8. Battle Lines

Chapter 8

Battle Lines

When Joy awoke Monday morning, her resolve wavered. But then she reminded herself she was the executor of her mother's estate, and her first priority was due diligence. It was also finding a real shower and strong, hot coffee. The stately hotel had yet to get their plumbing issues resolved.

A stop at Mountain Coffee, then on to her mother's shop, where she showered and dressed for her showdown. Between the lack of water at the Majestic and the disgusting condition of her mother's shower, her mood was as sour as week-old milk left out in the sun. Once again she turned over the line Charlie Hunnicutt had fed her. And it had to be a line because it made no sense otherwise. She couldn't tear down an old building that was more of a hazard than it was a structure? Ha! He wasn't going to pull the wool over her eyes. She was about to call him on the carpet. The guy obviously had ulterior motives.

She spent a little more time applying her workday makeup, donned her power pantsuit, and slipped on her heels. Out on the sidewalk, she wobbled a bit on the uneven pavement. Tourists dressed in summer casual—shorts, T-shirts, sandals—gave her curious looks as she marched toward town hall.

After locating the building department's location on the directory in the foyer—if one could call it that—she tromped up the stairs to the second floor and paused a moment to give her lungs a chance to recover after the short workout. She kept forgetting that her body wasn't accustomed to ten thousand feet in elevation.

Gold lettering on the obscured glass of an old-fashioned door declared this to be the building department. The knob stuck when she tried to turn it—of course it did—so she wrenched it. It slipped from her grasp, and the door banged open, announcing her arrival as all eyes turned to her.

Oops!

A short, tubby, gray-haired woman wearing glasses, who obviously didn't know a thing about current fashion, eyed Joy warily as she approached the counter.

Joy straightened the hem of her blazer. "I'm Joy Holiday, and I'd like to speak to someone in charge."

The woman's eyes narrowed behind her lenses. "About what, if I might ask?"

"About demolishing a building."

The woman, whose name tag simply said, "Bea," plucked a stapled sheaf of typewritten papers from a plastic pocket file attached to the wall. "What's the age of the building?"

Joy flapped a hand. "Late 1800s, maybe early 1900s. I'm not positive." She'd bet her best pair of Prada slingbacks that Charlie Hunnicutt knew, though.

The woman handed her the bundle, which turned out to be a list of ordinances. "If you're looking to demolish part of the building in order to renovate, you'll find our town's requirements indexed to the building code in here."

"I'm not looking to demolish part of a building. I want to tear the entire building down."

A collective gasp went up. Joy surveyed horrified faces—some belonging to employees behind the counter and some to customers like her.

Bea's brows knotted together in a scowl. "We have strict rules about destroying historical buildings. What's its condition? "

"Deplorable."

"Can you be more specific? Does it have a roof? A foundation? Are you able to see the exterior through the inside walls? Does it have electricity? Is there running water? Did a mountain lion take up residence and raise cubs inside of it?"

"Does that really happen?" The thought made Joy's stomach squishy.

"Sometimes." Bea drummed her fingers impatiently on the countertop.

"Um, no big cats. It has working utilities, a foundation, a roof, no major holes in the walls that I've found. My mother lived there for decades. Helene Holiday?" Joy paused, looking for a flicker of recognition in the woman's suspicious gaze. She reminded Joy of a mama bear protecting her cubs, though Joy wasn't exactly clear on who the young were.

"Doesn't matter who owned it or what the name is. Rules are rules. You can't just tear down a building on a whim."

"But it's not a wh—"

"My advice is to find yourself a contractor who's familiar with our building codes and have them explain what you can and can't do in our town." Bea didn't bat an eyelash as she ran over Joy. "The one I recommend most is Past Perfect Restorations. The owner's name is—"

"Charlie Hunnicutt," Joy finished for her, then let out a frustrated sigh. "He works for me."

Bea's gray brows hit her permed hairline. "Does he know you're here?"

"Well, no, not exactly."

Bea wagged her head in one of those schoolteacher ways that told a kid they were a screw-up without the teacher having to verbalize it. Then her features softened. "You let him handle this, deary. Charlie is very familiar with our rules and regs. He was on the committee that wrote them." Bea's mouth curved in a proud little smile.

