The Christmas Shoppe Page 6

  “What?” He dropped the stir stick in the garbage and looked at her.

  “Do you know what he does?”

  “You mean besides journalism?”

  She shook her head. “He works for a big news corporation that purchases small-town newspapers and turns them into online papers.”

  “Huh?”

  “Kind of like USA Today. Only it’s online. The local news stories slowly disappear, and the hometown papers all end up homogenized and boring.”

  “Really?” He frowned. “He never told me any of that.”

  “I already emailed you some of the websites,” she said.

  “Thanks, I’ll be sure to check them out.”

  “Now?” She looked at him expectantly like she wanted him to jump right on it.

  “Not right now.” He took a sip of coffee.

  “Why not?”

  He glanced at the clock above the stove. “Because I’m on my way to do an interview.”

  “An interview?” She looked skeptical. “Don’t tell me Matilda Honeycutt finally gave in to you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Who then?”

  “The new city manager.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Susanna Elton?”

  “That would be the one.” He took another sip, avoiding her eyes.

  “I met her daughter last week. Nice girl.”

  “Yes, I’ve met her.”

  “I also met that mother-in-law.” Helen’s eyes got wide. “She is a real piece of work.”

  “Yeah . . . I met her as well.”

  Helen studied him closely. “You certainly look handsome today, Tommy. I noticed you’re finally wearing that sweater I got you last Christmas. About time. Looks very smart too.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you suddenly so concerned about appearances? Does it have anything to do with the city manager?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked innocently. “Isn’t she married?”

  Helen’s mouth twisted to one side. “I don’t really know. I thought I’d heard she was divorced. But why would she have a mother-in-law in tow if that were true?”

  “Good question. I’m sure before the interview is done, I will find out the answers for inquiring minds like yours.”

  “Didn’t you do any research on her at all?” Helen sounded suspicious. “You know, there is this tool we use nowadays, Tommy. Some folks call it the World Wide Web. Really handy too.”

  “I was busy . . . with other things.”

  She nodded. “Oh yes, that’s right. You’ve been busily trying to dismantle a newspaper that your father and grandfather worked hard to build from the ground up, a newspaper that the good citizens of Parrish Springs have grown to depend on and appreciate. You’ve been busily making dirty deals behind closed—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said quickly. “Please, spare me the drama. I’m already running late.”

  “Well, you better check out those websites I sent you, Tommy.” Her voice held the same warning he remembered from childhood whenever he came close to treading in her beloved flower beds. “Because I’d sure like to know who I’m working for before I head out to Julie’s house for Thanksgiving next week.”

  “That’s right!” He smacked his forehead. “I nearly forgot. What days are you taking off again?”

  “If you’d read your email, you’d know.” She shook her finger at him.

  “I do read it. Just not yet today. When are you leaving anyway?”

  “I’m taking all next week off,” she said with exasperation. “Not that I’ll be missed much by someone who plans to sell the place right out from under me. Good grief, will you even be here by the time I get back?”

  “Oh, Helen!” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Well, it’s been nice knowing you, Tommy. Don’t forget to write. And don’t forget to read your email!” she yelled after him as he left the kitchen.

  “I told you I’m on it, Helen.” He hurried back to his office to gather his jacket and notebook. Not his computer notebook either. Tommy still liked doing interviews the old-fashioned way, taking notes via shorthand in a little black notebook. He pulled on his brown leather jacket, tucking the notebook and his favorite pen in the roomy chest pocket. Traveling light is what he liked to call it. Free from the bulk of a briefcase or computer. But the truth was he was traveling with a very heavy heart.

  Despite Rose’s best efforts to be clandestine when it came to anything related to Matilda Honeycutt, Susanna had discovered the nature of the business Matilda planned to open. In spite of the predictions of the local gossips, it was not going to be (1) a tattoo parlor, (2) one of those import stores that reeks of incense and diesel, (3) a New Age shop selling drug-related paraphernalia, or (4) a disrespectable massage parlor.

  Although Susanna was partly relieved the gossipers were wrong on the worst suspicions, she still felt worried. Partly for Matilda, because she actually liked the woman, but even more so for the town, because she knew that none of the merchants on Main Street would be particularly happy to see a secondhand shop. It was bad enough that thrift stores weren’t zoned for this neighborhood, but with the Christmas shopping season upon them and everyone’s hopes elevated in the expectation of some bright, shiny, consumer-friendly store, a secondhand shop was more than just a minor letdown. Furthermore, Susanna knew that the powers that be, including Councilman Snider, would now have the opportunity to make Matilda miserable.

  “Why don’t they just let her be?” Rose had said that morning after Megan left for school. “Who cares if she runs a thrift shop or not? This is a free country, no?”

  “It’s a free country, Rose, but you know there are ordinances. Businesses must apply for licenses, and a secondhand shop requires a special permit. According to my assistant, Matilda hasn’t applied for one yet.”

  “Matilda knows what she’s doing,” Rose said.

  “I hope so.”

  Rose gave a sly grin. “Besides, you can help her.”

