Deconstructing Lila (Entangled Select) (5 page)

Lesson Number Five —

A smile and a polite thank-you are two of the best weapons in your personal arsenal. A kiss is not half bad neither.

Chapter Seven

“G
oodness, Lila! I’m so sorry I took so long. I had to drop the kids at home and then get gas.”

Rose Garner’s brunette curls bobbed around her head as she dug in her giant leather satchel for the keys to the Goodwin building. Lila had known the petite mother of two since Rose had squished mashed potatoes in her hair over a boy in the sixth grade. Fortunately their disagreements had progressed to more civilized terms and the two still kept in touch through emails and late-night phone calls during
The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon
.

“No problem. I’m just dying here in the heat. It’s not like it’s a hundred and ten degrees or anything.” She gave Rose a wink.

Finally seizing her keys, she juggled the massive puzzle until she found the right one. Lila tapped her chipped nails on the doorframe, considering a French manicure for herself. Granny’s garden was taking a toll on her hands.

While Rose muttered to herself about ancient locks and oversize keys, Lila peeked impatiently through the dirty front window, ignoring a string of escalating curses when the door wouldn’t budge.

“I don’t understand all this sudden interest in the Goodwin building. It sits here empty for years, and all of a sudden, when the city is set to demolish it, I’ve got people comin’ out of the woodwork to check it out.”

Lila gave her a sideways glance while wiping the glass for a better view. She almost laughed out loud at Rose trying to strong-arm a 125-year-old door in her lime-colored capris, sleeveless ribbed sweater, and matching lime ballet flats. She’d wager the door would whip Rose if she didn’t want to get inside Miss Pru’s so bad.

“Are you serious? Who else is interested besides me? And why are they ‘in the know,’ when I’ve gotten nothing but crap from the mayor?” she asked Rose.

“A few people have called over the last week as the deadline got closer. After taking a look at the amount of work this place needs, I guess they decided against it because I haven’t heard back from them. Looks like you’re the only sucker dumb enough to truly consider signing the bottom line.”

The key slid into the lock at last and Rose put a shoulder against the door, pushing it open. Stepping ahead of Lila, she found the switch, and the sudden glare of lights silenced both of them.

It was a disaster. Not just dusty and unkempt, but wires hanging out of the walls, floor tiles peeling back up to reveal the dirty crawl space beneath, and ceiling tins missing or battered with water damage.

Lila stepped carefully around the busted-up remains of a low candy counter and inched closer to the stairs ascending to the second floor.

No way was she chancing it. They would probably give way beneath the extra weight she’d gained succumbing to bread pudding and potato salad over the last few days.

Glass crunched underfoot as Rose stepped farther into the store. “After Goodwin’s closed up, kids used to break in through the back door and hang out in here, telling ghost stories, drinking. You know, typical teenage boredom.

“The Goodwins’ kids didn’t want the place, so it sat here, open to vandalism and neglect until the city acquired it two years ago through condemnation. They’ve since wised up and decided it was too costly. The plan is to demolish it, making room for a rec center.”

Lila tried to ignore the glaring faults, and instead focused on the simple but beautiful Victorian design. The walls were solid brick, and underneath the grit, she detected a warm patina. The ceiling tins were original and with a lot of work and cleaning, could be eye-catching again—in a good way.

A massive oak bar stretched the length of one side of the room. Intricate woodwork full of ivy and elaborate flourishes scrolled across the top of the bar and ran down the sides to the cabinets below. Sturdy pillars graced each side, framing the shattered mirror spanning the twelve feet between.

The bar could be saved, only because it would take an F5 Texas twister to do it damage. She could have the mirror replaced easy enough and, well…the rest would take hard work and skilled contractors. She’d seen worse in Dallas. She could handle one little old candy store.

“I want it.” She turned to Rose, who cleaned dust off her ballet flats with a wet wipe. Her head shot up at the Lila’s confident tone.

“You do? You haven’t even seen upstairs!” Her eyes were wide with surprise. “Don’t pull my chain. I’m already going out on a limb by opposing Howard on this.”

