Page 22 of 40 and (Tired of) Faking It
How was she? An automatic, “I’m doing fine,” rose to her lips before Lily could decide.Finewasn’t totally accurate, though. She was more than fine. The past three days since she’d met JD, she’d been happy, maybe truly happy for the first time in a while.
That’s exactly why he’s dangerous. He’s not staying, Lily. Get your head out of the clouds.
She gave Iris a genuine smile. “How are you?”
Iris had no more gotten her, “Oh, fine.” past her lips before Lou leaned across the counter.
“Now, Lily, when will Bert and Ernie be coming out to pick up those huge piles of trash? You know Snookums hates walking around those. They make my baby as nervous as a roomful of rocking chairs.”
Lily refrained from laughing at Lou’s nickname for the town’s two garbagemen—who were definitely not named Bert and Ernie—and instead glanced over at the orange-striped, long-tailed, silky looking cat spread across the opposite side of the postal counter. The massive tabby surveyed his domain with lazy green eyes, sure of his supremacy in the world of Black Wolf’s Bluff’s mail—and his mistress, who never failed to indulge him at every turn. Her fingers itched to sink into that luxurious fur, but she knew from past experience that Snookums accepted pets only on his own terms, meaning arbitrarily. You never knew if the cat would eat up the attention or attempt to eat your fingers, so she steered clear.
As for being afraid of debris on the streets? She had little doubt the cat had never been frightened of a single thing in its life.
She wouldn’t mention that to Miss Lou. “It’s that time of year; everyone is cleaning out their gardens for spring and piling up the debris for pickup.JesseandErnesto”—their much appreciated garbagemen—“will be out early next week when big trash pickup is scheduled. Don’t worry, they won’t be late.”
Lou didn’t look reassured. Snookums’s mistress was as sure of the supremacy of her desires as her cat was, and hated them not being met. “I hope not. Snookums loves his walks, but I don’t like making my little man anxious.”
Little man?Lily estimated the giant puffball would weigh in at no less than twenty-five pounds. The picture the two of them made, Lou looking so delicate at her advanced age and the chunky cat strolling along beside her on a leash, had newcomers doing a double take more often than not.
“Don’t worry, Miss Lou. Snookums will be walking home without fear within a couple of days.”
“Lily,” Iris said, breaking into the discussion of Miss Lou’s favorite topic in the world (her cat), “I was pleased to meet Mr. Lane yesterday.”
Yesterday.She murmured something appropriate, struggling to keep a blush from rising. Yesterday was best not thought of under Lou’s intense scrutiny.
“We had a few moments to discuss his proposal for the planning commission.”
“Yes.” Lily cleared her throat. “It’s an ambitious project.”
“Darn right it is,” Lou popped in. “Too ambitious. Who does that man think he is, barging in and trying to change this town? Lane or not, he’s got no stake here.”
News was traveling fast, it seemed. And it wasn’t surprising that JD’s history would come up. Though he was a few years older than she, the fact that he’d been shipped elsewhere by the Lane’s for schooling had been a common topic for gossip as she grew up. She was uncertain about his elementary education, but he’d attended a boarding school for the upper grades at least, and had moved away from Black Wolf’s Bluff immediately after graduation.
“Wallace and Virginia Lane had their nose in our business until the old coot died, you know.” The irony that the Lane patriarch had been in his sixties, many years her junior, when he suffered a heart attack seemed lost on Lou. “Virginia might have become a hermit after that, but this young upstart has never been involved with our town.”
He’d had no intention of being involved now, either, not until she’d fought for it. She’d prayed she could make a difference, could show JD the value of investing not just in his resort but in the town. She was making headway, she knew it; she just had to keep pushing.
“Now, Lou,” Iris, ever the calm one, interrupted. “We don’t know what all will happen. Certainly one resort won’t make us Gatlinburg overnight. If we give the man a chance—”
“Pfft.” Lou was having none of it. “Nothing good ever comes of change; I’ve lived long enough to know that.”
Lily didn’t dare to point out that Lou changed her hair color every month without disaster. She’d been raised to respect her elders, she reminded herself while biting her tongue.
Iris stiffened across from her. “Sometimes changeisgood, Lou. Sometimes”—the woman paused, then cleared her throat—“change may be necessary.”
Lily eyed Iris as Lou poured out her thoughts about that statement. There was something in Iris’s eyes, in the rigidity of her body that made Lily wonder. But then Iris sidetracked Lou by reminding the older woman kindly that she had to get back to the library, and Lou retreated to the back to retrieve their mail.
“There’ll be more objections like that,” Lily said quietly in the aftermath.
“There will be,” Iris agreed. “But what I said was true. Things can’t always stay the same, no matter how hard the path forward might be. We go through it together, though.” Iris’s steel-gray eyes met Lily’s, and the resolve in them gave her hope. “I only spoke with Mr. Lane a few minutes, but I liked him. And I liked his plan. I want to see more. And with the town’s input, I think it could be even better.”
Lily thought so too. And having someone else see it was reassuring in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.
“By the way.” Iris leaned close as Miss Lou exited the sorting room and moved toward them with two small bins of mail. “I couldn’t help noticing as you went over to Claire’s yesterday…” A pretty pink tint rose on Iris’s cheeks. “Watching that man walk makes me blush.” A little laugh escaped her. “I might need to go visit Father Pinckney over at the Catholic church this Sunday and confess.”
Chapter Eleven
The trip to Forest Fine Furniture had been a success. Lily and JD had gone over to meet the owner, her friend Mohe Smith, and talk about specifications for the resort this afternoon. As JD had put it,“We are not doing ‘luxury futon’ furniture,”despite how his friends had apparently teased him. This was a high-end resort, but he wanted it comfortable as well as classy. High-grade woods. Plush fabrics. Big, deep, with lots of “sinkability.” Furniture you never wanted to leave; that’s what JD was looking for.
