Amazing Gracie

“Max is okay. Just be patient with him. He will learn.”

Paul sighed dramatically. “For you, mademoiselle, but only for you.”

“Thank you, Paul. You are a treasure.”

“You are sure you will not be back?”

“Very sure. Not to the hotel, anyway. But I will come back to visit, Paul. I promise.”

“Very good, mademoiselle. Au revoir.”

Dealing with that one little detail reminded her that she was only postponing the inevitable. She loved handling the day-in day-out crises that went with running a hotel. If Paul’s ego required careful handling, it was nothing compared to those of the chefs. More than once she had walked into a hotel kitchen to find the chef and the sous-chef squared off in a battle that shook the pots and pans. One terrible night she had ended up putting the final touches on elaborate desserts under the watchful gaze of the artistic, temperamental pastry chef after his own assistant had quit in a huff.

In truth, there was very little she hadn’t pitched in and done at one time or another to keep the hotel operating smoothly. Which meant, she concluded thoughtfully, that surely she could run a small little bed-and-breakfast in Virginia on her own. It would be an investment in her future, to say nothing of a home, something she hadn’t had since she’d sold off her family’s property, such as it was, in a long-dead Pennsylvania coal mining town.

There had been nothing charming or quaint about the place where she’d grown up. It had fallen to ruin years before, leaving behind citizens who were every bit as depressed as the local economy. She had been all too eager to see the last of it. She had known when she left after her mother’s funeral, less than six months after her father’s, that she would never go back there.

Seagull Point, Virginia, however, had promise. In only a few days she had seen that. There was hope in the burgeoning business district and in the freshly painted and recently renovated homes along the river. The people were friendly and upbeat. They were rooted, not in misery as her old neighbors had been, but in life. Gracie had seen evidence of prosperity in the packed seafood restaurants and actual traffic jams at the town’s main intersections on weekends.

There weren’t enough hotel rooms, either. She’d stayed in the only national chain hotel in the entire area. The others were all small, family-owned motels with a very limited number of rooms. A bed-and-breakfast, especially one in a house with historic charm and architecture, would fit right in. She didn’t have to make one of her notorious lists to add up the pluses and minuses. Fiscally the decision was sound. Emotionally, well, in the last couple of days she had developed a surprising longing for roots, sparked by that surprising and devastating discovery back in Cannes that she had no real ties in the world.

It wouldn’t hurt to ask a few questions, check on the property’s availability. Gathering facts wasn’t the same as making an impulsive offer. It was testing the waters, not jumping off a bridge. She would make a few casual inquiries, assess the possibilities. She would approach the whole thing in a slow, logical manner.

Famous last words.

“Not available,” Johnny Payne told her succinctly when Gracie asked him about the old Victorian.

Naturally that stirred her competitive spirit. Overcoming obstacles was her specialty. She thrived on it. “Why?” she asked.

He regarded her as if she had a screw loose for asking such an obvious question. “Because the owner don’t want to sell,” he explained patiently.

“How do you know? Have you asked?”

“It’d be on the market if they wanted to sell, now wouldn’t it?”

Gracie decided on another tack. “Johnny, what would that house be worth in today’s market? Can you give me a ballpark figure?”

“Don’t know,” he insisted. “Never thought about it.”

“You’re in real estate. It’s your business to know property values in the area. Surely you have some idea.”

He shook his head. “You ask me about a cottage on the riverfront, I could tell you in a heartbeat. That old Victorian’s one of a kind. It’s been in the same family since it was built as their summer home way back at the turn of the century or before, when this place was bustling with tourists running away from D.C. Haven’t been inside it myself in a dozen years or more. Can’t say what condition it’s in now, though from the looks of it, it can’t be good.”

He peered at her curiously. “Why are you asking so many questions? You thinking of sticking around, after all? If that’s it, I could probably get you a deal on that place you’re in. It’s more your size, anyway. You’d just be rattling around in that big old Victorian. Must be ten, fifteen rooms in there, altogether. The place sprawls all to hell and gone.”

