The Chesapeake Diaries Series (262 page)

“Want to be on my team?” Jason’s hand was on the small of Sophie’s back. Through her T-shirt he could feel her warmth, and it took him back to last night, and this morning, and the smoothness of her skin.

“Sure. What shall we sign up for?”

“I’m thinking maybe the windows—paint and repair—then maybe restore the old window boxes for the exterior.”

Sophie followed Jason to one of the five small windows in the structure.

“I’d like Cam’s opinion,” he continued, “but I think we’ll need to scrape the paint from the panes and from the mullions, then maybe regrout the glass.” He inspected the first window, then went on to the second. “The window boxes won’t be a problem. They look solid enough. I think we’ll just paint and rehang them, then plant them up.” He moved on to the next window and Sophie followed. “You in?”

She hesitated, and for a moment, he thought she was going to decline.

“Sure. I can spare a little time on a few Saturdays. You don’t think it will take too long, do you?”

“Why? You going somewhere?”

“No. But …” She appeared thoughtful. “If it goes more than three weeks, do you think we could work on Sundays instead of Saturdays?”

“I don’t see why not.” He looked over his shoulder and asked, “You got some hot Saturday dates coming up?”

She shook her head and started to say something, when Cameron walked over.

“So, are we all set for Tuesday?” Cam asked Sophie.

“I’m all set. You’ve got everyone lined up?”

Cameron nodded. “One o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.”

“See you then.”

Jason listened, but didn’t ask. He didn’t have to. Obviously, Sophie had hired Cam to work on her new building. Later, as Sophie signed up for her work project, Jason managed to take a few steps back to where Cam stood.

“So, you’re doing work on Sophie’s new place,” he said as if he knew all about it.

“Yup. Putting a rush on it for her, pulling guys from another job, bringing my best subs in so she can open in time to cash in on some of the early tourist traffic.”

“Nice of you. By the way,” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant, “where is it?”

“Didn’t she tell you?” Cam asked.

“No.”

“Then you’re going to have to ask her. My lips are sealed.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be a jerk.” Though he’d have been hard pressed to admit it, it bugged him just a little that she wouldn’t tell him but she’d already shared her new place—her dreams—with Cam.

“I’m not trying to be a jerk. She made us promise not to tell anyone about the place. Since she hasn’t released us from that promise …” Cam shrugged.

Sophie and Ellie, deep in conversation, walked in their direction. Jason tried, but he couldn’t look away
from Sophie. He liked the way she walked, the intensity of her expression as she chatted with Ellie.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that look of lust isn’t being inspired by my fiancée.” Cam lowered his voice. “Otherwise, if you were looking at Ellie like that, I’d have to hurt you.”

Jason took a stick of gum from his pocket and unwrapped it, folding it into his mouth while pointedly ignoring Cam’s remark.

“So what’s going on?” Cam asked. “And since when?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jason jammed his hands into his pockets.

“Oh, please. It’s written all over your face.” Cam smirked. “So the questions remain. Since when, and does Jesse know?”

“Does Jesse know what?” Sophie asked as she and Ellie joined them.

“Does Jesse know about the project.” Jason shot Cam a conspiratorial look. “You know, in case he and Brooke want to participate.”

“I’ll see him in a few hours. We’re having dinner with Pop. Maybe you could join us.”

Sophie smiled at him and Jason couldn’t help himself. He had to smile back. She brought out something in him that he couldn’t put a finger on, except to know it was something he’d never felt before.

“I have Logan tonight,” he recalled.

“Maybe Brooke will want Logan to come with us, since she’s been away for a week.”

“I mentioned that to Logan, but he said he’d see her when she got home and he didn’t have to see her all
night.” Jason shrugged. “Brooke, on the other hand, might have other plans.”

“Let me know if that changes.” Sophie glanced at her watch. “I should go. I want to get a few things put away at the office before Jesse gets back.”

“We’re done here anyway.” Jason looked around at the dispersing crowd. “Most everyone’s leaving now.”

“What’s on your schedule for tomorrow?” She started to walk toward the street, and he walked along with her.

“I’m hoping to put the finishing touches on your grandfather’s garden.”

“All day?”

“Probably.”

“Well, I guess I won’t see you until Tuesday.” Sophie looked genuinely disappointed.

“I’ll be at your office at one.”

“Make it twelve forty-five,” she told him. “I’m supposed to meet Cameron at one at the property.”

“I can’t wait to see this place.” Jason stopped at the front fender of her car. He really wanted to kiss her, but thought twice of it. There were lots of folks mulling around, and he suspected it would make her uncomfortable. It was still too new, whatever this was that was between them. There’d be other times, he reminded himself. Like Tuesday. “How ’bout we go out to dinner on Tuesday night to celebrate?”

“I’d love that. Yes, let’s celebrate.” Her eyes were shining, and he could barely stand it.

“It’s a date, then.” He opened her car door for her, then closed it when she got inside. She started the car and pulled away from the side of the road, passing him after she turned around in Ellie’s driveway.

“ ’Bye,” she mouthed the word, and for a moment, he thought she might have blown a subtle kiss in his direction.

Jason watched the car disappear, then made his way down the road to his pickup. This night wasn’t going to be anything like last night, but he had Tuesday to look forward to, and who knew how many nights would follow after that?

