Friends Like Us, page 10
“Oh, I heard about you.” Jill perked up, remembering Bree’s excitement last night. “Goodness, I hope you are ready for a stampede,” she said with a grin. “Because this town has never had a bookshop and locals love to spend our long winters curled up with a juicy read.”
“Cha-ching, cha-ching!” A handsome man in a hipster T-shirt with a carefully groomed, blond goatee strode in, slapping Ashley on the rump. “Love it, ladies! Tell me more about all this money we’re going to be making.”
Jill and Linda exchanged a troubled look as Ashley suddenly became interested in studying her pale pink pedicure peeking out from her Birkenstock sandals.
“I’m Jack. Jack Wood. Ashley’s better half,” he said, sticking out a hand.
Hopefully karma slapped this jerk in the face before she had too.
“Jill Kelly,” she said reluctantly. His hand was warm and sweaty and gave her the heebie-jeebies.
“We’re coming up from Burlington,” he continued in his booming voice. “My brother Kent is a big-time developer and has been doing research, looking for an area in New England that could be classified as a ‘diamond in the rough.’ Cranberry Cove has the kind of growth potential that gets my motor going.”
“What my husband means,” Ashely said softly, “is that Cranberry Cove is still quiet, charming, the kind of place where all the locals seem to have created a real sense of community.”
“Yes, and that’s the way we like it,” Linda added.
“Of course,” Ashley hastily agreed. “We want to add to the place’s character, not change it.”
“Speak for yourself,” a muscular man who was an identical copy of Jack—except with dark brown hair—swaggered in. And “swaggered” was the exact right word for it. He entered Chickadee wearing head-to-toe branded outdoor clothing, sunglasses propped up on his forehead, and an attitude like he was honoring them all with his presence.
“You guys don’t know what you’ve got here in this town. Easy commuting distance to Boston. A fantastic bay with access to quality local seafood. It’s just waiting for someone to see the potential.”
“No offense, but we locals sort of like it just how it is,” Jill ventured. “It’s great for our small businesses to get a tourist boom in summer and then the rest of the year we mostly have the place to ourselves.”
He gave a dismissive snort. “That’s nothing but lost revenue.”
“This is Jack’s brother, Kent,” Ashley offered.
Jill wished they would leave.
It didn’t seem fair that she was finally having a long-overdue moment of reconnection with Linda only to have it interrupted by two out-of-town asshats who were utterly full of themselves.
On the edge of her peripheral vision, Linda gave a sudden jerk. Jill glanced over but was unable to read whatever mental message her mom was shooting her with that intense gaze.
“Anyway, I’d love to connect more,” Ashley said haltingly. “Coffee sometime? Wine on the beach?”
“Sounds fabulous. We love it all. Pie too.”
“It’s going to be dangerous working so close to Hester’s.” Ashley sighed, throwing up her hands. “I’m going to have a problem controlling myself around all that buttery goodness.”
“Well, you better learn to,” Jack said twisting half his mouth into an amused leer. “You don’t want to turn into your mother.” He mimed a curvaceous silhouette before his brother Kent high-fived him. Ashley looked like she wanted to disappear beneath the floorboards.
That was it. Jill officially hated these men. “We all love Renee’s pies,” she said staunchly. “And while you might not be from around here, let me give you a hot tip. The women of Cranberry Cove don’t take kindly to body-shamers.”
“Or snoopers,” Linda piped up randomly.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Jack held up his hands. “No harm, no foul. I was just joking around with my wife. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot. We’re all going to be working in each other’s pockets.”
Jill glanced between his smarmy face and Ashley’s distraught expression and decided it was best to leave it there. She’d said her piece and she didn’t want to cause that poor woman any more discomfort.
“I really should get back to work. I’m trying to open up next week and have a lot to do.”
“What sort of venture is this going to be?” Kent asked.
She didn’t like the calculating way his gaze slid over her shop.
