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“I wish I could tell you things will get better. But Home has been sliding for years now, even before my brother died. I may not be the best relationship bet.”
Casey drew back enough to drop a kiss on Dev’s forehead. “I’d say relationships are more give and take, but that implies that somebody is taking, which isn’t always a positive thing. I prefer to think of it as share and share alike—good times and bad, successes and failures.” He pointed at the screen. “Problems and solutions. So let’s tackle this one, shall we?”
Dev gazed at Casey’s determined expression and laughed helplessly. “This isn’t something that’s an easy fix. Maybe it would be better if you just left it to me.”
Casey swiveled his gaze from the monitor and fixed it on Dev, eyes narrowing. “Now, I can imagine several reasons why you might say something like that.” He held up his index finger. “One, you’re executing the standard Dev Harrison maneuver of taking on all responsibilities, whether they’re yours or not.”
“I don’t—”
“Two.” He added his middle finger, which might or might not have been a statement. “You’re afraid that if I see the scope of the problem, it might scare me away, which is a little arrogant on my part because that assumes that you want me to stick around.”
“I do. But that doesn’t mean—”
“Or three.” He added his ring finger and waggled all three. “You don’t think I can do it.”
Dev blinked. “Uh…”
“Aha!” Casey nudged Dev’s shoulder with all three fingers. “If we intend to make this relationship work, Devondre, you’ll need to stop judging me by my kitchen ineptitude. I can do other things.” He tapped the financial statements. “Remember?”
Dev bowed his head. “Please accept my abject apology.”
“Oh, don’t be abject. It doesn’t suit you at all. But nevertheless, apology accepted. Thank you.”
“All right.” Dev snaked his arm around Casey’s waist. “What’s the plan?”
“The first step is to find out what’s going on.” Casey peered at the screen. “Good. This one has a phone number.” He held out his palm and waggled his fingers. “Give me your phone. They’re more likely to answer if the call isn’t from a stranger.”
Dev handed it over and Casey keyed in the number.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice said tentatively.
“Hello, Leslie. My name is Casey Friel and I’m calling you on behalf of Antiques at Home.”
“Oh.” Leslie uttered a squawk of nervous laughter.
“You’re on speaker with me and Dev Harrison.” Casey kept his voice soothing and upbeat. “Since you’ve been a regular at our event for so long, we were hoping you could share your reasons for cancelling your booth this year. We sincerely hope nothing bad has happened to you or your business.”
Her sigh was audible. “Oh, no. I’m so, so sorry. I feel really bad about pulling out at the last minute, but the fellow at Green Mountain Shadows made the offer too tempting to refuse.”
“Green Mountain Shadows?” Casey shared a glance with Dev. “The resort in Merrilton?”
“Yes. Because it’s a new thing this year, and a decision they made so last minute, they offered us a free spot at their fair both this year and next year. The Fair Fair—I mean, Antiques at Home—has always been good to us, and its rates are completely reasonable, but, you know, they’re not free. Plus, the foot traffic in Home has decreased over the last couple of fairs. The resort’s new event offers more potential traffic and an annual event rather than biennial. I couldn’t afford not to take the offer.”
Dev’s grip tightened around Casey’s waist, the only thing that was keeping him from drowning in what the ever-loving fuck. Casey patted his hand. “We understand. Thank you so much for sharing with us, and I hope the event is successful for you.”
“You’re being super gracious. I truly appreciate it. And if the resort’s event isn’t what they promise, I hope you know I’ll be the first to sign up for your next fair. Thank you so much.”
Casey disconnected the call and set Dev’s phone down with what seemed deliberate gentleness. “Did you have any idea that the resort was planning a rival event?”
“No. And it’s not like we’re competitors. Home doesn’t even have an inn anymore. The concierge recommended our fair to guests looking for activities in the area.”
Casey hmmmed softly. “I suppose they might have decided a competing event was a way to capitalize on their in-house revenue, but if they’re offering vendors spots for free, that doesn’t really track. Unless they’re counting on higher occupancy to compensate.”
The computer pinged with an incoming email. Dev dropped his head against the chair back. “Don’t tell me. More vendors dropping out?”
Casey leaned toward the screen. “Wish I could say it wasn’t, but I’m guessing we can count on everyone dropping out. Leslie was right. Margins for antique dealers aren’t so great that they can turn down a chance to increase them like this.”
“Fuck, Casey. We’ve already lost the Inn and the dance studio. Without the fair, without the tourists it brings to town, the other local businesses’ll feel the pinch—Kat, Kenny, the Knit Shop, Curiosity, Mountain Laurel, Artists United, hell, even the historical society. This could gut them.” He clutched his hair. “And what the hell am I going to do with all those Port-a-Potties?”
