The Room with the Second-Best View (20 page)

“But, Lorna, I don't have any money in my budget for new furnishings.”

“I said it's a
gift,
dear.” She started up the stairs, but paused. “Oh, and the rug should arrive tomorrow. I found a beautiful one on the Shopping Channel night before last. The hardwood floors are exquisite, of course, but a bit too cold for my tastes.”

Without waiting for a response, she swept after the delivery men. Moments later her voice drifted down the stairs, directing the placement.

Susan picked at her salad, unable to force a bite down her throat until they'd put this business about the reception to bed. The waiter hovered nearby with the iced tea pitcher, ready to leap in as soon as Aunt Lorna's glass showed signs of emptying. No doubt the poor young man was not eager for a repeat of the sharp reprimand he'd received when he failed to notice her empty glass earlier.

“It's not as though you'd be putting Mrs. Richardson to any trouble,” Aunt Lorna said. “She assured me this morning she'd be delighted to host the reception.”

Seated to her right, Justin picked up his burger in both hands and planted his elbows on either side of his plate. “Being a bother to Millie or you or anyone else isn't the issue. We've talked it over, and we don't want anything formal.”

“It needn't be formal.” The older woman glanced around the Whistlestop's dining room, distaste twisting her lips. “Clean would be nice.”

“This place is plenty clean,” Justin assured her. “Just because the walls and beams are rough wood doesn't mean they're not clean. And the food's good. How's your chicken?”

She speared a morsel and inspected it. “Acceptable,” she finally admitted, and placed the bite in her mouth.

“There you go. Clean, good, and close to the church.” Justin grinned sideways at Susan before biting into his burger.

Susan managed a weak smile. Millie's B&B was also close to the church, but she kept the comment to herself.

Aunt Lorna might have read her mind. “Everything is close to everything else in this town. The Richardson home is only a mile or so away.” She directed her attention to Susan. “You did say location was the main reason you selected this establishment. That the food was not of the primary consideration.”

Clearing her throat, Susan cast a sideways glance at Justin. “That's true. We really don't want a fancy meal. Just a quiet celebration after a private ceremony.”

Thin eyebrows arched high. “Quiet and private?”

The noise in the café came suddenly into focus. The chatter from a dozen or so tables filled the room. Utensils clanked against plates, and from the direction of the kitchen came the metallic clang of a pan. Glancing around, she exchanged a distracted smile with several familiar faces. This was only Wednesday, and the place was half-full with people she recognized. On Saturdays the Whistlestop overflowed with Goose Creek residents. No doubt they would each want to stop by the table of the town veterinarian and her new husband to congratulate them and wish them well. Their quiet, private family meal would be anything but.

A perceptive gleam appeared in Aunt Lorna's eyes. She took the napkin from her lap and dabbed at her lips. “If you'll excuse me, I'd like to powder my nose.” She slid out of the booth. “Perhaps you two would like a moment to discuss the matter privately.”

When she moved out of earshot, Justin heaved a laugh. “She's a piece of work, isn't she?”

Rolling a cherry tomato to the side of her plate, Susan didn't meet his eye. “She does have a point about this place not being private. Or quiet either.”

Justin set his burger down and turned sideways on the bench. “I don't believe it.”

“What?”

“She's getting to you.”

“No she's not.” But her voice held a note of hesitancy.

“Yes she is. She got you with the pictures, so now she's onto the food.”

Susan looked up quickly. “It has nothing to do with food. I don't care if we don't have anything to eat at all. Except…” She bit her lip.

Justin ducked his head to catch her eye. “Except what?”

“Well, it might be nice to have a cake.” She glanced up. “Nothing fancy, just something to…you know…cut.” She swallowed. “Together.”

“Suz, listen to me.” He picked up her hand and sandwiched it between his. “You're standing at the top of a slippery slope. Every step you take puts you in danger of a downhill tumble, straight into Aunt Lorna's plans.”

“You make her sound like a devious schemer.”

He cocked his head. “Devious? No. But she's a master manipulator. Don't get me wrong, she means well. But keep in mind that she's an old maid who never married. She's probably trying to plan her own dream wedding and project it onto you.”

His words made her grin. “Listen to you spouting armchair psychology.”

He shrugged. “It's true.”

“Still, some things she says make sense.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “To be honest, I think I'd rather go back to Millie's and have a sandwich and a piece of cake with our four family members than come here and be on display for the whole town.”

“Then that's what we'll do.” He lifted his hands to cup her face. “Whatever my bride wants, my bride gets.”

Was there a luckier girl anywhere? Leaning forward, she planted a kiss on his lips. In the second that followed, the noise level in the restaurant rose, and she heard a few indulgent chuckles from the onlookers. Proof that there was no privacy to be had at the Whistlestop Café. She'd made the right decision.

But from here on, she needed to hold firm. Maybe now that Aunt Lorna had won two major victories, she'd be satisfied. Susan hoped so, because the changes in their plans stopped here.

