Killer Run (2 page)

W
hen I met Amy for lunch the next day, I recounted the event, blow by blow. The couple had continued to snipe at each other all during Darla's presentation. What Michael exclaimed over as charming and innovative, Sandra called boring and too “small town” to bring in repeat walkers.

“When they left, I was drained. I went home and took a nap rather than taking Emma for a run.” I dug into my large Asian chicken salad, looking for the perfect bite of crunch, salt, and sweet. Diamond Lille's might be a total greasy-spoon café, but Lille had branched out into weekly salad specials for the summer and I'd enjoyed every one I'd tried so far. Next week, Southwest Tilapia was on the menu.

“Sounds like a toxic relationship to me.” Amy picked up her double-decker cheeseburger and took a bite, wiping the grease from her mouth with a paper napkin. I loved my friend, but sometimes, I wish I had her metabolism. The girl could eat anything and not gain an ounce. Of course, she surfed for hours most weekends. Except for my beach run with Emma and working at the shop, I tended to stay close to my couch. Especially with a book in hand. Of course, I called it “research.” Bookstore owners had to be up on the current releases.

“Oh, and I volunteered you and Justin to run the course Friday evening so Darla can time the event.” I took a sip of my iced tap water with a lemon slice and thought about the New York–style cheesecake sitting in my refrigerator at home. Since I'd run this morning and was now eating healthy for lunch, maybe a slice of that would be my dinner. With a fresh pear, of course. “Can you be there?”

“I think so. I'll text Justin right now. We put off our surfing date until Sunday so we could be part of the five-K. He's really excited about supporting the town and your mission project.” Amy took her phone out of her purse and clicked out a message. Justin taught history at a local college so if he wasn't teaching, most likely he was in the library reading or sitting in his office, writing. The guy looked more like the carefree surfer he played on weekends than the stuffy professor, and his students adored him. “Now, tell me about your upcoming trip. A weeklong cruise to Alaska?”

Greg and I had booked the trip last month, kind of a celebration for dating for a year. Mostly a getaway from what had been a crazy-busy winter. Typically, the shop slowed down after the holidays, but not this year. So even though my aunt was griping about me disappearing during prime tourist season, nothing was going to stop our vacation. Well, I guess Greg could be called back to work if some freak weather event hit or worse, but I'd been watching the Weather Channel for a couple of weeks, and so far, we were good.

“I packed two digital cameras and extra memory cards. I've loaded my e-reader with books. And I've been running every day and eating salads to lose a few pounds before I'm on board with the buffets.” I pointed down at the salad. “I could eat this every day.”

Carrie, our waitress, stopped by and refilled our glasses. “I'll tell Lille. She's been all freaked out over some food critic who is supposed to be showing up this month.”

“I didn't think they scheduled visits like that, or at least, didn't tell the restaurants when they were coming.” Amy waved a French fry at Carrie. “Are you sure she's not just having a bad month?”

A grin covered Carrie's face as she leaned closer to answer. “Normally, I'd agree with you, but I guess Diamond Lille's was picked to be in some diner food contest for the paper. If we win, the diner will be on the front page. Lille's dreaming of all the new customers.”

“Not sure where she'd squeeze in one more customer. This place is jam-packed every time I'm here.” I appraised the lunch crowd. Out of all the booths and tables, only two were empty, and I'd watched both of the prior inhabitants get up and leave within the last ten minutes.

Carrie leaned over. “She's talking about buying the building next door and expanding. Her new boyfriend is a contractor, and he can get her a good deal on the remodel.”

I thought about the building next door. Diamond Lille's sat on the corner of Main and Gull Street. The house behind the restaurant was Lille's home, a quaint gingerbread house. I doubted she wanted to tear it down. The only other option was The Train Station on the other side. Harrold Snider had run the model train store for as long as anyone in South Cove could remember. I watched Amy's face as she came to the same conclusion. “You mean Harrold is closing his business?”