“Yes. Definitely. I want it. Do you have the paperwork with you?”

Rose glanced away, avoiding eye contact. She swallowed and licked her lips, and then swallowed again. “I guess now would be a good time to tell you the only contractor who can do work on the building is Reverie Construction.”

Lila’s breath left her chest in a giant whoosh. “What?”

“When the city condemned the building, the contract for demolition was awarded to Jake. But it’s been stalled for months and months. Reverie Construction has a lien on the property. The buyer will have to negotiate with Jake first. It’s that or nothing, Lila.”

Jake. She had to go through her husband if she wanted the building. If they worked together daily, it would provide an opportunity for them to renew the relationship, learn to trust each other again. He would be forced to look at her, talk to her, stand side by side without running the other direction.

Would he do it?

She simply had to convince him.

“It’s mine. Don’t you dare sell it to one of those other interested buyers, or let the mayor send a demolition crew down here. I’ll talk to Jake and get this whole thing straightened out.”

Rose escaped to the front door with Lila close on her heels. Once outside, she pulled a manila folder and a pen from her briefcase. “Let’s get your signature before you wake up and change your mind.”

Lila’s head spun with the reality of taking on the neglected building as she watched Rose drive away. She didn’t have her regular crew of restoration specialists with her in Hannington. They were on other jobs back in Dallas. She’d have to improvise.

Contemplating her options, she rushed over to the IGA to get Granny’s supplies before it closed for the evening.

S
oda machines greeted shoppers outside the double doors of the grocery, acting as sentry for random bicycles stacked against their dented exteriors.

Lila bypassed a group of overall-clad farmers deep in conversation near the machines. She caught the final volley to what must have been a heated political debate. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what school Sheriff Williamson hails from, the man can’t continue to act like Clint Eastwood on a mission and hope for reelection.”

The doors swung closed behind her and the smell of cabbages and fresh meat besieged her senses. Founded by immigrant cattlemen in the 1850s, Hannington stuck to old-world traditions, which meant fresh greens at every meal and the choicest cuts of meat.

Grabbing a handbasket from the carryall stand, she headed to Produce.

“Mrs. Winter?”

Lila heard a deep, masculine voice coming up behind her in the aisle.

“Mrs. Winter?” The voice, more insistent and closer now, stopped directly behind her.

She turned, realizing
she
was Mrs. Winter. Nobody had called her by that name in, how long? Ten years?

Lila looked up into the deepest brown eyes she’d ever seen. He had a tan face with sharp, high cheekbones marking his Native American ancestry. His straight black hair was pulled severely back into a ponytail and dropped behind the width of his shoulders. Shoulders that blocked the entire aisle and anyone attempting to get by. The man was a wall, a human barricade.

“Ah, I think that’s me.”

He held his hand out. She stared at it for a minute before accepting the shake. His fingers swallowed hers and she felt the unmistakable rasp of work-roughened calluses against her own palm.

“Good to meet you. I’m John Casler.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Casler.” Actually, she didn’t know what to think. Who was this man calling her by her married name?

“You can leave off the mister. Call me Casler. Or Takoda.”

She didn’t think she would be calling him anything, anytime soon. Those brown eyes bore down on her, seeming to search out her truths where she kept them buried, making her uncomfortable.

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Casler?” She said, putting emphasis on the “mister.”

“Yeah. I just needed to meet Jake’s wife in person. I didn’t think I would get invited over for a family dinner, so…” He shrugged his shoulders.

Was he Jake’s self-appointed bodyguard?

Like the man needed one against his own wife. Oh, hell. Was that it? Was Casler here to keep her away from Jake?

“I wanted to find out what has him in such a pi—ah, awful mood lately,” he added finally.

Oh.
Oh.
So Jake was not so indifferent to her presence, then. Lila smiled.

“Well then, as a friend to Jake, Mr. Casler, would you be so kind as to relay a message?”

His eyes flashed suddenly, reminding her of a dark storm building behind a mountain range.

“Casler,” he said.

It became a staring contest and she honestly didn’t know if she was up to winning. But before she had to back down ungracefully,
Casler
relented.

