wanted something more substantial. “The Lighter Style Chicken Marsala is tempting. The word ‘light’ makes me think I’ll be in my diet zone.”

“My man,” Bennett said, “you read my mind.”

“Good choices,” Gillian commended the two. “For myself, I’ll have the stuffed mushrooms and some olives.”

The waitress came and took their order. Lucy asked for a bottle of Chianti for the table, saying she needed a glass of wine after the day she’d had. After the waitress left, Lucy passed around a copy of Southern Style. “In case anyone hasn’t seen it.”

“Are you kidding?” Bennett asked. “The whole town is buzzing, not only with the Best Undiscovered Small Town label we got, but also about the Hearth and Home reunion.”

“I’m sorry if townsfolk think that newcomers would be bad. I, for one, think new blood would be a good thing,” Gillian declared. “Maybe if the town grew, you’d feel more inclined to be affectionate in public, Bennett. And don’t forget that I asked you to consider shaving off your mustache.”

“More people mean more mail deliveries and more evil canines,” Bennett said. “I like Quincy’s Gap exactly as it is. Otherwise, I wouldn’t live here. And I’m not shaving my ’stache.”

“I talked to Lindy right before she started her parent-teacher meetings,” Lucy said into the awkward silence that had fallen. “She and Luis are concerned about the school infrastructure and whether it can handle being inundated with new children. Lindy said she likes having smaller classes and feels she has the time to help kids individually.”

“That’s an important point,” James said. “I don’t want Eliot going to an overcrowded school.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Let’s backtrack a minute to Murphy.”

“She lied to us,” Bennett snapped.

James nodded. “Yes, she did. I feel betrayed. Furthermore, I have a young photographer, Fern Dickenson, working at the library. She’s been taking photos of patrons and arranging them in a collage on one wall. I think Murphy saw that and distorted the idea into taking photos of us at work.”

Gillian looked aghast. “I can’t tolerate people who infringe on others’ creative endeavors.”

“I can’t tolerate Murphy period,” Bennett said. “I guarantee you she’s behind all this Best Undiscovered Small Town and it’s for her own gain, not the town’s.”

The waitress returned with a basket of breadsticks. Lucy picked one up and used it to point at Bennett. “Exactly. Sullie and I went to a security briefing for the Hearth and Home reunion festivities. Guess what I found out? The editor of Southern Style is Joel Foster. He played the youngest boy, Sam, on Hearth and Home, remember? So Joel Foster had a vested interest in the magazine’s cover featuring the cast members and promoting the reunion. And there’s more.”

“He had the cutest dimples,” Gillian interrupted.

“Still has them,” Lucy confirmed. “He was at the meeting. Joel’s got to be in his mid-forties now, but he doesn’t look a day over thirty. A real baby face. Listen to this: I asked him how the magazine had come up with Quincy’s Gap as one of their best undiscovered small towns.”

“What did he say?” James asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“First, he tried to tell me the towns were chosen by an independent panel consisting of travel experts. I didn’t believe him so I resorted to a little white lie. I told him I knew my friend Murphy Alistair had lobbied to get the town on the list. And get this,” Lucy said, making sure she had everyone’s full attention. “Joel chuckled and then he winked at me and said, ‘Good for Murphy’s business, that’s for sure.’ I wondered, which business? The newspaper? Her books? But Sheriff Huckabee called me away before I could question Joel further.”

“That’s what I want to know,” James said. “How is Murphy benefiting from what she’s done?”

Bennett nodded toward the entrance to the restaurant and lowered his voice. “Why don’t we ask her? She just walked in.”

As one, the supper club members turned and looked at the couple standing at the hostess station. Murphy appeared tall and sleek in a pair of skintight, black skinny jeans tucked into high-heeled black leather boots. Her bobbed hair had been colored a rich molasses brown and shone under the restaurant’s soft lights. She wore a form-fitting gold sweater that was cut very low and showed off her ample assets.

“Who’s that with her?” Gillian asked.

“We’re about to find out,” James said.

When Murphy spied their table, she made a beeline their way. Her companion, a tall, lanky man with brown hair, thin lips, and an angular face with a wide forehead, kept his hand on Murphy’s lower back. He wore a white button-down shirt, khaki pants, and a navy blazer and looked around with a proprietary air.

Reaching them, Murphy’s sharp gaze went directly to the copy of Southern Style on the table. “So you’ve seen the magazine. I hope you appreciate my surprise. All of you are famous!”

“Without our permission,” Bennett growled. “You said the pictures were for the Star.”

Murphy raised her index finger and shook it back and forth. “Now, now, Bennett, you signed a release form when I took your photo. Each of you did. I put the photos to better use.”

“Nobody read that fine print,” Bennett shot back.

“That’s not my fault. What’s wrong with you?” she demanded impatiently. “You all seem angry. I thought you’d be pleased to be ambassadors of our growing town, featured in a national magazine. Never mind. You’ll soon change your tune. Let me introduce you to the man who’s going to help Quincy’s Gap grow. Everyone, this is Ray Edwards, my partner in the new Honeybee Heaven Farms Corporation.”

“Partner?” James repeated.

Edwards looked at James from under thick eyebrows. “That’s right. I’m a real estate developer, and this hot property”—he glanced at Murphy and wound an arm around her waist—“and I are going to make you Quincy’s Gap folks rich.”