Carrie shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was heading. “All I know is what Lille lets slip. And Harrold hasn't been in for breakfast for over two weeks. I think they had a fight.”

“There hasn't been any application to the city for a remodel permit. Maybe Lille's just looking to the future. You know, when Harrold decides to retire.” Amy leaned back in the booth and grabbed her phone, keying in a text.

Carrie glanced over at the cashier's stand, where Lille stood, ringing up an order. “I don't know. I mean, he's pushing seventy now. Maybe he thinks he is retired.”

“Well, no use worrying about something that hasn't happened yet. Right?” I took another bite of my salad.

“It sure would help me out. I'd love to be able to bring home more tips. These old dogs”—Carrie pointed at her feet—“won't be able to stand many more years working here. Maybe I should go back to school and learn a new trade? But who am I kidding? They'll probably have to carry my body out of here on a stretcher.”

As Carrie walked away, I focused on my lunch companion. The meal had turned interesting. I loved having businesses grow and thrive in South Cove, but not at the expense of others. Harrold's train store brought in an eclectic group of tourists, ones looking to expand their collections. And they typically stopped in at my store, too, since I kept a shelf of handbooks on train collections after I'd seen the traffic increase. “You think Lille has plans to buy out Harrold?”

Amy finished her last fry before she answered. “I've never heard he wanted to sell. And if he's stopped coming by, that's a sign they aren't getting along. Harrold built that store from nothing with his late wife, Agnes. I don't see him closing down anytime soon.”

After lunch, I visited The Train Station. Harrold had just opened, having shorter hours during the week just for drop-in traffic. Most of his customers came on the weekends, so he worked long hours on Saturdays and Sundays, then took his time off during the beginning of the week.

Harrold stood at the counter, studying a catalog. His long, weathered face broke into a smile when he saw me. Even in his advancing years, the man was attractive, especially when he smiled. His silver hair was cut into a short crew, and he wore a blue dress shirt and jeans. “Well, if it isn't the coffee lady. What are you doing in my shop? Looking to set up that boyfriend of yours with a new hobby? Or do you want my suggestions on new books to stock?”

“Neither. I'm just stopping in to say hi.” Not wanting him to guess the real purpose of the visit, I fell back on my other job—South Cove business liaison. “I haven't seen you at a Business-to-Business meeting lately.”

“You know I don't like all that committee stuff. You need something for the walk this weekend? I can't volunteer time, but I could throw some money your way. The shop is doing great since I added a website and began selling online. Christopher, my grandson, set up the whole thing. All I do is print out any orders that come in and ship them out.” Harrold's face beamed with pride. I wasn't sure if it was about the store or his techy grandson. “You should have him do a page for your store. People are buying everything online these days.”

“Actually, Jackie and I were just talking about that. I'm not sure I could compete with the big retailers, but maybe it would add in some revenue.” A brainstorm hit me. “Could your grandson come and talk at the Business-to-Business meeting? I bet if he showed how effective his site has been for your store, he'd get tons of business.”

Harrold grabbed a business card and wrote something on the back. Then he handed me the card. “Here's his phone number. If he says yes, I'll even come to the meeting.”

“I'm holding you to that.” I tucked the card in my purse and headed out the door. Harrold's business was thriving. Definitely not the time to close down and sell out. What was Lille thinking? Something was going on, although I had no idea what. Amy had promised to keep an eye out for any proposals to the council regarding Harrold's shop. I guess all I could do was wait to see if Carrie's rumors were true.

As I walked home, my cell chirped. Not recognizing the number, I answered. “Hello?”

“Good morning, darling. Are you counting the days until you and that man of yours disappear into the frozen north?” Rachel Fleur's voice oozed luxury and decadence even over the phone line. She ran a one-woman travel agency in Bakerstown where we had bought our cruise. The woman was a hard sell in a soft package.

