“THEY TURNED YOU DOWN?” Hannah asked later, her blue eyes wide behind her glasses as we sat in the back of Pemberley Books, the bookstore she ran with her dad.
We often hung out back here, behind the bookshelves and the towering stacks of books. Hannah’s mom had started Pemberley Books in the nineties with Hannah’s dad. After she passed in Hannah’s teenage years, her dad took over, but Hannah ran the store full-time after she graduated university.
My cheap apartment smelled like hot dogs and Hannah lived with her dad in a tiny house a couple blocks away, so once the customers were gone and Hannah had locked the door, the bookstore was the perfect place to chat. Sometimes, on Friday nights, we put Spice Girls music on and drank wine. This dusty little store was my favorite hangout spot in town.
I slid further down the big squishy chair, breathing in the familiar paper smell in the store. Hannah sat across from me in an identical chair. “Yep. A big red rejection stamp, right on my forehead.” A pang of frustration hit my gut. “I don’t have enough savings to pass the business loan stress test.”
Hannah chewed her lip and watched me. “What are you going to do?”
An older man poked his head out of the book stacks. “Do you have any books on wood?” he asked Hannah with a frown.
Hannah paused, thinking. “We have a book on oak trees.”
He shook his head. “Not trees. Wood.”
I stifled a laugh while Hannah looked confused.
“And don’t even say they’re the same thing like the other place,” the man told her, and I hid my grin behind my hand. When Hannah looked perplexed, the man disappeared into the book stacks.
“I have no clue what I’m going to do,” I told her. “Do you have a couple hundred thousand dollars lying around?”
We glanced around the shabby bookstore. There was dust on every surface. The place was dark, with the only daylight peeking in behind the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in the windows. The carpet beneath our feet was worn. As if the bookstore heard us, one of the shelves behind Hannah’s head broke and books clunked to the ground.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” I asked.
She rubbed the back of her head. “Ow. Yes. And no, we don’t have a couple hundred thousand dollars lying around or this place wouldn’t smell like that.”
I grinned at her. “All I smell is old books.”
She studied me out of the corner of her eye. “That’s good.”
We laughed.
The man’s head popped out from behind the book stack again. “Any books on termites?”
Hannah shook her head. “We don’t have any books on termites right now, but if you have a specific one you were searching for, I can order it in.”
The man made a forget about it gesture, grumbled something, and wandered off.
Hannah was my best friend, and I had spent many hours sitting with her in the back of Pemberley Books. I met her shortly after I moved to town. She was a few years younger than me, very shy and quiet with most people, but I had worn her down by stopping by her bookstore on a weekly basis and asking her to track down several hard-to-find books on antique jewelry. I was not a rich lady, and I had been saving my ass off for years to buy the restaurant, but I had one teeny tiny indulgence—antique jewelry, specifically from the early nineteen-hundreds.
I exhaled through my nose and the pang of frustration hit me in the gut again. I couldn’t believe how naïve I’d been this morning at the bank. I figured because I had worked hard and saved, didn’t have any debt, and had always been responsible with my credit card, I could just put my hand out, ask for some money, and the bank would sign it over.
Not the case.
“I either need to find a way to make way, way more money,” I told Hannah, “or I need to find another way to get a loan. Or I need a cosigner.”
She cocked her head at me.
The loan specialist had told me I could get a business loan if I had a cosigner sign on the loan for me. The loan would be for both of us, and if I chose not to pay it back, that other person would be on the hook for the money. Ideally, this would be a person with high income, exceptional credit, and deep pockets.
“What about your parents?” Hannah asked, and I snorted.
“With his credit, I don’t think my dad could borrow a book from the library, and I don’t want to put my mom in that position.” After the restaurant went under, my mom found out how much money my dad had borrowed while they were trying to make it work. They were in the red. Really, really red. Then my dad took off and because they were married, it wasn’t just his debt. It was her debt, too. I still remembered her expression when the letters began to arrive, all stamped OVERDUE and LAST NOTICE in big red letters.
A shiver rippled through me. There was no way I was going to ask her to cosign on my loan, even if I would fight like hell to prevent her from having to pay a cent. I just couldn’t do that to her.
Off Hannah’s uncertain expression, I sat up straighter and gave her a confident smile. “I’m going to figure this out.”
She nodded. “Is there anything I can do to help—”
“Nope,” I said, cutting her off. “I’ve got it.”
The bell on the front door rang as a customer walked in. Hannah stood. “Be right back.”
