Hometown Series Box Set Page 5

  Winnie suppressed a grin, but her eyebrows rose. “What happened then, dear?” She leaned toward Tara, then pulled herself back, determined not to pressure her answer.

  Tara calmed a bit. “Well, I was embarrassed, then he went to put pants on, and I told him I could redo his kitchen.”

  “His kitchen?” Winnie reeled back in surprise, then nearly laughed in spite of herself. Tara was a single-minded soul after all, and her passion was houses. Winnie pressed her face into some semblance of serene. “What did Justin do next, dear?”

  Tara scowled and her lips quivered. “He introduced himself, said he’d just moved here and that he is a resort investor.”

  Winnie was truly confused. Tara had obviously been attracted to Justin and he felt the same, so what had derailed Tara? Besides her first bout of lust?

  “Tara, honey, we knew Justin was an investor. I understand that the resort is important to us, but that ship hasn’t sailed. Why are you so upset?”

  “Winnie!” Tara jumped from her stool and began pacing the length of the kitchen. “He bought a house. He owns his firm. He is here to stay! He isn’t some guy passing through here looking for property, that we can just…” She waved her hand frantically in the air. “Intimidate with local stupidity and clannishness until he leaves.”

  She paced to the end of the kitchen thinking, then spun around. “I should have known what to say to him, but I was all…” She bobbed her head. “Like some ninny.”

  Tara stopped pacing to stare out the back door, then swung back to Winnie and leaned across the island. “Here’s the trouble. One—” She held up her index finger. “He knows you’re sharp as a tack.” She held up another finger. “Two, he knows I’m TJ Thornberry.” Another finger came up. “Three, he has the CEO of the corporation that’s building the resort in his pocket.” She strode around the island and stopped in front of Winnie, waving four fingers in her face. “And fourth, he isn’t going to back down! Don’t you know what this means?”

  Winnie pushed her fingers away. “What does this mean, dear?”

  “It means—” Tara froze, her thoughts scattered. “Well, it means that everything has changed!”

  Winnie tucked her hankie further under her watchband and rose from the stool. “Everything changes, dear.” She walked back to the oven and turned on the burner.

  Tara stood staring at her. “How can you be so calm?”

  Winnie turned back to Tara and shook the pancake turner at her. “Let me tell you something girl – there was a time I’d given up hope. I thought things were never going to change for me. I was lost in a world of sorrow and pain that no one could enter.” She set down the pancake turner and scrutinized Tara’s tear-swollen eyes. “Honey, change is a good thing. I realize this feels like the end of an era, and maybe it is. Times have been good. Very good. But life marches on.”

  Tara’s chin jutted out. “We could lose everything! I’ve worked too hard to lose control now. The contractors depend on me. This town is just now coming together!”

  Winnie’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Girl, do you mean to tell me that you feel responsible for this whole town? What on earth ever gave you that idea? Those people, those contractors, have worked hard too and built a name for themselves. They have tools and shops and work on all kinds of projects besides what they do for you!”

  Tara shook her head, desperate to make Winnie understand the dread closing in on her. She didn’t know what was going to happen. She was losing the ability to control their future.

  Winnie continued; “Tara, this house is paid for. You own property clear across the county. The boutique alone could pay our bills! If Justin, or anybody else, wants one project, then—” She waved her arms wide. “Then we have enough to share!”

  “Winnie, you don’t understand! Justin is so — He makes me all — I can’t work when he’s around. I hate him. We were fine until he came here!”

  Winnie smiled grimly and walked around the island to face Tara. “There are worse things in this world than feelings for a man.” Tara balked and Winnie held up her hand to continue. “I know you’ve had no use for men until now. And God bless you, I do understand why. But I always hoped that at some point, you could put aside the way your daddy was and feel something besides repulsion for a man.”

  Tara’s mouth fell open and Winnie continued. “Honey, what you felt when you saw Justin,” She pointed toward the door. “That was one of God’s little miracles. It’s how we all got here and it’s not a bad thing; it’s a normal thing. And I promise you, it will happen to you again now that it’s happened once.” Winnie turned and went back to her smoking pancakes.

