Текст книги "The Man Must Marry"

Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен

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Chapter Seventeen

Willa had spent mostof the last two weeks locked in her office, trying to lose herself in her new line of pet caskets but more often staring into space as she tried to figure a way out of her dilemma. And, she admitted with a sigh as she tossed her pencil down on her sketch pad, she had also been hiding from Sam.

But mostly, she’d been forced into exile by the killer glares she’d been getting from her workers. Jennifer and Shelby and Peg weren’t talking to her, either, and last Monday, Cody had announced that being around a bunch of silent women was creepy and had gone to stay with his dad. The only person who didn’t appear angry at her for going to dinner with Barry Cobb four more times was Sam. Which was confounding—shouldn’t he be worried that she was cavorting with the enemy?

After all, it was his inheritance Cobb was interested in, under the guise of being interested in her.

But Sam hadn’t made any attempts to see her in the last twelve days. She’d heard he’d shortened his hours at Kent Caskets to two days a week, apparently to devote more time to hunting down every last seafood restaurant within fifty miles. He obviously loved to eat a lot more than he loved her. She’d also heard he’d gained more than ten pounds.

And the diabolical jerk had stolen her thunder by flying Shelby and Jennifer and Cody toNew York City on Tidewater’s private jet. He’d treated them to two days of heavy shopping and even a helicopter tour ofManhattan . What good was having a big fat bank account if she couldn’t use it to impress her family?

She had wanted to buy Jennifer’s dress for the dance. Willa turned off her desk lamp, plunging her office into darkness. She hadn’t even gotten to take Jennifer driving again, since her niece had decided that Sam was a wonderful instructor. Well, if the girl wanted to get all gaga over the man, that was her problem. Willa had been there and done that. Samuel Sinclair was just another typical male with an agenda, and if Shelby and Jennifer and Emmett couldn’t see that, then…then that was also their problem. She was getting sick and tired of always watching out for them, anyway. Maybe they could all use a good lesson in getting themselves out of their own messes.

She snapped the light back on, picked up the phone, and dialed Emmett’s house.

“Hello,” Emmett said after the third ring.

“Hi, Em. I didn’t want you to be worried when you got to work tomorrow and saw the RoseWind wasn’t on her mooring. I’m taking her out sailing for a few days.”

“Well, Willy, that’s going to be kind of hard, considering she’s missing half her paint. I brought her into dry dock five days ago to be repainted.”

“You what? I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“No, Sam did. He said he thought she should be gone over, anyway. He also asked me to check all the winches.”

“Sam doesn’t own the RoseWind , I do!”

“The jib winch was sticking, I discovered,” Emmett continued, ignoring her burst of temper. “And I found a large chunk had been gouged out of the keel. You must have noticed the hull vibrating. How come you didn’t mention it to me when you got in?”

“It couldn’t have been that large a gouge; the boat went fine. You actually dry-docked the RoseWind without calling me to see if it was okay?”

“Foul weather’s predicted for the next few days, anyway,” Emmett said. “Say, have you spoken to Sam lately?”

“No, I’m happy to say.” She picked up her pencil and started doodling on her sketch pad. “Um…why?

You sound as if something’s wrong. Are his brothers okay?”

“They’re fine that I know of. It’s Sam I’m worried about. Have you even seen him in passing?”

“Just from a distance,” she said, sitting up. “Why?”

There was a slight pause on the line. “He’s not the same man who arrived here two weeks ago, Willy.”

“How’s that?”

“Even as beat up as he was, Sam still appeared… formidable, if you know what I mean.”

“And he’s not now? What are you saying, Emmett?”

A heavy sigh came over the phone. “I can’t put my finger on it, exactly. I just know Sam’s been acting strangely lately.”

“Compared to what? You’ve only known him two weeks.”

“Depressed, then,” he growled. “If I have to put a word on it, I’d say Sam is acting depressed.”

“As in how? ” she growled back. “Is he sleeping all day? Lying on the couch watching the Lifetime channel and munching on junk food? What?”

“Well, he does eat a lot. He’s been gaining weight.”

“That’s not depression, that’s plain old gluttony.”

“And he went out and bought himself a bunch of flannel shirts, and he doesn’t even bother to tuck them in.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

“And he’s going to the coffee shop nearly every morning.” His voice dropped. “And you know how depressing that group can get sometimes.”

Willa grew alarmed. “Have you tried to talk to him, Emmett? Maybe you should just come out and ask him what’s bothering him.”

“That’s not my place.”

