Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Henry frowned. “You know I can get a coffee over at Stella’s booth.”
“And I can get fired for passing out Zane’s precious coffee for nothing. It’s a special blend he swears mixes with the whiskey and makes some kind of magic.” He knew his boss. Zane was cool, but he had his rules and very specific ideas about how to make a drink at Trio.
“I seriously doubt Zane will fire you,” Henry replied.
“And I doubt all you want is a cup of coffee.” If there was one thing he’d learned over the course of his months in Bliss it was that Henry Flanders never ordered a cup of coffee without asking about how that fucker had been sourced. If Henry was willing to risk imbibing a non-sustainably sourced cup of joe, he was hunting far bigger game.
Henry was a blandly attractive man in his forties who—if rumors were true—used to be a spy. According to Jake, this guy—who wore Birkenstocks with socks sometimes—had trained Jake’s boss, who was the single scariest man in the world. “All right. I was hoping to get you to talk to Hale for me.”
Yep. There it was. This was about Hale’s new job. “Why when you can talk to him yourself?”
“Hale is surprisingly good at avoiding me,” Henry said with a huff. “And ignoring me. He can ignore Nell. Even when she’s chanting.”
That was his best friend. Hale was a stoic grump who could sleep with his eyes open through almost anything. Nothing fazed Hale when he decided not to let it. Van had met actual Tibetan monks who couldn’t meditate the way Hale could when he didn’t want to listen to someone. Of course Hale wouldn’t call it meditation. He called it blanking out his brain.
Which was meditation, but Van wasn’t going to argue with a master of the craft.
“I’m sure he’s not avoiding you.” Hale was totally avoiding the Flanders family. Even their baby seemed slightly judgmental. He’d seen the kid get a look when he missed the recycling bin. “He’s been busy.”
“Yes. That’s what I want to talk to him about. I need to talk to him about some of the plans he has for the renovation of the old Jones homestead.”
“You mean the cabin Ian Taggart bought.” He did not understand why a relatively small three-bedroom cabin would be considered a homestead. It apparently was also considered some kind of landmark. “The one you should have told him was haunted.”
Henry’s eyes rolled ever so slightly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Van didn’t think he was being ridiculous. “Sometimes at night I swear I can hear the sound of something creaking. Like a swing or something. And there are moans.”
Henry coughed suddenly, putting his hand to cover his mouth. “I’m sure it’s nothing more than normal settling. Look, haunted or not, I’m worried about Ian’s construction material choices. I understand the security upgrades on the doors and windows. Given Ian’s business, it’s for the best. But the interior is a completely different thing. I think Hale should gently guide him toward more earth-friendly materials. Ian’s a friend of mine. I was his mentor.”
“Did you teach him how to look at a man in a way that makes the man feel like he’s the dumbest dumbass in the history of time?” Because the man his brother called Big Tag was good at that. Van was fairly certain the man didn’t know his name since he constantly called him “Dean’s Little Brother who can’t even make a lemon tart.”
The man liked lemon tarts. He liked lemon everything except the one thing Van could make. When he’d offered the dude a lemon drop martini, Taggart had stared at him like he was an idiot and went back to drinking his super-old Scotch.
“Oh, I think he was born with that ability,” Henry affirmed. “But he wasn’t born with the willingness to erase his carbon footprint. I heard a rumor that Hale was planning to expand the main bedroom’s bathroom and install a shower with multiple heads.”
It appeared Henry was still good at gathering intelligence. “Yes, apparently Mr. Taggart wants to get hit from all sides with super-hot water. He also said something about wanting to be able to basically hose down his kids with it.”
“Has Ian considered a low-flow single showerhead?” Henry asked.
Henry was getting that “I’m going to lecture you” look on his face. Also, he’d seen those kids. He wasn’t sure anything low flow could get those kids clean. “This feels like a you and Big Tag talk. I think Hale’s just trying to do his job. This is a big job for him. It’s pretty much what he’s always wanted to do. He gets to renovate a whole house. With what they’re paying him, he can buy something else and reno that, too.”
Henry’s jaw dropped. “He’s planning to do this all over the valley?”