“It’s an art boutique. I relocated from Main Street after the big hurricane a few months ago and sell paintings and artisan wares from Maine artists and craftspeople.”
“I like it,” Kent said, sidling closer, bringing with him the intense scent of some type of overtly masculine cologne. “You ever think of opening up a second location, say a hotel gift shop?”
Jill frowned, practically gagging on the sandalwood and musk, as it took her a few seconds to process his question. “I—I don’t know. No one has ever asked me about that.”
“Well, let’s just say that I plan on getting into the hotel business here in town. So maybe you and I should have a talk.”
“He wants Grandview Inn,” Jack shared. “That old dump is sitting on prime real estate. If he razes the place it could be a game changer for Cranberry Cove. An ultramodern luxury spa retreat.”
“A steel-and-glass tower that is a futuristic rendering of a lighthouse, but instead of a lamp, picture an LED reflector that radiates a rainbow of color that can be seen up to a mile from the coast.”
“That sounds like an amusement park, not a hotel,” Jill said, appalled. Was he on some sort of substance? Because this sounded like the worst idea she’d heard of since cheese in a can.
“Exactly.” Kent looked smug, not picking up on her disgust. In fact, the Wood brothers didn’t seem to notice anything except their own internalized sense of awesome. “So keep an eye out for a message from me. We can do business.”
And with that, he literally turned on his heel and swaggered out.
“Is he serious?” she asked, gaping at his brother. “A modern hotel designed like a futuristic lighthouse?”
“I know.” Kent seemed oblivious to her horror. “He is a genius when it comes to real estate. Anyway, I gotta run too, need to grease some palms, but I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other here.”
Ashley lingered, her gaze darting to the far corners of the room. “I’m sorry about all of that. Jack has a real inferiority complex when it comes to his big brother. He’s jealous of Kent’s financial success although he’d never say so.” She fiddled with her wedding ring. “I know Jack can come on strong, but once you get to know him he’s a good guy.”
“I see.” Jill didn’t want to argue with the woman who was clearly stuck in a crappy relationship. Jill’s heart hurt for Ashley seeing what a tool her husband was. Simon had been such a lovely, supportive husband she forgot sometimes that not all men were like that.
“I…I…really would like to hang out sometime,” Ashley continued. “We’re moving here permanently next week. I’ve never lived outside of Vermont and could use some community. All this change is pretty overwhelming. Plus I’ve always been a mountain girl. I’m not used to the sea.”
“Of course.” Jill stepped forward and took her hand. “Also my best friend Bree and I want to start a book club, wine club, pie-eating club. You can be a founding member.”
Ashley’s laugh was surprisingly infectious. “Sign me up.”
No sooner had she left the room than Linda huffed out a disgusted breath. “Kent Wood. That’s the suspicious man I saw prowling around my house taking pictures,” Linda said. “The one with the dark aura.”
Jill turned around. “Well, heck. Turns out you called that one right.”
“He can’t do it though—right? What he was describing sounded like something from the Las Vegas strip.”
“I don’t know.” Jill’s stomach lurched as she looked around her shop. The Old Red Mill was steeped in Cranberry Cove history. Main Street was peppered with brick-front buildings that were erected in the nineteenth century. Now some out-of-town joker plotted to erect a monstrosity on the site of the beloved Grandview Inn? She wanted to believe it was an impossible plot, but who knew what money could buy? Indignation flowed through her as she spun to face Linda. “All I know is this—we won’t let those guys win.”
Chapter Thirteen
Bree texted Chance to cancel plans right after Jill left from their impromptu sleepover.
Bree: Hey! About Portland. I have to bow out, sorry. Something came up.
He responded immediately.
Well—not exactly a response. Just those maddening three dots that meant someone was hard at work composing a message. She watched it for a good two minutes before it felt ridiculous.
What on earth was he sending her back. A sonnet? A five-paragraph essay?
