Her hands freeze mid-cut. She looks up, the edges of her lips turning downward. “You’re staying in Silver Pine?”
She doesn’t sound thrilled about it.
“Yes. We have business to attend to.”
Ruby exhales, resigned. “Well, I don’t really have a schedule. I sort of do things as they come up.”
Shocking that this business is on its last legs.
“Perhaps you can set some time aside after you close. Say, seven o’clock?”
“Well…”
She is definitely preparing to dodge. I put on my negotiating hat. “I’ll buy.”
She considers. “See you at The Blue River Bistro at seven.”
I nod goodbye and step outside, pulling out my phone to video call Logan.
When my brother’s face pops up on my screen, he’s sweaty and mid-treadmill, as usual. He squints.
“Bro… are you seriously wearing a Brioni in a town with one traffic light?”
“Hello to you, too.” I one-handedly close my coat around the suit. “What’s wrong with my Brioni?”
“Nothing, if you’re headed to a board meeting, not a florist-slash-post-office-slash-ski-shop.”
“This is who I am, Logan. I show up prepared and professional.”
“Yeah, well,” he says, slowing the treadmill, “small towns don’t care about predictable. They care about real.”
“Real doesn’t require abandoning good tailoring.”
Somehow, even in our forties, we still bicker like teenagers.
Logan smirks. “Tell that to the woman who runs the flower shop. Bet she smelled city-boy on you from a mile away.”
My jaw tightens. “Her name is Ruby,” I say. “And she won’t be a problem.”
Logan laughs like he knows better. “Sure.”
I change the subject and give him a rundown of the morning. I came here on impulse after being blown off, but the thought of driving all the way back to Denver feels daunting.
“Looks like I’ll be here for a while. Have Jean go to my place, pack up some of my clothes and toiletries, and send them by car service. And make sure to send all the tax forms you can find on Oopsie Daisies. Everything. Something tells me they aren’t easily accessible here.”
“On it,” Logan says. “You tell the manager you’re likely to close it?”
“No chance yet. I’m meeting her tonight, but I think she senses what’s coming.”
“What about Aunt Clara’s last wish?”
When the estate lawyer handed me the letter, I was flummoxed. How am I supposed to resurrect a failing business I barely understand, in thirty days? Clara asked for something enormous. Bigger than she ever asked of me while she was alive. She had to know that.
I see the bird hat lady chatting with someone across the street, probably sharing whatever intel she gleaned from me.
“Honestly, I don’t know. This small town may be more than I can handle for a full month.”
“Try not to stand out like a sore thumb. I’ll tell Jean to toss in some sweaters.”
