Christmas Clash (6 page)

“Hi.”

Kaye wore her typical outfit: black yoga pants and a brightly colored shirt that today was yellow. Her naturally beautiful face made Candace want to throw up. Candace didn't dare leave the house without mascara and rosy lipstick that sometimes doubled as blush.

“Need some holiday cheer for your studio?” she asked.

“No, the flowers I picked up earlier this week are still going strong. Beautiful, by the way.” Kaye looked like a deer caught in headlights, wide-eyed and quiet as she studied her surroundings.

“Is there something else I can help you with?” Candace asked.

“Last night, that stuff you said. Is it true? Are we really getting run off because Mr. Dean doesn't like you?”

Bam. The $1.7 million-dollar convention center question.

“It's more like other members of my family, although I'm sure I'm on the list now,” she said with a grimace. She'd pretty much played her cards last night. There was no sense denying it now. All of the business owners would have to decide for themselves how they handled the news and if they were going to go along with the plan she and Luke discussed.

“Oh.”

“But”—if she spoke quickly enough, maybe she wouldn't lose Kaye—“I have a plan. Luke and I came up with it after the meeting last night.”

“Really?” Kaye looked so innocent, Candace couldn't decide whether to smile or shed a tear. Guys were probably lining up at her door.

“Yup. We want to meet with all of the owners this afternoon. Did you not get my email this morning?”

“No. I haven't checked it yet. I start classes at six. I've been dragging. I didn't sleep last night.”

You and me both, darlin'.

“I'm sorry. I really should've warned you guys what I thought was going on, but I didn't know, not really, until it was too late to tell all of you.”

“Mr. Dean shouldn't be using the city as his personal instrument for revenge. This isn't affecting only you.”

“I know. I feel horrible about all of this. I really do.”

Kaye started to smile and before Candace knew it she was embraced in a hug, patting Kaye's back a couple of times. Candace wasn't exactly the hug-it-out type—but it was better than a slap, so she'd go with it.

“We'll talk about it more soon, okay?” she reassured.

Kaye nodded, then her perfect body disappeared out the door.

Candace made a beeline for the coffee maker.
One down. Four to go.

• • •

“Can you help me rearrange some stuff before the others get here?” Luke asked.

He really needs to work on his greetings.
She'd barely walked through the front door.

“The big strong man needs help?” Candace taunted.

Luke rolled his eyes and headed up the steps at the back end of The Pub.

“Geez. I'm coming.” She hopped up the stairs right behind him. “No humor today. Got it.” She had a solid five hours of coffee drinking under her belt and could practically feel the liquid coursing through her veins.

She checked out the way he looked from her lower angle. His jeans fit and moved nicely against his ass and thighs.
It could be worse.
She could have to deal with an arrogant man whom she didn't know at all and had no basis to not like her. On second thought, that was exactly who she was
dealing with.
Ugh. I need to find better company.

When she reached the top stairs, the landing opened into a larger loft area. Hardwood floors, like the downstairs, with hand-carved posts she'd never noticed from the vantage point of the first floor spread out over a large loft. Tables and chairs were stacked along the outer perimeter of the room. The walls donned old Irish-looking paintings and green decorated stained glass mirrors for accents.

“Let's set this up.” Luke pointed to the table and chairs. He reached to his shoulder and pulled off one of the rags he'd been carrying. She hadn't even noticed them. She'd been too busy looking at his assets. She really needed to stop doing that. On second thought, looking was the only thing fun about dealing with Luke. She'd continue to steal glances and she wouldn't feel badly either. It was the least she deserved for dealing with him.

“Help me clean them off, too.” He handed her a rag.

She overestimated their distance and her fingers ran up to his wrist. She lightly scraped them down his palm and took hold of the rag. She glanced at his face, but he didn't seem to care.

Luke grabbed a chair stacked on a beautiful grand oval wooden table.

“That is gorgeous.” She moved closer to the dark table. “Why don't you use this space?”

“Haven't had a need.”

“You could do so much up here.” She used large sweeping motions to wipe off the top. White dust filled the air, causing her to sneeze.

“Bless you.”

She instinctually laughed. Every time someone around her sneezed, she heard Elaine from
Seinfeld
say, “You are
so
good lookin'.”

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing.” She sniffed and bent to wipe the table legs. The dust lifted easily, and she ran her hand over the top of the table. It wasn't sticky. It was the smoothest, creamiest wood she'd ever touched.

“What kind of wood is this?”

“I don't know. My granddad made it.”

“It should be displayed, not hidden away up here.” She looked at him, expecting him to agree and make a plan right then and there.

“I have no use for it downstairs.”

“Well, when this is all over and you still have your pub, you should consider using this space. It would be a great place for your office and a reminder of your heritage.”

“Stop trying to design my pub and just help me set up.”

She crinkled her nose and lifted one side of the table as he lifted the other. She took baby steps to the middle of the room.
Beauty sure is heavy.
She self-talked herself into being strong and not dropping her end.

“Here is good,” he said.

She set her end down and looked around again. There were five more tables along the edges. The big table they had just moved fit ten chairs. The smaller ones on the side of the room each fit five. The chairs to the tables were stacked. They were all the same color wood and all looked to have the same great craftsmanship as the banister. Luke's granddad must have put a lot of time and effort into the furnishings.

Candace's stomach tightened.
And he could lose it because of me.
She couldn't think on the horrible notion too long or she'd have to run to the bathroom and throw up. She focused on the positive: their plan.

They started wiping down the chairs and setting them up. Her stomach growled. She turned her wrist to check her silver watch. Two o'clock. She'd barely had breakfast and missed lunch. She really
was
upset.
Well, that's just unacceptable.

