Page 22 of Enemies in Paradise

I down the whole glass of water before I’m ready to speak. “How soon is this happening?”

Grandpa opens his mouth to say something, but Georgia holds up her hand and stops him. “You’ve got thirty days to get the money, Bear, if you want the shop. We don’t want to pull the rug out from under you completely. And Cassie could change her mind, but in the meantime, she’s moving into the apartment with the option to buy while we put all the pieces together.”

This is a bigger blow than I thought. I lean against the counter, holding the glass so tight it may break. “She’s moving into the studio? Where’s my team supposed to get dressed?”

“You don’t need the shop for little girls to play hockey,” Grandpa butts in. “They shouldn’t be out there, anyway. It’s not safe on the ice.”

“You didn’t think it was too dangerous for me when I played on that same pond.” Usually, I ignore Grandpa’s old school comments, but I’ve got nothing to lose any more by talking backto him. “I check the ice every single day before I let anybody on it. I look for cracks. I drill holes and measure. Less than five inches thick, and they’re not going on the ice.”

My voice rises, even though I know none of this is the point.

“Hockey’s no game for girls. It’s too rough,” he grumbles, picking up the threads of this useless argument.

I stand and take a breath, searching for a rebuttal, because I’m not letting this die either. I wonder if he’d give me more time if I were coaching boys instead of girls.

Evie jumps up and runs interference, rushing to the other side of the kitchen counter from me, blocking Grandpa’s scowl from view.

“Cassie and Grandpa have agreed to let you use the shop until Cassie closes on the property,” she says while zigging to my zag every time I look around her to say something to Grandpa. “The girls can get dressed in the shop portion, but we’ll need to get it cleaned up first, so it’s safe for them to be in there. Adam and I can help, but everything’s got to go…” She winces like she’s the one about to get socked in the jaw instead of delivering the blow I see coming from a mile away. “Including the Mustang.”

I blow out a long breath. “I don’t care about the car. I care about giving these girls a place to play a game that’ll help them build resilience and confidence. You sell the shop and I’ve got no parking or green space, no room to build an outdoor shelter by the pond. Without that space, there’s no incentive for the city to buy the pond from Lynette.”

“The city council won’t okay money for that plan, anyway.” Grandpa’s voice is slightly more gentle than before, but that doesn’t make his words any softer. “They’re too tight-fisted with taxpayer money. It will never happen, which you’ll remember I told you when you first asked about this.”

“He might not be wrong, Bear,” Georgia says. “I’ve had to battle them too, and they are hard to convince. For them todip into city coffers or raise taxes to pay for a park is going to be a hard sell. The only reason I got approval for my Little Copenhagen project is because it didn’t cost them a dime. I paid for everything, which I knew I would have to do from the start.”

Georgia’s gentle tone doesn’t soften the blow. Like a dog being shooed away from something he wants and loves, my hackles go up.

“Maybe you didn’t cost Paradise money, but your project has cost us a lot more.” I speak slowly, carefully, ignoring Georgia’s wince.

“If not for you and your show,” I continue, my words gaining speed. “People wouldn’t want to move to Paradise in the first place and turn auto shops into bookstore. Developers wouldn’t be buying up land to put up tract homes and make our little town a carbon copy of every other city full of beige houses and luxury SUVs.”

“The people buying those beige houses are what’s keeping Paradise alive. They’re providing the taxes that support your team and the girls who play on it,” Georgia answers coolly.

I’m not the first one to accuse her of ruining Paradise. I don’t really believe it—Georgia makes everything more fun wherever she is—but I don’t particularly enjoy having so many unfamiliar faces in my town.

“Creating the park to protect the pond is a great idea, Bear.” Evie draws my eyes back to hers, and the sympathy there soothes some of my anger. “What about appealing to the city council to make sure there’s green space in the new developments? Is there a way to have your shelter on the other side of the pond and extend the green space that way?”

It’s not a terrible idea, and maybe I’d be more interested if not for one thing. “I’ve spent the past year working on the plans I have and trying to get those approved. I don’t want to start the entire process over,” I tell Evie.

She raises her eyebrows. “Grandpa needs to sell the shop. You know this.”

Grandpa pushes himself off the couch and walks toward me, grimacing as he does. The cold is terrible on his joints. The arthritis in his hips and knees flares every winter, so he takes a while to cross the room. Molly is with him the whole way until he puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I wanted this to work for you too, son. But I can’t take this cold anymore. Your Granny and I need the money to keep our place here for summers and have a house in Arizona too.”

He pats my shoulder, putting an official end to the discussion.

Because how can I argue he should wait to sell the shop until the city can buy it? Grandpa and Georgia are right. That could take ages. Especially considering Mayor Darlene Voglmeyer has the final say, and she doesn’t care for any of us Thomsens.

“You’ll need to have your stuff out of the studio by the end of the week so that Ms. Lee can move in.” Grandpa drops his hand and shuffles toward the front door. “Oh, and you’d better get an exterminator in there. The place is probably crawling with mice if those kids have left food and stuff around.”

I’m about to protest that I’ve kept it clean but stop myself as an idea forms.

Grandpa adds, “It won’t pass inspection if it’s got rodents. And if Cassie’s like every other woman I know, she’ll go crazy at the first sign of a mouse. I don’t want to jeopardize this sale or have to lower the price because there’s a rodent problem.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I mutter, questioning his assessment of Cassie, who doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything, but I won’t argue with him about her or the exterminator. I don’t want him taking care of either problem.

I’ve got traps all over that shop, and I empty them every time I’m there. Grandpa hasn’t wanted to spend the money on an exterminator, and I haven’t encouraged him to. He has no ideathe lengths I go to keep mice out. I may not work on the Mustang often, but I make sure there aren’t mice to damage it.

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