  Tara clamped her mouth closed and stood watching Winnie scrape at her ruined breakfast. Finally, she turned and headed upstairs to shower, all the while considering the conversation. Stripping off her sweaty running clothes in front of the bathroom mirror, her thoughts turned to Justin’s boxers. She blushed and turned away from the mirror.

  Chapter Six

  Tara arrived at the airport Double Tree Hilton thirty minutes early. She climbed from the car and smoothed her skirt down the front of her thighs with sweaty palms. Traffic had been a snarled mess. Turning her face into the breeze, she squinted in the sun toward the hotel.

  The sun blazed onto the black pavement, and horns honked amid the traffic rumble on the freeway behind her. She reached into the car to get her bag, and a plane roared overhead.

  Once inside the cool front lobby, the first thing she searched out was the ladies’ room. The drive had been long, and she could feel sweat trickling between her shoulder blades. She was also nervous about her new outfit. Well, parts of it were new, other parts were older than she was.

  Twisting and turning in front of the bathroom mirror, she bit her bottom lip and smoothed at her skirt. Is it too short? Is this blouse too much with the jewelry? Are my heels too high?

  Tara wanted to present a modern, independent woman, but she also wanted to be taken seriously. Muffy Vanderworth had been drawn to the boutique because she liked vintage, shabby chic style. Tara was determined to epitomize the look but still impress the CEO husband.

  The outfit she’d settled on was a prim, sleek, navy-blue pinstripe suit, coupled with a low-cut vintage lace blouse. A serious cameo brooch was nestled over her cleavage, and matching teardrop earrings glittered in her ears. From their selection at the shop, Becky had helped her choose a bracelet which brought a splash of sparkle and color to the ensemble.

  She pulled her hair over one shoulder, ran her fingers through it, and tossed it back. After trying several updos, she’d left it down long, giving her overall appearance a softer, girlish vibe. Curls fell down her back and nestled in the crook of her spine as she walked.

  Confident that she looked her best, she left the restroom and headed across the lobby toward Jackson’s Restaurant. The cafe had a clean, cozy appeal, with square tables covered in white tablecloths and booths along the far wall, under the windows.

  Selecting a booth in the corner, she scooted along the seat, tugging at her shirt. She had a few minutes to regroup and check her notes one more time. She pulled a leather portfolio from her bag and laid it on the table.

  After days of careful consideration, she had selected photos of past projects that she felt best showed her work and vintage appeal. The beginning of the collection contained pictures of the Bronson anniversary party that she had decorated in the community hall. The last few pages contained plans for the resort.

  The community hall had been her first big project. Smithville had needed a place to celebrate, and the old grange hall was falling down. Literally. Back then no one had believed that she could turn the old Billings family barn into a place to gather, yet through the last five years she had lost count of the weddings, funerals, and welcome-home parties she’d helped plan there. But best of all, after years of struggle since the coal mine closed, the Billings family now had a steady income from the barn.

  She smiled as she glanced
through photos of twinkle lights along the high barn roof, banquet tables lit with glowing lamps, and overflowing with fresh flowers. The room in the photos was stuffed with joyful people, covered chairs, vintage mirrors, rustic benches, and glass bottles of all sizes, shapes, and shades of blue.

  She paused to touch the photo of the massive chandelier sparkling at the peak of the high ceiling. She had rescued it from a restaurant slated for demolition. She’d been finishing her senior year of college, she remembered, and she’d spent months tracking down crystals to fill the gaps in the ornate piece. That old thing was still close to her heart.

  The next page contained pictures of families gathered on and around the vintage steam tractor in one corner of the barn. Tara had known that the tractor would never run when she’d found it buried there, but the charm of the old machine was undeniable. She and Susan Billings had sanded and painted it for hours, creating a backdrop for family photos. The tractor was a favorite part of the place for kids of all ages.

