Permanent Ink (Something to Celebrate #1) (5 page)

He turned the smile on Ivy. “Sounds okay with me.”

“Great.” Ivy grabbed a newspaper from the edge of her desk and unfolded it. “You’ll be a good team.” With a devilish grin, she flipped the paper around so the front page face out. “See?”

Ben stared at the photo of himself, a shoe in hand, holding Blair’s foot. Blair was smiling down at him from that garish princess float as if he’d hung the moon. He read the headline at the top of the page. “The Easter Queen Finds Her Prince.”

“Jesus,” Blair whispered.

“See?” Ivy repeated. “It’ll be fine.”

She walked around her desk and rummaged in a deep drawer. Holding up a gigantic set of keys, she jangled them. “Here are the keys to your kingdom, Easter Queen.”

Blair groaned and took the keys. “I’ll never live that down.”

“Probably not,” Ivy said. “So, um, don’t be shocked when you go in the town-planner office. It’s a bit disorganized.” She tapped her chin. “Actually, you should find the keys to the event-decoration trailer there. You’d probably be more comfortable in there. If you work at city hall—believe me—you’ll get interrupted constantly. All the event decorations would be right at your fingertips. Plus you’d have a private bathroom.”

“I’ll be happy with it, I’m sure,” Blair said. She shook Ivy’s hand. “Thanks again for hiring me.”

Ben smiled to himself. The decorations trailer was in an alley, half a block from his studio. The perfect location for him to show Blair what tattoos were really all about—art. Normally he couldn’t care less if people were turned off by his profession, but Blair?

He’d have a hell of a lot of fun proving
her
wrong.

He glanced at her. “Come by my studio…ten tomorrow morning?”

She looked like she might say no, but a second later she gave him a nervous smile.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she answered.

So was he.

Chapter Five

“I’m frickin’ freezing! And I don’t care what Mr. Benson says, a convertible is not warm with the top up,” Kaley complained. She hugged her ever-present hoodie around her body and rested her head on the backpack sitting on her lap.

Blair pulled up next to the curb and stopped in front of Celebration High School. “If you would have worn a coat and oh, I don’t know,
not
worn shorts, you probably wouldn’t be cold. It’s only forty-two degrees outside.”

Kaley rolled her eyes. “It will be at least sixty by lunch. Besides, it’s springtime.” She gave Blair a once-over. “Not that anyone could tell by your outfit. A turtleneck and a wool skirt? All black? Blair, you’re not in the city anymore.”

“I have on a red belt,” Blair said. She glanced out at the three-story sandstone school building, where a dozen or so kids were jostling their way through a set of double doors. “You better get going.”

“I guess.” Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Kaley slipped out of her seat belt and opened the passenger door. “I hate first period. Brandon sits right in back of me, and he’s such a douche.”

“Ignore him,” Blair said. She smiled, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

It was hard to ignore her own apprehension, though. Ivy had hired her less than twenty-four hours ago. That fact had barely sunk in and today was already the first day on her new job. Correction—first day on her new job with an assistant who had a smile that sent drunk butterflies zinging around her stomach. Every time she thought about how she’d managed to insult Ben yesterday…and his wolfish smile after the fact…those butterflies went into hyperdrive.

It wouldn’t work. Blair was only staying in town so that she could get
out
of town.

“Blair?” Kaley leaned back into the car.

“Yes?”

“Congratulations on the cruise-director job. You’ll be great. And your outfit looks…stylish.”

“Quit calling me a cruise director,” Blair snapped. Kaley giggled in response, and Blair glanced at her cousin’s retro eighties T-shirt, ten or so bracelets, and hot-pink lip gloss. Kaley’s hair was ironed flat as a pancake, except for one wavy spot that she’d apparently missed. “You look nice too, very cute. Brandon will be kicking his own ass for being such an idiot.”

With a broad smile, Kaley wrinkled her freckled nose, turned and jogged up the sidewalk to the school, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

Blair pulled away from the curb and drove slowly toward downtown. Despite the temperature outside, the grass was starting to turn green, and a few brave daffodils clustered around mailboxes by the side of the road.

Spring was in the air. And something else, too. Something besides the nervous energy that jangled through Blair’s fingers. It was hard to pinpoint, but it was an unexpectedly delicious feeling—like when vacation was on the horizon and plans had been made. It was something to look forward to, but she had no idea what “it” was, exactly. She told herself that not knowing didn’t bother her. Much.

Slowly, she pulled into the parking lot behind city hall and stepped out of the convertible. She walked to the back door, which was held open by a brick. Next to it, a balding, middle-aged man holding a cigarette jerked his hand behind his back and nodded at her. Plumes of smoke drifted up behind his head, and he gave her an innocent look.

“Morning,” he said. “You Lola’s girl?”

Blair tried not to laugh. “Morning. Lola’s my aunt, yes.”