I stood as well. “I’ve got to get to the restaurant. Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime,” she said over her shoulder, giving me a smile and disappearing into the book stacks to say hello to the customer.
On the walk back to the restaurant, I mentally ran through my options, coming up short on any solutions. I couldn’t get a smaller loan and offer Keiko less money—that wasn’t fair to her. She had put years into this business and selling it was her retirement fund. Offering her less would put her in an awkward position, because I had a feeling she would accept. She wanted me to have the restaurant, but I couldn’t sleep at night knowing I short-changed her.
The second I turned the corner and the restaurant came into view, I forgot all about Keiko, the restaurant, and the loan. I had a brand-new problem.
In front of the restaurant, there was a small stretch of grass with some gardens and foliage. The restaurant’s namesake Arbutus tree grew at the right of the entrance. A path led through the garden area to the restaurant and in the evenings, lanterns lined the walkway. Benches sat around the entrance among the flowers and plants to seat diners waiting for their tables. I loved this front exterior design—it was beautiful, inviting, and serene.
But I didn’t feel the serenity as two men pounded wooden stakes into the grass, installing an enormous blue sign with Emmett Rhodes’ face on it.
Rage clouded my vision.
Vote for Emmett Rhodes, the sign read. It was ten feet tall and blocked the windows to the restaurant so pedestrians could view the monstrosity. Instead of seeing the town’s quaint street and people-watching, diners would have a view of the back of Emmett’s sign.
I barked a humorless laugh. Of course he was running for mayor. The guy thought the sun shined straight out of his ass, of course he wanted to get into politics.
I sure as hell wasn’t going to help him, and I wasn’t going to let him scare off customers with a picture of his face the size of an elephant.
The men were putting the finishing touches on the structure as I stalked up.
“Good morning. Let’s talk about this.” I gestured at Emmett’s stupid smiling face. His teeth were so freaking white.
The men looked uncertain. One of them climbed down his ladder. “Emmett Rhodes hired us to install this.”
I nodded at them. “I understand you’re doing your job, but this is a business, and you don’t have permission to do this. Please remove it.”
Emmett appeared at my side, studying the sign. “Great work, guys.”
They began to pack up and leave, and I turned to Emmett, crossing my arms over my chest. “Get rid of it.”
He studied the sign, ignoring me. “I thought it would be bigger.”
I inhaled and rubbed my temples. This guy. I couldn’t believe him. “This can’t be here. Who said you could put the sign up?”
He gave me the same winning smile that was on the sign. “Keiko.”
My nostrils flared. “Keiko told you it was okay to put a billboard in front of her restaurant?”
He nodded, smiling and watching me with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and amusement. “She sure did. See, Adams, when I’m mayor, I’m going to upgrade the electrical grid. That means no more power outages, and business owners love that idea just as much as residents.” He gestured at the sign. “Keiko was happy to let me install this here.”
I shook my head. Keiko, you’re too good to be wooed by this guy and his false charms. “Unbelievable,” I scoffed. “Your ego knows no limits, does it?”
He gave me a cocky grin. “I’m just trying to do the right thing, Adams.”
Right. The right thing. I knew guys like Emmett Rhodes. Slippery, schmoozey, friends with everyone until you needed them or they needed to be accountable for their choices.
Keiko had said yes to him, and I didn’t own the restaurant. A twist of nerves hit me in the gut when I remembered my bank loan rejection this morning. I had bigger problems than this sign.
“Remove it by the end of election day,” I said, turning and walking up the path to the restaurant. “Or I’ll draw devil horns on it and show people who you really are.”
Emmett’s low laugh followed me, and my jaw clenched.
“I hope I can count on your vote, Adams,” he called after me.
“When hell freezes over,” I called back before disappearing inside the restaurant.
“Avery,” Max’s voice stopped me in my tracks the second I stepped inside. It was busy, most tables were full, and Max had a frantic, wide-eyed look to him. “Bea called, she has a cold. I told her we’d cover it. That’s okay, right?”
I nodded, glancing out at the back of the campaign sign. What an eyesore. “I’ll handle her tables,” I told Max, and he sagged with relief.
I missed serving sometimes. The good parts at least, like keeping busy, interacting with people on vacation and locals enjoying their day, and watching the cogs of this restaurant turn.
“Table Three, order up,” the line cook called, and I used cloths to scoop the plates up before hustling them out to the table.
“Hey there,” I said to Elizabeth, one of my favorite people in this town. She sat at a table near a window by herself, chin on her palm, gazing out at the ocean with a gentle smile.
