“Maybe. It’s a stretch to think we’ll win, though, so I’m not counting on it. But hopefully he’ll let us stay in the building a while longer.” She rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. Bethany wished she felt more optimistic, but Desmond had taught her to be wary of handsome, suave men like Hank. If he tried to use his position as landlord to get in her pants, she would boot him out the door, without hesitation. As much as she loved Grandma Lou’s, no way would she ever fall for a cheating player again.
The doorbell jangled, indicating an incoming customer. Bethany drummed her fingers against the worktable. “I don’t trust him. I know he’s not Desmond, but I suspect the minute he sees dollar signs, he won’t care about anything else.”
Travis stopped staring at the wall long enough to shoot her a frown. The hard look in his eyes softened to worry.
She swallowed the bitterness on her tongue but couldn’t prevent some of it from leaking into her voice. “His publicist seemed determined to get him to open the fitness center. That’s why news crews are in the neighborhood. They want to interview him about his plans.”
Travis gazed at her with growing horror. “And to think I asked for a selfie.”
Bethany pressed her lips together. “I know. I’m sorry, Travis.” She moved toward the front room. “I’ll see who’s here and get the girls.”
CHAPTER SIX
Hank had finished his soup when the front door opened. A pencil-thin, gray-haired gentleman, pulling a large orange cat on a leash, entered on a small gust of wind that looked like it blew him inside. At first, Hank thought the man was a paying customer because he was dressed in a dark gray suit with a bow tie. But then Bethany came running from the kitchen to help the old geezer to a table with a cup of coffee, and what looked like chicken scraps for the cat. It was clear to Hank the man and the cat were another of her “special” guests.
“It’s grilled cheese and tomato soup today, Sam.” Her lips softened in a gentle smile. “Hi there.” She bent to pet the cat, which purred into her hands, before gobbling up the handout.Lucky cat.
Sam coughed and wheezed what sounded like a thank you. His hands shook where he held his cup of coffee.
Instead of going back into the kitchen, Bethany pulled out the chair across from him. “What’s the matter, Sam? Did something upset you?”
“Cameramen, Bethany. Outside. Lots of people. The police.”
“Oh.” Bethany looked up to catch Hank’s gaze. She scowled before turning to Sam and patting his hand. “Not to worry. They’re here because a famous television star’s in town. But I have it on good authority he’snotsticking around. He’ll be gone before you know it, and we can get back to normal. Now you relax, and I’ll get your lunch.”
Sam nodded and Bethany was off to the kitchen in a blur of movement.
“Can we say hi to Mr. Sam and Gypsy, Mama?” Tia asked, from which Hank surmised Gypsy was the cat.
“Sure, but come right back. Mr. Sam looks like he’s having a rough day.”
The girls ran over with a chorus of hellos for Mr. Sam and then bent to pet Gypsy.
Rosie leaned in close and whispered, “Sam’s been sober for going on five years now. We’re all proud of him. He’s had a rough time of it.”
“Mr. Sam, Mr. Sam.” Tia turned to Hank. “We’ve made a new friend. He’s nice.”
“Who’s this?” Sam glanced toward Hank, his expression blank.
Sam must not own a TV.Hank found himself getting out of his seat and approaching their table to proffer a hand. Sam shot him a gold-toothed smile before giving it a shake.
“Great to meet you,” Hank said.
“Here’s Gypsy. Isn’t she nice?” Tana pointed at the cat lapping the milk that Sam had set down for her like it might vanish before she could get the last of it.
Hank nodded in what he thought was a proper response to meeting a cat. He didn’t care for cats. They were far tooparticular, always fussing with their fur and coughing up hair balls. Dogs were much friendlier—well, except for Woodrow, his current dog. Hank hoped Woodrow wouldn’t bite Connor, his brother, who was dog sitting for the weekend.
“We can’t pet Gypsy while she’s eating,” Tia warned him, her face taking on the air of a parent imparting advice the child had heard a time or two. “But when she’s done, we can. Right, Mr. Sam?”
“Sure, as long as you’re gentle. Gypsy likes it when you pet her.”
“Girls,” Rosie called. “Let Sam eat in peace. Come finish your lunch; it’s getting cold.”
“Bye. Gotta go.” The girls waved and raced back to their mother.
“Where ya from?” Sam asked before Hank could follow suit.
“Uh...” Hank couldn’t remember the last time he’d been asked the question from someone who didn’t already know the answer. “I live in Los Angeles, but I’m not there much. I travel for my job.”
