Goldie walked back to her trailer. She was in a panic. What in the world was she going to do now?
She was alone. Utterly alone.
Scratch that. She wasn’t. She had a baby, too.
But what she needed right then was a friend.
Chapter Eleven
Libby Present Day
Not pressing Goldie was the right thing to do.
It was easy to see her old friend was wrung out. If she walked down the street, she’d be mobbed by fans and selfie seekers. But it appeared as if there wasn’t a soul in the world who she could really count on.
She had climbed to the top in an absurdly competitive business. She’d made her dreams come true. The same dreams she’d declared to them as they floated on the lake all those years ago.
But the cost was high. Libby had her three kids and a budding romance with Keith. Hope had her girls. She, too, was finding great fun, dating at fifty! And J.J. was the center of Dean’s world. They weren’t mushy about it, but it proved a long-term marriage could be just as sweet as new love when she saw J.J. and Dean together.
Goldie didn’t have any of those things. With her power and name, she somehow seemed the most vulnerable among them. She was almost adrift. Goldie Hayes didn’t need a break on rent, a richbenefactor, or a free place to say. She had all that. But she needed real friends. Libby could be that for her. They all could.
Libby parked in a spot along Manitou Lake Road, the main drag of Irish Hills.
There were always available parking spots. Which was a sign of her current failure to lure tourists. Libby looked around. It was lunch. It was late July. This was just after the busy season on the lake. It was summer, for crying out loud, but there were only half a dozen diners at Hope’s Table. The place should be packed.
The sun was high in the sky. Boaters were enjoying all fifty-plus lakes that surrounded Irish Hills. Libby was so proud of the progress they’d made. But the buildings were empty.
The tourist dollar, which she’d sold Hope on and had convinced the town council she could produce, had not materialized.
There needed to be a reason to get all those summer tourists to Irish Hills. Goldie Hayes would have been a great counterpoint to Covert Pier’s celebrity scene. Chef Rami Ellston was famous but no Oscar winner. His girlfriend, supermodel Mira Low, had major Instagram game, but still, Goldie blew them out of the water.
Alas, it was best for Goldie to be out of the public eye. Libby would figure something else out. She put Goldie out of her mind. This was solace, not social media, for her old friend.
She walked to the middle of the block.
These buildings were so darn cute now. Some businesses would be lucky to rent here. Dean had turned this dilapidated structure into the centerpiece of the stretch of buildings.
She unlocked the door and stepped into the largest rental space. The other two properties flanked it. This should be the star of the block.
Inside wood floors, high ceilings, exposed brick walls, and gorgeous lighting had turned the former General Store, and then Woolworths, into the perfect home for a new retail business to step in.
Libby flipped on the light switch and did a last look around.
Her finances were precarious. The grant they’d won had finished this part of the plan to fix up Irish Hills, but empty buildings were still empty buildings, even if the décor was pretty.
She would eventually get rent from Hope, that would help, but the restaurant was still upside down. Libby refused any suggestion that Hope pay her right now. That was not the bargain they’d struck. Libby had made promises, and she was dangerously close to breaking all of them.
Libby needed to start collecting rent on the other four spaces, or it would be back to the pawn shop with another piece of Aunt Emma’s heirloom jewelry.
Her entire plan to prop up Irish Hills was unsustainable. Infusing cash into the town only made sense if it could stand up on its own and fast.
For today’s meeting, she was prepared to do her best sales pitch. If she could secure this tenant, the major tenant for the block, they’d be in a better position.
Libby looked at her phone. It was ten minutes past noon, and the meeting was at noon.
She decided to call.
Darren Schneider picked up on the second ring.
