A Man Of Influence. Melinda Curtis
with the excitement of a national newspaper contributor in their midst. “Once you get settled, we’ll take you on a long tour of the town and the surrounding sights, and give you some local history.” He embellished the upcoming experience. There wasn’t enough to see or hear about Harmony Valley for it to be a long tour. “We’ll also arrange for some time at the winery and a private wine tasting.”
Tracy tugged her cell phone out of her back pocket and searched for Chad Healy. Results came up right away—not as Chad Healy, but as Chad Healy Bostwick, the Happy Bachelor On the Road. He’d authored a long list of columns. He’d worked his way up the ranks at the spoof magazine his father had started to become editor-in-chief and acting CEO, parting ways after his father’s death.
She skimmed some of his articles. His posts were well-crafted. Chad had a gift for a clever turn of phrase. A theme emerged. Sarcasm, satire, ridicule. Not surprising, given the title of his column and that he’d written for the Bostwick Lampoon. No place seemed safe from Chad’s scathing commentary. Harmony Valley was a sitting duck.
Chad. Handsome, witty, nationally syndicated newspaper–worthy Chad. He hadn’t come to rescue them. He could incinerate the town’s revitalization efforts with a few strokes on his keyboard, ruining Will’s winery in the process.
Who could she tell? Will was on his honeymoon.
“Larry?” Tracy forced a smile. “Can I talk to you?” She gestured toward the kitchen. “Alone?” Before you invite Benedict Arnold into our midst?
“Not now, Tracy.” The mayor waved her off, and then thought better of it. “Tracy, can you call the winery and make arrangements for Chad to have a private tasting?” Mayor Larry used his politician’s voice—equal parts self-importance and condescendence. “Tracy’s brother owns Harmony Valley Vineyards.”
“Part-owner.” Along with his friends Flynn and Slade. But Tracy wasn’t calling anyone until she sent out the SOS to the mayor. She tried again, adding a hand wave. “Larry...”
“I’ll have another coffee, Tracy,” Larry said firmly. “Bring Chad another...latte, was it?”
Chad nodded.
Tracy shouldn’t care that Mayor Larry was digging a hole for himself. She shouldn’t care that Chad would take whatever the innocent folk in Harmony Valley said and twist it around to make him look clever. She shouldn’t care that he’d make fun of her hometown traditions, like pumpkin bowling for the harvest queen crown. They were silly traditions.
But she did care.
Harmony Valley may be off the beaten trail, old-school and homey, but it was Tracy’s trail. Her old-school. Her home.
She planted her sneakers firmly behind the counter and glared at the enemy as she made his latte, because she knew Mayor Larry wouldn’t listen to her. Not when convincing required quick, smoothly spoken words.
A coffee and a latte later, Agnes, Rose and Mildred entered the bakery.
“Good news.” Agnes was all smiles. “We’ve secured our visitor a room at the Lambridge Bed & Breakfast. Welcome to Harmony Valley.”
Who said Harmony Valley wasn’t progressive? Just this morning there’d been no B&B in town.
Wait a minute. Lambridge? Tracy glanced at Phil. That meant...
Eunice’s penciled-in eyebrows rose, as if she was just catching on, too. “But—”
“Leona Lambridge is the proprietor,” Agnes cut Eunice off, looking as calm as if she lied through her teeth every day of the week.
Leona Lambridge was also the town killjoy. She’d never bowled for the pumpkin queen crown. She didn’t even hand out candy on Halloween!
Maybe not such a good idea to book Mr. Sarcastic there. “Hey...uh... Agnes...”
Agnes paid no heed to Tracy either. “She’s expecting you,” Agnes said to Chad. She proceeded to introduce Chad to everyone in the bakery.
“Are there other hotel choices in town?” That tone of voice. It said Chad was suspicious. It said he’d love for something hinkie to be going on.
Was it wrong to think Chad’s intelligence was hot when he was the villain here? Probably about as wrong as Tracy thinking she might actually help save the town.
Save it? Who was she kidding? The only people the older town residents listened to were their doctors, and that was only half the time.
To her credit, Agnes’ smile never wavered as she answered Chad. “At the moment, the Lambridge B&B is our only offering.”
Rose was doing a slow grapevine in front of the pastry case, eyeing the scones that she’d passed on earlier. “You’ll find a great many painted ladies in town, not just the Lambridge place.”
Phil made a hacking noise, as if he was coughing up a hairball.
Mildred had planted her walker seat by Phil’s table and seemed lost in thought as she stared at the back of Phil’s head, perhaps pondering the need for a slap to dislodge that hairball of Phil’s.
Rose held a pose at the end of the bakery case, an aging ballerina poised to leap in cargo pants and hiking boots. “You’ll be here ten days, correct?”
Ten days? They were doomed.
The mayor jumped back in the fray. “Plenty of time to experience everything that makes Harmony Valley special.”
True that. Special and weird and wonderful.
However, chances were slim the villainous Chad would recognize wonderful if it sashayed up to him and kissed his cheek.
The reputation-ruiner cast a glance Tracy’s way. Could Chad tell Tracy knew who he was?
Would it matter if he did?
SOMETHING DIDN’T SMELL RIGHT.
And it wasn’t the Poop Monster.
Everyone was suddenly too nice. Too kind. Too helpful.
Had someone researched who he was? The only one he’d seen using a cell phone was Tracy, and no one was paying attention to her. She had a tendency to talk slowly and hesitate over her words. Was that why the mayor had snubbed her? Was that why she lived in such a far-flung location?
The need to defend Tracy rose like smoke from a struggling flame. With a puff of exhaled air, he ignored it.
“Mayor Larry will drive with you to the B&B,” the short, spritely old woman was saying. Her name was Aggie or Agnes or something.
“No need to trouble the mayor. Tracy can show me.” Had Chad just said that? He glanced at the coffee barista. He had indeed.
Tracy sported a horrified look. She skimmed her hand over a bakery case. “I’m working.”
“I’ll cover for you.” Eunice leapt to her feet without so much as a quiver of her purplish-gray curls.
“But...” Tracy glanced at each resident in turn.
“You forgot my lumbago, Agnes.” Larry reached for his back. “It’s why I walk nearly everywhere.”
“Sorry, Tracy. We’ve got a game going on.” Felix jumped a checker. “King me.”
“No license,” Phil grumbled. “No car. No ride for the playboy.”
A chorus of “Phils” echoed through Martin’s Bakery.
“Doctor’s appointment.” Mildred sighed, although how she could see the road through those thick glasses was beyond Chad.
“Driving her,” Agnes/Aggie said, explaining everything.
“Riding shotgun.”