“Sure, what’s the message?”

“I bought the old Goodwin’s General Store and we need to talk about his involvement.”

“You trying to rope Jake into something he doesn’t want to be part of?”

“Casler.” She spoke patiently, keeping her voice even and calm. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself in the IGA. “I’m not sure what you think is going on, but my presence here is not meant to hurt Jake. Although I appreciate the bulldog routine you’ve got going. It’s his contract, and I just want to talk to him about the project.”

He laughed outright, a sharp bark that sent her back a step into the shelves of cereal.

“I believe you,” he said. “It’s not the intentions that worry me. It’s the damage I’m planning for. When you leave again.”

Now she was
irritated.
“Look, we’re obviously on the same side. Jake’s side. But why don’t we leave the decisions to the people involved in this relationship? Like Jake and me?”

He had her backed up against the shelves and unless she wanted to scale him like the wall he was, he would have to back off. “Do you need a command to make you heel? I’d like to get by.”

He finally stepped back, waving her forward. His eyes never left her face, but he didn’t say a word as she passed.

When she got to the end of the aisle, Lila turned to find him still watching her with wariness. “And the name’s Gentry. Lila Gentry, Mr. Casler.”

She quickly finished her rounds, her blood still boiling. She hoped she didn’t miss anything on Granny’s list. If she did, it would have to wait until tomorrow.

She tried not to think of John Casler and whether or not he still lurked somewhere in the store. It seemed that more than one person in the world wanted to protect Jake Winter.

As if the man needed protection.
Old fears tried to worm their way into her head. She forced them back, refusing to give in to former insecurities. The litany of old statements echoed in her head, nevertheless.

Jake could do so much better than Lila Gentry. What’d she do to get him to marry her, blackmail him? She’s after his family’s money and his good name.

She’d heard them all that summer she and Jake married. And they’d hurt to the core. It wasn’t until therapy years later that she really understood just how much they’d eaten away at her confidence and sense of self-worth. Shame, the therapist had labeled it. Excruciating vulnerability.

The young woman behind the checkout glanced down at her battered bag of bagels. “This don’t look so good. You want me to call for another?”

“No, I battered it, I’ll take it,” she said, discouraging further attention. She didn’t want any more excitement today.

The cashier shrugged and passed the bag across the scanner.

Lila wrote a check for the total and handed it over, anxious to put distance between herself and Casler.

The cashier’s pregnant belly swelled above the counter and the woman placed a protective hand over the mound as she leaned forward across the low counter to examine the check. Lila felt a slight pinch in her chest. She would not be jealous of this poor pregnant woman, working for minimum wage, in the tiny town of Hannington!

So why did she choose that moment to touch her own flat stomach?

“This is an out-of-town check.”

She looked blankly at the woman, hoping to encourage an explanation for the obvious statement. “It is,” she said finally, realizing the conversation was going nowhere.

“I can’t accept out-of-town checks. I’ll have to get the manager.” She pushed back from the counter before Lila could stop her, grabbing the store intercom microphone roughly by the neck. “Check approval on two!”

Lila smiled apologetically at the man in line behind her. And she spotted John Casler standing two people back.

He shifted his bread and beer to the other arm and smiled slowly, letting her know she’d won. For the moment.

She scanned the faces around him, noting the barely veiled looks of scorn and wariness the other shoppers cast his way. Casler pretended not to notice and kept smiling at her. And only at her. But Lila knew he sensed their disapproval. She could tell by his slightly flaring nostrils and rigid posture.

Looked like she and the man had more in common than a friendship with Jake. He apparently knew a little bit about being an outcast, too.

Facing forward again, she saw the manager lumber out of the customer service booth, making his way to the register. He wore a faded green apron, smeared with dirty streaks of red, which Lila hoped were not bloodstains.

He stood next to the cashier examining the highly suspicious document on the counter. Lila’s check.

The manager’s head shot up suddenly, his brown eyes pinning her across the checkout counter.
Oh, hell, here it comes.

“Are you Barbara Gentry’s granddaughter?”