When her phone finally buzzed she forced herself to count to five before diving to pick it up.
Chance: Okay! No worries.
Wait—that was it? She shoved the phone in her purse with a huff and headed out the front door. If it took him two minutes to write three words then she had clearly made the right choice. She didn’t want to waste time with a guy who couldn’t string two coherent sentences together.
Even more proof that she was making the correct decision in letting that situation fizzle out.
She drove to the Cranberry Cove community center where the Second Chance Friends adoptions were being held. As she walked through the front door, she was greeted by two friendly volunteers in yellow vests embroidered with the nonprofit’s logo.
“Good morning! Are you here to make a furry friend?” the older woman with the chic white bob asked, handing her a clipboard to register her information.
“I hope so,” Bree answered. “I’m looking for a lapdog, well behaved and mellow.”
“We have a few that fit that bill just perfectly,” the other volunteer said, “along the far left wall. You are welcome to take a few dog treats to help with introductions.”
As Jill grabbed a few mini Milk-Bones, her gaze sought out the adoptable small dogs: Chihuahuas, a dachshund mix, a bulldog mutt with a friendly face. He noticed her watching and gave a few very measured tail wags. After that he curled up in a tight little ball, gave an adorable yawn and promptly appeared to fall asleep.
Oh, yes. Mr. Bulldog seemed like the perfect candidate, a dog that ticked all the needs on her list.
“Hello!” She started walking toward him. “Hey little fell— Ahhhhhhhhhh!” One minute she was on her feet, the next she was flat on her back being face-slurped from chin to forehead by a very large, very enthusiastic golden retriever.
“Finn! No! Down boy, down. Sit! Sit!”
Bree’s whole world distilled to a hot tongue and breath that smelled vaguely of meat sticks.
She pushed at that thick soft fur and fought her way to sitting.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” said a frazzled-looking volunteer. “Finn is uh…a big personality.”
“He’s a big everything,” Bree said breathlessly as she stood back up and took a better look at her assailant.
Finn was a giant golden retriever, more red than gold, with happy black eyes and a tail that looked as if it could take out everything in a three-foot radius.
“My goodness.” Bree wiped her face. “What’s this fellow’s story?”
“Poor boy. His owner died in a car accident up in Kennebec County. His owner’s parents are too elderly to take care of him and the sister has four kids.”
Simon’s friendly, handsome face flashed in Bree’s mind’s eye. “How terrible. Finn looks like a happy boy.”
“Oh yes, he has a lot of love to give. He’s just anxious. Pets can sense things, you know. He senses his owner is gone and is confused and sad. He acts out but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad dog. He just needs an understanding owner. Are you looking to give one of our animals a forever home today?”
The volunteer’s wheedling tone was unmistakable. She wanted to make a love match between Bree and Finn. But no dice. He was adorable, but she wasn’t looking for a big dog. She meant to bring home a lapdog.
“He’s much bigger than I’m looking for, sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay. I’ve been hearing that all day. You need to go with your gut.”
“Exactly,” Bree said, glancing back at the sleeping French bulldog. That’s the kind of dog she pictured owning. Not a wriggly ninety-pound mass of hair and tongue.
That would be a crazy choice. It didn’t make any sense.
She glanced back at the volunteer who was leading Finn over to an area populated by other big dogs. He was resisting her efforts, digging his heels in and glancing back at Bree with a pleading expression that melted her reserves.
“Damn it,” she muttered with a chuckle. “Excuse me? Can I spend some time with Finn?”
The volunteer spun around quickly “Are you sure?”
Heck no.
“He’s nothing like I pictured coming here…and yet…” Bree waved her hand in a helpless gesture.
The volunteer clicked her tongue in understanding. “Sometimes the dog chooses you, not the other way around.”
“Can I take him outside?”
“Of course! But if you want him, you’ll need to go up to the front desk and fill out all the requisite forms.”
