Читать книгу That Summer at the Shore - Callie Endicott - Страница 11
ОглавлениеCHAPTER THREE
THE SURVEYORS ARRIVED with their gear the following Thursday morning. Jamie had a steady stream of customers the first hour, and soon the surveyors drifted over. They bought three baskets of strawberries and ate them on the spot.
During a quiet pause in business, Jamie settled in her Adirondack chair and took in the familiar scents and sounds. Her grandfather’s heavy wood chair had dated to the 1950s. Instead of dragging it from the house, she’d found two made from recycled plastic. It would be too weird to use his, anyhow. Even as a kid she’d never sat in his chair—it belonged to Granddad and nobody else.
The day was unusually warm. This part of the coast didn’t get much hot weather; it was moderate most of the year.
Mmm.
Jamie yawned.
Ocean waves crashed on the shore and the sea shimmered brilliant blue with streaks of greenish-aqua. It was no wonder that Granddad had loved this place; it was peaceful and wholesome. The sunshine was blissfully soothing, and she could always sketch a pendant or bracelet design if inspiration came to her.
Crunching gravel nudged her eyelids open. The approaching vehicle was a black van with Mar Vista in gold lettering on the door and Denning Enterprises in smaller print below. The logo was striking—a lone cypress and soaring seabird.
Jamie stretched, ready to rev up her brain for another verbal bout, but neither of the men who climbed from the van was Zack Denning. The driver seemed genial and innocuous, and his passenger was thin and pale, with a narrow scar above his left eye. He walked with a limp and hugged his arm to his rib cage as if it hurt. She recognized the cautious posture too well.
“Hello,” the driver called. “I’m Gordon Chen. Your sign says you carry certified organic fruits and vegetables.”
“Yup. More and more people are eating pesticide-free.”
“That’s great. I’m looking for someone to supply the restaurants at Mar Vista. Dealing directly with growers is time-consuming, so I was hoping we could come to an agreement that would benefit both of us.”
Jamie shifted in her chair, clinging to her tranquillity. “Let me guess. You’ll be able to buy all of my produce, so there won’t be any reason for me to keep the stand going.”
Gordon frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean. I don’t want you to quit your business. Quite the contrary.”
“In that case, you’d better get oxygen for your boss. He’ll be gasping for air when he hears the news.”
The second man laughed and Jamie was struck by the difference it made in his appearance.
“Morning,” he said. “My name is Brad Denning. I hitched a ride to come and meet you.”
She extended her left hand to shake so he wouldn’t have to move his injured side.
“I’m missing something here, but it isn’t important. Are you interested?” Gordon asked. “I’m choosy about what goes into my kitchen and want someone equally careful to coordinate my produce.” He must be the chef, which accounted for his air of confidence.
“I’m interested,” she assured him. “And I can work with the organic farmers to get you a wider variety than what I stock. The biggest problem is that I don’t have a large enough truck, and there’s no point in getting one for a single customer.”
Gordon shrugged. He seemed unusually easygoing for a high-priced chef. “I can send a guy to get my orders. It’s still an improvement over having a dozen sources delivering throughout the day.”
“The other problem is that for now the stand is only open for the summer and I may not want to do it year-round,” Jamie explained. “At present I’m a one-person operation.”
“Let’s have a trial period and see where we go from there,” Gordon suggested.
They discussed the arrangements, and he took her email address so he could send his orders electronically. As they were leaving, Brad Denning gave Jamie a friendly smile. He was nothing like his obnoxious brother.
“It was good meeting you, Jamie.”
“Likewise,” she said, yet she couldn’t help sniggering once she was alone.
She was now a Mar Vista supplier.
How much oxygen was Zack Denning going to need?
* * *
BRAD WINCED AS the van bounced entering the public road. His fist went instinctively to his aching thigh, but he dragged it away. They’d told him the pain would ease; his shattered bones would strengthen and wasted muscle rebuild. In the meanwhile he was treating it as survival training...one step, one minute at a time.
“Nice lady,” Gordon commented. “What was that stuff about her closing?”
