Hammered, Page 2

  Besides, Lyddie could kick ass when she needed to. The afterschool confrontation proved that.

  There was a lioness in there.

  Her friend’s smile was in bloom. Lyddie was so goddamned bedazzlingly gorgeous that men were known to forget to breathe when they saw her. From the creamy skin to that kissable mouth to the drop-dead bedroom eyes, there was no way a red-blooded male should be comparing her to anyone, but then Bailey Deesing was a reptilian creature that belonged sunning himself on a rock.

  Or perhaps under it.

  “Congratulations on getting smart.”

  She hadn’t meant to say it; the comment slipped out.

  “You’ll see,” she continued. “There’ll be another man along … maybe a skein. You’re a man magnet and they flock to you like—”

  “Are you equating me with birdseed, Sam? Birdseed that’s thrown in front of some museum in Rome?”

  An infectious giggle streamed out and caught Sam in its tide.

  In the middle of the demolished space that would become Sam’s vision, there was laughter. Reams and reams of foolish, silly, girlish laughter that only comes from years of bonding. Sam collapsed against the back of her chair, her hand resting on the stomach flattened by long runs taken in the park and on the streets of Mountain Valley. As the seconds ticked by, the peals of joy became intermittent until—

  She let out a long exhalation.

  “God, that felt good!”

  “It did, didn’t it?” Lyddie agreed. “And this place is going to be wonderful—if you survive.”

  Incoming!

  It was the one word that suited the occasion. Sam’s mouth popped open in surprise.

  “Lyddie! Relaxation was the key! It was what I needed and I have the name! I freakin’ have the name!” she shouted as she stood up and started to dance.

  “Hallelujah! Then we need to preserve the moment!” Lyddie responded.

  She sprang up, the two simultaneously touching cheeks. Lyddie put on her Instagram-famous fishface as a click confirmed a selfie commemorating the auspicious occasion, but the celebration didn’t stop there. An impromptu hip-shaking was waged on a video sure to go viral.

  CHAPTER 2

  JUST ADD COFFEE

  It was a perfect sign.

  Angled at just the right pitch, Sam had been peeking at it all morning out the glass front of her spiffy new coffee shop. Every time she looked, her chest burst with pride, and why shouldn’t it? She’d weathered the storm and was officially in business.

  The sign was a hit and already an integral part of the marketing plan. Lyddie had taken a slew of photos of it and some captured Sam standing underneath the finished work of art. After cherry-picking the best, Sam had gone full-on promoter and pinned them to the communal bulletin board on the wall of her café. She’d also disseminated a few through social media to encourage more residents of Mountain Valley to show up and help celebrate the achievement.

  Friends, frenemies, strangers, and coffee lovers destined to be regulars took her up on the invite and showed up in droves. And it was the bustle of the opening day crowd that prevented the monumental accomplishment from fully sinking in.

  She was too busy to appreciate it.

  “Two medium lattes!” her friend called out as another sale was registered and paid.

  Lyddie’s camera had long since been put away and her photographic skills replaced by ones relating to that of a barista. Her bff was working the counter and helping employees Katy Sercavic and Nellie Bryson keep up with the demand.

  It was good having Lyddie around. Not only could she turn a spigot and fill a cup to the brim with nary a spill, but her stints in the fashion industry made her hyperaware of what was cool. That was why she’d put Lyddie in charge of selecting the uniforms. It was the right move and had cleared one task off her laundry list of things to do. Her friend was rocking one of the spectacularly chic black outfits handpicked for the coffee specialists to wear. Far be it for Sam to be suspicious, but it looked so good on Lyddie that she wondered if that was why it had been chosen.

  And still they came.

  More customers arrived, adding to the length of the line snaking out the door and trickling onto the sidewalk. The shop owner was pleasantly surprised that her old high school buddies Berkeley, Mitty, and Wanaker were among the newcomers. The hardhats working a block away also joined in, taking part in the gathering horde, and why not? Her place was everything she’d hoped for and more. Even the name was perfect. She slipped in another peek.