The town should have been named Hunnicutt for all the adoration people bestowed on its friggin' favorite son. Then they could erect statues of him and have "Charlie Hunnicutt Biscuit Day," where fire trucks and kids paraded by with Charlie doing the queen's wave from a rose-festooned float.

Joy shook off the image. "Isn't there someone else I can speak to about the possibility of taking it down? Some higher authority?"

Bea's expression turned sour. "Young woman, I am the authority, and if you're trying to pull an end around, it will not go well for you." She clasped her hands on the counter. "Now, is there something else I can help you with today?"

Joy wasn't used to getting stonewalled, but she also wasn't used to dealing with municipalities and their nonsensical building regs. She tried approaching the problem from several other directions, but each time she tried, she got a stern glare and another not-so-helpful offer to help her with something besides the very thing she wanted answered. She had her answer, but she didn't like it. Surely there had to be another way to get the building torn down.

"Is there a different authority I should be speaking to? The county? The state?"

Oh, that was the wrong thing to say. Bea's eyes narrowed to malevolent slits. "Young woman, as I've already explained, you are speaking to the authority. I run the town's and the county's building department."

"B-but it didn't say that on your name tag," Joy stammered. A hush blanketed the entire workspace, and her lame words bounced around the walls for all to hear. Soon every pair of eyes was pointed in her direction,

"Didn't say what?"

Joy dropped her voice to a hiss. "Um, I would have thought it would list your title on there."

Another woman stepped up to the counter. "If you're looking for something that says Grand Pooh-bah on it, you won't find it. That may be difficult for you city types to understand, but trust me. Bea is the authority around here. The only authority. What she says—and doesn't say—goes."

Joy cocked an eyebrow. "And you are?"

"The attorney general for these parts. Now, unless you have another matter you need help with—besides a personality overhaul, that is—I suggest you let these ladies get back to the important work of making sure the building codes are adhered to for the safety of the public. "

Joy inched up her nose. "No need to be rude about it."

"Like you were, you mean?" the AG fired back.

Message received . "I can see that I'm wasting my time trying to find what I'm looking for here."

"Because what you want is against code!" both women said at the same time, then turned to each other and high-fived.

Joy spun and walked out of the office with her head held high, but truly her tail was tucked between her legs .

God, small-town folk were touchy and completely unreasonable!

Charlie climbed to the second floor of the town hall. As he walked into the building department, he was greeted with a cock of the head from Bea from behind the counter. Normally, she greeted him with a smile, but that was missing this morning.

Shit. He knew why. Fall River had partnered with the deep pockets from Silver Summit, a nearby luxury resort, to restore the train that would bring free-spending tourists from the lower elevations to town. Bea, along with a handful of other townsfolk, had invested in the project. He had tried to talk them out of going all in, but they had ignored his advice. "As long as you're handling it, Charlie, we know we'll get a good return on our money." Now they should be very worried, and that was on him.

The project was also one of the reasons for his visit. He needed updates on all things train-related—the tracks leading into town, the turntable, the engine house, the depot—all of it. He'd had no updates from the Silver Summit group, and every time he prodded, they put him off. He walked a fine line, trying to figure out what the hell was going on without pissing them off.

"Morning, Bea. How's my favorite building department head?"

"After tangling with that snooty client of yours, not so good. Did you send her in here?" She gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

Charlie's alarm bells clanged. "Did I send who in here?"

"That bony dark-haired gal by the name of Holiday."

Charlie's mouth dropped open. "Joy Holiday? Was here?"

"That she was, trying to push her weight around like she's some big cheese. She wants to tear down an old building!"

Charlie dropped his head on a sigh. He raised it and offered Bea a contrite smile. "I'm sorry, Bea. I tried to tell her it's not possible, but she has her own ideas."

Bea patted his hand and flashed him a devious smile. "Don't you worry. I know how you can make it up to me. "

Uh-oh. She wanted her money back, and he didn't have it to give her.

He returned a weak smile of his own and spent the next few minutes trying to soothe her, exchanging small talk, even though he itched to get going. Time was in short supply. "You catch more bees with honey than with vinegar" was one of his mother's favorite idioms, and Charlie had put it to good use during his lifetime, especially when it came to town and county employees who had the power to make a project go smoothly or right off the rails. Too bad Joy Holiday hadn't been taught the same lesson.

