At the River’s Edge The Chesapeake Diaries (33 page)

Jason watched the car disappear, then made his way down the road to his pickup. This night wasn’t going to be anything like last night, but he had Tuesday to look forward to, and who knew how many nights would follow after that?

Early Tuesday morning, singing along with the radio at the top of her lungs to Elton John’s “Candle in the Wind”—the original version—Sophie drove to River Road for her last look around before the closing later that morning. She’d stopped at Cuppachino for her morning coffee, but at eight thirty, most of the regulars had already come and gone. Just as well, she reminded herself. She was a bundle of nerves and probably would be until the closing was over and she had the deed to her property in her hands. She didn’t want to discuss it with anyone, didn’t want to explain what she was doing until it was done, because if something went wrong at the last minute, she’d have to be explaining over and over why her restaurant wasn’t going to happen after all. There were times, such as this, when her maternal grandmother’s favorite adage—“The less said, the better”—definitely applied.

The words died in her throat as she approached her destination. Her foot on the brake, she all but stopped dead in the middle of the road. There, in the property next to hers, stood a mountain
—three
mountains—of something that looked horrible and smelled even worse, and a dump truck that was backing in through
the opened gates appeared to be about to dump yet another load of whatever it was onto the ground, right next to the fence between the restaurant and what had been a vacant lot next door.

She flew onto the parking area in front of her place and jumped out of her car.

“Hey!” she called as she ran along the fence, waving to the driver to get his attention. When that failed, she ran past the gate and onto the freshly blacktopped yard. “Hey, stop!”

The closer she got, the worse the smell.

She ran up to the cab of the truck and banged on the window.

“Stop! What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

The driver leisurely rolled down the window. “Huh?”

“You can’t dump that … that stuff here,” she panted.

The driver—identified as Lennie by the flap on his shirt pocket—appeared confused.

“You’re going to have to dump this … 
stuff
someplace else.” She looked around and spotted an empty spot across the parking lot. “Like over there.” She pointed across the yard. “Move all this over to there.”

“My orders were to dump it here.” Lennie pointed to the stinking, steaming pile that he’d already dumped next to the fence.

“Well, that must have been a mistake. I’m asking you nicely to please …”

“Take it up with the boss, lady.”

And with that, Lennie began to back up the truck.

“Fine. Fine.” She waved for his attention. “Where can I find him?”

“Right there.” Lennie pointed to the black pickup that was just pulling in through the gate.

Sophie walked around the back of the dump truck prepared to give someone a piece of her mind. Who dumps huge—gigantic, really—piles of stinking soil next to someone else’s property? She rounded the cab in time to see Jason hop out of the pickup.

“Hey,” he said, obviously pleased to see her. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s giving me shit, that’s what she’s doing!” Lennie yelled through the open window. “Wants me to move the mulch, but I told her …”

“You … you … this place …?” Sophie stammered.

“Is mine, yeah. But what are
you
doing here?” Jason repeated.

“Jason, you have to tell him to put all that stuff back onto his truck and move it over there.” She again pointed to the place she’d determined would be the farthest from the fence.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it stinks, that’s why.”

“Yeah, it does. But what difference does it make where he puts it?”

“You can smell it from next door.”

“So what?” He looked over at the old restaurant. “It’s vacant.”

“Not for long.”

“What do you mean, not for long?” Jason’s eyes began to narrow. “Oh, please tell me that you did not …”

“I did. I bought it.”

“You bought …? It was
you
?”

“What was me?”

“You’re the one who bought that place?”

“Yes.” It was her turn to be confused. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I’ve been trying to buy it for the past six months. The woman who owned it …”

“Enid Walsh.”

“Whoever. She was supposed to let me know when she decided to sell it. How’d you get her to sell?”

“What difference does it make now?”

“I just want to know how you managed to buy it out from under me.”

“I didn’t buy it out from under you. I bought it because I want to reopen the restaurant.” She took a step back away from him, her hands on her hips.

“I don’t suppose you could have done that somewhere else?”

“I wanted this place.”

“So did I.” He blew out a long breath. “You didn’t think to tell me this?”

“Was I obligated to?”

“Not obligated, but under the circumstances … I mean, I thought we were, you know … a thing. It would have been nice if you’d told me your plans.”

“I was going to tell you, but things … took off in a different direction the other night, and you were in a hurry in the morning. Besides, I thought it would be fun to surprise you.”

“I had an appointment. I told you that. And for the record, I hate surprises.”

She sighed. “Look, the bottom line is that it’s done. I’m going to open a restaurant there, so you
have to move those piles. The odor will turn away customers.”

“What customers? Doesn’t look to me like you’re ready to open for business.”

“No, but I will be.” She tried to stare him down. Jason didn’t blink. “So how long do you think that”—she pointed to the mulch piles—“will be there?”

He turned to calculate. “I ordered what I thought I’d need for at least the next month. So I’d say, oh, four weeks maybe.”

“And it’s going to continue to stink like this?”

“Well, it is getting warmer,” he told her. “That last pile he dumped, that’s mushroom soil.”

“What’s mushroom soil?”

“It’s what comes out of the mushroom houses after the mushrooms have been harvested.” He stared down at her. “You do know what mushrooms grow in, right?”