  JUST ADD COFFEE

  An epic name for an epic remodel. Her cafe was now spacious yet totally cozified. It was a place to sit, sip, and chat in style. It was also the place to get a stellar cup of coffee.

  “SAM!”

  She’d recognize that voice anywhere.

  “Maribel!” she exclaimed in return. She ran around the counter and gave her old real estate colleague a bear hug.

  Maribel Sanchez was the good-hearted pro who had shown her the ropes. She was instrumental in Sam making the cut and keeping the job that featured an often volatile workplace.

  “It’s so good to see you!” Sam added as she continued showing her mentor some love.

  “You think I’d miss this?” the five-foot-five-inch ace real estate agent with the bubbly personality replied. “Someone would have to tie me down not to be here. I’m so happy for you, girl! I knew you could do it … knew it from the first day I met you.”

  “You mean, the day I locked the keys in the first showing I made?”

  “And I had to drive down and give you the spares to get them?” Maribel giggled. “I swear, I never told anyone.”

  “Obviously,” she retorted. “Otherwise, you-know-who would have canned my ass.”

  “Samantha?”

  The cool, calm, and ever-collected voice spun her around. Talk about timing! She was having trouble believing her eyes, but there was the iconic matte golden Infinity parked outside the window and in full view. It was where all the customers waiting in line had their attention focused.

  Talk about car envy.

  Someday … someday, Sam …

  “I didn’t know she was coming!” Maribel mouthed.

  Sam gave a reciprocal pat on her old colleague’s shoulder as she greeted the unexpected guest she’d been talking about.

  “Mrs. Harper … welcome! What can I get for you?”

  It sounded beyond strange to be saying that to Bliss Harper, the owner of Bliss Happy Homes. Her former boss was the richest woman in town—and arguably the best-looking. A survey of the army of men who lusted after the elegant morsel would attest to that. But looks were deceiving, because if truth be told, it was Bliss who was most responsible for the cantankerous atmosphere and blow-ups at Sam’s old stomping grounds. But the flare-ups of temper never lasted long, and to be fair, Bliss always her showed her employees gratitude for jobs well done in human, appreciable ways.

  Like cash stuffed in an envelope.

  Those monetary bonuses were hugely appreciated and went a long way in offsetting the challenges in working for such a high-strung individual.

  “The largest caramel latte you have, dear. And here … this is for you.” The well-modulated tones were perfected in a Swiss finishing school—or a whorehouse in Chicago. It all depended on whom you listened to. Yes, there was a lot of mystery surrounding Bliss’ background—

  Her name for starters.

  Bliss?

  It was why Sam gravitated towards believing the Chi-town rumor true.

  “Thanks,” she replied, taking the plant from the long, immaculately-tended fingers. A small card attached to the stem proclaimed:

  GOOD LUCK ON YOUR

  NEW BUSINESS.

  I ALWAYS LOVE WHEN A

  FORMER EMPLOYEE SUCCEEDS.

  BLISS HARPER

  Yup, Bliss was a class act in a lot of ways.

  “It’s an orchid … a cutting from my prized Isabella. You met Isabella, no? She’s in my office … on th
e—

  Etagere by the window.

  The blue ribbons won in local horticultural contests proudly surrounded it.

  “Th-thank you, Mrs. Harper,” Sam stuttered, overwhelmed by the gift.

  “It’s good to have plants in a business, dear. When they thrive, the sales do. Now may I have my order? You’re making me terribly late.”

  Difficult.

  It was the one word that would apply to the willowy radiant specter who was now tapping a high-heeled foot. Impossible would be another.

  “Absolutely, Mrs. Harper,” she said, rolling her eyes at Maribel. Was that Rudy Connors coming through the door?

  Her heart sped.

