A Small-Town Temptation. Terry Mclaughlin

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СКАЧАТЬ nobody—from nowhere. That’s what he’d felt like when he’d left, and that’s why he’d never go back. He’d worked his way across the country and struggled for a foothold on the corporate ladder, and he’d done it on his own.

      And now he was going to collect the rest of his things, and settle down for some late-afternoon coffee and cookies, and pump Agatha Allen for every shred of information he could coax out of her. He’d kick back and relax, thicken his accent a touch and see what unexpected tips it might tickle loose.

      Corporate intrigue came in all shapes and sizes, even coconut macaroons.

      A KELP-SCENTED, BONE-CHILLING fog thickened the darkness on Cove Street that evening when Charlie steered her truck toward A Slice of Light, the stained-glass shop owned by Addie Sutton. The jeweled tones of the samples dangling in the windows slid over her windshield as she angled into the parking space behind Tess Roussel’s sporty red compact. Her two best friends in the same place at the same time—twice the sympathy, double the outrage. Fewer brownies to go around, she thought as she stuffed a pink bakery box inside a deep grocery bag and slipped out the driver’s door, but the moral support would be worth it.

      She needed all the support she could muster after today’s potentially devastating developments.

      Ignoring the Closed sign in the window, she rapped on the shop door. After a shivering wait and a second round of more insistent knocking, Tess—long-legged even without her three-inch heels—appeared in the darkened shop and sauntered over to open the door. Why the town’s newest architect wanted to wrestle her way into pantyhose and thigh-hugging skirts every day was a mystery.

      “Well, look what the tide washed in,” said Tess. “A little red-shelled crab.”

      “What are you doing here?” Charlie angled past her and headed toward the long, deep counter dividing the shop’s display area from Addie’s work space. She paused near a table bristling with pins holding dozens of cut glass pieces in place. It was the beginning of a peacock, the body crafted in rich hues and the tail cascading in intricate detail over the jagged outline of a tree limb.

      “Same as you,” said Tess. “Scrounging for dinner company.”

      “Shouldn’t you be out on some hot date with some hot dude?”

      “It’s Thursday. Give me another twenty-four hours.” Tess closed the shop door and flipped the lock. “On the other hand, another day probably won’t make a difference. I’m fresh out of hot prospects in this town. Nothing but lukewarm lately.”

      Charlie shot a skeptical glance at the woman with whom she’d shared every summer vacation during their school years. Tall, dark and drop-dead gorgeous, Tess had only to crook a manicured finger at any available man in Carnelian Cove to have him panting after her.

      “Besides,” said Tess as she brushed her short, layered hair out of her eyes, “I’m too busy being brilliant.”

      “And humble.”

      “Only when required.”

      Charlie followed Tess through the curtained glass door at the rear of Addie’s shop and stepped into the odd apartment ranged along the building’s back wall. Antique kitchen appliances lined one side of the open space, and a thrift-shop sofa and woodstove directly opposite defined the seating area. Pipes and heating ducts snaked around lighting fixtures suspended from the high ceiling. The loft effect at ground level.

      She passed an old, claw-footed oak table crowded with books, rolls of paper and a fat yellow pitcher stuffed with tulips and set her package on the slanted farmhouse sink, near the wreckage of a fast-food meal. She helped herself to one of the fries heaped on wrinkled paper and waved another one toward the mess on the table. “Is that your stuff taking up all the eating space?”

      “My latest sketches. Look.” Tess spread one of the rolls of paper and anchored the corners with the books. “Look.”

      Charlie popped another fry into her mouth and wiped her hands on her jeans before studying Tess’s sketch for a proposed bayside project. The opportunity to develop the property with her own design had played a major role in luring Tess from a large architectural firm in San Francisco. Charlie and Addie had been delighted when their childhood friend had hung her shingle above one of the Cove’s Main Street storefronts.

      “I’ve decided the main entrance should feature stained-glass sidelights,” said Tess. “Maybe some more touches, here, and here—” she indicated “—if I can incorporate the design into the structure.”

      Charlie marveled again at the way Tess had managed to capture and update Carnelian Cove’s architectural traditions with clean lines and decorative details. The building would add a fresh touch to the waterfront while blending in with its nineteenth-century neighbors “I hate to admit it,” she said, “but you’re right. You are brilliant.”

      “Best idea I’ve seen in a long time,” said Addie in her low, raspy voice as she stepped around the partition screening her bedroom from the rest of her apartment. Her long blond hair fell in tangled spirals from a clip that had slipped to one side of her head. “Although I told her she should come back tomorrow morning so we can look at some glass samples in the sunlight.”

      Charlie traced a finger over the drawing. “All that glass looks like a lot of work.”

      “I could use a lot of work,” Addie said. “Business has been slow.” She crossed to the sink, rummaged through the large brown bag holding Charlie’s contributions to the impromptu dinner party and pulled out the pink box. “Is this from Bern’s Bakery?”

      “Marie-Claudette’s brownies?” Tess snatched the box from Addie and ripped through the tape. “God, yes.”

      “The ones with the fudge frosting?” Addie reached around Tess and fished out a chunky pastry. “And sprinkles. Look—red ones, for Valentine’s Day.”

      “Dibs on the blondies,” said Tess.

      “Don’t worry. They’re all yours.” Addie licked dark brown frosting from the corner of her mouth. “They’re disgusting.”

      “Just because they’re not chocolate—”

      “Which makes them disgusting—”

      “Please.” Charlie pulled her soda six-pack from the crumpled grocery sack and wrenched a can from its plastic ring. “I’m in the middle of a crisis here.”

      “Charlie.” Addie’s blue eyes darkened with worry. “What is it?”

      Charlie took a long sip of her soda. “David’s really done it this time.”

      “He convinced your mom to sell?”

      “He burned down the plant?”

      “He totaled his fancy new company truck?”

      “He got Missy Turner pregnant?”

      Charlie zeroed in on Tess. “What was that about Missy Turner?”

      “Nothing. Not a thing.” Tess stuffed a wedge of yellow brownie into her mouth, cutting off any chance for an explanation.

      Addie pulled one СКАЧАТЬ