“Are you implying it’s mine? Since when did I become Sam’s babysitter?”

“You’re just better at that sort of thing, Willamina.”

“Maybe Abram’s death is just now hitting him. Maybe he’s simply mourning. Remember how you were when Gretchen passed? Sorrow hits everyone differently, and how long it takes to work through it is up to the individual. Abram was like a father to Sam.”

Another heavy sigh came over the phone line. “You’re probably right. He’s likely just realizing that he and his brothers are completely alone in the world now.”

“You might suggest he stop going to the coffee shop,” Willa said. “They probably keep mentioning Abram, and that will keep depressing Sam.”

“I’ll do that,” Emmett said. “I’m sorry about the RoseWind , Willy. But truth be told, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her again. She was my last, you know?”

“I know, Em, and it’s okay. Um…is Sam home?”

“He left about an hour ago and told me not to wait dinner for him.” He snorted. “Not that I ever do. I usually just help myself to one of the many doggie bags he keeps sticking in the fridge.”

She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Okay, I’d better get on home and see what Peg’s put in my own fridge. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ll come over and work on the RoseWind with you, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that. It’s been a few years since we’ve worked side by side.”

“’Bye, Em,” she said. She shut off the light again and gazed across the dark room at nothing. Emmett thought Sam was depressed?

His weight gain would make sense if that was the case. After her parents died and she lost the baby, she’d started feeding the emptiness inside her with whatever food she could get her hands on. She’d gained twelve pounds that year, and that had been the beginning of the end for her and David. A year later, she began to suspect he was cheating on her, and she’d gained another ten pounds. Looking back, Willa could see she’d unconsciously been driving David away, probably because he was as emotionally supportive as seaweed.

She stood up and walked out of her office, giving the bronze whale statue a pat. Nearly two weeks had gone by, and she wasn’t any closer to finding a solution to Abram’s bequest. If anything, she had unwittingly added one more problem to her growing list. Barry Cobb was not only so full of himself he bored her to tears, he was becoming a pest.

Willa pulled up beside Sam’s rental car, shut off the engine, and stared at the lighted windows of her cottage in dismay. Great. Just what she needed, a depressed man dropping by to depress her . She looked toward the main house, figuring there was probably food up there. But there was alsoShelby and Jennifer and their killer glares. Peg wasn’t a glarer; she just banged pot lids around whenever Barry Cobb’s name came up.

Willa looked back at her cottage, trying to decide which way lay the lesser evil. She was actually surprised, but she sort of missed Sam. At least, with him, she could glare right back without feeling guilty, because he wasn’t going through a divorce.

But he was mourning Abram.

God, she wished Emmett hadn’t dry-docked the RoseWind . She could be sailing toward the Bermuda Triangle right now.

Willa got out of her pickup and mounted the porch steps, thinking it was kind of nice coming home to a house that wasn’t empty. She perked up a bit. Maybe Sam had brought food. She’d even settle for a

doggie bag from one of his restaurant excursions.

She opened the door and immediately saw that the table was empty except for a small stack of mail. Sam hadn’t even brought her flowers to apologize for avoiding her for two whole weeks. Bummer.

“Over here,” he said from the corner of the room. “Wash up, and come sit down. I hope you’re hungry.”

Her spirits rose with renewed hope. “What are we having?” she asked, shedding her coat as she went to the sink.

“Roasted hot dogs, potato salad, and S’mores for dessert. I also found a campfire popcorn popper at the hardware store, but we’ll save that for later.”

Later? Willa glanced over her shoulder in time to see him add a log to the fire he’d built in the antique parlor woodstove.

Hot dogs? He’s been dining at every damn restaurant in the county, and he feeds me hot dogs and S’mores?She wiped her hands and went to sit on the love seat facing the woodstove. Sam pulled her down onto the floor beside him. “You can’t reach the fire from up there. The sticks aren’t long enough.”

“I have to cook my own dinner?”

He handed her a forked twig with a hot dog skewered on the end of it. “Cooking the dogs is the best part. If you do it just right, they plump up and get juicy.”

Willa shoved her hot dog into the fire.

Sam immediately took hold of her hand, raising it until her hot dog was above the flame. “It’s already dead. And cooked,” he drawled. “You just need to sear the skin.”

“It’s a hot dog, not filet mignon,” she said, lowering it back into the flames when he let go. “And I like mine burnt on the outside, so it splits open.”

“Is it okay if I don’t turn the rolls into charcoal?” he asked with a chuckle, sliding two buns onto another stick that had wider-set branches. He’d very neatly whittled the bark off the ends.

