Chapter Nine
Maddie paced the Checkerberry’s kitchen floor in a half panicked, half excited state. Tyson had turned up at the Quarter Clean-It this afternoon. And, stalker-ish or not, she’d turned up there shortly after he did. It’d been much busier today than the last time they’d gone, but as luck would have it, the sleeve-eating machine beside his was free. Careful not to get anywhere near the washer’s undercarriage, she’d put her meager load of towels in and then angled for the seat beside him.
And just as Cole had predicted, her outfit caught his eye. Or maybe Tyson had just looked up because she momentarily blocked the sunlight he was using to help read his Muscle Fit magazine. Yeah, probably the latter. Regardless, he’d offered her a smile and hadn’t run away screaming, so she’d taken that as a good sign. Better than good, actually, as they soon got to talking about jobs and food. And when he’d gone to leave, he smiled and said he’d see her around.
He’d see me around!
Was that a good sign? A brush-off? An open invitation she’d missed for asking him out? Maddie needed Cole here and she needed him now.
Knowing it was pointless to stand there festering, she crossed the room and threw open one of her utensil drawers. Best to keep busy until she could interrogate him. Work had always been a surefire distraction from the stress of real life. Though, if she could just find her late grandmother’s paring knife work could hurry up and get under way.
“Where is it?” she muttered, digging through the next drawer. And the next. “Dang it, Cole. Where’d you put it already?”
With a half growl she grabbed one of Ruby’s old knives. It wasn’t her favorite, but it’d have to do. Thankfully, it did the trick. By the time Cole walked in, she was elbow-deep in asparagus.
“Oh, there you are.” She set her knife down and followed after him as he made his way to hang up his coat. What she really wanted to do was bombard him with the million and one “what do I make of my encounter with Tyson” questions. Instead, she tried to dial it back a few notches.
Okay, more like a hundred notches.
“Sooo. How was your afternoon?”
He gave her a wary look as he slipped out of his jacket. “It was all right. You?”
“OhmyGodIthoughtyou’dneverask.”
She clamped a hand over her mouth. So much for playing it cool. His lips pulled into a half grin.
“I take it you saw Tyson?”
“Yes! And you were totally right—he looked right at me as I came over to sit by him.” She cleared her throat, opting to leave out the part about blocking out the sun. “He asked how my arm was, apologized again for not being able to lift the machine up so we didn’t have to ruin my sweater.”
“We.” Cole arched a brow.
“Yeah, you know. The three of us.” She ignored his flat look. “Anyway, turns out he works at that new gym over by campus. And get this—we totally have something in common!”
“Wow, no kidding?”
“Yes! Well, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Yeah. So, you know how I love to cook and experiment in the kitchen, right? Well, turns out he does, too. Only, where I’m creating four course meals, he’s creating health smoothies.”
“Oh sure, I can see how that’s totally the same thing.” He broke into a grin and headed for the sink.
“What? Cooking is cooking and eating is eating. So what if his meals fit through a straw?”
Cole’s laughter rang out, and she couldn’t help but cringe. Had that sounded as pathetic out loud as it did replaying in her head? Still, that Tyson was familiar with the kitchen made him an even better choice for asking to the gala. Now they’d have something to talk about when he was twirling her around the dance floor.
“Go ahead, yuck it up. But this is huge, Cole. Do you know how hard it is to find a guy who wants to have anything to do with a kitchen?”
“Nope, can’t say that I do.”
She reached out to bat him in the arm. “I’m trying to be serious here.”
“Ouch! Fine, I’ll be serious.” He rubbed his upper arm. “So you caught his eye, you talked…did you get his digits?”
“His what?”
“His cell number, Maddie. Did you get his number?”
“No. Was I supposed to ask for it?”
“Depends how well it went, I guess. Or if he asked for yours.”
“No, he didn’t.” She ran a hand over her hair. “Gah, I hate this! How am I supposed to know what to do or not to do? Is there a Dating for Dummies book out there or something?”
Cole turned and put a hand on each of her shoulders. “Stop stressing. This is supposed to be fun, exciting. Not like a root canal.”
Maddie nodded. The warmth of his touch began to soothe her frayed nerves. Cole was right, of course. No sense in getting all cray-cray over a simple conversation.
Cray-cray—was that even a term people used anymore? She decided to keep that question to herself. No sense in coming off any more socially awkward that she already did.
Cole withdrew his hands and leaned back against the sink’s edge. “So you two were talking, swapping…blender tales, and then what? His clothes finished and he just left?”
“No. I mean, we didn’t talk the entire time. Just some of it. His dryer buzzed first, so he got up and started folding his darks. Just as he finished, my dryer buzzed. I got up to get it, and he smiled and said, ‘See you around, Maddie.’”
“See you around.” Cole nodded. “Definitely potential there.”
“But what does that mean?”
“Uh, I think it means he’ll see you—”
“Don’t…say it.” She ignored his teasing grin. “I mean…what do I do next?”
“My advice? Wear something that’ll catch his eye again next time, and be ready to ask him out for coffee. Or a smoothie. You know, whichever you think he’d prefer.”
Maddie threw him a dark look. “Oh sure, go ahead and laugh and we’ll see just how long I keep you on after the gala comes and goes.”
He faked a cough and turned for the sink. “You’re the boss, boss.”
“Darned right I am. Speaking of which—what’d you do with my favorite paring knife, anyway?”