“Along with ourselves, right, stud muffin?” Murphy said, a glimmer in her eye.

“You betcha,” Ray Edwards confirmed.

Lucy glared at Murphy. “How are you going to do that exactly?”

“Exactly like this, Lucy dear,” Murphy replied, scorn lacing every word. “Ray bought Buford Lydell’s peach farm and the two thousand acres with it for development. I’m an investor and partner in the corporation. Quincy’s Gap and the whole area will benefit from our foresight.”

“But Lydell’s honey and peach farm has been a popular attraction for as long as I can remember,” James protested. “During the peach season in summer, Lydell has hayrides set up, a petting zoo, and a small fair. I go every year.”

Gillian said, “I have a jar of Lydell’s honey in my kitchen cabinet right now. Locally sourced honey is the best.”

Edwards scoffed. “Quaint, but we won’t be doing anything so small-town. My plan is to turn the farmland into a massive planned community of two apartment complexes, condos, and houses around a new man-made lake, and a shopping center. We’ll have no problem selling to people from all over the country. Current businesses will thrive, which will attract more companies, bring in new restaurants.” Again, he looked around Mamma Mia’s with an appraising eye. “This place might want to open another location in our shopping center. They better hurry if they do. All of Quincy’s Gap’s properties and land are about to skyrocket in price, especially now that Murphy got Joel Foster to feature the town in Southern Style.”

James contemplated Murphy. “All of this is about money. You don’t care about Quincy’s Gap. You only care about lining your pockets! Aren’t you rich enough from your book sales?” He turned the magazine over so that Murphy’s new cover was faceup. The supper club members looked from the image of the book’s cover to Murphy with disgusted faces.

Murphy adopted a wounded expression. “When my last book came out, it doubled tourism and brought money to shopkeepers and places like Dolly’s Diner. I’ve done nothing that hasn’t made Quincy’s Gap better.”

“And if you happen to make enough money to buy the whole town with this latest scheme,” Bennett said, “that will be to our benefit too, right, Murphy?”

James saw a faint rise in Murphy’s color. Maybe it was Murphy’s plan to own as much of Quincy’s Gap as she could!

“A big increase in population will bring crime with it,” Lucy said. “Have you thought of that?”

Murphy’s gaze darted over to Lucy and sharpened. “You should be happy to have your photo in a national magazine, Lucy. Maybe some man will find you attractive and get in touch. With the TV show reunion coming up, you’re bound to lose Sullie to a pretty girl from Hollywood. Or, with his movie star looks, he’ll dump you and move out to Los Angeles to pursue a film career.”

Lucy stood. “Why you—”

Gillian put a restraining hand on her arm.

Lucy sat down but scowled at Murphy.

Murphy ignored them. “Jane, I almost didn’t notice you.”

Jane didn’t lower herself to respond. Before James could say anything, his attention was captured as a distinguished-looking gray-haired couple entered the restaurant. James recognized Arthur Pritchard IV, the owner of Pritchard Stables. The Pritchard family had been breeding racehorses since the 1930s, the business passed down within the family through the years.

Unfortunately, Ray Edwards recognized Mr. Pritchard as well. “Mr. Pritchard, sir,” he called.

The older man, dressed in a handsome tweed suit, motioned for his elegant wife to continue to their table. He strode over to stand in front of the developer.

Ray Edwards held out his hand. “Have you thought about my proposal?”

Mr. Pritchard ignored Edwards’s proffered hand. “Have you thought about mine?”

Edwards rocked back on his heels. “Now, Mr. Pritchard, you don’t want to be the one holding back progress, do you? Preventing a further expansion of this great town? I made you a more than fair offer for your land since it abuts the peach farm and lands I now own.”

Pritchard stood unusually still. James thought the man was barely containing his fury.

“I told you, I’m not selling, and I made you a good offer for Lydell’s farm.”

Edwards chuckled. “Mr. Pritchard, I understand that your land has been in your family a long while, but there’s a time and season for everything. This is the time to retire, let your land become the new home of many people instead of one family. Accept my offer, take your wife and the money, and go somewhere warm.”

“Never,” Pritchard declared. “Not only is it my nephew’s inheritance, but people around the United States rely on me when it comes to purchasing horses fit for racing. Racehorses are high-strung animals. A year or more of construction noise from what you’re planning will be detrimental to them in the extreme.”

Edwards shrugged. “You’ll have to buy ’em earplugs then. You can’t stop progress.”

Pritchard’s face reddened. “It’s not progress, it is greed! I’ve warned you. I will not be thwarted in this matter. You have my word on that.”

“You can’t stop me.” Edwards took a step toward the older man. “Like I said,” he sneered. “Go someplace warm. Like Hades.”

Mr. Pritchard stalked back to his table.

Murphy took Ray Edwards’s arm. “Come on, stud muffin, I brought a bottle of Dom Perignon over here earlier and had them chill it for us. There’s no sense in spending another minute with people who don’t know how lucky they are.” The two walked away.

Bennett looked at their retreating backs and said, “Murphy’s so cold, if she wanted to chill the champagne, she could have just put the bottle in her mouth.”

“I can think of another place she could put it,” Lucy fumed, sitting down.

The waitress brought their food, but although the fare was tasty, after they’d all eaten, James thought no one had really enjoyed their meal. An atmosphere of apprehension had settled over the supper club members.

James couldn’t shake a feeling of dread.