Chapter 17
Lesley rolled onto the sidewalk next to a bench and shoved the kickstand of her bike down by hooking it under the spike of her heel. The air around her grew thick with moisture as the clouds overhead rolled faster, their size and shape expanding, taking on a deeper, darker and more ominous look.
A white scroll sticker on the window of Dog Eared Books read the store would close at five.
Five? Small-town living.
She had thirty minutes to find something pertaining to early twentieth century art. The smell of coffee beans gave her body a jolt as she followed the scent into the store like a hound on a hunt.
Linda sat behind a large granite counter with an espresso machine behind her and a book with some half-naked, busty woman on the cover embracing some equally half-naked man.
No surprise there.
“Hi, Linda. I’m looking for something in particular. You think you can help me?”
“Depends. What are you looking for?” She slapped the book face down on the counter and narrowed her stare.
“I’m looking for a book that might show art of Samuel William Thomas. He was a famous artist who died before he was discovered.”
“I know who he was. Always drew pictures of the same woman. His most famous piece was called The Beautiful Lady.” She scooted off her perch and flipped up part of the counter top to exit her station. “Honest to God, I don’t see what was so beautiful about the woman. She looked young and gangly to me.”
Lesley’s ears perked. Young and gangly. Could it really be?
“Anything pertaining to art would be over here on aisle five.” The owner scanned the shelves and ran her finger over the spines. “Here.” She pulled a thick title off the shelf. “The Best Discovered Dead Artists of the Twentieth Century.”
She shoved the hardback to her. Swirls of pink, yellow, and purple covered the entire outer cover with fat, block, gold writing. It was the tackiest book cover Lesley had ever seen.
“Cover’s so damn ugly, I had to pick it up and read what was inside. That’s how I know he’s in there.”
“Thanks.” She flipped open the book and fingered the pages.
“I’m about to close up shop and head to the town meeting. I’ve got some coffee left over. Want a cup?” Linda started for the counter. “It’s on the house and better than Emma’s.”
“That’d be great, thanks.” She followed the lady to the register.
The shop owner poured the contents of the carafe into a paper to-go cup. “What’s your interest in this dead guy anyway?”
“I have reason to believe my aunt knew this man. I think she may have been The Beautiful Lady.”
“Well, that makes sense.” She slid the cup toward her.
“It does?” Her heart sped. “Why?” Her fingers shook as she grabbed a sugar packet out of the glass container on the counter.
“Because, no offense, sweetheart, but from the little bit I remember of your Aunt Myrtle, she was about as ugly as a toad. Then again, they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
Lesley’s back stiffened and pain shot through her chest for her deceased aunt. No wonder she lived her life as a recluse—apparently, Myrtle had been told her whole life she was ugly.
“I’ve seen an old picture of her, and unique is the word I would use to describe her. I have her eyes,” she added before taking a sip of the coffee. Linda was wrong. Emma’s coffee tasted better. Much better.
“Now, don’t go taking what I’m saying the wrong way. You know how two ugly people can make pretty people?”
What kind of stupid logic was that?
“I suppose.”
“I haven’t seen your momma in a coon’s age, but I don’t remember her being the most attractive either, but…” Linda held up her hands, preventing Lesley from speaking. “You, my dear, are a very attractive young lady. And now that you mention it, I can see some of the family resemblance. Then again, your aunt didn’t come out of that house much.”
A backhanded compliment if she’d ever heard one. “Well, thank you…I think.”
“Besides, you’ve attracted the attention of the local contractor. A feat many women around here have wished they could do and failed.”
Like you.
“It’s just business.” Lesley reached for her purse. “How much do I owe you?”
“You can deny it all you want.” The woman wagged a finger. “But there’s nothing business about the way that man looks at you.” Linda flattened her hand, palm facing up. “Twenty-three-fifty.”
She cringed at the extra expense and dug through her purse. Twenty bucks was a drop in the bucket in her old life. Now, it was a pizza dinner for two nights.
After settling the payment, she stepped outside. Taking a seat on the bench next to her bike, she placed her purse on the seat next to her, her coffee on the ground, and flipped through the index. She thumbed through to the noted page then gasped. Staring back at her was a picture of her aunt, possessing the same eyes as her own.
“I’ll be damned,” she mumbled under her breath.
“You’ll be damned why?”
Startled, she glanced up, gripping the book tighter. “Lord, you scared me.”
John sat beside her on the bench. The woodsy scent she had learned as his drew her in. Her purse provided a barrier between them, but she had to fight the urge to move it and scoot closer.
“Look.” She shoved the book his way.
“Well, I’ll be damned, too.” He took the literature from her hands for a closer look. “Your aunt was the apple of Samuel William Thomas’s eye.”
“That’s why her picture looked so familiar. I’ve seen another portrait he did of my aunt in a text book in college.” She stared at the page. “I wonder what ever happened with them.”
“I bet the answer is in that journal.” He flipped the book closed. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“What?”