She took Finn out into the green lawn outside of the community center. He followed her obediently to the big flower display in the middle, the one that surrounded the town fountain. “So…uh…hello?”
She’d never owned a dog. Her dad had been allergic so all she’d ever owned growing up was a goldfish named Gill that she’d won at the county fair by throwing a ping-pong ball in a bowl.
Finn stared up at her, mouth open, panting slightly.
“You are way bigger than I was looking for. Maybe you’d be happier living out on a big farm? Somewhere where you could chase chickens and barnyard cats and throw your weight around?”
Finn curled up and rested his head on her foot.
Okay, she could get behind that attitude.
“You are cute,” she admitted ruefully, scratching him behind the ears. “I’ll give you that. You just aren’t what I expected.”
Finn whined.
She sat down at the edge of the fountain, dipping her fingers into the water, the pennies reflecting in the sunlight.
“Maybe this is par for the course,” she murmured, half to herself and half to Finn. “Everything I try since I’ve started the anti–bucket list hasn’t gone quite to plan, but that also doesn’t mean that it’s been wrong. Maybe the whole point of trying something new is to end up in a place you never knew you needed to go.”
Finn settled against her leg, resting his chin on her knee and gazing up in open adoration.
“Such a flirt.” She huffed a small laugh and took out her phone, snapping a photo of his handsome face and texting it to Jill.
Bree: Meet Finn. Not quite a lapdog, but I think he is adopting me…not vice versa
Jill responded immediately.
Jill: Yes! I love him. Welcome to the gang, Finny Boy. Also once you get settled with your handsome new addition give me a call. I had a REALLY weird morning—met a guy who wants to buy Grandview Inn. Not good. Need to discuss.
Bree lowered her phone as her core temperature dropped. Grandview Inn had a potential buyer already?
Her Grandview Inn?
She reread Jill’s cryptic message as if every word mattered, because suddenly it felt like it did. She hadn’t realized how much her fanciful little pipe dream of running that historic, old inn had lit a fire inside of her until Jill indicated it might already be gone.
But the buyer only wants the inn. That doesn’t mean they have it.
Finn gave a low growl as if reading her thoughts.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She stood up and started walking back to the community center. She never pictured herself owning a great big dog and here she was ready to sign the adoption papers. She’d never pictured herself actually having the guts to own her dream hotel, but maybe it was time to fight for that too.
Maybe all these little actions she’d been taking since getting the all clear from the medical clinic weren’t an anti-anything…maybe they were all pro-Bree. What if everything she ever wanted was waiting for her to just have the courage to reach out and take it?
Chapter Fourteen
Thanks for coming to this emergency meeting,” Jill announced to the group assembled around a corner table at Hester’s. “I know I gave you zero notice, but this is an important subject for all of us. For the community. For the very heart of Cranberry Cove as we know it.”
Bree, Renee, Essie, and Sadie frowned from one side of the big farmhouse table while she and Linda sat opposite. Tansy, Renee’s daughter, perched on a stool at the end of the table.
“No problem, but you’re kind of freaking me out here. What’s all this about?” Concern shaded Renee’s eyes. She was never one to love surprises.
Jill exchanged a quick, troubled glance with Linda.
“Go on, honey,” her mom prompted, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Tell them about what happened.”
Surprisingly, the brief gesture felt reassuring—anchoring even—which was a welcome sensation after the frantic hours she’d spent since the troubling encounter with the Wood brothers.
She took a deep breath. “Grandview Inn is coming up for sale.”
Essie and Bree both exclaimed, “I know,” at the same time before glancing at each other with rueful smiles.
Jill’s heart tightened. “So you know a guy named Kent Wood?”
“Awful Kent?” Essie paled, her skin going a faint hue of green. “Ugh, he’s the worst. He’s been annoying me ever since he came into town a few weeks ago. I know he’s been asking about the inn but it’s hard to tell if he’s serious or just wasting time playing at big-shot dealmaker.”