  “I can?” Susanna filled her commuter coffee cup.

  “Sure you can.” Rose nodded. “You run the city, don’t you?”

  Susanna laughed. “More like the city runs me.”

  “Well, Matilda is a good person. I know you’ll take good care of her.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  For that reason, Susanna had spent an hour trying to soften up Hal in the permit department, explaining that Matilda had been distracted getting her shop in order and overlooked applying for the permit.

  “Well, she better get to it,” he warned her. “We usually require two weeks to process a permit.”

  She smiled at him. “I know that and you know that, but I also know you can put a rush on it if needed.”

  “I can’t make promises, Ms. Elton.”

  “Please, call me Susanna. Everyone else does.”

  He smiled. “Okay, Susanna. I still can’t make promises, and I sure can’t do anything if she doesn’t come in here and apply.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to get her in here today,” Susanna assured him. “I really do appreciate your help with this, Hal. My hope is that Parrish Springs will become known as a can-do city and will attract some new business and commerce our way.”

  He nodded. “I hope so. I still feel bad for the layoffs a couple years back. I’d like to see some of those people come back.”

  “So would I.” She thanked him again, then headed back to her office. Hopefully Hal meant what he said, but for all she knew he could just be another member of Councilman Snider’s Good Ol’ Boys Club. She couldn’t believe how many people the old councilman carried around in his back pocket. It must be crowded in there!

  On her way to her office, she stopped by the restroom and ran a brush through her hair and even put on some fresh lip color. She didn’t know if Tommy was bringing a photographer with him or not, but she’d worn her favorite red suit just in case.

  She knew it was possible that she was primping for another r
eason. For the past week, she had thought about Tommy quite a bit, more than she cared to admit. She even managed to discreetly discover that he was in fact single. Never married at all, her elderly neighbor had told her. Naturally, that surprised Susanna. She’d learned that if a man had never married by this stage of the game, there was usually a reason. But from what she could learn without looking overly interested, Tommy was fairly well respected by everyone. Still, she wasn’t dumb—there could be other reasons.

  She’d been thrilled when he’d called Monday afternoon to schedule an interview with her, but then dismayed when she checked her calendar. The only time that worked for both of them was Friday morning. For the past four days, she’d hoped to bump into him somewhere in town, but despite her best efforts to be out and about, their paths had never crossed once. Maybe it was fate. Or perhaps God was trying to tell her something. She’d be smart to listen. For now she was simply looking forward to seeing him again.

  She was back in her office and just starting to get impatient when Alice buzzed her. “Tommy Thompson’s here for the interview.”

  “Send him in,” Susanna told her. She looked at her watch. He was only four minutes late, but for some reason it had seemed like longer.

  “Sorry to be late,” he said as he caught her still looking at her watch. “You know that commute from the newspaper office to city hall is killer this time of morning.”

  She chuckled as she stood to shake his hand. “I was thinking about that same thing as I drove to work this morning. I live less than three minutes from here—really, I should be walking—but the funny thing is I still bring my commuter cup in the car with me.” She pointed to the shiny aluminum cup on her desk.

  “Small-town life is hard to beat.”

  “I’m sold.” She nodded to the chair across from her desk. “Make yourself comfortable, Tommy. We have just a little less than an hour.”

  He pulled a notebook from his inside coat pocket. It was a brown suede blazer that looked well made and expensive. He removed his jacket and casually laid it in the other chair, then sat down. Susanna noticed he was wearing an attractive navy sweater, probably cashmere. Well, the guy had taste.

  He took the cap off of a silver pen, then smiled at her. “Ready?”

  She blinked. “Is that all you use? Pen and pad? No electronics?”

  He nodded. “I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy. This works for me.”

  “Interesting.” She almost confessed that she was an old-fashioned kind of girl, but that felt like too much information. “Ready when you are. Fire away.”

  He started with the usual queries about educational background and past work experiences, but gradually the questions grew more personal. Not that she minded. She had nothing to hide. Not really. She explained that she’d grown up in a somewhat unconventional family. “My maiden name was Garcia, and my father was fourth-generation Mexican American with a Stanford degree in engineering. He worked for the city too. My mother was a blue-eyed, blonde beauty with no college education. She’d grown up in a dysfunctional family and really didn’t want to be married. Consequently, my parents divorced when I was four and my father raised me.”

  “That is a bit unconventional, but interesting.” He continued writing, glancing up occasionally. She wondered how he was really getting all this down because, as usual, she was talking fast.

  “My father saw to it that I got a good education, and I suppose I kind of followed in his footsteps by working for city government.”

  “Your father sounds like a great guy.”

  She nodded. “He was. He died shortly after Megan was born.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. At least he got to see his granddaughter, and . . .” She paused to weigh her words. “He didn’t have to witness me going through my divorce.” She shook her head. “I know that would’ve hurt him deeply. Especially since he was the one who introduced me to my ex-husband.”