Early Tuesday morning, singing along with the radio at the top of her lungs to Elton John’s “Candle in the Wind”—the original version—Sophie drove to River Road for her last look around before the closing later that morning. She’d stopped at Cuppachino for her morning coffee, but at eight thirty, most of the regulars had already come and gone. Just as well, she reminded herself. She was a bundle of nerves and probably would be until the closing was over and she had the deed to her property in her hands. She didn’t want to discuss it with anyone, didn’t want to explain what she was doing until it was done, because if something went wrong at the last minute, she’d have to be explaining over and over why her restaurant wasn’t going to happen after all. There were times, such as this, when her maternal grandmother’s favorite adage—“The less said, the better”—definitely applied.

The words died in her throat as she approached her destination. Her foot on the brake, she all but stopped dead in the middle of the road. There, in the property next to hers, stood a mountain
—three
mountains—of something that looked horrible and smelled even worse, and a dump truck that was backing in through
the opened gates appeared to be about to dump yet another load of whatever it was onto the ground, right next to the fence between the restaurant and what had been a vacant lot next door.

She flew onto the parking area in front of her place and jumped out of her car.

“Hey!” she called as she ran along the fence, waving to the driver to get his attention. When that failed, she ran past the gate and onto the freshly blacktopped yard. “Hey, stop!”

The closer she got, the worse the smell.

She ran up to the cab of the truck and banged on the window.

“Stop! What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

The driver leisurely rolled down the window. “Huh?”

“You can’t dump that … that stuff here,” she panted.

The driver—identified as Lennie by the flap on his shirt pocket—appeared confused.

“You’re going to have to dump this … 
stuff
someplace else.” She looked around and spotted an empty spot across the parking lot. “Like over there.” She pointed across the yard. “Move all this over to there.”

“My orders were to dump it here.” Lennie pointed to the stinking, steaming pile that he’d already dumped next to the fence.

“Well, that must have been a mistake. I’m asking you nicely to please …”

“Take it up with the boss, lady.”

And with that, Lennie began to back up the truck.

“Fine. Fine.” She waved for his attention. “Where can I find him?”

“Right there.” Lennie pointed to the black pickup that was just pulling in through the gate.

Sophie walked around the back of the dump truck prepared to give someone a piece of her mind. Who dumps huge—gigantic, really—piles of stinking soil next to someone else’s property? She rounded the cab in time to see Jason hop out of the pickup.

“Hey,” he said, obviously pleased to see her. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s giving me shit, that’s what she’s doing!” Lennie yelled through the open window. “Wants me to move the mulch, but I told her …”

“You … you … this place …?” Sophie stammered.

“Is mine, yeah. But what are
you
doing here?” Jason repeated.

“Jason, you have to tell him to put all that stuff back onto his truck and move it over there.” She again pointed to the place she’d determined would be the farthest from the fence.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it stinks, that’s why.”

“Yeah, it does. But what difference does it make where he puts it?”

“You can smell it from next door.”

“So what?” He looked over at the old restaurant. “It’s vacant.”

“Not for long.”

“What do you mean, not for long?” Jason’s eyes began to narrow. “Oh, please tell me that you did not …”

“I did. I bought it.”

“You bought …? It was
you
?”

“What was me?”

“You’re the one who bought that place?”

“Yes.” It was her turn to be confused. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I’ve been trying to buy it for the past six months. The woman who owned it …”

“Enid Walsh.”

“Whoever. She was supposed to let me know when she decided to sell it. How’d you get her to sell?”

“What difference does it make now?”

“I just want to know how you managed to buy it out from under me.”

“I didn’t buy it out from under you. I bought it because I want to reopen the restaurant.” She took a step back away from him, her hands on her hips.

“I don’t suppose you could have done that somewhere else?”

“I wanted this place.”

“So did I.” He blew out a long breath. “You didn’t think to tell me this?”

“Was I obligated to?”

“Not obligated, but under the circumstances … I mean, I thought we were, you know … a thing. It would have been nice if you’d told me your plans.”

“I was going to tell you, but things … took off in a different direction the other night, and you were in a hurry in the morning. Besides, I thought it would be fun to surprise you.”

“I had an appointment. I told you that. And for the record, I hate surprises.”

She sighed. “Look, the bottom line is that it’s done. I’m going to open a restaurant there, so you
have to move those piles. The odor will turn away customers.”

“What customers? Doesn’t look to me like you’re ready to open for business.”

“No, but I will be.” She tried to stare him down. Jason didn’t blink. “So how long do you think that”—she pointed to the mulch piles—“will be there?”

He turned to calculate. “I ordered what I thought I’d need for at least the next month. So I’d say, oh, four weeks maybe.”

“And it’s going to continue to stink like this?”

“Well, it is getting warmer,” he told her. “That last pile he dumped, that’s mushroom soil.”

“What’s mushroom soil?”

“It’s what comes out of the mushroom houses after the mushrooms have been harvested.” He stared down at her. “You do know what mushrooms grow in, right?”

“Not exactly.”

“It’s basically a mixture of hay and grass and horse manure. It arrives smelly—the hay and the grass ferment, and the horse manure, well, you know, is
manure
. So it pretty much stays that way for a while. The warmer it gets, the stronger the smell.”

She grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”

“It makes a great soil enhancer. People like it for their gardens because their plants grow better.”

“Yeah, well, it won’t do much to enhance my customers’ dining experience.”

“Sorry, but it is what it is.”

“Great.” She exhaled loudly. “This is just great.”

“When do you figure on opening?” He studied the
building for a long moment. “It must need a lot of work.”

“It does, but Cameron has a schedule. He thinks he and his crew will need no more than three weeks, start to finish.”

“How come they haven’t started already?”

“I don’t officially own it for another …” She glanced at her watch. “Another forty-five minutes. Closing’s this morning.”

“So you don’t actually own it yet.”