  Checking to be sure all the pictures were in order, she moved on to sort her notes. She had price notations coinciding with the blueprints for the guesthouse, the barn theater, and the conference center. Her portfolio was complete with pictures of ornate vintage furniture she’d pulled from stock or reworked especially for the project. She had photos from the site as it stood-- the old buildings leaning at odd angles and dark interior shots. She had been careful to take the photos at angles that included wild flowers, views of the countryside, or the other qualities of the property that she planned to retain. She’d even sketched out a layout for the new grounds and gardens.

  She closed the portfolio and blew a breath through pursed lips. She was ready.

  * * *

  Justin pulled up to the hotel and circled the lot, searching for the Vanderworth’s limo. He was relieved to see they hadn’t yet arrived. Parking near the back garden and gazebo, he reached into the passenger seat for his briefcase and sample books. Double-checking, he clicked through wood floor samples, and then reviewed the stack of cloth wallpaper swatches. He piled all the samples and a window covering catalog into his briefcase and clicked it closed. He knew his notes and contracts were in order; he’d looked over them twice that morning. He collected his briefcase, checked his phone, and took a brisk walk through the garden behind the hotel.

  The heat wafting up from the sidewalk was too oppressive to relax, and the planes roaring overhead were deafening, but the fresh breeze gave him a sense of movement and forward momentum. He was ready to greet Mr. Vanderworth.

  He knew the wealthy couple would be arriving any minute, so he headed for Jackson’s restaurant where the meeting would take place. Upon entering, he spotted Tara rising from a booth in the corner. Her eyes were lit with nervous energy, and she had a vulnerability about her that caused his forehead to furrow. Knowing she would clam up and withdraw as soon as she spotted him, he ducked behind a potted palm to watch.

  The way she smoothed her skirt and hitched the weight of her bag on her shoulder caught Justin’s attention.

  She emanated a long soft sigh as she turned, letting slip a moment of trepidation and excitement. Then, just as swiftly, she became the self-assured woman he’d come to know.

  He moved from behind the plant, concerned she would catch him staring. The moment he was in Tara’s sights, he knew it, because her demeanor smoothed into a cool distant shell that hid the excitement he’d glimpsed there only moments before.

  * * *

  Tara saw Justin near the restaurant entrance. As always, he appeared calm, collected, and confident. Damn him. His grey suit coat hung crisp and careless from his broad shoulders and his city boy hair was unruffled. She wanted to hate him but couldn’t quite muster it. Anticipation and trepidation over the upcoming meeting warred in her stomach and ignited like heartburn in her chest, pushing aside her discomfort with Justin.

  He grinned lazily and in her mind’s eye, he was wearing only boxers. He extended his hand, and she nearly fell off her wedge heels. She’d thought he was going to touch her arm, but he simply offered a handshake and said hello. Irritated, or maybe disappointed, Tara allowed her hand to lay momentarily in his as she said hello.

  He grinned and his smile had the same strange effect she’d felt at his house, so she tugged her hand from his. Afraid that he would notice that her fingers were trembling, she slipped her hand into her jacket pocket.

  Winnie was right, she admitted to herself. I can’t even think when I’m near this man, let alone speak intelligently.

  “I see you two have already met,” hummed a woman’s voice. Justin and Tara turned to see Muffy Vanderworth gliding elegantly toward them. A smile played at the corner of her mouth as she surveyed the couple. She wore a tight purple sheath dress, outlining her stick-thin figure, and diamonds sparkled on her ear lobes and fingers.

  “You must be Justin,” the woman cooed. “Denny has told me so much about you.” She extended a slim glittering hand toward Justin, her red lips pursing and lashes fluttering.

  He gripped her fingers in his.

  After a long gaze into Justin’s eyes, Muffy turned to Tara. “And darling…” The stylish woman’s words flowed over Tara, reminding her of an old-fashioned movie star. “How lovely you look today!” Slender fingers reached toward the antique brooch on Tara’s chest. “Simply exquisite.” Her eyes rose to Tara’s. “I’ve been gushing the entire flight about my sweet country beauty.” Muffy’s fingers brushed Tara’s cheek, then dropped to rest on her own chest. “I can’t wait to show Denny our plans for the resort.”