“Not exactly.”

“It’s basically a mixture of hay and grass and horse manure. It arrives smelly—the hay and the grass ferment, and the horse manure, well, you know, is
manure
. So it pretty much stays that way for a while. The warmer it gets, the stronger the smell.”

She grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”

“It makes a great soil enhancer. People like it for their gardens because their plants grow better.”

“Yeah, well, it won’t do much to enhance my customers’ dining experience.”

“Sorry, but it is what it is.”

“Great.” She exhaled loudly. “This is just great.”

“When do you figure on opening?” He studied the
building for a long moment. “It must need a lot of work.”

“It does, but Cameron has a schedule. He thinks he and his crew will need no more than three weeks, start to finish.”

“How come they haven’t started already?”

“I don’t officially own it for another …” She glanced at her watch. “Another forty-five minutes. Closing’s this morning.”

“So you don’t actually own it yet.”

She shook her head.

“So you haven’t made any investment yet.”

“Not financially, but emotionally …”

“Sell it to me.” He grabbed her hands. “I’ll give you five thousand dollars more than what you paid for it.”

“No.”

“Ten.”

“Are you crazy? No. This is going to be my restaurant.” She pulled her hands from his. “And what would you do with it? Knock it down so you can stash more piles of stinky, dirty soil stuff?”

“Of course not. That was going to be my shop. Retail. I plan to have a full nursery here. Trees, flowers, pots …”

“Wind chimes and garden gnomes?” she scoffed.

“If my customers want them, yes. Sophie, I’ve been dreaming about this for months. I started making plans to buy this vacant lot the first time I saw it. My plan all along was to buy the adjoining parcel and have my business go retail.”

“Why can’t you build a place on your own land?”

“Because this is where I’ll be growing things and
parking my equipment. Backhoes and trucks and tractors. There’s no room for a shop here.”

“I’m sorry that I threw a wrench into your dream, but I have dreams, too. And my dream is to renovate that place next door and open my own restaurant.”

“What’s wrong with being a lawyer?” he asked. “I thought you liked it.”

“I do like it. I’ll like owning my own restaurant better.”

“Why can’t you find another place for your restaurant?” he persisted.

“Because this is where I want to be. Why can’t you find another place for your shop?”

“Because my business is already here.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, if you took my offer, you could find another place. You could make a nice little profit without even lifting a finger.”

“I don’t want to sell, and I don’t want to look for another place. I’ve found my place, and that”—she pointed across the fence—“is it. I’m planning to put tables outside. I can’t have people sitting down to eat with that stench in the air. You’re going to have to move that stuff.”

“What do you propose I do, Sophie? That’s several tons of mulch and topsoil, and yes, mushroom soil. It’s not exactly a shovel-and-wheelbarrow job. Sorry, but it stays where it is until it’s sold.” He paused. “Besides, what difference do you think it would make if I move it another hundred or so feet away? It’s still going to smell.”

At a standoff, they stared at each other.

Finally, he just shook his head, muttered something about someone having unrealistic expectations, then
turned and walked away, right to his pickup. He got in and drove off without looking back.

“Fine. Just … fine.” She walked through the gate and across the broken macadam on her side of the fence.

“Fine,” she repeated as she got into her car and turned the key.

She was still muttering to herself when she arrived at the Realtor’s office for the closing. She forced a cheeriness she genuinely would have felt if not for her argument with Jason. He could move that pile of stinky mess if he really wanted to. And he could build a little something over there on his own property if he really wanted a small shop. He didn’t need her place to sell his plants and his pots and his damned garden gnomes. Why couldn’t he be happy growing his plants and designing landscapes for his customers? And why did he need a shop, anyway? From everything that she could see, he was plenty busy enough as it was.

Sophie signed her name where she was supposed to and made polite chatter with the lawyer for the seller and the Realtor, but as soon as she received her packet of documents, she was out the door. Cameron was bringing his electrician and his plumber at one, and she intended to have the place open and ready for their inspection at twelve fifty. Jason Bowers could go sulk until he grew up and accepted the fact that she was as entitled to buy that building as he was, that her dreams were just as important as his. It wasn’t her fault that she got to Enid Walsh before he did—okay, so maybe she had a little help with that, but still, she had no way of knowing that he’d had his eye on the place all this time. How could she have?

Too late now
, she thought.
What’s done is done
. Jason was just going to have to come around or live with the consequences.

And so, a little voice inside her whispered, would she.

Chapter 20

T
HE
electricity in the former Walsh’s restaurant had been turned on as per Sophie’s request, and Cameron had removed the boards from the window, so in spite of the gray clouds that blocked the sun, there was ample light inside. Sophie had dusted off a few chairs and a table, and now Cameron sat across from her, his clipboard in one hand.

“So we already talked about the windows. I’m suggesting we go for the most energy-efficient ones you can afford. I’ve listed prices for several different grades on the estimate, and you can look them over, make your decision, and let me know so I can order them right away. We might even want to put a rush on them. Now, the floors are going to have to be refinished—I have a guy I use who does a terrific job, I can bring him in if you want—you’re going to want to use a really durable finish, like a bar top, or the stuff they use on basketball floors.” He glanced up at her. “Feel free to stop me at any point if you have any questions.”