“You’ve put a lot of time into preparing this picnic.”

“After almost poking my eye out, I decided your maple tree could use a pruning. That’s when I got the idea for hot dogs.” He held the rolls in front of the fire, close to the embers. “Bram and Grammy Rose used to take us boys up to theAdirondacks every summer after we came to live with them. It was just the five of us—no staff, no chauffeur, no cook. We’d fly up, and Bram had a big old rusted van he kept at the airport. We’d transfer all our gear into it and pile in, then drive to the ricketiest old cabin you’ve ever seen.”

He turned the rolls over to toast the other side. “Grammy would assign us each a chore on the way to the cabin. My job was usually spider eradication. Ben had to lug firewood, and Jesse always helped Bram drag the old fishing boat down to the water to see if it was still seaworthy.”

He glanced over at her, then back at the rolls. “We didn’t have an outboard motor, just oars. It took a full week for our blisters to heal, but by the end of the summer, we all had thick calluses.” He shook his head. “No electricity, no running water, and an outhouse that still gives me nightmares.”

“How come Abram didn’t update the cabin?”

“If we’d had all the modern conveniences, we might as well have stayed home. We were roughing it, and those summers were the best times of our lives after our parents died.”

Willa jumped when her hot dog exploded and fell off the stick into the fire. Without saying a word, Sam shoved another hot dog onto the charred tines, then held it over the flames.

“We tried going to the cabin the summer after Grammy died, but we only stayed a few days. It just wasn’t the same.” He glanced at her. “I guess you own the cabin now.”

Willa took a shuddering breath and looked down at her lap. Depression was contagious.

“Levi fired me yesterday.”

“He did? Why?”

Sam turned her hot dog over and lowered it to start burning the skin. “He claims I’m all thumbs when it comes to working with power tools. But I think it’s because he found out I’ve been going to the coffee shop most mornings.”

She started filling the toasted rolls with ketchup and relish and mustard. “What makes you think that’s why he fired you?”

Sam slid her hot dog into one of the rolls, then put another one on the stick and held it over the flames.

“Keelstone Cove is in the middle of a geriatric gang war.”

“A what ?”

“There’s the Grand Point Bluff gang and the coffee club gang, and they went to war when Bram died.”

“Oh for the love of—these are civilized people, Sam, not gang members.”

“No, it’s the away people versus the locals . Most of your workers retired here fromNew York andBoston , didn’t they? It’s also the haves against the have nots . The coffee clubbers think the Grand Pointers throw their money around like confetti.”

“Your grandfather went to that coffee shop and he was friends with my workers. And he was from away and rich. So how come the coffee clubbers let him into their club?” She eyed him suspiciously. “For that matter, how come they let you in? Not only are you rich and from away, but you’re not even old enough to be a member.”

He started to slide his hot dog into its roll but stopped. “I don’t like mustard.”

“Oh, just eat it,” she snapped. “And answer my question. How come Levi was willing to work with Abram, but he fires you for cavorting with the enemy?”

“Because before I arrived, both gangs had the same agenda.”

“And that was?”

“To see you happy.”

Willa stopped with her hot dog halfway to her mouth. “See me happy? As if it’s any of their damn business to begin with. But wait a minute—are you saying they don’t have the same agenda now? Does one of the gangs not want to see me happy?”

He took a large bite of his hot dog, made a face, and swallowed. “No, they both still want you happy; they just don’t agree on how that should happen.” He started dishing out the potato salad. “The coffee clubbers want you to marry me, like Bram thought you should. But the Grand Pointers think you should marry a local man.”

Willa gaped at him. “You’re funning me, right? I know this town is filled to its eyeballs with bored senior citizens, but they can’t possibly be that invested in my life. Besides, you’ve got it backward. If anyone would want to see me married to you, it would be the Grand Pointers. They’re retired executives and would want me to marry a businessman. The locals would want me to marry a local.”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Silas, Maureen, and Levi cornered me in the break room the other day and told me point-blank that if I tried blackmailing you with that bequest, I could find myself inside a burlap sack on a lobster boat on a one-way trip out to sea.”

“They threatened you?”

“They told me not to take it personally, just seriously.”

“But they liked Abram.”

“They claim they like me, too, just not as your husband.” He shrugged. “At first, they thought Bram’s plan was a good one, but after he died, they started thinking over the part about forcing you to get pregnant and decided he’d taken things too far. In the five days it took you to sail home, they’d persuaded themselves that the whole thing was a bad idea. They believe you should find a nice, easygoing local man to settle down with and that if you don’t want babies, you shouldn’t have any.”