Brad hesitated. He didn’t think Zack would relish the staff gossiping about his disagreement with Jamie Conroe. His brother had changed; in some ways he was nearly a stranger.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Brad said as Gordon parked close to the kitchen. “Ms. Conroe seems to have a unique sense of humor.”
“Yes. It should be entertaining getting to know her.” Gordon hung the keys on the central message board and returned to his kitchen. He was a nice guy and hadn’t minded Brad dropping by one afternoon to scrounge a snack. Gordon had prepared the sandwich himself—a masterpiece of roast beef, cheese, sautéed mushrooms and spicy peppers piled on fresh-made sourdough bread. Brad had eaten it with Gordon clucking over him like a brood hen.
Since then the chef had pressed a number of dishes on him that he claimed were experiments, but were obviously intended to tease the appetite of a recuperating patient.
Clearly, if Gordon hadn’t become a chef, he would have been a mother.
Brad set out to walk the perimeter of the resort, willing his body to cooperate. At the hospital they’d dictated the amount of exercise he should get, but he’d outmaneuvered them by covertly visiting the rehab center in the middle of the night and using the equipment on his own.
Lord.
It was tough accepting that his old life might be over...a life in which he’d served his country. People didn’t always understand. It wasn’t the battles or adrenaline he missed; it was doing something for folks he’d never even met.
“Hi there,” Rick Lopez called as Brad passed his open office window. “I saw you on the course. Are you taking up golf?”
“There’s no chance in hell. Knocking a ball around a manicured lawn isn’t my style.”
Rick chuckled. “I beg your pardon.... Manicuring those greens is hard labor. But you’re right—it isn’t for everyone. Between you and me, I don’t believe our fearless boss loves the sport, either. Zack is so grim practicing his swing. I swear he only plays so he can converse with the guests and join with a group in unavoidable circumstances.”
Naturally.
Everything Zack did nowadays was to support his dream. The resort was a marvel, but it wasn’t an atmosphere where Brad felt comfortable.
Nonetheless, Mar Vista and its ritzy counterparts were Zack’s world.
And Kim Wheeler’s.
Kim.... Brad rubbed his jaw. He’d enjoyed seeing her, however briefly. She was more polished and beautiful than ever, wearing discreet evidence of her professional achievements. He imagined those diamond studs on her ears would cost three or four months of a soldier’s pay.
* * *
ON TUESDAY AFTER the Memorial Day weekend, Zack read the surveyor’s report in disbelief. It plainly indicated that the real estate he’d purchased didn’t include the section where Jamie Conroe had her fruit stand. He owned the beach north of it, not the entire waterfront.
“Hey, Zack. Snap out of it,” Kim commanded over the video-teleconference connection.
“How did this happen?”
“There were a number of parcels involved, Zack. You were preoccupied with construction and made the deal in a hurry.”
“In other words, I should have had your office check it.”
Her lips curved in humor. “Actually, few buyers have a lawyer review a real-estate transaction until closing, although large companies usually bring in an attorney from the beginning. I didn’t check your other purchases and they were successful.”
That was six years ago, when the land had cost less and he’d bought it on speculation. Had success with his first batch of acquisitions led him to a hasty decision with the second?
“What are my options?” Zack asked.
“You might have a chance in court if you think the seller was deliberately misleading.”
“I don’t know if Jenkins did anything wrong, and I doubt we could prove dishonest intent if he did. It would be a nasty fight. People liked the old guy, odd as he was.”
Kim nodded. “And they’ll be protective of his granddaughter. You’re a smart businessman, Zack. Negative relations with the local community is extremely costly in the long run. My suggestion is to work it out with Ms. Conroe. She isn’t a bad sort.”
Zack pictured Jamie’s stubborn face. “She doesn’t like me.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Don’t rub it in. I’ll have the real-estate agent contact her with an offer.”
Kim tapped her pencil on the desk thoughtfully, and a corner of his mind appreciated the technology for doing video teleconferences. It wasn’t face-to-face communication, but closer to it than the phone. This way he could read her body language and get a feel for what she was thinking.
“I have a suspicion Ms. Conroe won’t sell,” Kim said. “There’s a sentimental attachment. Other solutions are possible, though. For example, she makes jewelry. How about featuring her pieces in the gift shop? In return, she may relocate the stand.”
