Up to Me (Shore Secrets) (12 page)

Unfortunately, it was clear to Gray that this thing between them—unlabeled yet undeniable—had to stop. Even contact as innocuous as their shared breakfasts was now laced with far too much meaning and potential. So he had twenty-two hours to figure out how to back out of their next non-date. Not that he’d be able to shake his attraction to Ella nearly that quickly. God, there were days he hated his job. And those days were rapidly outnumbering the days he liked it. Gray jingled his car keys as he picked up his pace across the wide lawn. This would definitely take more coffee.

Chapter Seven

Because he was a thorough man, Gray went back to the Cosgrove General Store for his caffeine fix. His conversation with Eugene had been eight kinds of uncomfortable. God knew he was in no rush to get into another one just like it. But the job came first. That’s how he got the big bankroll—by always putting the job first. A bankroll big enough that it might eventually allow him to walk away. To do a job that meant more to him than just a fat number at the bottom of a balance sheet.

Until then, though, the job came first. Was there a chance he’d run into Dawn and get sucked into another weirdly personal conversation? The intrusively caring kind of chitchat endemic to small towns? Oh, yeah. The way his day was going, there wasn’t just a chance. There was a certainty. Gray was just as certain, however, that Cosgrove General was a prime spot to mine for information about the town and Mayhew Manor. If not from Dawn herself, then from the locals sure to congregate there. Might as well start pretending to care about them—and not care about Ella. Fake it till you make it, right?

Braced for the worst, Gray pushed open the door. A bell jingled. The wooden floorboards creaked with every step. He realized his back teeth were clenched together. Which meant it was time to crawl out of his head. Leave his emotions in a mental ditch. So Gray hit reset. He cracked his jaw, rolled his shoulders and loosened his stride as he headed for the café area.

Dawn clattered down the stairs. Today she wore another cardigan. This one was tan over an orange top and jeans. Mitzi scampered along right at her heels, long ears flapping against each step. “Good morning, Gray. I knew you’d find your way back to us.”

“You brew a mean cup of joe.” Crouching, he let Mitzi lick both hands before he gave her a good belly rub. Gray liked dogs. Had always hoped to have one someday. Although in his plan, the dog was about triple the size of the ground-hugging Mitzi. If he threw a Frisbee at her, it’d probably squash her. But more importantly, Gray knew that the way to a pet owner’s heart was through their four-legged companion. Dawn had been so suspicious when she met him. Gray wanted to be sure she felt like she could let her guard down now that he was officially no longer a stranger.

“She sure likes you.” Dawn rummaged behind the counter for a mug and passed it over. “I hear she’s not the only woman panting a little more heavily around you these days.”

Yup. Never let it be said the fine people of Seneca Lake didn’t live down to his expectations. In the store less than two minutes and the subject of Ella had already reared up. Denial was futile. After all, she’d written about him in the journal for the entire town to see. Etiquette, however, allowed him to skirt the issue.

“I’m a gentleman, Mayor Cosgrove. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Good to hear.” She sighed and laughed, fluffing her shoulder-length blond hair. “Oh, who am I kidding? Your attempt to do the right thing puts the kibosh on my attempt to squeeze gossip out of you. On the one hand, I’m thoroughly disappointed. On the other hand, in my role as an unofficial godmother to Ella, I approve. You’ve put me in a sticky situation, Gray.”

He shook his head. Turned his back to her to pour his coffee. “Not nearly as sticky as the corner you just tried to paint me into, Madam Mayor.” Crap. Kind of surreal, dodging her question about dating Ella. Since he was simultaneously trying to figure out how to put a stop to their current
not-dating
dating. Gray couldn’t tell her why. Not without revealing the real reason he was staying at Seneca Lake. But he also couldn’t let Ella think—not for a minute—that he didn’t desire her. That she didn’t thoroughly delight him from her laugh to her smile to her inner strength.

“Ha! And it’s Dawn.” She joined him at the carafe, filling her own mug. Unlike his green speckled stoneware, hers was delicate and painted blue with yellow stars, like a cut out from Van Gogh’s
Starry Night.
“I only trot out my title on the off chance it’s needed to wield some influence. Like when I’ve got to convince town council members not to sling mud at each other.”