Her workers, her friends , were deciding whom she should fall in love with? And marry? And not have babies with?

Sam lifted her chin with his finger. “They love you, Willa. They may be misguided in their thinking, but they love you.”

“And the coffee clubbers? What’s their excuse?”

He smiled. “They’re equally sincere, honey. They want to see you happily married, too—just not to a local man.”

“But why not?”

He slid his arm around her shoulder. “One, they’d like to have some fresh young blood move into town.

And two, they told me there’s not a local man within a hundred miles who would marry you. You’ve got a bit of a reputation for stirring up trouble. Then there’s the fact that you’re a wild woman at sea. There aren’t many coastal men who can live with a woman who can outsail them.”

Willa was shocked senseless at how everyone had an opinion about what she should and shouldn’t do.

“You know what I think?” Sam asked.

She refused even to hazard a guess.

“I think I should open my own business and put the coffee clubbers on my payroll.”

“What?” she yelped, pulling away to face him. “Are you nuts?”

“I doubt they’ll put their paychecks back into my business, though. I have a feeling they could use the money. Paul Dubay needs a new lawn mower; the one he drives to coffee is on its last leg.”

“Paul Dubay drives a lawn mower to the coffee shop?”

“Right downMain Street . He claims the ‘damn government’ wouldn’t renew his license because his eyesight is bad.”

“Paul Dubay is more than ninety years old! He shouldn’t drive anything that goes faster than a walker. And don’t kid yourself; your new best buddies are a long way from living hand-to-mouth. They simply can’t bring themselves to spend any of their money, because they worked too damn hard to get it.” She shook her head. “We’re getting off track, Sam. You are not setting yourself up as Keelstone Cove’s social welfare system, and you’re not opening a business just to give the coffee clubbers something to do.”

“Why not? You started Kent Caskets to give your people something to do.”

“I needed a job. I hired them because I didn’t know anything about running a business.”

“You told me you had a job at Grand Point Bluff.”

“I decided I wanted to be my own boss. After Levi built a casket in the wood shop, the manager at Grand Point wouldn’t let me do anything creative with the residents anymore. He made me dismantle the wood shop and turned it into a bingo parlor. So I quit.”

“And the residents bankrolled Kent Caskets?”

“No. Emmett did.”

“Emmett? He’s your silent partner?”

“Yeah. Why are you surprised?”

“I was under the impression that Emmett had hoped to turn Sengatti Yachts over to you one day. Why would he help you start a brand-new business?”

“Because his wife had just been diagnosed with inoperable cancer, and he told me he wished he was as

emotionally strong as Levi and could build Gretchen a casket, too. He tried, but he couldn’t do it, so I told him I would. I was going through my divorce at the time, and I think Emmett saw my opening Kent Caskets as some sort of therapy for me. So he put up the money. He said he had as much faith in my being a success as someone had faith in him nearly fifty years ago.”

She suddenly gasped, touching Sam’s sleeve. “Emmett told me he owed Abram a very large favor. Your grandfather must have given him the money to start Sengatti Yachts. They met when Abram was attendingMaineMaritimeAcademy . The timing’s about right.”

“That makes sense.” Sam folded his arms over his chest. “So, what sort of business should I open?

Something to do with food, maybe? I’ve been eating out a lo lately, and I’ve had some fantastic chowders. I should probably do something different. How about lobster cakes? You know, like crab cakes? I’ve rarely seen lobster cakes on any of the menus. And we could eventually ship them worldwide. That’s something the clubbers could do. And I’d hire able-bodied people, like you did, to pick up the slack.”

“Sam, you are not opening a business inMaine .”

“Why not? In three months, I’m going to need a new job.”

Willa scrambled to her feet. “But not here! You’re a city boy, born and raised. And you haven’t lost Tidewater yet. That company needs you.”

“Even if Tidewater survives, it only needs Ben,” he said, also getting to his feet. “And I may be a city boy, but I really likeMaine .” He frowned at her. “What’s so upsetting about my opening a business here?”

“Because you’re doing it for all the wrong reasons.” Now that he was standing, Willa got her first good look at him. “Oh, my God. Sam, what’s happened to you?”

“What?” he asked, looking down at himself, then rubbed his baggy flannel shirt over his not-so-flat belly.