  What could the landlord want? It couldn’t be another problem about to be dropped in her lap.

  Sure it could!

  “Katy! An extra-large caramel latte for Mrs. Harper, please!”

  Katy Sercavic was one of two permanent employees. Matt Johnson was the other. While Katy handled the day shift, Matt held down the night. Katy was nineteen and a student at Mountain Valley Community College. In other words, she was on her way to discovering her true potential and not at her final destination.

  Sam handled the extra-large mocha chocolate latte herself. If she didn’t know what Maribel drank at this point in life, she never would. Handing it to her friend, she gave her a kiss on one of her full cheeks.

  “On the house, my friend. I appreciate every second you wasted on my unworthy soul,” she whispered as tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Nothing unworthy about you, Sam. You’re a winner, girl.”

  Waving a goodbye, the real estate whiz headed out the door, leaving Sam to check on whether Mrs. Harper was being served. She was.

  Yay for Katy.

  Being on the ball averted the first chew-out since officially being in business. The honor was delayed and reserved for a later time and date.

  It would happen. It always did.

  Swiping at her eyes with the black apron, she sopped up the tears before rushing to Mr. Connors’ side, saying a number of hellos to patrons along the way.

  “Good morning, Mr. Connors! Hope nothing is wrong?”

  Anxious didn’t begin cover it.

  The landlord’s gray eyes scanned the shop filled to capacity and then some.

  “I came to check on my new tenant … and see that everything’s okay,” he commented before breaking into a smile. “What’s that window for?” he asked, nodding towards the small sliding glass station to the side of the counter.

  “That section is for mobile phone and internet orders. We place those orders on that ledge so the customers can pick them up without coming in. The sliding glass prevents the heat from escaping in the winter.”

  “And the order’s paid for how?” he queried.

  “That’s also done online. We made it seamless.”

  “Seems you thought of everything.”

  “Tried to.”

  Her eyes darted around. Why was he really here? Certainly not to talk about windows.

  So why?

  Please not the lease … please …

  She was locked into it for five years and she’d fight tooth and nail to enforce those terms. All her money was sunk into this place. She didn’t have an extra pocket she could draw from to start over.

  “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here, Ms. Powell.”

  Yes, yes, yes!

  A meager grin sufficed as did a slightly subservient nod of her head.

  “I came to check the repair that was made. Even though the wording of the lease makes it clear that the tenant is liable for overseeing proper work is done, I don’t want to risk my management company getting pulled into a lawsuit because a customer is injured due to your negligence.”

  Repair?

  The floor!

  Yeah, it had been one more expense that hadn’t been included in her original budget, but that was what businesses were for.

  To suck every cent out of you before draining you dry.

  “Absolutely, you can see for yourself, Mr. Connors, but I did check it,” she answered defensively as she led him to the spot where the floorboard had come loose.

  “Ohhh,” she muttered, stopping in her tracks.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Well, it’s currently under the feet of the gentleman in the Hawaiian shirt.”

  A woman came out of the restroom, causing the problem to disappear. Mr. Hawaiian Vacation rushed to use the facilities.

  They took a few steps, nearing the site of repair, but another customer got in the queue. Rudy Connors brushed a hand over the top of his sandy blonde hair in frustration over the foiled attempt to assess the repair. His attention was diverted by the line that now extended to the end of the block.

  “SAM! WE NEED YOU!”

  Lyddie’s voice carried far beyond the four walls that did its best to contain it. She was in the weeds, the forest, and poison ivy.

  “I suppose there’s no urgency in it being done now,” he conceded. “I can come back later tonight … or how about tomorrow morning? You open at what … six? Would five thirty work for you?”

  “Absolutely, Mr.—”

  “S-A-A-A-A-M-M-M!”

  “I believe you’re needed,” her landlord whispered as he adjusted the horn-rimmed glasses holding up his ears.

  That was what her father would say.

  She suppressed a giggle.