He’d far rather discuss the complexity of business than his dating dilemma. Gray hitched himself up onto a stool. A contentious council could translate to a lengthy logjam in the rezoning process. If, that is R&M even went that way. Gray had yet to decide what sort of building would work best at the Mayhew site, if not the castle. Assuming he recommended takeover of it. Which was one of those things he was actively
not
thinking about. All he had to do right now was gather the information. No decision had to be made for at least another ten days. As if that made it better. As if in ten days, he wouldn’t still be horribly aware of stripping away Ella’s life and memories and her parent’s legacy. As if.

“Does that happen often? That sort of squabbling?” he asked.

“Not so much as you’d think. We had a kerfuffle last year over whether or not to name the corn maze at the Fall Festival.” She slipped off a loafer to absently run her foot back and forth along Mitzi’s spine. “I didn’t want sponsor banners plastered all over it. Looks messy. Ed and Archie, they own the liquor store, and they made a big stink. Wanted a ‘piece of the action’. They’ve been sore ever since the barbershop sponsored the Little League team. Ed claims that a barbershop doesn’t need that sort of advertising. His reason being that everyone gets their hair cut. Well, between you, me and the doorknob, everyone ends up at the liquor store, too. But the Fall Festival’s for families. Kids don’t need to see a logo of a dancing vodka bottle waving above them as they enter the maze. Sends the wrong message.”

When she paused to sip her coffee, Gray jumped in. “I agree.” Only two words. But Gray hoped they’d stop her. Normally he reveled in digging up tiny details about a town. What made Gray so good at his job was that he didn’t take anything at face value. A seemingly innocuous piece of information could be the difference between a site being a prime location for a resort or a business park or luxury condos. It was all about perception. And Gray was an expert at perception. He’d gotten a crash course in it growing up. Or rather, being on the negative, receiving end of it.

Today, though, he wasn’t in the mood. Even though it was exactly the sort of thing he’d come to Cosgrove’s to learn. Gray suddenly couldn’t bear learning one more intimate detail about the town. So he lurched to his feet. Lifted his mug in a question. “Can I take this outside for a few minutes?”

In response, she bent down and clipped a leash onto Mitzi’s collar. “I’ll come with you. Going to check the journal?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s my family’s job to watch over the journal. I check it every day. Plus, the whole town’s talking about what you two wrote in it.”

“Great.”

“Want to see what they think?”

“Yes. And no. I think the whole thing’s idiotic.” As she preceded him through the store, Gray hastened to add, “No disrespect intended.”

“Don’t worry. I’m well aware our custom may seem odd to outsiders. But it works for us. Some people send in questions to advice columns in newspapers. Call in to talk radio. Email to bloggers. Really, is this any different? I don’t think so. In fact, it’s more pure. Friends reaching out to friends.”

The screen door clacked shut behind them. Gray thought about mentioning that she hadn’t locked up the store full of merchandise. Then he remembered Ella barging in to the empty store to serve herself. That was just the way of things at Cosgrove General. A level of trust and acceptance and, well, community. Pretty much what Dawn had just said. Which he had to admit, appealed to a deeply buried part of himself he’d completely blocked off over the years. Seneca Lake had a feeling of unification and caring that would absolutely play into his recommendation. Whatever that might be.

Dawn yanked open the mailbox and retrieved the journal. “Here you go,” she said, handing it to him.

His momentary hesitation was stupid. What did it matter what a bunch of strangers wrote? He never should’ve written the question in the first place. Gray paced the line where the grass met the sandy lakeshore. “Read it to me.”

“Okay.” She sat on the bench and let Mitzi off her leash. “Hmm. In answer to Ella’s question whether or not you two should start canoodling—”

Gray cut her off. “Canoodling?” He paused, midstep. “The 1930s called, and they want their word back.”

“Very funny. Here’s the first response: ‘No. If you have to ask, you’re not ready’
.
”

Despite Ella’s excellent recounting of the journal tradition, Gray hadn’t actually expected people to answer. And he sure as hell hadn’t expected to be rejected, sight unseen. “That’s...not what I anticipated to hear. Is there another?”

She snorted. “The entire page is full.”

Christ. His fingers tightened around the mug. “What’s the majority say?”

“It’s split about sixty-forty. Where you scratched out ‘take me to dinner’ and changed it to ‘romance me?’ That went over well with the ladies. One woman wrote ‘go for it’, and then drew a heart around it. Of course, she also dotted her
I
with a heart. There’s a good chance that one’s either annoyingly cutesy or not even old enough to vote.”