“This, you mean?” he asked with a grin. “I started thinking about how you got David to divorce you, and I decided you might be on to something. I figured if I gained a few pounds, women would either look right past me or take the time to know the real me. I wasn’t worried about your reaction, because you wouldn’t care if a man is five-foot-two, bald, and cross-eyed; if you love him, it’s for real.” He rubbed his belly again. “A very clever idea, Willa. Just like giving the senior citizens something to do.”

She was utterly speechless.

He turned away and walked to the fridge and came back with a bottle of champagne. “It’s not Dom Perignon, but I’ve put myself on a budget.” He started unwinding the wire. “Will you toast my new adventure with me?”

“Sam,” she said, covering his hand to stop him. “You don’t know the first thing about making lobster cakes.”

“Phil Grindle used to own a lobster shack. I’ll get him to oversee that part of the operation. And Doris Ambrose is a fantastic watercolorist. She can design the labels and advertising.”

“Have you even asked Phil and Doris if they want jobs?”

“Of course. They’re quite excited about it. Sean Graves knows of an old warehouse over in Prime Point we can buy and renovate,” he said, going to work on the wire again. Willa stopped him again. “Sam, does this have anything to do with Abram’s dying? Have you considered that you might be missing your grandfather and have substituted the coffee clubbers for him?”

He sat on the love seat and frowned up at her. “Why was it a good idea for you but not for me? Why shouldn’t I open a business?”

She sat beside him, resting her hand on his knee. “You’re not yourself right now, Sam. You’ve suddenly been cast adrift with no direction or purpose. You’ve lost Abram, your home, and possibly Tidewater. You’re depressed, Sam, and you’re trying to fill the void in your life with food and…and with being needed.”

“That’s it exactly,” he said, covering her hand with his. “Not the depressed part but the purpose part. Bram needed me, and I wasn’t there for him. I should have seen his health was failing, but he was such a tough old bird I assumed he’d live forever. Maybe if I’d been paying better attention, he’d still be alive.”

“You can’t possibly know that. Abram kept his heart condition from you precisely so you wouldn’t fuss over him. You have nothing to feel guilty about.” She squeezed his hand. “Don’t you see, Sam? You can’t take Abram’s dying as having anything to do with you . Life happens, and so does death, and none of us has a magic wand we can wave to make everything turn out perfect.”

“But we can make up for our mistakes. I wasn’t there for Bram in the end, but I can be there for someone else. And it feels damn good to be totally focused on helping other people, Willa. It’s almost addictive.” He raised her hand and kissed her fingers. “Bram might have thought he was doing you a favor by writing that bequest, but it’s my eyes he opened.”

He suddenly stood up, took the champagne back to the fridge, and walked to the door and grabbed his jacket. “Will you go to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“What about tonight’s dinner?” she asked, motioning toward the woodstove.

“I just realized that I’ve left Emmett alone a lot lately. I don’t think he eats a very balanced diet. I should take him to a place I found in Ellsworth that serves a wonderful dish of broiledMaine scallops, rice, and broccoli florets. Emmett loves scallops. Is tomorrow night good for you?”

Her head spinning, Willa nodded.

“Great. I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, and left.

Willa stared across the suddenly empty cottage. Emmett had it all wrong. Sam wasn’t depressed, he must be on drugs!

He actually thought there was a war going on in Keelstone Cove? And that he could adopt the coffee clubbers for his new family? And move here? Permanently?

As for Emmett, just when had he become Sam’s responsibility?

Chapter Eighteen

If Willa had beenasked a week ago what she thought Keelstone Cove’s greatest asset was, she would have said unequivocally that it was the town’s dynamic senior-citizen population. Just consider the cumulative decades of wisdom the older folks were glad to share, from weather predictions, fishing methods, and recipes to business advice. Ask any of them a simple question, and you’d be treated to a twenty-minute lecture.

Seniors were the backbone of any society.

They were not, however, supposed to start acting like rebellious teenagers—which is exactly what her Grand Point Bluff workers were doing. She stormed into work the very next morning and shot off a memo demanding that everyone older than seventy be in her conference room atten o’clock . Willa sat at the head of the long mahogany table in her office suite and glared at the expensive antique wall clock that Silas had insisted Kent Caskets needed to present an air of success. It was ten-fifteen, and she didn’t recognize the lone person sitting four places down on her right.

“You said you just moved into Grand Point Bluff a month ago, Mr. Goodard?” she asked. “And that Silas hired you last week?”