He stared at the computer monitor, appalled. “For Pete’s sake, I can’t put cheap bits of beadwork on sale here. We carry top-end items like art glass and original sculptures.”
“Look for an accommodation.” Kim sounded exasperated. “Talk to her. She might compromise if she realizes the potential impact on your operations.”
Zack glanced at the map on which the property lines had been clearly drawn. “You’ve got higher hopes for her goodwill than I do.”
“If nothing else, you have your contingency plan to build around her and border it with a tall hedge or stone wall. Your guests would still have a private beach since you aren’t required to provide access between her two sections. She has to use the public road the same as everyone.”
Zack groaned. He’d gotten used to the idea of having all that lovely, undeveloped land to himself. It was so much less complicated.
“Make nice,” Kim ordered. “You do it with difficult patrons. Swallow your pride and pretend she’s a VIP client staying in your King Louis suite.”
“I don’t have a King Louis suite. What’s your schedule over the next couple days? Unless you ticked her off, I’m sure she’ll listen to you more than me.”
“We got along fine.” Kim scanned her iPhone, and then shook her head. “I can’t get away for a while. Anyhow, you should be the one to take care of this. Like it or not, she’s your neighbor and you’ve got to mend fences. Begin with an apology for trying to get her arrested. It wasn’t your finest moment.”
He groaned again.
“I have to go, Zack. I’ve got a meeting with the mayor in twenty minutes.”
“The mayor? Show-off.”
She laughed as he disconnected.
Zack was convinced Kim was getting malicious amusement from the situation. He grasped his coffee and sucked down half the cup, wishing it had a dash of whiskey. Aside from his emergency fund, he’d sunk every penny into Mar Vista, along with the assets his parents had insisted on investing. If the resort didn’t turn a profit and his loan defaulted, could he at least salvage their money?
Hell. There was no reason to assume the worst; he’d deal with it. And in the meantime, he would ensure everything continued to run properly.
He hit the intercom button on his desk. “Trudy?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Do you have those purchase orders and invoices ready for me to review?”
“I forwarded them to your computer.”
“Thanks.”
He clicked on the files, making notes and adding his approval as needed. Trudy had rejected a requisition for room deodorizers and sent a memo to housekeeping that guest rooms were to be so clean that fragrance wasn’t necessary. Excellent. Trudy knew his position on the issue. Apparently, the housekeeping supervisor was pleased with the replacement linens. The prior lot must have been defective, though they’d come from a leading company for luxury hotel linens.
Zack started on the invoices, only to grit his teeth when he saw the third one. Of course. Jamie Conroe must have chortled when she topped her paperwork with Little Blue Fruit Stand Enterprises.
Resigned, Zack added his authorization for payment. Maybe the Mar Vista restaurants would furnish enough income that she’d abandon her trailer. It had to be easier to manage supplies for one customer than to spend a full day vending vegetables to dozens of different people.
The lunch hour passed before he was finished. He got out his keys and squared his shoulders. No more procrastinating; he had to tackle his chief headache.
On the way, he drank the cup of stale coffee sitting in the SUV. Caffeine might help him cope with the woman.
The blue trailer wasn’t quite as vivid as his memory had made it, or else the shock value had diminished.
Jamie was half reclining in a green chair, legs extended in long, languid lines. She seemed to be asleep. Her dark hair fluttered in the breeze and her creamy complexion was highlighted by the eyelashes resting on her cheeks. Today she wore jeans and a T-shirt that revealed the curves he’d glimpsed at her house.
No cosmetics.
No jewelry or accessories.
No special attempt to look attractive or appealing.
Yet something in the scene tugged at Zack’s gut. It didn’t make sense. Jamie was the opposite of the women who inhabited his world. True, he’d been living like a monk, too buried in work for socializing, but still....
“Are you going to buy strawberries, or keep examining me for weak points?” she said suddenly, startling him.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“The sound of tires on gravel is a decent alarm system.” Jamie raised her eyebrows. “If you’re here to complain some more, go ahead and give it your best shot.”
“I...I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have called the sheriff. And you were correct—this is your land. The surveyors’ report came this morning.”