I smiled despite my reservations about her. She and Greg had some history. But like his ex-wife, Sherry, that was then and I was now. No use getting all worked up about something in his past. Nothing like living in a small town where you see your ex-relationships every day. Sherry had even upped the ante by opening Vintage Duds at the first of the year here in South Cove. So I was lucky enough to see her often. Of course, most days she ignored my existence, which was the best I could ask for.

But Rachel lived in the next town over, and from what Greg had said, their relationship had been a few dates over several months. When they realized they weren't making seeing each other a priority, they decided to stop pretending. Besides, Rachel was great to work with. “Hey, Rachel. I think we're all ready. Did you need something from us?” Yes, I used the couple pronouns. I knew she understood Greg and I were a couple, but man, the girl was drop-dead pretty. It didn't hurt to make sure.

“No, Greg stopped by earlier this week and gave me a check for the balance. I couldn't get the guy to spring for dinner in the city and you're getting a weeklong cruise. I think you need to show me your tricks.” Rachel's laugh bubbled over the phone line.

I couldn't help myself, I laughed. “No tricks. I'm just who I am, and thankfully, Greg loves me the way I am.”

“Whatever. Keep your secrets close. I'm glad Greg found the one. We just weren't made for each other. It's sad when people hold on when they are clearly wrong for each other.”

My recent encounter with Michael and Sandra popped into my head. Those two should be running to the divorce lawyers rather than fighting out their drama in front of everyone they met. I wondered if Rachel knew I used to be a divorce lawyer in what seemed like another life. Before I got a chance to ask, she spoke again.

“Hey, speaking of the love of my life, I've got another call coming in from him. I guess I'll see you when you get back. Have a great vacation.” Rachel didn't even wait for me to respond, the phone reception went dead. So, Rachel was seeing someone. I'd have to ask around Bakerstown on my next visit and see who had the woman so worked up.

I stepped into my front yard and groaned at the length of the grass. Since the walk was taking up our Saturday, I realized I needed to pull out the mower and spend my afternoon in the fifth-worse chore on my I-Hate-to-Do list, yard work.

Emma barked at me as I walked through the backyard to the garage, where Greg had stored my mower. For the last few months, Greg had mowed the lawn before I could even consider doing it myself. I'd been spoiled and didn't even think of the task anymore. He said it relaxed him. One more reason I'd never really understand men.

By the time I finished the backyard, Greg sat on the porch watching me. I dragged the mower over next to the garage. I smoothed my hair, knowing it had to look like a witch's nest, and strolled toward him, taking the cold beer he held out to me as I reached the steps. Sinking onto the step next to him, I took a drink, feeling the cold liquid do its magic on my throat and thirst. “Thanks.”

He pulled a piece of grass out of my hair. “I would have mowed tonight. In exchange for your spaghetti marinara.” He took a sip of his beer. “But I have to admit, you have an interesting method of mowing. You plan on doing those little squares all over the yard?”

“Don't complain. It might not be in pretty little diagonal rows like you mow, but it's done. And I guess that means you owe me dinner.” I pulled my sweaty T-shirt away from my body. “As soon as I get a quick shower.”

“I'm broke. What if I grill something? You have any steak in your freezer?” Greg looked hopeful.

“Paying for a vacation will do that to a person.” I shook my head. “No steak, but I have some frozen tuna you could take out. I've been trying to avoid shopping since we'll be on vacation.”

“That will work.” He frowned. “How did you know I paid off the trip?”

“Rachel called and asked me if I was looking forward to the cruise.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket, checking for any missed calls while I had mowed the yard. I tried to sound casual. “Did you know she was dating someone?”

A smile crossed his lips before he answered, “For real, or to try to make me jealous?”

I hadn't considered that possibility, but I'd assumed her statement to be true. “I guess I don't know. Would she go that far, since the two of you haven't been a couple for such a long time?”

“I wouldn't put it past her. When it comes to Rachel and Sherry, they both like playing games.” He kissed me on the forehead. “That's why I love you. You are what you appear.”

“Sweaty and a hot mess?” I stood and headed to the back door. “Make my dinner, sweetheart, I'm starved.”