“Uh-huh. Good. You’re not going to tell my wife I’m sneaking a smoke, right?”

This time Blair did laugh. “I don’t know who your wife is. For that matter…”

The man dropped the cigarette and ground it out. “Sorry. I’m Joe, the maintenance manager and odd-job guy for the town. My wife is the mayor’s assistant.”

“Sherry?”

“Yep. And she’d kick my butt all the way to Syracuse if she knew I was smoking.”

Blair waved her hand. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good. Enjoy your first day,” he said, holding the door open for her.

“Thanks.” Blair slipped past him and marched down a long hallway to the elevator. The floor, although buffed to a shine, was covered in old linoleum and a faint tinge of mildew filled the air. When she stepped onto the elevator, it rattled, but made it from the basement level to the second floor without issue. Stepping out, Blair walked around a mostly dead, overgrown fern and around a corner to the office that she was supposed to open in order to look for a set of keys for
her
office. Correction…trailer.

On the glass door, the words “Preston Parliament, Town Planner” were pasted on in crooked, sticky letters. From what Lola had told her over steaks last night, Preston had been Ivy’s fiancé at one time. And that his family had owned half the town—
had
being the operative word. They did still own Parliament Bakery, although it was managed by Ivy’s husband, Marcus, who was Preston’s half brother. Shaking her head, Blair fumbled through the crowded ring of keys. Everyone in this town was connected somehow, either by blood or by shared history, some of which sounded unpleasant.

Blair let out an exasperated sigh. Why hadn’t Preston marked any of the damn keys? Had he spent almost an entire year flipping through them every time he wanted to open a door? She made a mental note to fix that and then another mental note to write it down on the perpetual list she kept in her bag. Her list was what kept her sane—and she’d carried a little, three by five, battered leather notebook since she’d been a freshman in high school. She made a list every single day, even had the few times she’d been in bed with the flu. It was an obsession and she knew it, but what harm did it really do?

Everything she wrote down was in pen, because when she decided to do something, there was no way she was going to erase it. Once it was on her list, it was there until it was accomplished. She was tenacious…and these damn keys weren’t going to get the best of her, either. On the seventh try, she found the right key and unlocked the door, pushing it open.

Blair looked around in dismay for a moment. A scratched wooden desk filled one corner, and a round worktable another. Two banks of filing cabinets stood next to the table, some of the drawers half open. Every surface was piled high with folders, catalogs, and…stuff. She deposited her bag on the desk and laced her fingers. She glanced at a crooked clock on the wall by the door and walked over to straighten it, like it mattered. This wasn’t going to be her office. She just needed to find that set of keys and get to the trailer to look it over before she had to meet Ben. But before she could tackle even one drawer, there was a sharp knock on the open door. She whirled around to find three women crowding into the doorway. All of them wore glasses and brightly printed blouses.

“Hi there!” called the shortest one. “We’re the girls from accounting. Down the hall? We just wanted to welcome you.” She smiled, her double chin wagging.

Blair walked across the room and shook the woman’s hand. “Thanks. I’m Blair Whitaker.”

“Oh, we know that, honey. I’m Barb,” said the woman. “And this is Paula.” She pointed at a woman who had to be at least six feet tall. She waggled her fingers at Blair. “And this is Sheila. She’s from records, not accounting, but we let her tag along.” Sheila, with a flip of her shiny bottle-blond bob, reached out to shake Blair’s hand. “Glad to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Blair said. “So…what can I do for you ladies?” She gestured around the office. “I’m not sure where anything is, but I’ll be happy to help.”

They all exchanged glances, and Sheila spoke up. “You’ve been on the job for what? Ten minutes? We don’t
need
anything, honey. We wanted to invite you out for breakfast.”

Breakfast? God, she hadn’t even taken her coat off yet. “That’s very kind, but I need to find the keys to the decorations trailer.”

Sheila laughed. “Oh, don’t be silly. We’ll help you, won’t we girls?”

The other two women nodded and began riffling through the stacks on the round table. “Yeesh, what a mess,” Paula commented. “That Preston was so lazy,” Barb said with a
tsk
.

Blair watched for a minute, tension building in the back of her neck, as the women managed to make the piles even worse. “Uh, you know…I could use a bite to eat. A quick one.”

Sheila clapped her hands. “Oh, good. Do you like doughnuts?”

“Who doesn’t?” Blair answered and was rewarded with a burst of laughter from the trio.

Sheila sucked in a breath and raised a finger. “I know!” She scooted around the desk and pulled several huge hardbacks from the bookshelf. A small key was taped to the shelf. “Ha. Figured as much.” She ripped it off and handed it to Blair with a pleased smile. “There ya go.”