“Wow. That must have hurt.” She rose from the low-slung chair in a graceful twist.
Zack grimaced. She couldn’t know how much it hurt, or how hard it was to follow Kim’s advice to be nice. “As I said, I’m very sorry. I was under the impression your grandfather sold me everything, including this beachfront acre.”
Her blue eyes grew stormy. “Are you saying he cheated you?”
“I’m only...” Zack stopped. It was galling; even if George Jenkins had cheated, it meant he was the chump. Zack couldn’t afford that kind of reputation in corporate circles. “No, not at all, but I would like to acquire this section. Name a price.”
“It isn’t for sale.”
“Are you planning to build?” he asked.
“Heavens, no. Granddad would haunt me.”
That was reassuring. All he had to worry about was a summer fruit stand—except summer was his busiest season. In the next few months the resort was solidly booked with reservations from high-profile guests, as well as old friends and clientele who knew him as a manager in other locations. Most were coming because of their acquaintance with him, and they’d keep coming if Mar Vista met or exceeded their expectations. And while it was possible that Jamie’s hideous trailer wouldn’t sabotage the resort, it wouldn’t be good for it, either.
“I’ll pay you a fair amount,” he said. “Extremely fair.”
“It isn’t a question of price.” Her gaze was clear and seemed free of guile. Yet it made no sense that she didn’t care how much she could get. A woman who eked out a living peddling fruits and vegetables had to be short on money.
“If you aren’t going to develop the site, why not take the cash?”
“To be sure no one else builds on it. It isn’t you personally. No one gets this land. It’s Conroe soil and it stays in the family.”
The scent of strawberries wafted into Zack’s consciousness. His stomach grumbled, a reminder that he’d skipped both breakfast and lunch. Jamie grinned at the noise and held a bowl of fruit in his direction. “Have some. My treat.”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s a free sample of what your restaurant is serving for dessert tonight,” she said. “You do know that we’re in business together, don’t you?”
“I saw the invoice.”
Her lips twitched. “Did you fire your chef for crossing enemy lines?”
“No. Gordon is in charge of his kitchen. I’m lucky to have him.”
Jamie jiggled her bowl to tempt him, and the glistening red berries made his mouth water. It was also a reminder that if he’d eaten something instead of gulping numerous cups of coffee, he might be doing a better job of handling this situation.
“So, top chefs do rule their territory,” she mused.
“That’s one way of putting it.” Zack thought of Gordon’s contract. It gave him broader authority than anyone else employed at Mar Vista, even Rick Lopez. The competition was fierce for a chef with Gordon Chen’s standing. Zack probably couldn’t have gotten him if he and his wife hadn’t wanted to raise their children in a rural setting like Warrington, California.
“Poor Mr. Denning. There’s a fiefdom in his kingdom that he can’t command.” Jamie ate a berry with unabashed pleasure, then licked a bead of ruby juice from her finger.
Zack hung on to his resolve and concentrated.
“Come on,” she urged. “Declare defeat and eat a few.”
“I don’t need anything.” His voice came out stiffer than he’d intended. “I want to discuss...”
His words were interrupted by the crunch of truck wheels on gravel. The pickup parked and the passengers ambled across to look at the spinach. Another car pulled in behind them.
“Excuse me,” Jamie said. “You comprehend the importance of customers, don’t you? People who buy what you want to sell. Catch my drift?”
Yeah, he got it. She refused to part with her land. But surely there was something he could offer...perhaps pay for renovations to make her produce stand more acceptable, though moving her was his top choice. His guests would still see the signs as they approached the resort, but he could have new ones painted that were rustic and charming, rather than garish.
“Loganberries?” queried one of the newcomers as she lifted a basket and sniffed. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“They’re yummy,” Jamie told her. “Kind of a cross between a raspberry and a boysenberry. Delicious in jam, pies, whatever.”
“We’re staying at the state park,” the woman said, wrinkling her nose. “No camper. Roughing it, or I’d bake a pie.”
Jamie smiled, a wide, unaffected smile that transformed her ordinarily pretty face into something truly striking. “That reminds me of the summer my mom made jam using a camp stove. She swore she’d never do it again. Tell you what—if you have a covered pot, you can make berries and dumplings.”