Gracie wasn’t prepared to show her hand. If the owner thought there was an anxious buyer out there with plans for the house, the price could escalate beyond her reach. Assuming this mysterious owner could be located in the first place. Johnny was as tight-lipped as a clam about the owner’s identity. Maybe he feared he’d be cut out of a deal if she decided to contact the man directly.

“Could you at least look into it for me,” she pleaded, partly to reassure him that the deal would be his, if one were struck. “What would it hurt?”

“I don’t go around begging folks to sell their property,” he retorted. “It’s not polite.”

“Isn’t that carrying southern courtesy to an extreme?” Gracie asked. “Maybe they just haven’t thought of selling. Given the look of the place, maybe they’ve forgotten all about its existence. Or maybe they figure they’d have to pour too much into repairs to put it on the market. Coming to them with a prospective buyer and a firm offer could be an easy commission for you.”

“Sorry.”

“Johnny, for heaven’s sakes, tell her the truth,” Jessie prodded. “You haven’t said one word to Kevin Patrick Daniels since he beat out your boy for all-state in basketball their senior year.”

Gracie stared from Jessie to Johnny’s suddenly beet-red complexion. “This reluctance of yours is due to some old feud over basketball?”

“Around here, folks take their high school basketball seriously,” Jessie explained. “Don’t they, Johnny?”

He scowled at her. “You’ve got a big mouth, missy.”

Jessie gave him an impertinent grin. “Truth’s truth. You wouldn’t talk to Kevin Patrick if there was a million-dollar commission in it for you.”

“The man stole that title from my boy,” he muttered. “Ruined his scholarship chances, and for what? Not a damn thing. He didn’t need a scholarship. He was already headed for the University of Virginia, just like his daddy before him and his daddy before that.”

Jessie shook her head. “Kevin Patrick could hardly help the fact that he was named to that all-state team. He’d been high scorer here for his entire high school career. Derek was second best and that’s no reflection on him. It’s just that Kevin Patrick had a gift. He had one of those exceptional, once-in-a-lifetime records. It was too bad they went through school at the same time. Any other season, Derek would have been the superstar.”

“Damn right,” Johnny said.

“Let me get this straight,” Gracie said, trying to grasp the conflict between the two men. “You’re refusing to even check on this house for me because it would mean dealing with a man you blame for cheating your son out of a college basketball scholarship?”

“In a nutshell,” Johnny confirmed without embarrassment.

“How many years ago was this?”

“Eighteen. Right, Johnny?” Jessie said.

“That’d be about right,” he agreed.

“Eighteen years? You’ve carried on this feud for eighteen years?” Gracie was incredulous. “Why not put the screws to him, then? Make him sell me the house for a fourth of what it’s worth. Think what a laugh you could have over that.”

“Can’t do it,” Johnny said with finality. “I refuse to be in the same room with the arrogant, no-good son of a gun. You want to deal with him you’re on your own, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. The man’s a cheat and a scoundrel. He’s been managing that property for the past few years and you’ve seen it. He’s let it go to seed.”

Cheats and scoundrels were among Gracie’s favorite people. Negotiating with them and winning thrilled her almost as much as terrific sex. Not that she’d had much experience with either lately.

She studied the real estate man carefully. “You’re sure about this, Johnny? Selling real estate’s how you make your living. You don’t mind if I track down this Kevin Patrick Daniels and deal with him directly?”

“Suit yourself,” he said with an indifference that rivaled Max at his worst.

“Where can I find him?”

When Johnny remained stubbornly, steadfastly silent, it was Jessie who gave her directions. “Believe me, you won’t be able to miss it. There’s not another place like it on that road. Think of Tara and then exaggerate.”

The man lived on a blasted plantation and he allowed that beautiful old Victorian to fall to ruin? Gracie decided she might come to dislike Kevin Patrick Daniels almost as passionately as Johnny did. That would make buying the house for a pittance of its worth all the more satisfying.

If, of course, she decided she really wanted it.