The Eleventh Hour. Wendy Etherington
A HOLLOW STOMACH, Laine Sheehan sank onto a bar stool. She rested her elbows on the glossy mahogany bar that had been in her family for so long, still stunned by the news.
“It’s over,” her sister, Cat, announced as she tossed ice into a cocktail shaker. “I knew those biddies from the historical society would reject us. The city wants a new road, so we’re out.”
Laine realized her sister’s bravado was a front; this was killing her.
Temptation would soon be no more.
As her and Cat’s two closest friends, Gracie and Tess, flanked her and launched commiserations at her sister, Laine clutched the envelope the leader of the historical society had given her as they’d walked out of the courtroom earlier.
She reread the enclosed letter, the knot of disappointment that had formed in her stomach tightening to anger.
Thank you for applying to the Kendall, Texas, Historical Society…your establishment, Temptation, while having been in your family for more than twenty years, unfortunately doesn’t qualify for registry in our society…send our best wishes…
“Blah, blah, blah,” she said under her breath.
Laine had never considered failure. She’d planned an attack and executed it. The city wouldn’t be asinine enough to throw out two thriving businesses—Temptation and Gracie’s bookstore next door—for a wider stretch of asphalt. It wasn’t right. Or fair.
Okay, maybe they hadn’t been thriving lately, but that was only because the city’s big road project had already caused lane closures, detours and had cut into the building’s parking. When the work was done, their customers would come back.
Gracie sighed. “Where am I going to store all those books if I can’t find a new place in thirty days?”
“I’ll never find another job as good as this one,” Tess said.
“How are we going to explain this to Mom?” Laine asked Cat.
Tess patted her hand. “Brenda will understand. She’ll be pissed, but she’ll deal with it.”
Laine could feel angry tears clogging her throat. She wrapped her hand around the stem of her martini glass and had to resist the urge to hurl it across the room. “I just can’t believe it.”
Cat raised an eyebrow. “Had faith in the system, Lainey dear?”
Glaring at her sister for both the hated nickname and her caustic attitude, Laine crushed the letter in her fist. Of all the times she’d pulled Cat—kicking and screaming—out of one fix or another, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t succeeded this time. “Yes, I did. This isn’t right. How can they just take away everything we’ve worked for?”
Looking miserable, Gracie sipped her drink. “Because they can.”
Laine dropped the crumpled letter and envelope onto the bar, then shoved back her stool and turned away. They’d failed. She’d failed.
Though the idea to approach the historical society had been Gracie’s, Laine had taken charge of the process—compiling Gracie’s research, filing the paperwork, calling frequently for updates. As always, she’d handled everything down to the tiniest detail and she was the one who’d convinced the others that with the right plan, the right argument, there was hope they could convince the city not to demolish their building.
And if she was feeling this lousy, she couldn’t imagine her sister’s emotional turmoil. The bar was her baby. Though Laine balanced the books, made the work schedules, booked local bands for the weekends, ordered supplies and occasionally played barmaid, Cat worked daily and nightly behind that long mahogany bar. Temptation was her job and her life.
While Laine kept herself, her family and everybody else on schedule and organized, Cat relied on little but her guts and wits.
Which was why now—more than ever—Laine had to take up the slack.
Unlike Cat, she had a career outside the bar, one that would hopefully save them financially. After years as a photographer for a lifestyle magazine, she’d been hired recently at Century, a national, hard-hitting news publication. The assignments were pushing her past the comfort zone she’d fallen into, but for the raise she was getting, she’d find a way to manage. Her paycheck had just become essential. She couldn’t imagine Cat surviving on her own, and Laine couldn’t let her sister down.
Gracie appeared next to her, putting her arm around Laine’s waist. “This isn’t your fault.”
Laine shared a strained smile with her friend. “Sure it is. If I’d talked to the right person, made the right argument…”
“The city would still be steamrolling over our businesses.”
“Maybe.” Avoiding the subject of the bar closing, Laine glanced at her longtime friend. Gracie had grown up with her and Cat, then Tess had come along a few years later looking for a short-term job and had never left. The four of them had been through a lot together and had always found time for weekly poker at table seven. “What are you going to do now?”
“Find a new place for the bookstore, I guess,” Gracie said with a shrug. “I owe it to Aunt Fran.”
“I’ve got money from my new job.” Which she really wasn’t in a position to offer, but the bookstore was also Gracie’s only means of income. “If you need anything—”
“I’ll be fine. You shouldn’t take on so much. There’s nothing more you can do here. Why don’t you go away for a few days. Take some time for yourself.”
Laine shook her head. “I can’t. I’ve only done a few assignments for the magazine. Not to mention Aunt Jen is making me crazy. Those wildfires in California are threatening—”
Well, damn. Aunt Jen was relying on her, too. Even in the path of a forest fire, Jen had vowed never to leave her precious, hundred-year-old home.
Laine felt as if she was being pulled in a dozen different directions.
Money. The bar. Her job. Aunt Jen. The wildfire.
And she suddenly realized the only way to make it all work was to combine everything. If she could convince her editor to let her do a pictorial on the wildfire, she could earn a living and make sure stubborn Aunt Jen evacuated when necessary.
Cat wouldn’t be happy if she left, but neither could she deny that the income was vital. Her sister would just have to prepare the bar for closing and hold down the fort until she got back.
She glanced over her shoulder at Cat, who was mumbling something to Tess and looking miserable.
Maybe the responsibility would be good for her sister. Maybe the time by herself would urge her to finally get her life together. “June thirtieth, right?” she asked Gracie.
“That’s D-day apparently. Less than three weeks.”
Would her editor go for her assignment suggestion? There was only one way to find out.
1
“SO, HOW ABOUT ME in California?” Laine asked, rocking forward on her toes as she stood in front of her boss’s imposingly disorganized desk.
Mac Solomon’s silver-and-black eyebrows drew together. “That’s a big assignment.”
“I’m ready.” Or in desperate financial straits—take your pick.
“Maybe. You know my philosophy, right? Bad news sells better than good.”
“I remember.” And she knew how the assignment game was played with her boss—the aggressive, pushy photographer always won. Even if, deep down, she was scared to death of getting within ten miles of a raging wildfire. “You’ll be pleased to hear they’ve called in an arson investigator.”
“I