He agreed. Even back in high school it drove him crazy when girls gave him notes written in bubble letters and hearts. “Whenever you figure the median, you toss the high and the low. I’d call a heart-dotter a definite low. Either way, I’ll take the sixty percent and run with it.”

Except...he wouldn’t. Instead, he’d have to find a way to do the exact opposite. To run away from Ella, in fact. Amazing how much that idea sucked. Today was Sunday. He’d only met Ella on Friday. Yet Gray couldn’t believe how close they’d gotten, and so quickly. The thought of not spending time with her for the rest of his two weeks here hollowed him out a little inside.

“Before you get all cocky, Gray, remember that your life’s not a spreadsheet. Not everything can be totted up as easily as a list of numbers. Your word change to the question wasn’t nearly as popular with the men. Made you sound like a slick talker, is the general consensus. They’re worried you’ll take her to dinner and she’ll get taken for a ride, if you know what I mean.”

Gray stopped dead in his tracks. “You must be jumping to conclusions.”

“It’s right here in black and white. A couple of people recognized Ella’s handwriting. Probably more than a couple, but most of us try to abide by the anonymity of the journal. Anyway, here’s an example of those responses. ‘Start slow. Group date. Don’t rush it.’ And here’s one from a woman. ‘Don’t leap into the arms of the first man you fancy. Wait for someone who’s worth making the leap.’”

“Those guys don’t even know me? How dare they pass judgment? Say I’m not good enough for Ella?” Arms swinging wide, he accidentally tossed half his coffee onto a low bush just filling out with leaves the color of lime sherbet. Gray ignored the fact that he hadn’t believed in the whole journal project from the start. He’d pendulumed from feeling pretty good to royally pissed. Sixty percent wasn’t that great a number. Still, it was enough to give them a green light. But for total strangers to assume he wouldn’t treat her well? The insult shouldn’t bother him—thanks to the total-strangers caveat. Logic didn’t take away the sting, though.

“Before you get too worked up, remember one thing. Graydon Locke wasn’t the man being judged. The
idea
of a man who might date Ella was being judged.”

A half hour ago, he’d decided not to hang out with Ella any more. At all. Classified it as too risky. Worse than walking into a Yankees bar wearing a Red Sox jersey. But now, the town had pissed him off just enough to change his mind. Gray tossed back the rest of his coffee before the conversation pissed him off enough to spill more. “I personify that idea. So yeah, I take it personally. Why should I let them decide who I can or can’t date?”

“You don’t live here, so you don’t have to. Ella, however, does.” She aimed a smile at him that looked to be equal parts pity and consolation. “It’s only been a day. The odds are currently in your favor. We generally let the answers pour in for three days before moving forward one way or the other. Give it a little more time.”

Ella hadn’t mentioned the three-day-waiting period. Weird that he could buy a gun in Montana faster than he could take a woman out for dinner in Seneca Lake. It gave him two more days to decide how to handle the situation. He’d be damned if he let a few anonymous lines determine the course of his life—even for two weeks. On the other hand, there was every chance that Gray would end up screwing over Ella’s life. Did he really have the right to screw around with her heart, too? “Sure,” he murmured absently.

“Don’t you want to see the answer to the other question? The one you wrote?” Before he got much further than a gaping mouth, Dawn shook a finger at him. “Don’t try to deny it. Your handwriting’s easy to pick out from where you changed Ella’s question right above it.” She laughed and patted the seat next to her. “Come sit.”

Why the hell not? It had been utter insanity to put the question on paper in the first place. Might as well treat the crazy by lobbing back more crazy. And nothing was crazier than expecting a lakeside journal to solve the career problem he could barely verbalize. Gray sat on the edge of the bench, still unwilling to read the words himself. That was too much like buying into the whole idea. He plopped Mitzi in his lap and gave her a good scratch behind the ears. “Well?”

Dawn gave the page a quick skim, and then looked sideways at him. “You’ve an even split this time. Half the people think you should quit, the general consensus being that life’s too short. The other half says you’re lucky to have a steady paycheck. And an idiot if you give that up without a replacement lined up.”

“I agree.”

“Hmm. Are you really that unhappy?”

In the grand scheme of things? It wasn’t like Gray was digging ditches or the poor, bored schlub who pressed the start button on roller coasters. But he did know that every day it took a little more effort to get out of bed and do his job. “I’m not sure.”

A slow nod, followed by quick purse of her unpainted lips. “Do you really want to quit?”