Finally, she whispered, “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah,” Jack replied, his voice tight. “It seems old Nate’s plans go beyond just the café. He’s gunning for all of Main Street. The Spoon is just the beginning.”
Before they could process it further, the closet door swung open.
“Again?” Aggie stood there, eyebrows raised. “I’d tell you two to get a room, but it seems you already have. A bit small, but who am I to judge?”
Cora scrambled out of the closet, her face burning. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Aggie smirked. “Oh, I’m sure it isn’t, sweetheart. But if you two plan on making this a regular thing, might I suggest a closet that doesn’t smell like my Aunt Lula’s attic?”
Jack emerged from behind her, looking far too amused. “Thanks for the tip, Aggie. We’ll keep that in mind.”
Chapter Eighteen
The clock hadn’t even hit noon, and Cora was already running on fumes. After a sleepless night spent agonizing over Nathaniel’s plans, she’d finally pieced together his scheme: If he got The Salty Spoon, which was the heart of Main Street, he’d gain control of everything. The town would change, and not for the better. She couldn’t let that happen.
Which is how she found herself clacking her way toward the lion’s den in a pencil skirt, lipstick, and kitten heels, armed with nothing but determination, a mild stomachache, and a takeout container of Bea’s cherry pie.
She smoothed down her blouse and mentally rehearsed her pitch for the millionth time. The plan was simple. One: Don’t cry. Two: Don’t beg. Three: When in doubt, channel her inner Lolly and offer him a slice of pie. It’s hard to foreclose on someone with a mouthful of lattice crust.
Easy.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched up the steps of the bank, praying both her shoes and her nerves would hold up.
“May I help you?” The receptionist hadn’t thawed one bit since the last time Cora and Jack had been there.
“Cora Lockwood to see Nathaniel Worthington, please.”
“Do you have an appointment?” Her face was as welcoming as a brick wall.
“No, I don’t.”
“Mr. Worthington is a very busy man. If you’d care to make an appointment, I can pencil you in for three weeks from next Tuesday.”
Cora leaned in, lowering her voice, hoping to break through the woman’s icy demeanor. “Look, I’m aware that this is unorthodox, but it’s about The Salty Spoon. If you’d just?—”
“Cora, what a surprise.” Nathaniel’s smooth voice sliced through their whispered standoff. “I knew you’d see things my way.”
She turned to see him descending the grand staircase. With his tailored suit, perfect hair, and air of polished disdain, he looked like the Grim Reaper, if the Grim Reaper had a stylist and a trust fund.
“Nathaniel,” she said, forcing cheer into her voice. “I was hoping to speak with you.”
He flashed a smile that was probably meant to be charming but came off predatory. “I’m booked solid today, but for you I’ll make an exception. Shall we step into my office?”
She warily followed him down the hall. In high school, he’d been captain of the debate team, wore a tie every Friday, and handed out flyers about water conservation. Even then, he’d talked like a politician. But he hadn’t been cruel. Just calculated.
She wondered what had changed him.
“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to a chair that belonged in a museum rather than an office. White, pristine, and somehow offensive in its perfection.
She hesitated, wondering what kind of psychopath chooses white furniture for his office. Did he not expectpeople to sit in it? She perched on the edge, trying not to touch anything, when something on his desk caught her eye—a folder labeledHarlow’s, sitting at the top of a stack. Jack’s restaurant. Her curiosity spiked, but with Nathaniel sitting right there, she couldn’t exactly dive in. The folder was just out of reach, taunting her.
Before she could think too much about it, the receptionist’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Mr. Worthington, I need you for a moment.”
Nathaniel’s gaze flicked to the phone and then back to her. “Excuse me, please,” he said smoothly, standing and adjusting his jacket before stepping out of the room.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Cora’s heart kicked into overdrive. The folder was sitting right there. She checked the door one more time and then, with shaking hands, she snatched it from the stack and shoved it into her tote bag.
