It's February 15th and I'm back in my shop. It's a normal day for the most part. Slow. Very few customers stop by. I want to blame the extreme cold and the freezing rain that's been going on and off all day. But, if I'm being honest with myself, today isn't all that different than regular, warmer summer days. I'm kidding myself into thinking today is an exception. My business is dying. Everybody seems to know it. Just as everybody also seems to know that I'm a stubborn ass who refuses to admit it.
Still, I'm not feeling entirely down in the dumps about my failing business. I should be, but I'm not. All things considered, I'm more chipper and upbeat than I have any right or reason to be. And that's because my romantic night and dinner with Liam is still fresh in my mind. Every time I think about it, not only do I feel a rush of warmth to my more intimate parts, a smile stretches across my face.
I can't control either reaction – nor do I want to. It was truly one of the most romantic, amazing evenings I've had in my life thus far. It's one of those memories that, no matter what happens between us – if anything happens between us at all – I'll cherish forever. I saw a completely different side of Liam last night. One that I can't help but want to see more of. I just have to hope he feels the same way.
I'm dusting the bookshelves and humming to myself, smiling as the memories of last night float through my mind. I'm even doing a little bit of a dance in the aisles as I go through my usual monotonous routine of tidying and straightening things that don't need to be tidied or straightened.
The bell over the door tinkles and I hurry to the front, excited to greet my first customer of the day. That excitement and cheery greeting both die in a heartbeat the moment I see who's walking into my shop.
“Oh, it's you,” I mutter to Mayor Goodrich.
“Hey, it's really good to see you too, Paige,” he says with a smirk. “Keep up that kind of enthusiasm and I might start to think you like me.”
I scratch the side of my nose, very subtly giving him the finger. It's a gesture he doesn't miss and draws a peal of laughter from him.
“Always the charmer, Paige,” he says. “Always the charmer.”
“What do you want, Brian?” I groan. “Why must you ruin an otherwise perfect day for me with your presence? You have that effect, you know. You're like the dark cloud that hovers over a picnic on an otherwise sunny day.”
Goodrich glances around the shop and laughs. “Perfect?” he says, sounding astonished. “So, I guess you prefer when your business is dead? We obviously have very different definitions of the word perfect.”
I roll my eyes. “If you're here to antagonize me, you can get lost,” I say. “I'm not selling the place and I have no desire to debate the finer points with you. So, get out and go pester somebody else.”
“That's not why I'm here, actually,” he says. “Not this time.”
“No?” I ask. “Well, given that I have no desire to socialize with you, I can't imagine why you'd darken my doorstep.”
“Well, I'm not here to badger you again, Paige,” he says. “But I am kind of curious about what you know about Anderson Development Enterprises? More specifically, what their plans for the town are?”
“Liam Anderson has no plans for the town,” I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest defensively. “Because unlike some, he has no intention of ruining this fine city just to turn a profit.”
“Oh? You don't know then?” Goodrich says. “I guess I should have figured he wouldn't mention it to you. Not with how anti-progress you are and all.”
I roll my eyes, wishing I had mace or a stun-gun – anything to get him out of my shop. Clearly, he's here only to irritate me.
“Know what?” I ask.
“That Liam Anderson has put in an offer on The Daily Cuppa as well as a few other local businesses,” he says. “I just assumed since the two of you were getting so cozy, that –”
“Bullshit,” I say. “Liam isn't buying properties in Port Safira. He would have told me if he was. Whoever is feeding you this information is just trying to stir up the shit, Brian.”
My voice cracks and a jolt of adrenaline rocks me as I say those words, though. I honestly can't say that Liam isn't doing what Goodrich is accusing him of with one hundred percent certainty. I have no idea what Liam is up to business-wise. It's not my place to ask and not something we've discussed much. Not after he initially told me he isn't here on business, that he's here to get some peace and quiet as he pieces his life back together after the divorce.
I believe him and have to think that Goodrich, or that scumbag he's partnering with, is just trying to get under my skin.
Like a shark smelling a drop of blood in the water, Goodrich senses my uncertainty. His smile grows wider and more sinister as he sets his briefcase down on the counter, opens it, and pulls out some paperwork. He drops it on the counter and slides it over to me, that predatory grin never leaving his face.
“You should really see this,” he says.
I glance down at the papers and see what appears to be a contract with Emily Hertz, one of the other small business owners on the block. And it's on Anderson Development Letterhead.
My stomach tossing and a sick feeling rising up from within me, I slide it back across the counter to the mayor who is standing there looking like the proudest peacock to ever walk the planet.
“Where'd you get this?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.
“Emily approached Damon with a counteroffer,” Goodrich says. “She wanted to see if he would offer her more than Anderson for her shop.”
I hold my tongue. I know Goodrich and that he's trying to get a rise out of me. I also know that he’s not the most honest person around. Never has been. He's always working some angle and he's not above distorting the facts, let alone outright lying, in order to get what he wants.
Knowing all of that, my first instinct is to assume that he's simply peddling a bunch of crap, per usual. Especially since things are going so well with Liam. I can't imagine he'd go behind my back like this. I can't imagine, knowing my feelings on the subject, he wouldn't at least bring it up to me first.
“I didn't ask about how Damon might have gotten it, Brian,” I say. “I asked how you got it. Or are you admitting that you and Damon are one and the same?”
Goodrich's eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “As mayor, I am working with a number of property developers to enhance this town. We're all working in the best interest of Port Safira,” he says. “So yes, I'm working with Damon insofar as –”
“And by working with Damon and other developers,” I say, “what you really mean is that they are all lining your pockets to ensure they get everything they want.”
“I resent the ugly accusation, Paige,” he says, a look of feigned indignation on his face “It most certainly is not –”
“Get out of my store, Brian,” I say. “Now.”
I'm proud of how calm my voice is, given the maelstrom turning inside of me. I push the contract closer to him with a hand that's surprisingly not trembling. Although there are powerful emotions surging through me that I'm going to need time to sort through, the one that is coming through loud and clear is anger.
I'm angry. Furious, in fact. The problem is, I don't know who is telling the truth and who is lying. Which means I don't know who to direct this righteous fury at.
“If you're not willing to listen to the truth,” he says. “I'm not sure I'll ever get through to you, Paige. All we've done is try to help you.”
“I asked you to leave, Brian,” I almost shout. “Get out of my store. Now, goddammit!”
He shakes his head and sighs dramatically, picking up the contract and tucking it back inside his briefcase. He stares at me for a beat longer – just long enough to annoy the piss out of me – before turning around toward the door.
With his hand on the knob, he turns back and gives me a look that I'm sure he intends to be intimidating, but on him, comes across almost comical.
“Like Damon said before,” he says, his voice low, “there are other ways to get what we want, Paige.”
“Get the fuck out of my shop!”