He smiles smugly. “Small Town ain’t much to look at in the off-season, but summer? Valentine’s?” He snorts. “Booked out for months, sometimes years, in advance.” He taps the desk by the photo. “Exactly the kind of sure thing property I need to expand into Small Town. You meet the owner?”
I nearly miss the question, my chest clenching hard. “Uh, yes,” I answer, nodding slowly. “Yes, Mr. Michaelson. He’s a good man. He built the inn with his wife and?—”
“You get the sense he’d be willing to part with it?” he asks, practically salivating over the idea.
I hesitate. “I’m not sure,” I answer, lying through my teeth.
He sits back, laughing gutturally as he licks his lips. “Let’s be sure,” he says. “How many rooms?”
“Ten,” I answer.
He grimaces. “We can fix that. We’ll tear out the trees behind it and add on to the building.”
“Well, the family lives on the property,” I say. “They?—”
“Perfect! We’ll kick ‘em out and there ya go! More rooms! We’ll build up to fifty rooms. No... seventy-five! Aw, fuck it, one-hundred! Go big or die. That’s the Stack family motto!”
My stomach churns, feeling sick as I imagine that beautiful place, the path to the dock by the lake… possibly gone forever in the name of greed.
“I want you to go back down there and get me a number,” he says. “Everything has a price tag. While you’re there, look around. Pull up the carpet. Kick up the floorboards a little. Find something I can exploit that’ll knock a few zeroes off the price. You do that kind of thing, right?”
I stare at the photo. “Yeah,” I answer, the words tasting of bile. “I do that kind of thing.”
He grins, showing off a row of aging yellow teeth. “Fan-freaking-tastic,” he says, sitting back. “You get me that inn, and this’ll be the start of a beautiful partnership.”
“It will?”
“Well, it won’t stop at Small Town,” he says. “Taking over that one-horse-ville is small potatoes compared to what I’ve got planned for Pleasant Place and Rich Valley. You do this for me — you be my guy on the front lines — and I’ll make your bank account very happy.”
I don’t reply. I don’t even nod.
He doesn’t seem to notice, though, his eyes shining with dollar signs like some cartoon villain.
“So, what do you say, kid?” Mr. Stack asks as he extends his hand to me across the desk. “Partners?”
I stare at it, quietly realizing what it was I left behind.
12
MIKA
Slow day at Bruno’s Diner.
There’s the usual early morning rush, then extended periods of quiet. I spend most of my time sitting by the register, my head propped up on my hand, listening to Lottie and Tish gossip. The hot new bachelor in town is long gone, and they’ve already moved on to the rumored hot new single dad moving into Lottie’s neighborhood soon.
Lucky them.
Me, well... I haven’t quite moved on yet.
It’s been two days since goodbye. Two days since Carter checked out of my life and drove out of Small Town for good. It took nearly a whole day for me to realize that I should have at least got his number or something, but today I wonder what good that would do. He’d still be gone, off on new adventures in mergers and acquisitions. He wouldn’t want to come all the way back to Small Town, anyway. Especially not for me.
I glance across the diner, my eyes drifting toward his booth, only to retreat quickly. Someday I’ll be able to serve that section again. But not today.
Today just sucks.
I clock out just after three and slowly begin my journey home. Along the way, I slip into Hot Beans and talk to the manager about the Now Hiring sign out front.
“Come back Thursday,” she says. “Open interviews start at nine.”