Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
A sinking feeling hits me as I grasp what I’m hearing. Todd sold his building. Everything Dieter left him—the butcher shop, the other storefronts, all the apartments above, the sizable plot of land …
To Garrett?
Who the hell is this guy?
“In any case, I wouldn’t hold your breath with Ned. He’s old school. You’ll need a miracle or a body bag to get him to sell that place to a developer.”
My jaw drops.
“I guess we’ll see. I just handed him an offer in writing with some decent zeros on it. I don’t think it’ll take too long for him to figure out what’s best. Hopefully, that cute employee of his can help me convince him of that.”
“Who, Justine?”
My ears burn, hearing my name.
“Yeah. I was hoping to talk to her today, but she wasn’t there. She left her number, though. I’ll work on her until she helps me seal the deal.”
“Work on me?” The words explode from my mouth as I storm around the corner.
Both men stand still, shock filling their faces.
“Is that what you were doing the other day? Working on me?”
Todd’s eyes flicker from me to the clock to the Crock-Pot. “Justine. You’re early.”
“Actually, I think I’m right on time today, Todd,” I snap, spitting his name out like it tastes bitter. “So, Jamaica, huh? What, were you celebrating something down there? A recent cash windfall?” He’s wearing his usual Tommy Bahama button-down; today’s version is a black-on-gray tropical print. It might be the only brand of shirt he owns, and it has become a running joke between us. But today, nothing is funny.
His tanned face pales. “Let me explain—”
“Not interested. And you …” I scowl at Garrett, who’s dressed in jeans and a Patagonia jacket, but no less attractive, save for the serpent’s tail I missed before. “What, you thought you could come into Murphy’s, woo me, and then use me to get Ned to sell his place to you?”
He flinches. Good. At least he’s uncomfortable having his slimy plan thrown back in his face.
“What’s wrong? Not so flirtatious today, are we?”
“It’s not like that—”
“Bullshit. I heard what you said, and it’s exactly like that! And a body bag? Really?” I stab the air with my finger, aiming my anger at Todd again. “You should be ashamed of yourself, talking about him like that. He’s been like family to you since you were in diapers.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, but you know it’s true,” he mutters, his sheepish look oozing regret.
“What I know is that you went and sold your family’s building to some developer”—I glare at Garrett—“and then thought you could hide it from the rest of us. You spineless coward.”
“Us?” Todd throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “You just moved here! You don’t even pay your friend rent!”
“So what?” I’ve told Todd far too much about myself during our daily soup and gossip sessions.
Garrett takes a step forward. “If you’ll just let me explain—”
“Explain what? How you’re going to rip down one of the oldest parts of Polson Falls? You think the town’s going to let you do that?”
“The town council is eager for this development—”
“But the people of Polson Falls aren’t.” Not all of them.
Garrett sighs, and when he speaks again, his tone is calm and cool and nothing like the playful version from the other day. “I’m sorry to say, there’s nothing those people can do. The deal is done, and this is happening whether they like it or not.”
“We’ll see about that.” I fold my arms. “And you’re not getting Murphy’s.” As if I have any control over it.
Garrett slides his hands into his pockets. “Murphy’s would have been a nice-to-have, but I don’t need it for this project.” His gaze settles on my nose.
I suck in a sharp breath, suddenly remembering why I was avoiding a run-in with Garrett in the first place. “This isn’t over.” I spin on my heel and rush out before he can see my cheeks flame. “You’ll never get away with this!”
The sidewalk in front of Murphy’s needs more salt. I slip and slide, barely avoiding a car using the laneway between our buildings as I charge toward the front door, plowing through it with a huff.
Thankfully, the store is empty of customers.
Ned leans against the counter, wearing his reading glasses. “Oh, Justine. He came and left. I forgot to text you,” he mumbles, focused on the page within his wrinkled hands. “I gave him your number like you asked. He said he’d call.”
“If he has a death wish.” I march forward. “Is that the offer to buy Murphy’s?”
“It is.” He frowns. “You knew he was going to do this?”
“No, I didn’t.” I thought it was a joke. I sure as hell didn’t know who he was. I still don’t.
“It’s a decent offer.” He pauses. “Harrington … where have I heard that before?”