A Man Of Influence

“Until after the Harvest Festival,” Rose clarified, sounding glum.

“You expect me to take in a strange man?”

Mildred nodded. She couldn’t tell if anyone else did.

“You expect me to cook breakfast and clean up after a man who isn’t my husband?” Leona sounded horrified.

Mildred nodded again, trying hard not to smile. Was it wrong to hope the travel writer was a serial killer? A grin escaped, because she knew it was wrong and highly unlikely. Mildred revised her hopes from serial killer to him being someone who talked loudly all the time on his cell phone. She hated that.

“We also expect you to charge him for his stay,” Agnes pointed out.

“Nine nights, I figure,” Rose said gloomily.

It was the first time Mildred could remember Leona being speechless.

* * *

THINGS HAD SETTLED down since the baby test.

Jessica had taken Gregory into the kitchen alcove for his mid-morning feeding. Eunice was sewing in the window seat. The checkers match was still going on. And Chad was busy tapping away on his phone, no longer interested in Tracy’s existence.

Tracy condensed inventory in the bakery case, content with the silence and the lack of male attention. She was becoming good at being invisible.

The mayor and Phil returned.

Phil looked pale and more unsteady on his feet than usual. “You didn’t wait for me, Felix?” He pulled up a chair to the checkers match.

“Checkers wait for no man,” Felix said, absently brushing cat hair off his black T-shirt. He rescued cats and never showed up anywhere without a sprinkling of hair on his shirt.

Mayor Larry claimed a seat at Chad’s table and introduced himself again. “Who do you write for, Chad?”

“I’m launching my own online travel magazine.” There was a hard note to Chad’s voice that contradicted his easy smile. “Until recently, I was editor-in-chief for a national magazine and sometimes I wrote for a couple of national papers.”

Several heads swiveled in Chad’s direction. If Felix’s sage nodding was any indication, the mention of a couple of national newspapers had earned Chad some of the points he’d lost by not picking up Gregory.

Meanwhile, Tracy’s stomach did a barrel roll. Chad was handsome. He was successful. He had a shiny red sports car parked out front. She bet he’d never been phased out of a job. She bet everything he’d ever wanted had been within his reach. She bet that’s what she used to look like to the world—attractive, successful, on top of the corporate food chain. And now...

She gripped the hem of her canvas apron. She’d been back home since spring and had only made halfhearted attempts to land jobs in her field, most of which had ended with stilted telephone screening interviews and form rejection letters. Was she ready to get back out there and be rejected?

No. The bakery case glass needed cleaning.

Soon “out there” might be here in Harmony Valley, which would be fantastic for the town and her brother, Will, who’d risked a lot of money investing in the winery.

Mayor Larry straightened his tie-dyed T-shirt, nearly beside himself 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.”