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We hadn't made the evening news. Not even our sex photo had gone that wide.
"Did you take that photo of me and Val?" I asked.
He covered his eyes with his hand, wincing. "Yeah. I went back to the resort to grab my last paycheck and a few tools I'd left behind. That's when I saw you two. I showed the cashier the picture on my phone. She wanted me to text it to her, so I…did."
You bastard, I wanted to scream. Shock paralyzed me, though, and I could manage only to stare at him. "Those tools belong to me. I bought them."
"After I saw what I saw, I left without taking any tools."
I glared at Quentin. "Let me get this straight. First, you beat up Val. Then, after I fire your ass, you start blabbing to the hardware store cashier. Next, you take a dirty picture of me and Val. Finally, you give that photo to the fucking cashier so she can sell it and all the gossip you told her to the first scummy tabloid she can find online. My life got blown up, and it's all because of you."
"Yeah, it's my fault. I'm sorry, Eve. I'm so sorry."
"I never want to see your face again. Not in the hardware store, not in the grocery store, not even when I drive past your truck on the street." I jabbed a finger into the air near his face. "Do you understand?"
"Don't worry, you'll never see me again. I got a job in Salt Lake City."
Maybe I should've felt relieved hearing that. All I really felt was sad. I'd lost a friend because he betrayed me and proved he'd never been a friend at all. I'd lost my privacy and my sense of security thanks to the invasion of the tabloid vultures.
I'd lost Val.
Maybe I couldn't change any of that stuff, but I could sure as hell change one thing. I pushed past Quentin and marched straight to Sam's office at the back of the store. The door hung open as usual, so I walked inside and dropped onto the empty chair beside his desk.
Once I'd explained the situation, I didn't get a chance to demand he fire the cashier.
"She's gone," Sam said. "I'll inform her right away."
Getting the cashier fired didn't make me feel better. Well, not a lot better. At least one person who'd screwed with my life had paid for it. When I got home, Ollie suggested I talk to a lawyer, but suing Quentin or the stupid girl who'd tattled to the paparazzi wouldn't help anything. I'd spend money I didn't have in an attempt to get restitution from a girl who earned minimum wage. Quentin wasn't rolling in dough either.
So, I took the high road and let it go.
A good wallow sounded awesome, but I had no time for that. The attack of the rampaging paparazzi had triggered an unexpected side effect. The resort was now fully booked for the next six months.
When the calls had started to pour in, I'd contacted my regular guests to find out when they might want to return, to make sure they got a spot reserved.
Ruth had told me, "We're coming right away, sweetie. You need all the support you can get."
"I'm fine, really. Ollie's sticking around to help out."
"We're coming, Eve. No arguments."
A few days later, Ruth and Sylvester arrived in a chartered bus.
When I saw the huge vehicle, I gaped at it and at the gaggle of people disembarking. I knew all of them. There was Ruth, Sylvester, my parents, my brother and sister and their significant others, my niece and nephew, and the entire Kitten Brigade. Well, almost all of them. Heidi wasn't among them. Shelby told me Heidi had gotten engaged and was too busy to come, but she'd sent a care package. It contained fancy things that might be found at a spa, things like goat's milk soap and bath beads. I loved Heidi in spite of the way she'd dumped Ollie. He still cared about her, I knew, but he'd recovered from their breakup better than I was recovering from mine.
Every member of my family hugged me. Even Krista's fiancé, Jeremy, hugged me.
Surrounded by my family and Ruth and Sylvester, I studied the vehicle they'd arrived in. "Why did you guys charter a bus? I would've picked you up at the airport. My old bus isn't luxurious, but it would've fit all of you."
"We didn't charter the bus," Mom said. "Val bought it for you."
"Yeah," Sylvester said, "he seems to think he's your business partner."
"What?" I started gaping again, my gaze flicking from Mom to Sly and back again. "But he went home. I haven't heard from him in two weeks."
"Don't know anything about that," Sly said, "but I heard him saying, clear as day, he bought this bus for your business."
"He said 'our business,' honey," Ruth corrected. "He meant the resort because he and Eve run it together."