The smell of burgers, Reubens, and fries found her nose and she licked her lips, hoping she could get nutrition from smell alone. No such luck. Ugh, she was going to need to eat soon. There was no telling if it was going to be a yell fest or not. She might have to defend herself, and for that she was going to need a happy tummy. She'd hate to speak out of hunger at her own meeting.

“I'm gonna grab a Reuben before this meeting starts. Think there's time?” she asked.

He checked his watch. “Sure. I skipped lunch, too.”

“I'll run next door and grab all the stuff I prepared and be right back.”

“Suit yourself.” He disappeared down the stairs.

She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and checked the store's security cameras to see how Sophie was holding up. The flower shop was Candace's baby, so naturally she'd set up a couple of wireless baby-monitoring cameras—one to cover the front room and one in back. It helped squelch fears of leaving Sophie alone during lunch rushes when she had to help with deliveries. She had control issues. She knew it. She owned it.

Ten minutes later, Candace and her folder—red for the blood she wanted to draw out of Dean—made their way back to the pub and up the stairs where Luke sat in front of two plates of Reubens and fries. She nearly fainted out of excitement. She slapped her bag in a chair next to her and wasted no time digging in. She swallowed and reminded herself she needed to chew first. And she needed to take smaller bites—choking to death wouldn't solve her problems. Luke probably didn't know CPR. And, if he did, she doubted he'd resuscitate her—she'd be a goner for sure.

“Yum.” She smiled, holding the sauerkraut and corned beef on rye with both hands. There was thousand island dressing and pepper jack, not Swiss, cheese on it—exactly how she liked it. She glanced at Luke's sandwich.
Is this how he likes his, too, or does he know I don't like Swiss?
She popped a fry in her mouth and thought about asking. Instead, she chewed and squinted at Luke, who was slouched back with a magazine in hand.

She didn't have much time to contemplate the meaning of her lunch—the sound of stomping took her from that perplexing moment to her next issue of the day. Her sandwich question would have to wait.

One by one, the five other business owners who completed Block A filed in and claimed chairs. Kaye sat by Luke, Candace noticed, and she smiled curtly. Where Kaye sat shouldn't matter, but she felt the pulling sensation of jealousy nonetheless. Mabel, Billy, Hilary, and Dan filled in the other seats. Three chairs were left empty. Two—she internally cringed—on either side of her.
Okay. I'm a big girl. I understand they're upset.
For now. They could be upset for now.

She needed to remind them all this area had been on the council's list for months before she purchased her property. There was always a chance this section of downtown would be chosen. But instead of clarifying that detail, she swallowed the corned beef in her mouth, looked longingly at the uneaten half, wiped her lips with a napkin, and set it over the plate.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said.

She resisted the urge to stand. She didn't need to command more attention than she already had.

Luke sat up straight and put his magazine down. She glanced at his plate.
He managed to finish his food.
She was really going to have to let that go. She could have more food after the meeting. By then she may need to crunch her sorrows away with Christmas sugar cookies if they ran her out of town.

“I wanted to start off by saying I'm sorry I didn't know about Jeffrey Dean's plan earlier or that some of the situation we are in right now is due to my family.” She gazed down both sides of the table and saw a range of emotion, from mad Billy to sympathetic Mabel. “I truly am.” Since no one looked like they were about to speak, she continued, “Luke and I have come up with a plan to fight the city council and their ability to make this decision without our consent.” She snatched up her red file before she heard Luke's voice.

“This vote was going to happen no matter what. I have a friend in the city's office and he said our area was in their sights for some time now. There is no need to hold it against Candace. She's trying hard, like the rest of us, to save our little piece of heaven. We have a solid plan, but it won't work without each of you. So, if anyone doesn't support it, we don't proceed, and we all roll over for them to take what is ours.”

Her heart seemed to freeze, then pound, and for a moment she forgot what she was there to say. All she could see were Luke's green eyes.
Well done, sir. Now, that is how you rile up a group.
Not to mention Luke took the focus off of her. Double bonus. She might need to remember to thank later him for mentioning the “not totally her fault” words.

“Thank you, Luke. The plan is to host a big block party next weekend and invite the community and media.” She watched for approval from her small group and mostly received it as she explained how they'd use media—both traditional and social—and that each of their businesses would host food and activities. Soft music played in the background, and she briefly wondered if he liked Christmas music or was only playing it for the season. “Little Drummer Boy” was her favorite. Which song was Luke's?

“Why would we do that?” Billy had no problem being grumpy. Too many rubber fumes from his tire store, probably.

“During the festivities, we can educate the public on our issue. The news hasn't been great about covering the story, so it's up to us to inform people. In order for this to work, we need major public buy-in and support. The city council has to feel the hate so much, the majority votes to leave our land alone.”

“And a block party is going to do that?” Billy's disbelief was palpable.

Are the others not buying in either?
She knew sweat would emanate from her armpits any moment. She tried to subtly gauge her cohorts but glanced too quickly and the faces only blurred. She started to internally panic, then she heard his voice.

“The only way they won't vote with Jeffrey Dean, at this point, is if we give them a really good reason not to,” Luke said.

Billy shifted in his seat. She wasn't sure she could count on him to be a great public speaker on their behalf. He tended to be pretty gruff. But his business, the tire store, was very popular and they could use it to disperse information—and deals at his place would be enough to bring people down to their party.

Kaye looked relatable and sympathetic. Her studio was popular and would be good for bending the ear of higher-end clientele and moms—moms were great activists when motivated. A lot of stay-at-home moms went to Kaye's studio during the day, and the young idealistic kids patronized her studio in the evening. If they could motivate those groups, it would be big for their cause.

Hilary would be great to stir the pot. Her beauty shop had a diverse clientele that would surely spread the word. How that information was relayed and perceived would be another matter. When women had their heads under the dryers, there was no telling what they'd hear.