“The bed and breakfast will now serve as a tourist attraction for art lovers around the world. This can help put Bakersville back on the map.”
Excitement bubbled in her chest. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Yep. We now have the ammunition we need to get the people of this town to help restore the manor—for the community.”
“But, I couldn’t.” Her excitement ebbed with the realization of what she would have to do to get people to help. “I can’t tell anyone about the journal entries. Not in deep detail.”
He cocked his brow. “You’ve told me.”
“Besides you. It’s too personal.” She grabbed the book from him. And yet, he was right. She had shared something personal with him. Another place she needed to draw boundary lines—her aunt’s journal entries.
“Lucky for you, I don’t think we’ll have to, at least not in deep detail.” John glanced at his watch then down the street where citizens followed single file into the town hall. “It’s time for the meeting. You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
She stood on wobbly knees. How in the heck would she do this? Fake it until she made it? Just like everything else in her life right now. The phrase was her only answer.
****
John held the door open for Lesley. Her grasp tightened around the book, knuckles white, as she stepped over the threshold. He glanced inside the hall and spotted Emma sitting next to Bea and Leo.
He pointed in their direction. “Over there.”
Lesley trailed so close behind he could feel her body heat. Curious gazes followed them as they made their way to the front. He let her in the aisle first, giving her the chair next to his sister.
Instinctively, he reached for the small of her back to help guide her, then lowered his hand before ever making contact. No matter his pull toward her, guilt always shattered him at any remembrance of Sandra. His wife had been a town council member. The last meeting he attended had been with her, and besides, he didn’t need to give the gossip mill more ammunition than they already thought they had.
Strictly business.
And business didn’t touch the small of their boss’ back.
“Good to see you, John.” The mayor, Grady Smith, tapped him on the shoulder before taking a seat at the head table.
He nodded and sat next to Lesley, the chairs so close their legs nearly touched. She had a scar above her right knee, and her toenails displayed a bright pink today instead of red.
There I go staring at her toes again.
Mayor Smith stood and gathered the crowd’s attention. “I’d like to call this meeting to order.”
John leaned in and whispered in Lesley’s ear. “At the end of the meeting, the mayor will open the floor for any discussion. That’s when you’ll ask the townspeople for help.” He breathed deep, taking in her sweet perfume before he pulled back. His heart did that crazy upbeat tempo again like when they were at the oak stump.
Thunder boomed outside, ricocheting off the town hall roof. Gasps sounded throughout the room. Lesley jumped and gripped her hand to his thigh, moving her body closer to his.
“Oh goodness.” She caught her breath.
When he glanced down at her hand, her gaze followed his, and she quickly released her grip.
Sorry, she mouthed. Her cheeks colored a faint pink.
She blushed a lot. Something else he noticed.
He nudged her shoulder with his as a way to say, It’s okay. Instead of reciprocating, she scooted closer to Emma. She took this “business” thing a little too far. First, she didn’t want to ride in his truck, and now she acted like she didn’t want to sit by him.
Another rolling roar shook the windows as rain slashed the pains, and lightning bolted through the sky.
After an hour of listening to how the town planned to install a new water tower, the business portion drew to a close. The lights flickered a couple of times. Gasps echoed throughout the room, causing his heart to speed up. They didn’t have much time to plead their case before the mayor shut the meeting down due to weather. Neither of them could wait another month without help.
“Now, I’d like to open the floor. Anyone have anything they’d like to say? You’d better say it quick.”
John nudged her with his elbow. “Now’s the time, princess.”
She gave him a pleading look. The shine in her hazel eyes dimmed. “John, please. You do it. I c-can’t. I’m a stranger to these people. They’ll listen better to you.”
“Okay, if there is nothing new,” the mayor began.
Lesley’s eyes filled with anxiety as she gripped the book, her knuckles white.
His heart clenched tighter. “Wait.” He stood as moans poured through the room. “I’ll be quick. As many of you know, Myrtle Smith passed away earlier this year and left the Rosalyn Manor to Lesley DeLoach, her great niece.” He motioned for her to rise.
She stood, smoothed the back of her dress, and gave a tiny wave as she stepped closer to his side. He forced his arms to stay down and not pull her closer to him.
“The manor is in poor shape and in need of major renovations. The problem is, the repairs are going to cost more than Lesley has to spend.” He pointed to the window. “And I’m sure most of you know, weather like this isn’t good for a house in such bad shape.”
“How is that our problem?” a resident asked from the back of the hall.
“Well, it’s not. But, Lesley here…” John wrapped his arm around her and gave her a squeeze, failing in his attempt not to touch her. “She has great ideas for the place. She wants to turn it into a bed and breakfast, and with a little extra man power, we can make that happen.”
“So, you want free labor? Is that what you’re asking for, John?” the sheriff asked above the whispers of the crowd.
Might as well be honest.
“Yes, it is.” He could see the roll of a few eyes and the distant stares of others.
“Can we wrap this meeting up? The rain is getting bad out there,” a man called from the back.
“Yeah, let’s wrap it up,” someone else hollered.