  Tommy nodded with a sympathetic expression. “How long ago was that? Your divorce, I mean. Well, not that it matters . . .” He seemed uncomfortable. “That doesn’t need to be in the article. I didn’t—”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind telling you, but I agree it probably doesn’t need to be in the article. Megan was three when our marriage really began to deteriorate. In Carl’s defense, his family had been a bit dysfunctional too.”

  “How so?” Tommy looked up from his notebook.

  She smiled. “You’ve met my mother-in-law.”

  “Yes . . .” He seemed to be wearing a poker face.

  Susanna couldn’t help but chuckle. “Rose was the healthy part of Carl’s parents’ marriage.”

  He looked somewhat surprised, but to her relief he was not taking notes.

  “As you may have noticed, Rose is Hispanic. However, Carl’s father was not. He met her in Mexico, and she was quite a beauty in her day. They were one of those couples who married too hastily, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think I get your drift.”

  “Rose put up with a lot of grief from that man.” She shook her head, unwilling to say too much. “And Carl . . . well, you know what they say. The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.”

  “I see.”

  “Carl and I parted ways, and Rose came to live with Megan and me.” She stopped talking, feeling alarmed at how much she’d just revealed. “I would appreciate it very much if that remained in this room.”

  He looked directly into her eyes. “You have my word on it.”

  “Thank you.” She sighed. “I don’t usually run off at the mouth like that.”

  “Really, it’s okay. You can trust me, Susanna.”

  “Yes, I think I can.”

  They moved on to city business. He asked her about the challenges of being a woman in a job that had previously been held by men, how she was adjusting to small-town life, and what had been her biggest challenge so far.

  “I’ve only been here a couple of months,” she began carefully. She wanted to say something quote-worthy without stepping on any toes. “I think the biggest challenge is striving to bring people and ideas together in a peaceful manner so that we can work together for the good of the entire city.”

  He chuckled. “Spoken like a true politician.”

  “Off the record?” she asked.

  He closed his notebook. “Absolutely.”

  “This whole thing with Matilda Honeycutt is turning into quite the three-ring circus.”

  He nodded. “I’ve noticed. I have a feeling the fun hasn’t even begun.”

  “Have you been able to interview her yet? Has she told you much about what’s going on? What she’s doing?”

  “I’ve tried, but with the resistance I get from her and Rose, I feel like I’m ramming my head against the big brick wall of the Barton Building.”

  “Well, I’ve got my concerns about her.”

  “Such as?”

  “Off the record—although I’m sure it’ll be public knowledge before long—I’m worried that she’s going to open a thrift shop without the proper permits in place. At least that’s what my mother-in-law is saying. Of course, Rose can’t see anything wrong with it, but she doesn’t know about Councilman Snider.” She bit her lip, wondering what would happen if Rose and the councilman went head-to-head. It would be ugly.

  “Councilman Snider will have a heyday with Matilda if she does that. He’s just waiting to get his hands on that building.”

  “Believe me, I know.” She nervously fingered the edge of the budget packet that she needed to take to her next meeting.

  “Plus the other retailers won’t be too pleased about a secondhand shop going in there. Most of them had been hoping for a furniture store. We haven’t had one in town for years.”

  “I wish that were in Matilda’s plans . . . but I’m afraid it’s not.”

  “Well, I hope you can help her to sort things out.”

  “So do I.” Susanna looked at her watch. It was time to wrap this up. “
I really do like her, and I want to see her business succeed. But not at the expense of the other downtown merchants. That wouldn’t be fair.”

  “Quite the balancing act.” He stood, reaching for his coat.

  “You got that right.” She stood too. “Thanks for respecting my time, Tommy.”

  “No problem.”

  She wanted to say something more, like when would it be her turn to ask him some questions, but it was time to get to the budget meeting.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to email you the article before it runs so you can make sure I’ve gotten my facts straight.”

  She pointed to his black notebook. “I have to admit that I’m a little curious about how that’s even possible. I’ve been told that I can talk a mile a minute, and I doubt most people can write that fast.”

  “I use shorthand.”

  She laughed. “Well, of course you do.”

  They said goodbye, exited her office, and continued in opposite directions. She was a little concerned about how candid she’d been with him—she was usually more cautious with her words. But he’d promised she could trust him. She would have to see if Tommy Thompson was what he appeared to be—a man who kept his word. She sure hoped so.

  Helen never worked a whole day on Fridays. But she had wanted to stick around long enough to hear Tommy’s response to the websites she’d sent him. Surely he wouldn’t continue his conversation with Garth Price once he realized what that shyster was really up to, would he?

  She paced in the small kitchen, glancing up at the clock from time to time. It was 12:30 and Tommy still wasn’t back. She’d already cleaned the coffeepot, sink, and counters, and unless she cleared out the refrigerator, which probably needed doing, she would have no excuse to stay.

  She looked out the window just as Matilda Honeycutt was about to go into her building. That gave Helen an idea. Tommy had been trying and trying to make an appointment with that woman, but she’d been dodging him like he was with the IRS. Perhaps Matilda would be more open to talking woman to woman about her plans for her new business. If Helen was able to extract some information from Matilda, she might be able to pin down Tommy and make him listen to her.