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“Hell yeah, you name the time and place,” I said, excited to hang out with my buddy.
“Good deal,” he said. “Carmela has been saying she wanted to make you a welcome home dinner and have you over. That sound good?”
“A homemade meal? Yeah, I think I can handle that,” I chuckled. “Anything I need to bring? Beer?”
“Nah,” Mark said. “I got everything we would need. You just head out here.”
“Right on, what time?” I asked.
“Say around seven?” he asked. “Oh, before I forget. Carmela said something about you bought Brewer’s Grocery?”
“Yeah,” I said, excitedly. “A controlling interest anyway.”
“Wow,” he said. “Yeah, she ran into Melanie Brewer today. She said something about you buying it out from under her?”
“It’s a long story,” I said on a sigh. “Trust me, the last twenty-four hours have been a bit rough, not the least of which is because Melanie didn’t react to me buying up part of her company in a way that was conducive to us developing a working relationship.”
“Damn,” Mark said. “Well, hey, we can talk about all that when you get here. I’d love to know the whole story.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Maybe you have some clue as to what I should do about this whole thing that might help.”
“I’ll give it a whack,” he said. “So, I’ll see you in about an hour. If I’m not mistaken, it’s going to be a pasta kind of night.”
“You know my weakness for useless carbs,” I laughed.
“I do,” he said, chuckling. “See you soon.”
Hanging up, I excitedly headed to my closet. Getting a chance to have a nice, homecooked meal was probably the most enticing part of all of it. I hadn’t eaten anything homemade that wasn’t my own in quite a long time. Even when I had, it had been Sarah’s shockingly terrible cooking.
Sarah had put on the appearance of a woman who was adept at all things. Always dressed to the nines in expensive clothes and shoes, she looked the part. She talked the part too, and to anyone who listened, she seemed like the perfect woman. Smart, sexy, and somewhat traditional while still being ambitious and capable of bringing in a huge income on her own.
Of course, no one else knew what she was like when she was home. How she turned into the ice queen the second the door was shut and how she rarely ever made any attempt to try.
But I would rather be alone than be unhappy. Or be with someone who was unhappy.
Grabbing my phone and stuffing it in my pocket, I went into the living room and found my keys and wallet before heading out the door. As I shut it behind me, I heard someone clear their throat and looked up. Mrs. Coffee was still standing on her porch, looking over at me over the smoke from a cigarette. The ashes looked like they were about six inches long.
She waved, a crooked smile on her face.
Not sure of what else to do, I waved back and continued on to my car. Mrs. Coffee was going to prove a difficult neighbor to have, I feared. Maybe another phone call to the kids living in my parents’ old house was in order.
Getting to Mark’s only took about ten minutes from where the rental was, and as I pulled in, I saw that there were a couple of cars in the driveway. One of them looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it, thinking maybe it was one of the ones Mark had bought to fix up.
I realized I was wrong when after I knocked, the door opened, and I saw Melanie Brewer sitting in the living room.
8
MELANIE
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
When Carmela asked it, it seemed so simple. Not really a dismissal of all potential bad results, but more like a recognition that any potential bad results would be better than the current state anyway. When she said it, it felt right. I believed it. I was even gung-ho about it.
Then I hung up the phone, stared at my wall for a moment, and wondered what the hell I was thinking.
Saying I was unsure about the plan was an understatement. Part of me wanted to call her back and call it all off. But I couldn’t. I needed her help on this. I needed someone’s help, at least. Carmela was a lawyer and a good person and a friend. My initial thought was I could give it a shot, and like she said, what was the worst that could happen? Would I have a contentious relationship with the new majority owner? I’d pretty much sealed that up on my own already when I stomped out of the store.
The worst that would happen was that nothing changed. Right?