  Tara, befuddled by the effusive woman, could only clear her throat, as no words came to mind.

  Muffy stood statuesque, basking in the attention, but then a pucker appeared between her eyes as she evaluated the couple. Her gaze evaluated Justin a few moments longer than was comfortable, then she glanced from Justin to Tara’s hand, still tucked guiltily in her pocket.

  Tara got the impression that Muffy picked up on the tension between them and that it displeased the older woman for some reason.

  Justin also appeared taken aback by Muffy. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and craned his neck, looking for Muffy’s husband.

  Denny Vanderworth strode up beside his wife and extended his hand. “Good to see you again, boy.”

  Justin shook the older man’s hand heartily, his confidence sliding back into place with a nearly discernible click.

  Denny grinned and stuck out his chest. “You ready to get this deal wrapped up? I tee off in—” He glanced at his diamond-encrusted watch; “…twenty minutes.”

  Muffy had mentioned to Tara that Denny played golf every chance he got, but twenty minutes? They had far too much to discuss.

  Justin tossed a puzzled glance from Muffy, who still stared at him openly, to Tara.

  Denny surveyed the room, then, placing a hand on his wife’s back, led her away from Justin, toward the center table of the restaurant.

  Tara got the impression that Denny Vanderworth did everything in the center of the room.

  Muffy strolled toward the table, her pointed hips leading the way.

  After a moment of shuffling chairs and adjusting purses and bags, the two couples faced each other across the table. A waitress approached the table, asking about drinks, then departed toward the kitchen.

  Muffy placed her hand on Justin’s sleeve, plucking at the fabric. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with my Tara; I thought you worked out of DC.” Her gaze flickered from Tara to Justin, picking out every detail.

  “We met a few days ago,” Justin said, tossing a glance toward Tara. “Smithville is a small place.”

  Muffy’s bright red lips stretched into a sleek smile. “That’s part of its charm, isn’t it? I’ve spent all morning telling Denny that southwest Pennsylvania is simply…” Her lashes fluttered, “… gorgeous.”

  Justin shifted in his seat.

  “We don’t get much mountain scenery in DC,” Muffy continued, waiting
for all to agree. “And you know how the traffic and politics can be in the city.” She touched her temple delicately, a frown marring her painted-on eyebrows. “It can all be so oppressive.”

  Neither Tara nor Justin considered Muffy overly oppressed, but Denny patted her arm distractedly. “My Muffy, she copes with the city, but this resort was her idea.” Muffy smiled up at him, blinking through her lashes.

  Justin cringed as Tara tossed him a satisfied glance.

  Muffy assessed the silent communication between Justin and Tara, then gazed longingly toward Justin, melting any comfort zone he may have gained.

  When the silence at the table grew uncomfortable, Muffy cleared her throat. “I was a bit surprised when Denny told me that he had selected you to build our resort. You have a fine reputation, don’t misunderstand, I just thought we had agreed to build a simple, country retreat, away from the city. My Denny and I never disagree, so it was a moment, I can assure you.” Muffy pursed her red lips into a pout and batted her eyelashes.

  The waitress returned to the table, dealt water glasses off a tray, placed a teacup in front of Muffy and a Perrier in front of Denny.

  As Muffy continued to pout and simper, both men shifted uneasily, and Denny waved the waitress away. Justin felt Muffy’s gaze burning him, and it made him feel as if he were in a frying pan, precariously close to the fire.

  Muffy, sensing she’d gone too far, shifted in her seat to reclaim everyone’s attention. “But of course, I immediately understood Denny’s point of view.” She trailed her manicured fingernail across the top of the older man’s hand and clutched his fingers. “My Denny is generous to a fault.”

  Denny withdrew his fingers. Muffy patted his hand. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement as to the design of our resort. We do want the same result, don’t we dear? A wonderful place to unwind and relax.”