Dress Me in Wildflowers (11 page)

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Authors: Trish Milburn

BOOK: Dress Me in Wildflowers
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“Yes, I heard she’d gone. Well, I have to get back to work. I hope you have a safe trip home.” As if she’d suddenly realized how uncomfortable she was making everyone, Janie nearly ran for the front door. She almost plowed into a man and mumbled an apology.

“That was odd,” Tammie said.

“Yeah.” Farrin watched Janie until she reached the other side of the street and turned right. “Where does she work?”

“Where do you think? Daddy’s bank. Has ever since she came back here a couple of years after college.”

Farrin returned her attention to Tammie. “Not able to cut it in the outside world or get homesick for Mommy and Daddy?”

“She got pregnant. And dear old Mom and Pop were none too happy about it either.”

“So, she can do something they disapprove of.”

“Evidently.”

The bell over the door tinkled again.

“Don’t look now, it’s Oak Valley’s most eligible bachelor.”

Farrin didn’t need to look. The amusement on Tammie’s face might as well have been a neon banner. “Let’s go,” Farrin said.

“I thought you were over him.”

“That crush was ages ago. Of course I’m over him.”

“Then why do you want to run away?”

“I’m not . . . Fine.” She tossed her purse back into the booth and sat back with her arms crossed. “I see you’re the kind of person who needs proof.”

“Hey, you two disappeared early last night.”

Farrin glanced up to see Drew Murphy, all six-foot-plus of him, standing next to the booth with a sack that evidently held his lunch.

“I was tired after my flight,” she said before Tammie could say something Farrin would regret.

“Have a seat.” Tammie scooted over so Drew would be straight across from Farrin.

Oh, she’d pay for that one.

Drew slid into the booth, and despite her assertions that her crush on him was in the past, she couldn’t help the quickening of her heart. Just memories, that’s all. She had no interest in a Hicksville lawyer.

Well, if he was going to sit here, she would steer the conversation. Control, the name of the game. “I saw the Ivy Springs Inn is for sale.”

“Has been for, what, three years now?” Tammie asked, looking at Drew.

“Yeah, at least that. And I haven’t shown it to probably that many people in that time.”

“You own it?” Farrin asked.

“No, I’m the attorney for the Wilsons, the current owners. They retired and moved to Key West.”

“They didn’t list it with a Realtor?”

“No. They said they’d worked with me, knew me, so they’d be more comfortable if I handled things. But it looks like it may go off the market soon. The city is grumbling about the deterioration and is considering buying and razing it to put in a parking lot.”

“A parking lot? For what, the influx of downtown shoppers?” Tammie asked.

Farrin sat shocked. They couldn’t tear down that inn. It held too much potential, too many of her childhood fantasies. It was part of her heritage. “Can I see it?”

“What?” Drew asked as he dipped a French fry in ketchup.

“I’d like to see it. I’ve not been inside since I was little.”

“Sure. I’ve got a few minutes after lunch if you’d like to look then and have the time.”

“She has plenty of time. I’ve been trying to talk her into taking a few days off and staying here to relax.”

Drew caught Farrin’s gaze. “Can’t find a quieter place to get some R and R.”

“That’s because everyone goes to bed when the sun goes down,” Farrin responded.

He laughed, and it transformed his face. A jolt of attraction shot through her, much more powerful than anything the teenage Farrin had felt for the teenage Drew.

This was a bad idea. She needed to get on that plane this afternoon and go home, back to the million and one things she had to do, back to where everyone didn’t look at her like a novelty, back to where her speech didn’t slip into southern twang, back to the person she’d crafted in the years since driving out of Oak Valley.

But how could she let them destroy Grandma and Grandpa’s home?

When Drew finished his lunch, he wiped his mouth and slid from the booth. “I have an appointment at two, so I’ll go get the key and meet you down by the inn.”

Farrin waited until she heard the tinkle of the bell indicating he’d left the building before she turned on Tammie. “Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“Pushing me. You know there’s no way I’d ever get involved with Drew. Even if I was interested, I’m not about to move back here. And I seriously doubt Mr. Big Fish in the Little Pond is going to move to Manhattan.”

“Lighten up. What’s it going to hurt to talk to the guy? Or go see a musty old inn with him? You might just discover he grew up.”

“Obviously. He’s a half foot taller than when I saw him last.”

“That’s not what I meant. Some people do change as they get older and farther away from high school.”

“Well, fix him up with someone else. Maybe Janie is free.” Farrin grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I’ll see you back at the house.”

Farrin stared at Tammie. “You’re not coming with me?”

“No.”

Farrin rolled her eyes at Tammie’s sneaky smile. When had Tammie become such a matchmaker? She remembered a time when her best friend would have gladly taken off Drew Murphy’s head.

“Fine. This shouldn’t take but a few minutes.”

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere but back to Mom’s.”

She might not be, but Farrin had a plane to catch and she’d be squeaking through airport security just in time if she didn’t make this a quick tour.

Farrin cursed the churning of her stomach and the firing of her nerves as she walked the two blocks to the inn. Why was she nervous? A therapist would have a field day with her and all these crazy emotions tied to her past. She stopped and took a deep breath. She would not be nervous. Drew Murphy was just a man, a small-town lawyer acting on behalf of his clients. She’d dealt with tougher people, more intimidating ones. There was no reason to get in such a tizzy just at the prospect of being alone with a guy she’d had a crush on ages ago.

By the time Drew met her in front of the inn, Farrin had some semblance of her self-control back.

“Watch your step. There’s probably a few cobwebs,” he said as he inserted the key in the lock.