“Really?” the woman said, plainly intrigued. “We have sugar and I brought biscuit mix for pancakes.”
“That’s all you need. Cook it the same as you’d cook chicken and dumplings, only sweetened, and drop the dough into the simmering berries.”
“Yum. I’m going to try that.” She selected three pints, and told her husband they should come again before their vacation was over.
Zack had planned to wait for Jamie’s customers to leave so they could finish their discussion, but he couldn’t be sure of getting her full attention with the constant disruptions. It was amazing that people drove this far from town and the main highway to buy fruits and vegetables. The view was a plus, of course, and her produce was first-rate.
“Thank you for speaking with me, Ms. Conroe,” he murmured. “I’ll contact you when it’s more convenient.”
“Whatever.”
Just then a young woman squealed and hugged her. “Jamie Conroe. I heard you were here.”
“Kristie, you look fantastic. How are you?”
“Great. You know what? I married Greg Norton, the way I predicted. He finally noticed me the last year of college. And I made him pay for taking so long.... He chased me for weeks before I’d go out with him. I loved it.”
The two women chatted as Zack strode to his car. He definitely had to find a strategic location for their next encounter—on his turf, rather than hers. He’d learned long ago that the person who controlled the environment had the advantage in a negotiation.
* * *
JAMIE DREW A breath of relief after Zack’s departure. The customers were arriving fast and furious—it was strange how they came in waves.
Although Granddad’s stand had always been popular, the volume of shoppers had amazed her until she’d realized the locals knew about the land dispute. Some were showing their support; others were curious. On top of that, she got plenty of tourist traffic. It was a bonus week. She sold out every afternoon except for bits and pieces.
It was a demanding schedule. She had to meet growers before five in the morning, assemble the load for Gordon and count boxes as they were packed into the Denning Enterprises truck at five-thirty. Despite his pickiness, Gordon wasn’t difficult to deal with, and jabbing Zack Denning was a perk. She just wasn’t sure the extra profit was worth it.
Zack’s apology had come as a surprise, and Jamie suspected his lawyer was responsible. Not that he’d genuinely sounded sorry; it was more like he thought Granddad had swindled him. If there was one thing she knew for certain, her grandfather had played fair. She had no idea how the mix-up had occurred, but she wouldn’t let anyone malign one of the best men she’d ever known.
Swallowing, Jamie tried to recapture the peace she’d felt earlier. Why let Zack Denning spoil things?
Yet deep down, Jamie knew part of her trouble stemmed from guilt—she hadn’t been here when Granddad was putting his affairs in order. She should have come, but her marital problems had kept her away. She’d been trying to hold things together, and was embarrassed to be with her family and admit what was happening. It was Tim’s attempts to keep her from visiting Granddad during his final illness that had tipped the scale. She’d stood up to him and walked out.
Perhaps it was okay that she couldn’t easily relax after a confrontation—she didn’t want to forget how to defend herself.
Footsteps broke the quiet and she saw Brad Denning.
“Gordon tells me the strawberries are tasty,” he called. His limp was more pronounced than the day they’d met, and the creases on his forehead were deeply drawn...from pain, she guessed. He must have pushed himself to get this far.
She grabbed the dish of fruit samples and offered it to him. “I hope you aren’t as pigheaded as your brother. He wouldn’t even eat a small one, though his stomach was growling louder than an angry grizzly bear.”
Brad chose a juicy berry and popped it in his mouth. “I can be pigheaded, but not over food. I don’t know any jarheads dumb enough to turn down a tasty meal.”
“Jarheads?” Jamie asked.
Pride flared in his eyes. “It’s a nickname for a marine.”
“Oh, I remember now. Have a seat.”
Sinking into the other chair, he sighed. “This is the farthest I’ve gone in a long time. But it’s great to get outside for exercise instead of on a therapist’s treadmill. I...uh, I’ve had to do some rehab recently.”
“I’ll give you a lift back if you don’t mind waiting. It’s on my route to the bank.”
“My ego says no. My common sense says thanks.”