“Thanks.” Blair didn’t want to ask why Sheila knew where the key was, because it would probably involve a wacky explanation that made even less sense. With a grin, she slipped it in her purse, picked up the jailer-sized ring of keys, and locked the office behind her. She followed the parade of bright blouses out the door and into the elevator. On the basement level, they tromped down the hallway toward the back door.

“We’ll walk. It will cancel out the doughnuts,” Sheila said over her shoulder as she pushed the door open. She stopped still and sniffed the air. “Dammit, Joe. Sherry’s gonna kill him when she finds out he’s been smoking.” With a sigh, she marched around the building to the sidewalk facing Enterprise Street.

“You don’t have to tell her, Sheila,” called Barb from the back of the pack.

“Hmph,” Sheila answered.

Blair smiled, but didn’t say a word. She would probably be doing a lot of keeping her mouth shut over the next few weeks. It still hadn’t completely sunk in that she actually
had
a job, much less had to think about the dealing with all the nutty personalities in Celebration. What the hell had she gotten herself into? But still—she needed to be positive. This position was a stepping-stone and
anything
was better than working for Leon at a boring, dead-end, soul-sucking job.

As they walked down the sidewalk, she took a deep breath of fresh air. Kaley had been right, it was heating up quickly and her turtleneck was starting to feel warm. Blair reached into her purse, pulled out a clip, and twisted her hair up before they arrived at the brightly painted pink door of Debbie’s Doughnuts.

“This place looks promising,” she made herself say. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to be sociable, but she was still nervous and wouldn’t feel at ease until she had seen her trailer office and tackled
something
. She needed to be busy, or her thoughts would slide right toward Ben Lambert, and that was guaranteed to make her a nervous wreck. But maybe, if she caught a glimpse of him, he wouldn’t be as good-looking as he had been yesterday. Yeah. Then she wouldn’t be blindsided when she had to meet him in—she glanced at her watch—fifty minutes. She peeked down the block at Skinnovations, but the window was dark. Damn.

A second later a shout from across the street made her head snap around.

“Chick killer!” A group of boys stood next to the gazebo pointing at her. One of them giggled and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Murderer!”

The accounting girls gasped. “You four ought to be ashamed!” Sheila yelled.

“Shouldn’t they be in school?” Blair asked through tightly clamped teeth.

“They’re homeschooled,” Paula answered. “And home is where they should be.”

“Their moms are probably over at Christmas Crazies,” Sheila said, clucking her tongue.

“You didn’t mean to knock that sweet little chick’s head off,” Barb murmured. She patted Blair’s arm. “We know that, honey.”

Blair sighed.

“You okay?” asked Sheila.

Blair turned and smiled. “Sure. Yum, doughnuts. I think I’m in for a treat.”

“You sure are,” Sheila said, pushing open the door, which jangled. When Blair stepped inside, her jaw dropped. Every surface was covered in pigs—the wallpaper, the tables, the figurines crammed onto a shelf running along the top of the wall. Behind a glass-fronted display case, a tiny woman with a pig apron greeted them. She was probably too obsessed with pigs to have a problem with a chick killer.

Blair smiled at her.

“Hey, girls! Need a dozen today?” The woman whipped out a to-go box.

“Hey, Debbie,” the women chorused.

Shelia waved a hand. “We’re going to eat here, Deb. Put that box away.”

Debbie chuckled and walked around the counter, eyeglasses on a rhinestone chain swinging across her chest with her quick steps. “You must be Blair,” she said, sticking out a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Debbie. It smells amazing in here. Are you going to make me fat?” Blair asked with a grin, shaking her hand.

“That’s completely up to you,” Debbie answered. She scratched under her hairnet and pursed her lips. “But I will say this—city hall is my biggest customer.”

“I take offense at that,” called an elderly man from a table near the window. The senior citizens sitting with him nodded.

“Sorry,” Debbie said. “Sunnyside Retirement Center
and
city hall are my biggest customers.”

“That’s more like it,” the man said, raising a mug of coffee in salute.

Debbie pushed Blair toward an empty table. “Sit, sit. What kind would you like?”

Blair glanced at the glass case, her mouth suddenly watering. “How about a chocolate-frosted one?”

“You got it.”

Debbie darted away and Blair smiled at the accounting girls as they pulled out chairs and plunked down next to her. She took a paper napkin from a dispenser and smoothed it over her lap. “This is really nice,” she said. And it was, until the questions started.

Barb leaned forward, her chin in her hands. “Okay, Blair. What’s this about a parade contest?”

Sheila nodded. “I want to know about that, too. Spill.” She examined her brightly painted nails and then looked up at Blair with determined eyes. “Inquiring minds want to know. Could Celebration really win fifty grand? Because I need a new computer.”

Blair pressed her lips together. “Uh, how did you…?”

“It’s already on the docket for the town-council meeting. Which is tomorrow,” Sheila said. All three women stared at Blair and she twisted the napkin in her lap.