Cole went stock still. “What?”
“My paring knife. I used it Saturday, haven’t seen it since you washed it. You didn’t run off with it or anything, did you?”
An awkward moment of silence descended on the kitchen. Cole cast a dark look over his shoulder. “I didn’t take anybody’s knife.”
“Sorry, I…it was a joke, Cole. I know you wouldn’t take it.”
He muttered something but kept his back to her. Fearing she’d unintentionally struck a nerve, Maddie left him be and went back to work. Her dishwasher remained distant the rest of the evening, and not until she slid a plate of slow-cooked rib tips his way after the dinner rush had ended did he marginally perk up. She made a mental note not to tease him about things coming up missing in the future.
Though, why a joke like that would bother him was a mystery to her.
…
Cole sat beside his grandfather in an overly potpourried office at Sheridan Realty the next morning, wishing Bob Sheridan would hurry it up already. The application had been approved, funding from the bank secured, and yet the aging small town bigwig seemed bent on prolonging their appointment. If he didn’t know any better, it was to allow extra time to study Cole, now that his background check had been run.
Run and studied closely, judging by Mr. Sheridan’s scrutinizing gaze. A change from the jolly welcome he’d offered Cole when he’d put down his deposit last week. Today, the older man looked like he was ready to spring from his leather wingback chair and rescue any of the gold-trimmed valuables on his desk if Cole so much as looked at them funny. And the glance Mr. Sheridan had exchanged with his receptionist when she’d led the Granvilles back to his office? Oh yeah, that not-so-subtle silent exchange had spoken volumes.
The proverbial closet door had officially been opened.
Cole frowned. All the work he’d done to crawl out from under that dark cloud, and what good had it done him? Not twenty-four hours had passed since filling out their joint application, and already an elephant had joined them in the room. What if he’d been wrong to listen to his grandfather? It was just a matter of time now before word got out. Soon no one would trust him.
No one, not even Maddie. And she’d already started to doubt him all on her own.
“I have to say, Tom, I was surprised to see your name as primary applicant on the lease.” Mr. Sheridan steepled his hands beneath his chin, elbows perched on the arms of his chair.
“I can imagine—you know as well as I from our younger days at Holy Cross that I don’t have a musical bone in my body. My grandson, though, he’s got a God-given gift. I plan to see it get put to good use.”
The look of superiority on Mr. Sheridan’s face dimmed. “Indeed.”
He picked up a set of keys from his desk and passed them to Old Tom. “The previous renter cleaned out the last of their things Monday, so you’re free to use the place within the confines of our agreement. Six months is the term, to be paid each month whether you remain there or not. If you choose to extend your lease beyond that, you’ll need to give me thirty days notice before the lease is up for a six-month extension. Though, if you get behind on your payments, an extension of the lease would be highly unlikely.” His gaze shifted to Cole, the message clear. “Any questions?”
“No, sir.”
“Very well, then. Good luck with your shop, gentlemen. And Tom, I’ll be by later this week to talk vanities. Mama wants her bathroom updated before spring.”
Cole’s grandfather stood and reached to shake hands with his old hunting buddy. “Appreciate you working with us on this, Bob.”
“Of course, Tom.” Mr. Sheridan shook his hand, then gave Cole’s a strong shake as well. “Cole.”
“Mr. Sheridan.”
Cole followed his grandfather out of the office, past the lobby, and out into the brisk October air. A cloudless sky blinded him, and he paused to let his vision adjust to the change in lighting.
“You did well, holding your tongue in there.”
He cast his grandfather a scowl and started for their delivery truck parked in Sheridan Realty’s small but neat and tidy lot. “That guy’s as arrogant as the day is long.”
“He’s a businessman, Cole. Gotta make a living just like the rest of us.”
“Well, he could make the same living without looking a country mile down his nose at clients if you ask me.” Or judging people without knowing their whole story…
Old Tom shrugged and headed for the passenger side door.
“You don’t want to drive, Grandpa?”
“Nah. Kinda like you driving me places. Makes me feel a bit like Miss Daisy.”
Cole grinned as the two climbed in and fastened their seat belts. “Guess that makes me Hoke the chauffer, huh?”
“No.” His grandfather held up the set of keys. “It makes you Cole Granville, CEO of Granville Guitars. Or whatever it is you plan on naming it.”
Cole felt his heart wedge itself in his throat. No matter the microscope Bob Sheridan had trapped him under the past hour, those keys represented freedom. His gateway to the American Dream, his chance to be somebody. And all because the man beside him, the one stable force in Cole’s tumultuous existence, believed in him.
It was happening. It was really happening.
He took the keys and curled his fingers around them, knowing he’d remember that moment for the rest of his life. “Thanks, Grandpa.”
“Don’t thank me, son.” Old Tom smiled. “Just work hard and make me proud.”
Working hard wasn’t anything new to him. The making proud part? Well, there hadn’t been many opportunities to do that in the past. But he’d be darned if he wasn’t going to do everything humanly possible to earn that designation. Question was, would the town keep an open mind once rumors started flying?
Cole glanced back to Sheridan Realty and saw the receptionist peering out at them from the mini blinds, phone receiver to her ear. Oh yeah, the rumor mill was definitely already at work. But who knew? Maybe the town would give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe not. If his shop failed, though, it wouldn’t be from his lack of trying.
He looked to his grandfather and offered him a nod. “I’ll do my best.”