The place did indeed have cobwebs, not to mention dust and an incredibly empty feeling despite the still intact furnishings. But good memories resided here, too. Her occasional trips here as a child had been filled with love, long days of meeting interesting people and playing in the garden, and respite from her parents’ fighting.

Farrin’s heels thunked on the wooden floor as Drew led the way through the entry hall into the first room, the parlor where the inn’s guests had been received. She scanned the room, its plastic-draped sofas and settees, the tin sconces on the walls. If Benjamin Franklin or Thomas Jefferson had walked in, she wouldn’t have been surprised.

“If the city goes through with the purchase, all the furnishings will be auctioned before the building is razed,” Drew said.

“How can they even think about tearing it down? It’s the most interesting building in the entire downtown.”

“There haven’t been any other takers. It’s expensive to keep up, particularly if the owners can’t recoup some of their investment.”

“There’s got to be a way they can use the building. Offices maybe or a restaurant. Even apartments would be better than destroying it.”

“Again, no investors. And the city council doesn’t want an eyesore in the middle of downtown. Unless a miracle happens, it’ll be a done deal tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

“The city council meeting where they’re going to take the vote on purchasing the property.”

Farrin’s throat tightened. She’d come back just in time. If she’d waited longer, she would have lost the opportunity to revisit the rooms that had been her playground, her sanctuary. There had to be a way to get the city to do something with the building, not just haul its components away to the landfill.

Drew followed as she roamed through the lower floor, examining the library, the dining room and the kitchen where she’d swear she could smell the banana bread her grandmother used to make. She climbed the stairs to see the many bedrooms that had housed travelers since 1824.

“The city is afraid if they don’t act quickly that the Wilsons will change their minds about applying to get the building on the National Register of Historic Places. If they do that, there’ll be no tearing it down.”

“Why don’t the Wilsons want to make the application?”

“They just want to be rid of the place and enjoy their retirement. I can’t blame them, but I hate to see this place go.” He moved to the edge of the bed and ran a hand over the thick headboard. “Did you know three presidents stayed here? Jackson, Johnson and Polk all stopped here many times as they traveled back and forth between Washington and Tennessee.”

My, hadn’t Mr. Murphy become the local history buff. He’d probably learned that nugget in hopes it would help the place sell.

“I bet you didn’t know my family used to own it. My mother’s family, the Swensons, operated the hotel here until they died when I was five.”

“Really? You’re right, I didn’t know that. Maybe you should buy it.”

“Contrary to what everyone might believe, I don’t have piles of money just sitting around. This place would be a huge investment, in time and money. I already have a mortgage on my home and an expensive lease on my business space.”

He didn’t press the topic further. Why would he? He got paid no matter who bought the property.

By the time they exited the side door and followed the brick walkway into what had once been a courtyard filled with roses in a dozen hues and beds of native wildflowers, grief and anger had taken hold in Farrin’s heart. She was all for progress, but in her book destroying a building with such history and character to slap down some asphalt and white paint stripes wasn’t progress. It was sacrilege.

“I’ve got to get back to the office, but you feel free to look around as long as you like,” Drew said.

“Thank you. I appreciate the tour.”

“No problem. It was good to see you again.”

For a moment, Farrin didn’t respond. Those words didn’t make sense coming out of Drew’s mouth. Before yesterday, he’d never indicated a desire to even speak to her.

“Yeah, you too.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he smiled then headed back down Main Street toward his office.

She walked along the pathways, listening as the fallen leaves crackled under her feet and imagining this garden in its height of beauty. A memory of a wedding came back to her. She’d been young, four maybe, when she’d watched the bride walking down the central path, her face aglow and smile beaming. The flowers had been dazzling, as if they’d put forth their best colors just for the occasion.

Farrin sank onto one of the iron benches in the corner of the courtyard and stared at the unloved mess it had become.

Her cell phone rang, and she automatically placed it against her ear.

“How did the big speeches go?” Justine asked.

“Fine.”

“Well, that was enthusiastic. Please remind me to call you the next time I need a pick-me-up.”

“Sorry. I was distracted.”

“Working?”

“Not exactly.” But her mind was working, trying to find a better solution to the problem in front of her. “Listen, I finished the sketch for Cara Hutton’s dress. I’m going to fax it to you so the work can begin.”

“It’s Saturday. None of the seamstresses are here. And you’ll be back this evening.”

“Actually, I’m going to stay here a few more days.”

Silence and then, “Who are you, and what have you done with Farrin?”

“Very funny. You should take that act on the road.”

“I thought the last speech was this morning.”

“It was. I just . . . I’m going to spend a little time catching up with friends.”

“Okay.” Justine’s response still sounded like she wasn’t sure she was talking to the real Farrin.

“I’ll fax you the sketch, and I want you to fax me the orders for the Oscar gowns. I don’t know the number yet. Just fax them back to the number on the incoming fax.”

Justine filled Farrin in on a few more office details.

“I want you to check in with Tayla Begard’s stylist. I think Tayla’s going to be a sleeper nominee for the Oscar this year, and I want to get our name in her ear first.”

“Got it.”

“And Justine, after you do that, go home. It’s Saturday. Enjoy the weekend.”

“Did you fall and hit your head?”

“No. I realized you were right. I’ve been riding everyone too hard.”

“I think you should visit that little town more often.”

Farrin smiled, then ended the call. She sat on the bench for a long time, ideas and possibilities floating through her brain. It looked like she had one more public appearance before leaving Oak Valley — at the city council meeting.

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