Chapter Twenty-Six
Paige
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!”
I snag a book that's sitting on top of a nearby pile and hurl it at him with everything in me. It hits the door with a loud crash, narrowly missing his head. He glares at me, but when I pick up a second, heftier book, it's enough to make him turn and leave quickly.
Once I'm alone, I bury my face in my hands and try to sort through all the thoughts and emotions swirling through my head. The contract looked legit, but there's no way I could possibly know what Anderson Development's letterhead looks like. It's not like I have a stack of it sitting here for reference. For all I know, it could easily be a fake.
I tell myself not to jump to conclusions until I talk to Liam in person. He's never given me a reason to doubt him. Which means I have to trust him.
At least, for now.
~ooo000ooo~
“Hey, there you are,” Skyler says as she waltzes into my shop.
She drops a bag onto the counter – presumably, what she brought me for lunch. I'm appreciative, of course, but at the moment, eating is the last thing that I feel like doing.
“Here I am,” I mutter.
“Brought you something to eat,” she says. “Enrique is trying out a new recipe, so I want you to tell me what you think. And be honest.”
I give her a smile I hope looks more authentic than it feels. “Thanks.”
She looks at with an odd expression on her face, obviously knowing that something is wrong. But, she waits to press me on it. At least, for the moment.
“You'll never guess who stopped by the Grill today,” Skyler says.
“Who?” I mumble.
I'm still feeling like shit – thanks to my earlier exchange with Goodrich. There are so many questions rattling around in my head. I'm having trouble with it all. If what Goodrich said is true, it means that Liam has been lying to me this whole time. Using me... Stabbing me straight in the back.
“Gatsby! I finally met your reclusive lover and got to have an actual conversation with him,” she beams brightly. “And I have to say – nice job, Paige. Gorgeous, intelligent, witty, and rich – and he knows how to get you off like a rock star? Damn, he's actually someone I'd consider marrying – and you know that I don't say that easily. Well done, sweetie.”
“You barely know him,” I say.
“I've lived vicariously through you, so it's almost like I know him,” she says, her smile wide.
I smile slightly, starting to feel a bit better. It's hard not to under Skyler's unrelenting assault of cheeriness. Mostly, I'm just amused by her shenanigans. Though I have to admit, Liam is pretty nice on the eyes.
“He seems like a nice guy though,” she says. “A good businessman too.”
I sigh. “Like you'd know anything about his business.”
She raises an eyebrow as she looks at me. “Well, he did talk about it with me, a bit,” she says. “I may not know all the finer details, but I do know a little –”
“Wait,” I say. “You talked to him about his business? About what exactly?”
“Developing the town, of course,” she says. “When he came into the Grill, we talked for a while. He told me not to make any deals with Damon Moore and that a better offer was on the way.”
I freeze, that gut-wrenching feeling of nausea rising up within me once more. “And?” I ask. “What did you say?”
“That at the moment, I'm not interested in selling. That I'm doing just fine on my own, thank you very much,” she says.
“And what did he say?”
“That if I ever am interested, to talk to him,” she says. “He told me to steer well clear of Damon Moore. Said the guy is bad news.”
I sigh and shake my head, feeling like I might throw up. This can't be. This just cannot be.
“Yeah, I guess your lover boy wants a piece of the pie, after all. Well, a piece of the town development pie in addition to the Paige Samuels pie,” she says and laughs. “Can't say I blame him. From what I gather, it's pretty lucrative. And honestly, if I ever decide to sell, I'd rather work with Gatsby than our scumbag mayor anyway –”
“That's it,” I mutter.
I throw down the books I was trying to put away before Skyler came in and walk toward the front door. My hands trembling with anger and a dark rage bubbling up within me, I fumble around with it for a moment before finally managing to get the “I'll Be Right Back” sign up in the window.
I usher Skyler out the door before turning around and locking up the shop. Skyler stands on the sidewalk, her hands on her hips, a confused look on her face.
“Taking me to lunch to celebrate?” she jokes.
“No, I need to talk to Liam,” I say.
“Ahh,” she says, a mischievous smile on her face. “Gettin' yourself a little afternoon delight, I get it. After seeing the guy, I really get it. Like, a lot.”
“No, you don't get it. You really don't get it –” I snap.
“Excuse me?”
Skyler looks at me, her eyes wide with hurt, matching the expression on her face. I feel like an ass for lashing out at Skyler. She didn't do anything. She was just unlucky enough to be standing in the path of an oncoming hurricane of rage. Hurricane Paige.
“I can't talk right now, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you,” I say. “It's nothing to do with you, Sky, I promise. I just – I just need to go see Liam.”
I need to tear Liam a new one, is more like it. But I don't want to say that because I don't have the time to stop and talk. I hurry off toward my car, my blood boiling. I so badly want to think the best of Liam, but the evidence is quickly stacking up against him. Tears well in my eyes as I climb into my car and nearly break land speed records as I drive over to his place.