She dug her phone out of her purse and set the call. Maybe Deidra’s grandmother was doing better now, and Deidra could come home. Funny that Lecie now considered California home.
“Yes…” It was Deidra’s voice, but it was soft, barely above a whisper, and it sounded like she was crying.
Maybe it was just that Lecie felt like crying. “Deidra…?”
“Lecie…?” Deidra sobbed. “Oh, Lecie…my grams has died!”
“What?” Lecie felt the tears pricking her eyes. “I’m on my way.”
Lecie went upstairs, randomly tossed clothes into a suitcase and made sure she grabbed her passport on the way out. Not that she planned to leave the country, not just yet anyway, but she wasn’t sure she was coming back here either.
The cell phone in her hand chimed. She looked at the display. Her heart fell. Nick. She wasn’t ready to hear him say that Ginny—the woman he loves—was back.
But she had to answer it. She couldn’t, shouldn’t, just disappear on him. That was something Ginny would do, and she was better than that. “Hello,” she said breathlessly.
“It’s me.”
“I can’t talk right now.”
“Okay, I’m headed to your house. We need to talk.”
Noooo. Lecie couldn’t handle this right now. “It’ll have to wait, Nick.” She tried to suppress the anguish of never wanting to hear those words. “I’m headed to the airport. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’d really like to talk to you before you leave.” His tone had taken on a somber quality. “Can you take a later flight?”
Lecie shook her head. “No. Deidra’s grandmother has died. I have to get to her.”
It took a second before he said, “I understand.” Then he went silent again. When he did speak again, his tone had taken on a hint of remorse. “Please give Deidra my condolences. I’ll see you when you get back.”
Nick dropped the receiver back onto the phone’s cradle and leaned back in the chair. He glanced around his office at Hang Ten, wondering why fate was so determined to pick on him.
“Story of my life,” he said out loud. But Lecie wouldn’t disappear on him like Ginny had done. Would she?
No. She wasn’t anything like Ginny. He’d missed the signs with Ginny the first time around, but he wasn’t biting on that hook again.
And he’d been deadly serious about calling the police if she showed her face again. He didn’t want Ginny anywhere near Lecie. He’d made a deal with Lecie, and he wouldn’t have Ginny screwing it up.
Maybe it was a good thing that Lecie was headed out of town. A week or two away from here would give Nick time to figure out how to get rid of Ginny for good.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Three weeks later
NICK MATTHEWS WONDERED IF someone had put a curse on him. Maybe. His luck lately was just that bad. Although, he hadn’t seen Ginny in over two weeks, not since Troy the cop had had a little talk with her. The next day, she’d checked out of her motel and hadn’t been seen around town since. Nick hoped she stayed gone this time.
The only positive thing that’d graced his life lately was Lecie, but she wasn’t in it for the long haul. He was just a means to an end for her.
He’d thought that when she came into the picture luck was beginning to shine upon him again, since she’d bailed him out financially.
If that had been the case, it was temporary because the bank had pulled the rug out from under him this morning. He’d heard their big, fat, resounding no about the loan for the community center loud and clear.
He walked into his office at Hang Ten and slammed the door. Storming across the room toward his desk, he tried to temper his anger, having minimal success.
Well, he’d best pick up the phone and deliver the bad news. He didn’t like it, but he grabbed the receiver off its cradle and hit the speed dial for the community center. After hearing Dean’s voice, Nick said, “The bank said no.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Dean said.
“I wish I could.” Nick swabbed his hand over his forehead. “I’m out of options.”
“You could ask Lecie.”
“No.” Not even for the community center. Nick figured he’d already taken advantage of her enough as it was. “We’ll find another way. She won’t be it.”
“It was just a thought.” There was a silence on the line for a few seconds, then Dean said, “Listen, I’ll come over to the restaurant later. We’ll figure out a way to fix this.”
Dean hung up the phone and stared at the picture hanging on the wall in his office at the community center. The photograph of Dean, Nick, and Kevin was taken about a month before Kevin overdosed. They hadn’t seen it back then—at least Dean hadn’t, and as far as he knew neither had Nick—but Kevin was high as a kite when the picture was snapped.
And now, he and Nick were on the verge of losing the center. The legacy they’d built for Kevin. It was the one thing that brought meaning to Kevin’s death. Without the center, they both knew he’d died in vain.
A soft knock on the door dragged Dean out of his somber thoughts. “Come on,” he called out.
The door opened, and Dean doubted he was able to hide his shock when he saw Lecie coming in with a manila envelope in her hands. She greeted him with a smile and waited for him to invite her to sit. When he did, she offered him the envelope before sitting.
“What’s this?” he asked, taking it.
“I’m giving my interest in Hang Ten to the center.”
“Why?”
“I’ve decided to return to France,” she said. “And it’s just not right for me to keep it.”
“Then why don’t you just give it back to Nick?”
“Because he’ll never take it.”
“Well…” Dean slid the envelope across the desk toward her. “Don’t turn it over to the center.” He shook his head slowly. “We’re going out of business.”
“What do you mean you’re going out of business?” She inched closer to his desk.
“This place is for sale.” He looked around and shrugged. “And we can’t afford to buy it. Once it goes on the market, at the end of week, it’ll just be a matter of time before we’re given an eviction notice.”
“Who’s selling it?” she asked.