Chapter Fourteen

T
he addition of a gavel gave the celebration committee meeting an official feeling that had not been present the last time Millie attended. Frieda applied the mallet with energy to a round sounding block, filling the small meeting room with an unnecessarily sharp sound that stung Millie's ears. Across the conference table Phyllis winced. Beside her, Lulu continued knitting as though she hadn't noticed. In fact, she appeared to be completely unaware of the nearly palpable tension that filled the room even more stingingly than the pounding of the gavel.

After having spent two weeks with her new friend, Millie knew better. The speed with which the knitting needles flew was an accurate barometer to Lulu's anxiety level.

“Gotcha a new toy?” Tuesday asked.

Frieda held the gavel aloft for their inspection. “One of my vendors carves them by hand. I doubt if there'll be much call for them at the Frog, but I kind of liked the look of the thing.”

In no mood for chitchat about a wooden hammer, Millie cleared her throat. “Can we get started? I've got a million things on my plate today, so I hope we can finish quickly.”

Not exactly the truth. In fact, Lorna had arisen early and without too much grumbling in order to ride into town with Lulu and Millie. Though what she intended to see in tiny Goose Creek Millie hadn't the faintest idea. By the time this meeting ended, she would probably be chomping at the bit to get back to the B&B and her beloved Shopping Channel.

“Of course.” Frieda awarded her a chilly nod. “I've got Cheryl watching my shop, so I don't want to impose on her too long. Before we get to the major discussion of the morning, I'd like to report that the Biscuit Burners Bluegrass Band has declined our invitation to play at the anniversary celebration. Apparently they've gone on an indefinite hiatus.”

“Oh.” Tuesday slumped in her chair with a pout. “I listened to them on YouTube and was looking forward to hearing them in person.”

“Do we have a volunteer to contact the next band on our list?” Frieda put on a pair of reading glasses and examined her spiral notebook. “The Buzzard Boys?”

Phyllis raised a hand.

“Thank you.” Frieda jotted a note and then removed her glasses. “Unless there's any other new business, I think we can move on to the Main Street Program application.”

Lulu set down her knitting and extracted a thick envelope from her bag. She caught Millie's eye with an unspoken question as she slid out a stack of documents. Millie nodded for her to take the lead. They'd discussed their presentation to the committee, and though Lulu preferred to sit silently knitting, Millie refused. Lulu needed to demonstrate that she was in control.

“I hope you've all had a chance to look at the application we emailed yesterday. But just in case, we brought hard copies.”

“Thank you,” Tuesday said, extending her hand to take one. “I never remember to check my email. Don't know why I even bother to have a computer.”

“I studied it last night,” Phyllis said. “It was very thorough. You two have done a great job.”

“Lulu wrote the entire report herself.” Millie cast a quick glance toward Frieda.

“Wow.” Tuesday flipped to the second page, eyes moving as she scanned. “You've covered everything. There are sections here on Organization, Promotion, Design, and Economic Restructuring.”

“That's the required four-point approach,” Lulu explained. “I didn't come up with that breakdown myself.”

Millie gave her a stern look. They'd rehearsed the “talking points” for this meeting, as Albert called them. One thing she had stressed was Lulu's self-conscious habit of apologizing for what she considered her own weaknesses. Rather an unusual trait for one so brash and, well, it must be said—lacking in tact. But people often reacted to stress in odd ways.

“Still, you've outlined an approach that the city council is sure to approve.” Phyllis turned a smile on her. “I think this will be a slam dunk at tonight's council meeting.”

“There's one thing missing here.” Tuesday cast an apologetic glance toward Millie. “The name of the person we're recommending for Main Street Manager.”

An awkward silence settled over the meeting. Lulu engaged in a close inspection of a paper clip while Phyllis flipped through the pages of the application too quickly to read them.

Millie pointedly did not look at Frieda. The time had come to break her silence. She directed her comment to Tuesday. “Since there appears to be some disagreement about the person this committee will recommend, Lulu preferred to leave a blank for us to fill in after we've discussed the matter. Against my advice, I should add.”

“You think we should recommend Lulu,” Phyllis said, the statement falling flat.

“I do.” Millie held her head high. “Given the amount of work she's put into this application, I have no hesitation in saying she's the person best suited for the job.” A glance at Tuesday's thoughtful expression, and Phyllis's apologetic one, sent the rehearsed speech out of her mind. She pounded the table with a fist. “We're not talking about an actual job here. This is a volunteer position. There's no pay. No employees to manage. If anything, it's going to be a pain in the patootie trying to convince certain stiff-necked property owners in this town that they need to make changes.” She cast a pointed glance toward Frieda, whose face turned white. “You were eager enough to give Lulu the responsibility of the application. Give her a chance to finish what she started.” She sat back in her chair with a thud that tweaked the not-quite-healed muscles surrounding her tailbone. “It's not as if we have volunteers pounding down the doors to take the job.”