The crowd murmured in agreement.
“It’s okay, John.” Lesley leaned in and whispered, “You tried.” Her voice shook in his ear.
“No.” He stared into her glossy eyes. “Let me try harder.”
The mayor banged on his gavel.
“Wait.” John released Lesley’s shoulder and held up his hands. The room quieted. “Now, come on guys. Think about what good this could do for the community.”
“How so?” Linda asked over some of the noise still sounding in the room. “How could this help our community, Lesley?”
“Well…” he began.
“I asked Lesley.” The older woman crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, her stare determined.
She gripped his arm then turned her gaze to Linda and the rest of the crowd. “I know you all don’t know me very well.” Her voice shook with uncertainty. “I’ve only been in town a little less than a week, but I’ll tell you this.” She released her hold on his arm and stood straighter. “I plan on staying. Having Rosalyn turned into a bed and breakfast is a dream of mine, and I think it can benefit each and every business owner here.”
“Again, I ask how?” Linda’s tone edged near exasperation.
John gave Lesley a nod of encouragement and watched her take a deep breath.
“For starters, everything that is bought for the manor will come from a local business, furniture to food. I’ll also encourage guests to shop local.”
“All that sounds good, sweetheart, it does.” Hank the furniture owner stood. “But Bakersville doesn’t get a lot of outside business anymore. How do you expect to keep a big old place like that running?”
The whispers in the crowd grew again. John glanced at Lesley then the book on her seat. She nodded to him before she reached for it.
“Good question,” John began. “Lesley hopes that you spread the word of the manor far and wide to all your family and friends that come into town. Ms. Maybelle, I know you have a slew of grandkids. Do you like it when they all stay at your house?”
“Well, no I don’t.” Maybelle shook her head. “I love my babies, don’t get me wrong, but my son-in-law, he’s just a pig. Leaves my house a mess, and drives me nuts.”
“When the manor is up and running, you can send them over to Lesley. She’d love to have them.” John glanced at the book in her arms and she handed it to him. “And if a crowded house isn’t enough of a reason to lend a hand, then maybe this is.” He held up the hardback. “We have reason to believe—good reason to believe—Myrtle Smith was the muse for the late artist Samuel William Thomas.”
Whispers turned into voices and then questions shouted from all corners of the room. The rain became the last thing on the crowds’ mind.
“How do you know?”
“Prove it.”
“Who is that?”
The mayor smacked his gavel again. “Everyone calm down. Calm down. Let them speak.”
Lesley flipped opened the book to the page with her aunt’s portrait on it, and John walked closer to the oldest person in the crowd. “Does this lady look familiar to you?”
Jean Waters stared at the picture through her bifocals. “I didn’t know Myrtle well, but from that picture, I can tell you it’s her when she was a girl.”
Gasps reverberated throughout the room.
“Lesley has a picture back home that proves this is her aunt. Once that information gets released to the public, the Rosalyn Manor will be a tourist attraction for art connoisseurs everywhere.” John flipped the book closed and walked back to her side. “So, what do you say? Will you help us put Bakersville back on the map and rebuild the Rosalyn Manor? Help preserve our hometown history?”
With a smile of appreciation on her face, Lesley took the book from him. When he reached to grasp her free hand to offer support, she didn’t pull back. Instead, she squeezed his, her hand clammy.
Screw the gossip mill. Screw business only. Screw fighting his desire to touch her. He squeezed hers back.
Emma stood. “I’m in.”
“Me, too.” His uncle rose from his seat in the front row.
“Count me in.” Seth joined Milton and nodded at him.
“Well, hot dog.” Maybelle slapped her knee. “This is too good to pass up. This town needs some type of hotel. We’re in.” The hairdresser grabbed Linda’s hand. “Stand up.”
“For Pete’s sake. I don’t want to fix an old house.” The store owner rolled her eyes and jerked her hand away as she crossed her arms over her plump chest.
“It’ll be good for you, you old hag. You need exercise. Now, stand up.” Maybelle jerked her friend up with her manicured hand.
“Oh, hell. Fine. I’m in.” Linda stood.
“I’ll provide free muffins every day to anyone that joins and helps,” Emma stated.
“Free Muffins.” The Bakersville police squad stood. “We’re in.”
“I’ve always wished Myrtle would do something with that old place. I’m glad to see it’s going to be restored, and since you’ve already tossed some business my way buying mattresses, then I’m in.” Hank rose, no doubt thrilled by the amount of shopping Lesley would have to do in his store.
All around the room, people stood and volunteered their services.
“Sign up sheet’s at the front of the room. Beside your name, put the times you can work and your phone number. I’ll call everyone tomorrow to get crews sorted. Thanks guys. I knew we could count on you.”
Next to him, Lesley’s face shone brighter than her dress as she shed a tear and beamed at him. A firework of emotion exploded inside of John. This type of crying he loved seeing from her. She squeezed his hand again and mouthed thank you.
She pinned him with her stare, and in that instant, she held his heart.