Elizabeth Rhodes was in her sixties and was one of the kindest, most astute people I knew. She had raised four boys, including Emmett, so she took no bullshit from anyone. She had a grounding presence about her, and the second I stepped into her proximity, I didn’t have to be anyone but myself. She was one of those people who made everyone around her feel special. I couldn’t explain it.
Don’t ask me how someone like Emmett came from someone like Elizabeth. I had no clue.
She beamed up at me. “Avery, what a nice surprise.”
“I have a salmon burger with a side salad and a chickpea bowl.”
She held her hand up. “Chickpea bowl here, please.”
“The salmon burger is for me,” Emmett said at my side, slipping into his chair. He flashed me a big grin, and I stared at him blankly before turning back to Elizabeth with a pleasant smile.
“Can I get you anything else?” I asked her, ignoring her son.
She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“I’ll have another coffee,” Emmett added.
“We’re out,” I said without looking at him.
“Oh, did you hear the news?” Elizabeth asked me. “Emmett here is running for mayor.”
I snorted, and my gaze flicked to him.
Elizabeth stood. “Excuse me a moment, I want to wash my hands before I eat.”
When she disappeared, I looked around wildly in mock confusion. “Hey, why’s it so dark in here?” I kept my voice low so only Emmett could hear me. “I didn’t know we were due for an eclipse—oh, that’s just your campaign sign blocking out the sun.”
An amused grin spread over his features.
“Isaac Anderson has been mayor a long time,” I told him.
“I’m aware,” he replied, and I saw a flash of indignation in his eyes. “Too long, don’t you think?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m tired of the problems in this town, and it’s time we had some fresh blood in town hall.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, watching me intently. “Aren’t you sick of having to throw out everything in the freezer every time your kitchen loses power?”
I paused. He had a point. We had refined our ordering so we kept as little food on hand as we could, but it wasn’t the most efficient process. It would save me time and money if I could buy more food in bulk and store certain things longer.
The image of Isaac and his perfect little family eating at the restaurant the other night flashed into my head. “So, you’re going to dethrone Isaac.”
“Yep,” Emmett confirmed. “I am.”
“You should hire someone to play your dutiful little wife,” I told him. “Maybe a couple child actors to play your perfect cyborg children. That’s the only way you’re going to win.” I looked him up and down. “No one’s going to trust the town bachelor with their tax money.”
That got a reaction. He frowned and opened his mouth to say something but shut it when Elizabeth slipped into her seat across from him.
“Avery, I heard about Keiko selling the place,” she said, a sympathetic expression settling on her features. “That’s too bad about your loan.”
My eyes widened. How did she know? Someone must have overheard Hannah and me in the bookstore this morning. Or maybe someone saw me leaving the bank, looking pissed off.
I nodded, giving her a tight smile while my stomach twisted. Goddamn, this small town. I loved this place, but word spread fast. A knot formed in my stomach at the mention of the loan. “It’s unexpected.”
She reached out and touched my arm. “I know how much The Arbutus means to you.”
I gave her another tight smile. I hated that people knew I couldn’t get a loan. Shame boiled in my gut. “I’ll figure something out.”
Emmett’s phone buzzed. “Hi Div,” he answered, standing and walking away from the table.
I shook my head after him. So rude. Polite men didn’t answer the phone while having lunch with their moms. Especially not moms like Elizabeth.
Through the windows that weren’t blocked by the world’s largest campaign sign, I spotted a group of people outside, gathering around someone.
“What’s going on out there?” I asked.
Elizabeth glanced over. “One of the kids in Ms. Yang’s class at school is taking care of the class turtle for the week. Don’t tell Emmett, he hates turtles. Avery, honey, did you see the magazine Emmett is on?” She lifted it up to show me, and I studied his image.
Damn, he was good-looking. Too bad his outsides didn’t match his insides.
Wait. “What do you mean, he hates turtles?”
She shook her head. “Can’t stand them. He ran into one with his bike when he was a kid and crushed it, poor thing.”
I wasn’t sure whether her poor thing referred to Emmett or the turtle, but I had spent enough of my day thinking about him so I gave her another warm smile. “Okay, well, enjoy your food.”
Once the lunch rush died down, I retreated to my office and closed the door. I slumped into my chair and let out a long sigh. The bank was concerned I couldn’t make payments in the event that the restaurant had to close. I either needed to find another source of income or get a loan from elsewhere.
A wave of despair and hopelessness washed through me, and I sucked a sharp breath in through my nose. I closed my eyes. I would not feel sorry for myself, and I would not give up. I was going to find a way to get that money.
