Part 10 (1/2)

”I was honest,” he said. ”You're not going to make much money this first time around with so little time to plan.”

”Well, I'd love to have a year to pull this together, but, as you know, the bomb is ticking and I don't have that luxury.”

”Samantha, it may not look like it, but I'm in your corner.”

Watching her get pummeled to death. ”Oh, please,” she said, and rolled her eyes.

He let out an angry hiss. ”You can't believe I want to call in that note.”

Okay, she'd had about all the hypocrisy she could stomach for one day. ”It's a free country. I can believe whatever I want,” she informed him. ”And once I pull my company out of this mess, I will be taking our business to a bank that puts its money where its mouth is and really helps its customers.” He started to speak and she held up a hand. ”Don't. Say. Anything. If you do, I just might trip again and spill the rest of my latte all over you.”

”Go ahead, if it'll make you feel better.” He threw out his arms and puffed out his chest, turning himself into a target.

But all she could see was how big his chest was.

She raised her chin. ”No, I think not. There's no point wasting a perfectly good latte.” Having delivered her parting shot, she turned her back on him and crossed the street to return to her one true love-her business.

Chapter Nine.

There is a difference between selling your ideas and selling yourself.

-Muriel Sterling, Knowing Who You Are: One Woman's Journey With its art deco decor and a menu that featured Northwest-style specialties, Zelda's restaurant was a hopping place when winter sports enthusiasts were in town, and locals couldn't get in without a reservation. No reservations needed for tonight, though. It was a weekday and the tourists had been few and far between, thanks to the spa.r.s.e snowfall. That, combined with a cold sleet falling outside, left the restaurant less than half-full with a couple of families and some couples taking advantage of the twofer coupon Charley had run in the Mountain Sun on Sunday.

The aroma of spices and seared beef greeted Samantha as she and her mother walked in the door. The sizzle of cooking meat from the open kitchen, where Charley's new chef was hard at work creating culinary masterpieces, provided background music for the spurts of laughter coming from a table of three women, who had obviously gotten a head start on their drinking. Later they'd drift into the bar to meet up with local guys, but for now they were indulging in Zelda's huckleberry martinis and shrimp tarts. Over by the window Samantha caught sight of Luke, their production manager, out on a date with his four-year-old daughter, Serena, who was finis.h.i.+ng up a hot fudge sundae. He gave Samantha a smile and a wave.

Luke was a single dad, not by choice. His wife had been tragically killed two years earlier, hit by a car when she was out jogging. He was a nice man and a hard worker, one of many employees who depended on her company for his livelihood. She waved back, trying to ignore the weight of responsibility that was suddenly crus.h.i.+ng her appet.i.te.

A group whoop from the party girls made Mom frown. ”I shouldn't have let you talk me into this.”

”They'll be gone soon,” Samantha said.

”It's not them, it's me. I'm not ready for socializing, sweetie. You entertain the men. I can walk home.”

She turned to leave, but Samantha laid a pleading hand on her arm. ”Mom, please. It's only for an hour. I really need your support.”

And she needed Mom to bat her eyes at Del so he'd want to get behind the festival. Pimping out her own mother. She was pathetic.

Ed was waving at her from a corner table. Next to him sat Del, looking downright eager. ”Anyway, they've seen us,” she added. ”It would be rude to leave.” Playing the courtesy card always worked with her mother.

Sure enough, Mom resigned herself to her fate with a sigh. ”All right. But I don't want to be here all night.”

Charley, taking the place of the hostess who'd been overly hospitable to Charley's now-ex-husband, greeted them with menus in hand. ”Ed and Del are already here. I've got you at a nice corner table where you can talk.” To Mom she said, ”Good to see you, Mrs. Wittman.”

Mom managed a smile and murmured her thanks, and Charley led them to their table.

Both men stood politely as they approached. Next to Ed, who was tall and lean and still had his hair, Del, with his paunch and bald head, didn't exactly show well in spite of his black suit and crisp white s.h.i.+rt and impress-the-ladies lavender tie he'd exchanged for his earlier fish number.

Ed took both of Mom's hands in his and said, ”I'm glad you came.”

Del did him one better, raising a hand to his lips and kissing it. ”You look lovely tonight, Muriel.”

No lie there. Mom wore a simple black dress and hadn't bothered with any makeup other than mascara and eyeliner (which she wouldn't be without, even on her deathbed), but her pale face made her appear vulnerable. Which was exactly what she was.

Mom's polite smile slid south. ”Thank you,” she murmured, and extricated her hand.

They all sat and Del gave Mom a genial smile. ”How about something to ward off the cold?” he asked. Judging from the near-empty gla.s.s in front of him, Del had already driven away the cold.

”A cup of tea would be nice,” she said.

”I was thinking something a little stronger,” Del said. ”Some white wine, perhaps?”

Mom shook her head, and Del looked disappointed.

Maria came to the table, ready to take their orders. ”May as well get a bottle, don't you think?” he said to Ed.

”Sure,” Ed agreed.

Samantha hoped he was going to pick up the tab for it.

Once the wine had arrived and they'd chosen their dinners-steak for the men, chicken with raspberry sauce and baby potatoes for Samantha and a small salad for Mom-Samantha introduced the subject of the festival.

Del took a sip of his wine and shook his head. ”Plenty of time to talk about that,” he said. ”But first let me just say, Muriel, that if there's anything you need, I hope you know you only have to ask.”

”Thank you, Del. I appreciate that,” Mom said.

And here would have been the perfect opportunity for her mother to say, ”I need you to support this festival we're planning.” Instead, she took the little pot Maria had brought and poured tea into her cup.

Samantha forced herself not to drum her fingers on the table. She glanced at Ed. He was busy enjoying his wine and seemed in no hurry to get down to business. And that is how you do business, she had to remind herself. Don't rush right into talking about what you want. Get the other person relaxed and receptive first. Actually, Del was already relaxed. So was Ed. She was the one who was tense.

Del was pouring a third gla.s.s of wine when dinner arrived. Now would be the time to bring up the subject of the festival. Samantha took a sip from her water gla.s.s, then plunged in. ”I'm glad you could join us tonight,” she began.

”I'm happy to spend an evening with my old pal Ed, here, and two of my favorite women in town,” Del said, and beamed at Mom.

”We're really excited to share what the Chamber's come up with to bring more visitors to town,” Samantha plunged on.

Del took another swallow of wine. ”Let's enjoy our dinner, shall we? We can talk business a little later.”

After how many more gla.s.ses of wine? Samantha looked to Ed, who just shrugged and cut into his steak.

Samantha sighed inwardly and told herself that b.u.t.tering people up required a lot of time. And there was a lot of Del to b.u.t.ter.

As the evening wore on and the wine flowed, Del's fish stories got harder to swallow and his laugh got as big as the one that got away. ”Ah, but there's nothing like being in the great outdoors,” he concluded. ”When you're out on the river, you can let the whole world go by. And if a man's out there with a beautiful woman, it's like being in Eden.”

Del's hand disappeared under the table and Mom suddenly s.h.i.+fted in her seat. Uh-oh.