Gary Goodard shot her a nervous smile. “Yes, ma’am. I originally retired toFlorida , but there’s so many people down there I couldn’t breathe. I explained to Silas I probably should work in sales, considering I used to own a Mercedes dealership, but he told me the only opening you had was in shipping. If this is about that mix-up the other day, I’m really sorry. I don’t know why they ever changed the state abbreviation system. I thought AR meantArizona , and that’s why I sent those caskets toCedar Creek,Arizona , instead ofCedar Creek,Arkansas . I promise it won’t happen again, Miss Kent .”

Willa sighed. “This isn’t about the mix-up,Gary , since no one told me about it, anyway. And please, call me Willa. We’re very informal here. Do you know if the others got my memo?” It was twenty-five minutes past ten.

“Oh, yes,”Gary said, his expression brightening. “Your secretary hand-delivered it to all the departments. Say, you must know Isobel quite well, since she’s your personal secretary. Can you tell me how long she’s been widowed?”

“Six or seven years, I believe.”

“Would you know if she’s seeing anyone?”

Willa sighed again. “I don’t believe she is.” She stood up. “Nor do I believe anyone else is coming to my meeting, Gary. And since it wasn’t about anything involving you, why don’t you head back to shipping?

Oh, and welcome to Kent Caskets.”

Garyhad stood up when she had, his joints creaking loudly. “Thank you,” he said, hobbling toward the door. “I have to say, I love getting up in the morning and having someplace to go again. Retirement’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I spent so many hours working to make my dealership successful I never acquired any hobbies. It’s very community-minded of you to hire older citizens.”

“Yes, it seems I’ve gotten a reputation for being very community-minded.”

The door suddenly opened, and Silas, Maureen, and Levi walked in, followed by the rest of her older workers.

“Sorry we’re late, Willa,” Silas said, pulling out the chair on her right and standing in front of it as the others went to their usual seats. “Isobel just tracked us down. It was such a beautiful day, we decided to go over our last-quarter reports outside at the picnic tables.”

“Sorry to pull you away from your important meeting, but I wanted to talk to all of you together,” Willa said. She realized that for them to sit down, she had to sit down, so she did. The moment they sat, she stood back up.

“Is this about the new line of pet caskets?” Maureen asked. “I haven’t finished the interior patterns, because Levi hasn’t given me the measurements yet.”

“No, this isn’t about our pet line. I’ve called you here to talk about Sam Sinclair.”

“I had to let him go, Willa,” Levi said. “The man’s all thumbs.” He shook his head. “I should have suspected it when he first showed up, considering how beat up he was.”

“He was also disruptive,” Silas interjected. “He spent more time talking than working. Our production was falling behind.”

“That’s right,” Maureen piped in. “All he had to do was walk through the sewing room, and the younger women got all a-twitter. Carol actually sewed her sleeve to the pillow she was working on.” She narrowed her eyes at Willa. “Sam Sinclair is a worse flirt than his grandfather was.”

Willa held up her hand. “His firing is not the reason I called this meeting. I want to talk to you about this little…dispute you’re having with the coffee clubbers, of which Sam and I seem to be the center.” She placed her hands on the table and moved her glare from one person to the next. “Butt out, people. My love life is none of your business. If I ever decide to get married again, I will marry whomever I damn well please.” She straightened and pointed her finger at them. “If you don’t stop interfering in my life, I will fire every last one of you. Except you, Gary,” she quickly amended, “unless I hear that you’ve fallen in with these outlaws.”

She glared around the table again. “Do we understand each other, ladies and gentlemen? And if any of you threaten Sam again, I will call the sheriff.”

“But he’s only pretending to be interested in you to get back his inheritance,” Maureen cried.

“Did you know he’s buying the old Ingall warehouse in Prime Point?” Silas said. “Avery Ingall has been trying to unload that place for years. I bet he takes Sinclair to the cleaners.”

“Word on the street is that Sam’s planning to open some sort of mail-order food plant,” Levi said. Maureen snickered. “I heard he asked Doris Ambrose to head up his marketing department. I hope he knows his labels are going to have angels on them. That’s all the woman can paint.”

“And Phil Grindle’s supposed to be his head chef,” Carl Sills, a retired lawyer in charge of her sales department, added. “Throwing lobsters into a pot of boiling water for thirty years is one hell of a résumé.”

Willa was horrified. “My God, you really are all a bunch of snobs.”

“What?” Silas said, his face reddening. He stood up. “We are not. But who the hell does Sam Sinclair think he is, coming here and opening a business, hiring a bunch of coffee-swigging old people to run it?”