  “See you tomorrow, Ms. Powell,” was the cordial goodbye.

  “S-A-A-A-A-M-M-M!”

  “Coming!” she blasted in return.

  She couldn’t resist one more peek out the window. Yup, the sign was still there. For her, it proclaimed that Sam Powell had made it—and that her life finally amounted to more than the proverbial hill of beans.

  CHAPTER 3

  4:30 AM.

  Another yawn so wide that it obliterated her vision forced Sam to stop the forward advance and wait for the interruption to cease.

  One day of grueling labor was all it took to remove the blush of ownership from her rose-tinted glasses. The toll was more than she could have imagined and included the new schedule she was only just getting used to.

  It was one that required rising before dawn.

  Someday the harsh perspective might change, but not today it wouldn’t, and so with the yawn over, she carried on, staggering up the pavement like a drunk with one too many under his belt.

  The keys jangled as she switched the load to her right hip, freeing the use of her left hand. She was a proud lefty and used to performing the mirror image of what the majority of the world did. With that accomplished, she craned her neck over the items piled high and spotted the target. Because of the hour, it was a minor miracle. An hour and a half before sunrise and still dark, it was lucky for her that the street lighting was sufficient for her to slip the key into the lock on the first try.

  She’d opted for using the front entrance since the back one was littered with trash bags. The dumpster in the parking lot would normally have provided the room necessary to secret the garbage away, but it was still filled with scrap from the renovations. It was a one-time deal and wouldn’t happen again.

  Success!

  She tiptoed inside, taking care not to bang into a table. While the sensible thing would have been to turn on a light, why she didn’t escaped her. It could have something to do with her brain cells not firing properly this early in the morning—or it could be the direct result of her relentless determination to place the items brought from home in her office before doing anything else. The problem with the latter was that she’d never make it to her office this way, so she rearranged her priorities and headed towards the nearest switch.

  Light.

  One flip took care of the dilemma. But the overhead light brought on a distraction that made her stop in her tracks to admire.

  The place was beautiful—no, her place was beautiful. Everything was warm and welcoming—most especially the banquet seating rimming the
far wall. It had been a last-minute addition, and the touch was inspired. It made for private talks in between sips of great coffee. Her heart swelled with pride, but the biblical warning of pride going before a fall got her moving again.

  But slowly.

  The one light didn’t extend to where her office was located. Her sanctuary was in the back, to the other side of where the kitchen and public restroom were positioned. It was sheer obstinance that made her decide to navigate the expanse without clicking on another beacon, but why make it easy on herself? It was a question that deserved an answer, and her only conclusion was that trekking in the dark amounted to self-flagellation.

  That analogy should have given her pause but didn’t. Instead, a firm hold was kept on the rolled-up posters, picture frames, and stack of figurines in her arms as she relied on memory to keep shuffling along—

  Contact?

  What the—?

  Her foot banged into something—something on the floor. The unexpected surprise was followed by the sound of wood-skidding-on-wood. From the weight and noise, it had to be an errant piece of lumber. While the mystery of what the object was had been solved, the mystery of what it was doing on the ground hadn’t.

  Her gray cells kicked in.

  Oh, dear God!

  The floorboard! The one she’d assured was fine!

  It had to be that the floorboard had gotten loose again. Despite her assurances, it hadn’t been properly repaired and allowed for the slat to become completely detached, b-but … but it couldn’t be! She’d witnessed the repair herself and it looked more than fine to her. Then again, what the heck did she know about floor repair?

  Another thought designed to sink her hit full blast.

  Her landlord was the one she’d assured!

  Goddamned Quentin Barrows and his stupid lousy company. The three men sent over couldn’t fix one lousy piece of wood? And with all the nails they’d used? Come hell or high water, Rudy Connors was going to show up in another hour or so. and what was she supposed to tell him? That she couldn’t be trusted to check on a minor repair?

  Then how could she be trusted to run a business or pay rent?