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“Well, sure.”
“And Gardner was with her when she moved in?”
The P.I. chuckled. “Yessir. I mean—”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Dante said without inflection. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.”
“Yeah, but, Mr. Russo—”
“Most helpful,” Dante repeated.
The detective got the message.
Alone, Dante told himself he’d accomplish nothing unless he stayed calm, but a knot of red-hot rage was already blooming in his gut. Taylor hadn’t left him because she’d grown bored. She’d left him for another man. She’d been seeing someone, making love with someone, while she’d been with him.
He went to the window and clasped the edge of the sill, hands tightening on the marble the way they wanted to tighten on her throat. Confronting her wouldn’t be enough. Beating the crap out of her lover wouldn’t be enough, either, although it would damned well help.
He wanted more. Wanted the kind of revenge that her infidelity merited. How dare she make a fool of him? How dare she?
There had to be a way. A plan.
Suddenly, he recalled the P.I.’s words. She’s done well. In fact, she’s just applied for an expansion loan at the local bank.
Dante smiled. There was. And he could hardly wait to put it into motion.
CHAPTER TWO
TAYLOR SOMMERS POURED a cup of coffee, put it on the sink, opened the refrigerator to get the cream and realized she’d already put it on the table, right alongside the cup she’d already filled with coffee only minutes before.
She took a steadying breath.
“Keep it up,” she said, her voice loud in the silence, “and Walter Dennison’s going to tell you he was only joking when he said he’d change those loan payments.”
Dennison was a nice man; he’d been a friend of her grandmother’s. He’d shown compassion and small-town courtesy when Tally fell behind on repaying the home equity loan his bank had granted her.
But he wasn’t a fool and only a fool would go on doing that for a woman who behaved as if she were coming apart.
Was that why he wanted to see her today? Had he changed his mind? If he had, if he wanted her to pay the amount the loan called for each month…
Tally closed her eyes.
She’d be finished. The town had already shut down the interior decorating business she’d been running from home. Without the loan, she’d lose the shop she’d rented on the village green even before it opened because, to put it simply, she was broke.
Flat broke.
Okay, if you wanted absolute accuracy, she had two hundred dollars in her bank account, but it was a drop in the bucket compared to what she needed.
She’d long ago used up her savings. Moving to Vermont, paying for repairs to make liv
able the old house she’d inherited from her grandmother, just day-to-day expenses for Sam and her had taken a huge chunk of her savings.
Start-up costs for INTERIORS BY TAYLOR had swallowed the rest. Beginning a decorating business, even from home, was expensive. You had to have at least a small showroom—in her case, what had once been an enclosed porch on the back of the house—so that potential clients could get a feel for your work. Paint, fabric, wicker furniture to make the porch inviting had cost a bundle.
Then there were the fabric samples, decorative items like vases and lamps, handmade candles and fireplace accessories…Expensive, all of them. Some catalogs alone could be incredibly pricey. Advertising costs were astronomical but if you didn’t reach the right people, all your other efforts were pointless.
Little by little, INTERIORS BY TAYLOR had begun to draw clients from the upscale ski communities within miles of tiny Shelby. Taylor’s accounts had still been in the red, but things had definitely been looking up.
And then the town clerk phoned. He was apologetic, but that didn’t make his message any less harsh.
