Sweet Tea At Sunrise

Amused by the heartfelt recommendation, Travis asked, “You wouldn’t be just a little biased, would you?”

Ronnie pointed to a framed review on the wall that said the same thing. “General consensus,” he said proudly. “You haven’t been there?”

“I’ve pretty much been eating at my cousin’s and at Wharton’s,” Travis admitted.

“So, you have family in town?” Ronnie said, as he rang up Travis’s purchases.

“My cousin’s the town manager, Tom McDonald. I’m Travis McDonald.”

“Of course,” Ronnie said at once. “Tom mentioned he had company. Glad to meet you, and welcome to downtown.” He put the heavier items into a carton and bagged the rest. “So, what is it you plan to sell?”

The question was asked in such a cautious tone, Travis had to fight a grin. He’d heard all the speculation at Wharton’s. The best, by far, had been Grace’s opinion that it was going to be something lurid and inappropriate. He hated disillusioning her just yet. She seemed to enjoy working herself into a frenzy.

“I’m not quite ready to make an announcement,” he told Ronnie. “I figure there’s some advantage to building anticipation.”

“Interesting strategy,” Ronnie said with a thoughtful expression. “Are you sure you want to let people get carried away with their speculation? Next thing you know, there could be protests on the town green.”

Travis did chuckle at that. “You’ve heard about the sex toys, too?”

“Indeed, I have,” Ronnie admitted, looking intrigued. “Are they wrong?”

“Very,” Travis assured him. “But let them enjoy themselves a little longer.”

“Trust me, you really don’t want to let Grace work up a full head of steam over this. Anything you announce after that will pale by comparison.”

“I’m not worried. I think this will stir up some excitement.”

“But not trouble?” Ronnie persisted.

“I can’t imagine how. Tom would never let me get away with doing anything that would hurt this town. He considers its success to be his own personal mission.”

“Good point,” Ronnie said, looking reassured. “Let me know if you need any help fixing the place up. I know several guys who do good work—painting, minor construction, handyman jobs—for a reasonable price.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You need any help carrying all that back over there? I can close up for a minute and give you a hand.”

“No need,” Travis said, picking up the heavy box and two bags. “When it comes time for the paint and whatever else I need, I’ll be back.”

“Sure thing,” Ronnie told him. “And don’t forget to stop by Sullivan’s one of these days. I’m usually hanging out there in the evening, if you find yourself looking for company.”

“Will do.”

Travis went back to his new space and got to work. Whenever he tired of the powerful aroma of cleaning solution, he stepped outside to breathe in the sweetly scented spring air. And more times than he could count, he caught a glimpse of Sarah looking in his direction. He wondered if she shared Grace’s opinion about what he was up to, and if so, what she thought about it. One thing for sure, her curiosity was evident. He found that increasingly satisfying.

It had been two weeks since they’d discovered that Travis McDonald was the new owner of the space on Azalea Drive, but Sarah and Grace were no closer to figuring out what he had planned. The windows were still covered over with brown paper to keep out prying eyes, but it was evident that Travis had been in there every day working from morning till night. Sarah had to admit being impressed by how industrious he seemed to be.

While Sarah was curious about his plans, the whole mystery was driving Grace crazy. She was about one frenzied minute away from launching a full-scale protest on the sidewalk outside of Travis’s store.

“What exactly are you going to protest?” Sarah asked her. “He hasn’t done anything except fix the place up. That can’t be bad.”

“You mark my words, he has some dastardly scheme in mind, and I intend to nip it in the bud,” Grace declared. “Nobody’s that secretive without a good reason.”

Sarah bit back a smile. “Grace, you’re getting worked up over nothing. At least wait till he puts a sign up. I told you myself that he’s the town manager’s cousin. He’s not going to do anything that would embarrass Tom.”

“Then why won’t he say so?” Grace demanded. “I’ll tell you why. Because he’s up to no good.”

Making an impulsive decision, Sarah took off her apron. “Cover for me,” she told Grace.

Looking startled, Grace asked, “Where are you going?”

“Into the lion’s den,” she said. “Where else?”

Before Grace could stop her, Sarah walked outside, down the block, then crossed the street. Travis was standing on the sidewalk, leaning back against the building’s old redbrick facade in a nonchalant pose that belied the wary expression on his face.

“About time you came calling, sugar,” he said when she drew near. “I was beginning to think you didn’t care.”

Immediately flustered, she almost tripped over the curb. “Oh, hush with that sweet talk,” she said, moving to stand in front of him, hands on hips. “Why won’t you tell people what you plan to do in here?”

“Because I don’t want to,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Don’t know of any law that says I have to announce my plans before I’m ready.”

“You have to file papers with the town before you can open a business,” she reminded him. “Or is Tom letting you off the hook because you’re related?”

“Tom would never let me off the hook. He’s a straitlaced guy. My paperwork will all be filed nice and neat when the time comes.”

“Does he know what you’re up to?”

“Of course.”

Thoroughly frustrated by his refusal to set her mind at ease—and everyone else’s for that matter—she studied him for a minute, then said, “You’re enjoying all the speculation, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I’m especially fond of the sex-toy theory,” he admitted with a spark of pure devilment in his eyes. “What do you think of that one?”

“I think it’s crazy,” Sarah confessed. “But since I know for a fact that you can be outrageous, I haven’t ruled it out. Just so you know, though, Grace wants to get up a petition against it. And follow up with a protest outside your front door. I really think you’re better off nipping that idea in the bud.”

“Really?” he said innocently. “Just think of the publicity.”

“Is that the kind you want?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” he insisted.

She edged closer to the door, trying to avoid getting too close to him as she did so. Something about all that heat and masculinity was way too hard to resist. She didn’t want to tempt fate.

“How about giving me a tour?” she suggested. Maybe that would give her a few hints about what he had in mind. If it was something outlandish, he probably wouldn’t let her cross the threshold.

Travis gave her a long, amused look, then stepped over and opened the door. “You can tell me what you think of the color scheme,” he said without a hint of reservation.

Inside, to her surprise, she found the one long, narrow room had been carved up into four separate spaces, which certainly didn’t look suited to retail. The largest was on the left and had the only window, which faced out on the town green and would let in plenty of light once that awful brown paper was removed. It connected to a smaller room right behind it. The entry area, no bigger than a foyer in a small home, had room enough for a couple of chairs, though the only thing in it at the moment was the old red soda cooler she remembered from her childhood. She touched it with near reverence.