“Chloe? Dinner?” Ruby said. “Law, what is going on with young folk today?”
“Yes, of course, dinner.”
“See you at six then.” He gave her one of his trademark grins, with one corner of his mouth tipped up, as he backed toward the newly reupholstered booth.
Chloe barely noticed the cold metal of the door or the four icy steps down to the sidewalk.
At the diner, Tina wasn’t much help. She knew nothing more than last year’s headline.
“Believe me, I wish I did know more. Whoever’s behind this deal doesn’t sit at my counter and drink coffee.”
Shoot. Well, Tina promised to keep Chloe informed if she heard anything and Chloe promised the same.
In the time it had taken Chloe to walk to the diner, talk to Tina, and retrace her route, Vivienne had texted twice more. Chloe had other things to worry about at the moment, but she took a minute to type a message.Hope you and Albert are well. I’m keeping busy in HB. Think of you often. Talk soon.
When she walked back into the bakery kitchen, Ruby met her at the door.
“Cole said he’ll stop by later. Anything from Tina?” Ruby followed Chloe to the office, hands fisted in the pockets of her white uniform dress.
“All she knows is that someone big in town affairs, likely on the council, bought a Donut Heaven franchise and convinced the Reclaim Downtown committee to approve the business license.”
“That’s all we know too.” Ruby sank onto the office’s small couch. “The good Lord knows I can’t imagine a town without Haven’s or Java Jane’s. Donut Heaven could put us both out of business. We don’t have a drive-through or ninety-nine-cent donut sticks.”
“Not sure if the Lord pays much attention to what’s going on in Hearts Bend.” Because as far as Chloe was concerned, He’d never paid much attention to her.
“Pshaw. The Lord cares about everything and everyone. He knows the number of hairs on your head, Chloe LaRue. He surely knows who is behind this Donut Heaven plot and what we should do to stop it right now.”
“Then you talk to the good Lord, get His plan, and tell me.”
Ruby slapped the couch arm. “That’s a great idea. We’ll call a prayer meeting, barnstorm heaven, and come up with some divine ideas.” Ruby patted her ’60s beehive hairdo. “I’ll tell Laura Kate and Robin that we’ll meet tomorrow morning at five. Course Robin won’t make it, but we best invite her anyway. That girl ain’t never seen five in the a.m.”
“I’ll be busy making the morning donuts and bread. Y’all pray without me.”
“Nothing doing. You’re the boss. The Lord is sure to hear you.”
She seriously doubted it. He’d not heard her much in the last couple of decades. Not that she’d offered much to Him for response. But ever since Daddy had died, she’d wondered if He was a good God at all. How could he take her father and claim to be a good Father Himself?
Sam sat in front of the Beason house and checked email. Marco Martelli invited him to a party. Decline. Couldn’t run the risk of running into @CurvyCarla. Besides, he’d rather hang with the married players these days than the single ones.
The next email, from his assistant Delia, asked if he wanted a plus-one for the banquet the Nashville Foundation was hosting at the Hotel TN in a couple weeks to honor him for his work with underserved youth through his SportsWorld organization.
Buck Mathews was also being thanked for his I Hate Cancer concerts that had raised a bazillion dollars for research. Well, maybe closer to a few million, but still. Mikayla Onofrio was the third honoree. The Hollywood actress lived part time in Nashville and used her name and status to raise funds for respite programs for Alzheimer’s and dementia caregivers.
It promised to be a perfectly boring evening. Why would he subject another person to that?
Though it would serve @CurvyCarla right if he showed up with a real date. He sat up straight. Yeah, it totally would. Who would he bring? Chloe could make the night bearable, fun even. At last night’s event, he’d remembered dancing with her back in the day. Maybe he should invite her to this shindig.
Delia attached a list of what had been donated for the swag bags. He gave a low whistle. They might need security guards to escort the guests to their cars. He scanned the rest of his inbox and told Delia to accept a podcast invitation.
Six o’clock on the dot, Sam climbed the steps to Meredith Beason’s front door, gripping the handrail. His knee still throbbed from therapy, but he trusted Dr. Morgan’s process and prediction—he’d heal just fine. Though if she was right about his physical healing, did that mean she was right about his emotional healing? Sam shook off the thought and knocked on the door.
Chloe opened it and stood in the middle of the entry, backlit by a glow from the living room. She wore tight jeans, knee-high boots, a gauzy blouse, and a jeweled hair clip behind one ear. She was beautiful. Stunning.
“Wow,” he said, feeling very underdressed. “You look great.”
“Thanks. So do you, Hardy.”
He scoffed. “Liar. I’m wearing what I wore to PT.” He should’ve gone home to change but instead he had knocked around town, visited the Kids Theater, and run into his old friend, Luke Stebbins. They’d had coffee at Ella’s until it was time for Sam to pick up Chloe. He’d brushed his teeth in the men’s room before heading out. Smart men always carried a portable toothbrush and toothpaste.