Bea asked how she could help him, and he ran through his reasons for being there. "I wondered if you could update me on the applications for the depot project." He braced himself.

She stared at him through her glasses. "Nothing's come in since the last time you asked."

"Nothing at all?" He struggled to keep the exasperation—and the pinch of panic—from his voice.

She gave him a sympathetic shake of her head. "I'll call you if and when I see anything. They are working on it, aren't they? I'll need to get that money back fairly soon so we can put my mother into a nursing home."

Aw, Christ! Just shoot me now.

"Yeah, they're working on it." I think. Maybe. "They're hard to get a hold of sometimes, and I reckoned it would be easier to check while I was in here today, but I'll get with them and figure out the timeline."

She gave him a bob of her head. "What else can I help you with today?"

He dragged his fingers through his hair. "I need everything you have on file for 367 Bowen Street." He didn't refer to it as Crystal Harmony Haven, in case Bea made the connection between the building and Joy. "Any blueprints, permits, building violations, anything. I'd also like to apply for a permit to start demolition on the place. And if you could push it through, I'd be really grateful."

There came her wicked smile again. "I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine."

His eyebrows involuntarily scrunched together. "Excuse me?"

She leaned across the counter and dropped her voice. "That favor I mentioned earlier? I'm thinking we can work out a trade. I need your help with a little something."

Were they treading into bribery territory here? Bea had never shown any signs of being crooked before. While he wasn't sure where this was going, he had a hunch he wasn't going to like it. Nonetheless, he re-plastered the smile on his face. "Of course … if I can."

"You remember my niece, Becky? Well, she's going to be in town the end of this week." Bea's eyebrows bounced up and down her furrowed forehead.

Oh no. Now he knew where this was going, and fuck! He didn't need this right now. He'd smiled at the girl once—once!—at Noah's bar, and she'd blown the innocent gesture completely out of proportion and come on strong. Why couldn't a dude simply smile at a woman without her jumping to the conclusion he was into her? He only did it to be nice, but he was nice to everyone . An indiscriminate nice guy. From now on, he would scowl at anyone he met and scare them off like Noah and Reece did.

He scratched the back of his neck. "I bet you're excited to see her."

"I am, and she's excited to see you. "

"Hmm. What a shame. I'm headed to a music festival in Doro." Her eyes lit up, and before she could suggest he take Becky, he rushed to add, "I'm taking someone. Neve."

Bea's look turned skeptical. "Doro has a music festival?"

Yeah, he was making shit up on the fly, and he wasn't particularly good at it either. Although, he had ripped a flyer from a utility box that announced the so-called event when he'd parked. He hated people putting up that shit in his town. Not only did it violate town ordinances, but it looked tacky as hell. "Well, I guess it's more of a hoedown at the Silver Lode Bar. But she wants to go, and I can never say no to the doc."

The skeptical look transformed to one of total confusion. "So you and Neve are …?"

He wagged a finger at her. "Now, Bea. I don't kiss and tell." Shit, Neve would strangle him right now if she knew the seeds of untruth he was planting, but how else was he going to get out of this sticky wicket without looking like a total asshole? And Neve had used him the same way plenty of times, so fair was fair.

"I suppose not," Bea huffed. "With all that kissing I hear you do, that would be an awful lot of telling, now wouldn't it?"

He broadened his smile. "You tell your niece I said hello, though, won't you?" Hopefully, Bea would decide right quick to buy into the false rumors that he was a manwhore, and she'd keep her niece far, far away from trouble and safe from every kind of STD known to mankind—not that he'd ever had any of those. Once upon a time, though, the talk about him getting around had been true—as Neve loved to remind him and anyone within earshot—but not so this last year. He had more important things to chase. But if that old reputation he had yet to live down could get him out of a date with Bea's niece? Yeah, he could get behind that, STDs and all.

"I'll get your file." Bea's mouth firmed into a hard line.

"And the application?"

"You can fill it out, but I'm not sure how much ‘speeding up' I'll be able to do." She waddled away.

Fuck! That woman had the power to speed or slow down anything and everything connected with construction in this town. He'd have to figure out a way to butter her up that didn't include taking her niece out on a date … after he had a little "talk" with his new client-who-might-not-be-a-client.

