He was reaching for his third corn fritter when a blond woman wearing too much shiny red lipstick dinged a fork against a crystal glass.
“I’ve got an announcement,” she said in a voice brimming with excitement. “Come Thanksgiving, there’s going to be a little bundle of joy in the Conway household.”
The chorus of feminine screaming was loud enough to be heard in the neighboring county. Jack grabbed another corn fritter and tried to back out of the room, but the stampede of women rushing toward the expectant mother blocked his retreat. They bombarded her with questions. They wanted to know the baby’s due date, if it was a boy or a girl, what Skip said when he learned he was finally going to be a father.
The expectant mother managed to answer all their questions, giving thanks to Saint Helga for making the long-awaited conception finally happen.
A hefty arm landed around his shoulders. “Come on out back,” Greg McGarity said. “They’ve got steaks and barbecue ribs outside.”
Thank the good Lord!The female squawking showed no sign of letting up, and he gladly followed Greg down the center hallway. It was flanked on either side by rooms filled with fancy antiques and more silver than Jack had ever seen in one place. He accepted an ice-cold silver cup filled with a mint julep. An outdoor television mounted on the wall of the summer kitchen showed the Churchill Downs racetrack, where trainers walked their horses prior to the start of the races.
The hickory-smoked ribs and bourbon meatballs smelled like heaven itself. Jack wolfed down a barbecue slider and gazed at the gardens, chewing quickly because he’d just spotted his prey.
Alice strolled through the rose garden, casually admiring the blooms. Her pale blue and white gown flowed with grace, and the little white disk of a hat perched on the side of her head was perfection.
He grabbed another sandwich, not taking his eyes off her as he chewed. She might look soft and genteel, but she’d fired the first shot in this war between them. He’d staked his fortune and his future on the successful completion of this golf course, and he wouldn’t take his foot off the gas pedal just because Alice Chadwick looked pretty while strolling in a garden. He knew her type and doubted that she would stop with his eviction from the Roost. Her next step would be to win historic preservation status for the derelict old house, which would ruin the prime location for his amphitheater.
He swallowed the last of his second sandwich and reached for the mint julep. It was pure summer in a silver cup, the minty bourbon and sugary syrup cut with plenty of ice. He smacked his lips at the tangy zing, still staring at Alice. He crunched some of the ice, savoring the bite of the bourbon and the sight of Alice Chadwick, who had no clue what was about to hit her.
He strolled down the steps set into the terraced hillside, mimicking the casual ease of others gathered on the lawn.
She saw him coming. For a moment she simply gazed at him, then recognition dawned and uncertainty clouded her wide, seemingly innocent eyes.
“Jack! I almost didn’t recognize you,” she said. “It’s a lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”
“I got your love letter tacked to my front door on Wednesday.”
She knew exactly what he was referring to because her tone and expression were the perfect blend of empathy and anxiety. “I’m sorry if it was inconvenient, but I had to protect the Roost.”
“They gave me forty-eight hours to clear out and move to a hotel.”
Her expression brightened a little. “I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable at the hotel.”
“At two hundred dollars a night, I darn well ought to be.”
“I trulyamsorry,” she said, and her voice had an achy quality that made it sound like she meant it. “The Roost isn’t fit for human habitation.”
“Yeah, that’s what the note said, but I’m telling you it’s fine. Get the decision reversed.”
“It’s what the county decided, not me,” Alice said, the picture of innocence. “Surely the Tuckers can put you up at their hotel in town. It’s their golf course, after all.”
This woman was unbelievable. “You still don’t realize they’re flat broke?” There were always rich people walking on the edge of financial ruin, and the Tuckers were among them. Jack lifted his silver cup, condensation beginning to bead on the outside but the Tucker family crest still visible.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if these cups go on the auction block soon. Kyle can probably get about five hundred apiece, which would pay the hefty bill I just got for seeding the greens.”
“Why are they pouring money into a golf course if they’re so poor?” she challenged.
Because they offered him thirty-percent ownership if he’d forgo his salary and take over paying the bills until the job was completed. Once the course went into business it would clear close to a million dollars a year, more if they could attract a PGA tournament. More still if he built that amphitheater and it could host summer festivals and concerts. Jack himself would bank a cool five thousand dollars a month. For a man with expensive medical insurance and whose health could take a nosedive at any time, it was a godsend.
But until then, Jack was living close to the bone and the interest on his loans accumulated by the day. He needed the course to open on time, not to argue with Alice about what theTuckers did or didn’t have in the bank. He wasn’t going to let his inconvenient attraction to her interfere with business. It was time to defang her and scare her away from messing with his investment. He stepped closer so he could speak in a low voice without risk of being overheard.
“I don’t want to play hardball with you, but I’m good at it,” he said. “You want to kick me out of my house? You claim it’s a safety hazard? If it’s such a hazard, I’ll tear the Roost down on Monday morning.”
“You can’t!” The color drained from her cheeks and her eyes widened into blue pools of fear. It felt like he’d just stepped on a bunny. Threatening her pricked his conscience, but he wouldn’t back down when everything he’d worked for was on the line.
“I can and I will,” he asserted. “I was being nice by giving you permission to poke around the place and do whatever research you wanted to finish before I tore it down, but make no mistake … the Roost is private property, and I’ve already got permission from Kyle Tucker to tear it down and build an amphitheater.”
Demolishing the Roost wouldn’t feel good, nor did he like threatening Alice, but his life savings were invested in that golf course, and he understood how these activists worked. Nothing short of total capitulation would be good enough, and he needed her to back off.