Jamie had the feeling that Brad would prefer accepting a ride from her, rather than his brother.
“This is the perfect spot to take a break. Have more berries.”
Brad took the bowl and ate several strawberries, then gestured at her empty displays. “Don’t you keep stock for late customers?”
“Nope, unless I have a reservation for something. That’s why I’m still here. An old friend of Granddad’s is coming for the four flats I’ve got stored in the trailer. Otherwise, as I put on my sign, first come, first served. I order the amount I think I can sell and usually get to close early.”
“You sound experienced.”
“As a kid I spent every August with Granddad, so my policies and attitudes come from him. He also had thorough records on the daily turnover.”
“That must make it easier.”
He seemed drowsy and his left hand scratched his shoulder before settling onto his lap.
Jamie’s sensation of peace returned. She liked Brad Denning. It was bizarre that he was the brother of such an arrogant jerk, but siblings could be very different. Her own brother didn’t look like her, and they certainly didn’t have much in common.
As Brad slept, her brain chewed on designs for her next jewelry project. She’d taken a silver-casting class in college for fun. Tim used to be snide regarding her efforts, so it was an ironic triumph that selling the expensive clothes he’d insisted she wear during their marriage provided the money she’d needed for tools and supplies. Hopefully, marketing her jewelry would be a real supplement to her fruit-stand earnings.
Jamie stiffened, despite the comforting warmth of the sun. Tim had been nauseatingly smug in court, claiming she wouldn’t be able to live without him. Fat chance, just like the split lip he’d given her when she told him she was leaving for good. She restrained a giggle as she recalled the contempt in the expression of the judge, who’d privately congratulated her on getting rid of a pompous jackass.
Her last customer, Mrs. Kruger, came and Jamie loaded the four flats she’d bought into her car.
“Thank you, Jamie.” The elderly woman gave her a check in payment. “The jam tastes different made with berries from the Little Blue Fruit Stand. I suppose that sounds silly.”
“It isn’t silly. Granddad used to say this place had a blessing on it.”
“I believe it.” Mrs. Kruger glanced at Brad. He was awake and blinking sleepily at the ocean. “Are you all right, dear? I understood you’ve had trouble with your neighbor.”
“No worries—we’ve straightened it out,” Jamie said. “It was a miscommunication over the property lines.”
“I’m so glad. And you’ve gotten divorced? What a shame.”
“Some marriages aren’t meant to be.”
“Gabe and me, we’ve had fifty-two happy years.” Mrs. Kruger’s attention kept moving in Brad’s direction. “Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Kruger. Right now I’m focusing on my business,” Jamie answered patiently. The motherly types who remembered her from childhood were interested in her romantic plans, though some of the younger wives were also inquisitive, but for entirely different reasons. Jamie had already learned a sour truth—a youthful divorcée was considered dangerous by some women, although her genuine friends weren’t worried.
Mrs. Kruger’s curiosity was transparent as she squinted at Brad Denning. “Is he a friend?”
“He’s from the resort. He just stopped to sample the berries.” Jamie didn’t want to say that Brad had needed to rest.
Disappointment clouded the kindly woman’s features. “What a shame. Your grandfather prized a good gab. Gabe would come to get the berries for me, and they’d sit for hours talking baseball. Speaking of which, I should go and get that jam started.”
Waving cheerily, Mrs. Kruger drove away and Jamie walked to the trailer. Brad was eating strawberries and his brow was less tense.
“We can go now, unless you’d rather hang out here,” Jamie told him.
“You don’t lock up?”
“There’s no point. It’s easy to break in and then I’d have to repair the latch.”
Brad asked to be dropped at the resort entrance, saying it was only a short distance to his brother’s apartment. Jamie didn’t push; the man had the right to decide things for himself.
Later as she snuggled onto her smooth cotton pillowcase with Marlin purring against her on the bed, Jamie’s mind wandered through the day’s events. It was annoying that she kept thinking about Zack Denning. She’d appreciate it if he would stay on his property and leave her alone, but it was a reasonable bet that she’d have another encounter with his lordship in the near future.
The man hadn’t given up. He was probably in a tactical retreat while he devised a new plot to get Granddad’s land.