He puffed out a breath and slid his phone from his back pocket, ready to text Noah and prod him to follow up with the Silver Summit guys and find out what the fuck the delay was. As his finger hovered over the screen, he reconsidered. This was as much his project as it was Noah's. Even though communication typically flowed through Noah, why couldn't Charlie go directly to the guy in charge? Why give his brother another reason to label him "baby bro"?

He changed course and texted Neve instead to help him with his other problem.

Hey, Plus-1. Wanna go to Doro with me this weekend?

He hated lying, so if he could turn this one into a truth, all the better.

Neve: What's in Doro besides a few chickens?

Charlie: A battle of the bands at the bar.

There was only one bar.

Neve: Wow. So tempting. Not.

Charlie: I need a reason to not be here.

Neve: Hmm … I'm sure Lauren would go.

Charlie: You're cruel.

Neve: And unusual. Let me get back to you.

Charlie: You're going to look for the bigger, better deal, aren't you?

Neve: You bet your sweet ass, and it won't take much to outdo Doro.

Charlie shoved his phone into his back pocket. Maybe Joy would give him the green light by then. He could throw himself into rehabbing Crystal Harmony Haven and hide out at the same time. He needed to get her estimates done and try to talk her into the most extensive one, and God, did he dread the sales job that was gonna take.

Then again, she might just fire his ass after their "talk." He'd have to play that one real cool and not let his temper get the best of him.

"What the fuck were you thinking? Excuse my French. What the hell were you thinking?" Charlie stormed back and forth across her mother's kitchen, which meant he could only go a few paces before he had to pivot. "You might have just permanently screwed up everything for this remodel! You can't waltz into a government office and act like the queen bee. Bea is the queen bee, and she doesn't share her crown. In fact, I'm surprised she didn't whack you upside your head with her scepter like she did me!"

Joy cocked an eyebrow. "Was that pun intentional? ‘Bea is the queen bee'?"

He ran right over her. Oh jeez, he was pissed! "Let's get some things straight. You hired me to do the work, and that includes navigating the building department, so let me do my job ." He fisted his hands on his hips. "Have you ever heard of the homeowner who wanted to ‘help' his contractor with the remodel, thinking he'd save a few bucks? The contractor says sure, but it'll cost you extra. Why do you suppose that is?"

"I have no idea. Because the contractor is a jerk?" Joy gave him her haughtiest look, which usually entailed looking down her nose at someone, but unless she climbed on a chair, that wasn't going to happen in this scenario.

"It's because the person who has no business sticking their big fat nose in the process does it anyway, and it slows down the whole damn project. That same rule applies here. If you insist on getting involved, it's going to cost more, whether I charge you extra for the privilege or whether it's because you've just royally fucked up something that's going to take time and money to unfuck."

Did she have a big nose? No, she did not. "Is that a real word? ‘ Unfuck'?"

He jabbed a thumb at his chest. "I will deal with Bea and anyone else in the building department. You will stay away. Understood? And I have no fucking idea if ‘unfuck' is a real word."

Eyes burning with steely intensity stared her down. "Do you understand?" he gritted out.

He was kinda cute when he was flustered—not that she was about to tell him. He was mad enough as it was.

To her surprise—and his, if his expression was anything to judge by—she caved. Somewhere inside her, her libido busted out a dance move, which was wholly inappropriate and wholly inconvenient. No one ever stood up to her as firmly as he just had, especially a man in a business setting, but wow, was it hot! Parts inside that had been dormant too long zinged to life at the way he ran roughshod over her. Not that that was the reason she was giving him a pass here. Nodding, her cheeks flaming from his tirade—or from that little jig her lady parts were currently executing—she nodded. "I understand. From now on, you are in charge of Bea and the entire building department." Plus, her attempt had gotten her nowhere except labeled as persona non grata in Fall River's town hall.

Confusion knitted his dark brows together. "And we're not tearing down this building?"

"I don't see how we can."

He reached up and scratched his nape, and that big old bicep of his bulged. Visions of licking the smooth skin popped into her brain, and she shook her head to knock it out of there.

"No, we are tearing down the building?"

"Sorry, no. There was a fly, and I shook my head so it wouldn't land … ah, on my face."

"Good," he grunted. "Glad we're agreed, then. I'll just …" He pointed at the door and quickly let himself out.

Too late, she realized she hadn't told him about Carl Weatherly. She'd figure out a way to relay the information soon enough.