Summer in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 2) (2 page)

Heat flooded Prim’s face. What had Max been thinking? Granted, she might not be a party animal, but she
could
dance.

“This is for calling me a rookie.” She elbowed Max in the ribs and had the satisfaction of hearing a loud
oomph
.

“Same old Prim.” Max chuckled and took her hand, pulling her deep into the crowd of gyrating bodies. Once they’d found a spot with a little extra space, Prim began moving in time to the beat, smiling smugly when his eyes widened in admiration.

Moments after the up-tempo song ended, strains of a romantic ballad filled the air. In seconds, he’d enfolded her in his arms. His shoulder was hard beneath her hand, his arms steady as they danced.

Although they were barely moving, her pulse picked up speed. Pressed this close, his delectable scent enveloped her.

“Prepare to be wowed.”

The words had barely processed when Max spun her around, then dipped her low.

Prim laughed aloud, the sheer joy in the sound taking her by surprise. How long had it been since she’d felt so carefree?
Years
, she thought. “Think the Brewers will make it to the playoffs?”

“Not likely, but anything is possible.” Max smiled down at her. “Just like I didn’t think you could dance, but you were doing a good job keeping up with me a few minutes ago.”

“I was rockin’ the dance floor, Brody, and you know it.”

“You are my dancing queen,” he sang softly and swept her low once again.

For the next several minutes she lost herself in the music, so comfortable in his arms she barely noticed the song had ended and another was starting up. “Still doing the brackets for the College World Series?”

“Ah.” Max lifted a brow. There was a spark of mischief in his blue eyes. “Do I sense a friendly wager in the works?”

“Maybe.” Prim gazed up at him through lowered lashes. “You know I’ll win.”

“In your dreams, Red. I—”

He stopped speaking to stare. Prim followed the direction of his gaze and watched Gladys Bertholf sweep across the dance floor in Floyd Lawson’s arms. The steps were so graceful and elegant it was like watching a 1940s musical come to life.

It was Prim’s last thought before the tall woman and the portly man crashed into them.

Max turned at the last second in an attempt to shield her from the impact, but the force pushed him into Prim. She had a few seconds to enjoy the sensations of soft curves against hard flesh before Gladys shrieked.

“Primrose.” The cadaver-thin older woman flung her arms around Prim, nearly clipping Max in the jaw.

With an agility honed during high school football drills, Max dodged the elbow with a quick move to the left.

“Sorry, Max.” Looking over her shoulder, Gladys shot him a dazzling smile before returning her attention to Prim. Though they stood in the center of the dance floor, Gladys held her at arm’s length and studied her. “You look incredibly lovely, my dear. I have to admit I felt like shooting off a few fireworks when your father told me you’re moving home.”

Max inclined his head. “Moving home?”

“I’m excited to be back in Good Hope.” Prim noticed everyone was careful dancing around them as their impromptu reunion created a bit of a traffic jam. Impulsively Prim gave Gladys a quick hug. “I’ll call you. We have to get together. Catch up.”

“Gladys.” Floyd Lawson, dance partner extraordinaire, stepped toward the older woman. “I believe we’re creating a scene.”

“I was seized with an urgent need to offer a personal greeting to my girl.” Gladys leaned over and brushed her lips across both of Prim’s cheeks. “Welcome back, sweet one.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Prim called out as the couple twirled off.

Then Max’s hand was on her arm and he was maneuvering them through the dancers.

“Where are we going?” she asked when they stepped off the hardwood.

“To get some fresh air.” His gaze lingered on her face. Or was it her mouth?

Her lips tingled. What did it say that even now, all these years later, she remembered Max’s taste, remembered how it had felt to have his mouth pressed against hers?

“Prim?”

“I—I could use some fresh air, too.”

“You had the oddest look on your face. What were you thinking about?”

Kissing you.

Something almost primal flared in his eyes.

For a second, Prim feared she’d spoken her thoughts aloud. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but that only intensified her reaction to him. Gawd, she loved the way he smelled.

“Where are you two headed in such a hurry?” Approval underscored Ami’s words.

Prim had been so focused on Max that she hadn’t noticed her sister and Beck approaching.

Prim waved a casual hand. “We thought we’d get some fresh air.”

Ami shot her the same disbelieving look she’d given last night when Prim had told her she didn’t plan to date until her six-year-old twins were grown. Prim prayed her sister wouldn’t read something into a simple stroll.

Beck’s gaze remained on his best man. “Just remember Prim is my sister-in-law now.”

Was that a warning she heard in that charming southern accent? Prim hid a grin, finding the thought of Beck embracing his new role as big brother rather sweet.

“If I compromise her, will it be dueling pistols at ten paces?” Max’s lips twitched. “Or would you prefer swords?”

Prim rolled her eyes.

“Cut it out,” she told the men, then turned to Ami for support. “Men can be so juvenile.”

“Just remember,” Ami told her. “If you decide to run off and get married, I want to be a bridesmaid.”

Prim pointed at her sister. “You’re as bad as your husband.”

Ami’s only response was to link her arm with Beck’s and flash a bright smile.

“I’m sorry about that.” Prim waited until she and Max were outside of the large white tent—and alone again—to speak.

“About what?”

“Ami is madly in love and wants that for everyone. Her sisters are her first targets.”

“Can you blame her?”

“No. I understand she wants us to have what she’s found with Beck.” The music faded with each step away from the tent. “That’s fine. She can matchmake to her heart’s content with Fin and Marigold.”

A slight frown furrowed Max’s brow. “Not with you?”

“It would be a futile effort.” Prim shrugged. “I’ve made it clear I’m not dating until the boys are out of high school.”

“Might as well have waved a red flag in front of a bull.”

“You’re wrong.” Prim lifted her chin. “Ami might not fully agree with my decision, but she respects it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sometime while she’d been talking, he’d stepped closer. Her breath quickened. “What’s that
uh-huh
supposed to mean?”

Instead of answering, he rocked back on his heels and studied her. “You’re moving back to Good Hope.”

“I am.” She twisted her hands together, then stopped when she saw him watching. “My job was eliminated. I couldn’t afford the house payments.”

“I’m sorry, Prim.” The brief touch of his fingers on her arm was soft as butterfly wings and oddly comforting. “I know you liked Milwaukee.”

“It’s a wonderful town. I had good friends there. It was difficult to leave them.” Prim’s voice wavered for a moment before she brought it under control. She stared into the darkness, realizing just how much Rory’s death had affected her life and the lives of her boys.

“I think I’m ready for round two on the dance floor,” she said, changing the subject.

She’d been enjoying the quiet, but Max was right. This was a party, and they should be dancing. She turned toward the tent, but he stopped her with a hand to her arm.

“We can dance here. It’s crowded inside. And way too dangerous.”

She laughed and shot him a quizzical look. “Dangerous?”

“Dangerous with Gladys Bertholf on the floor.” He smiled, showing a mouthful of perfect white teeth. “It’s safe here.”

Prim let him tug her close, telling herself Ami would want her to have fun. She closed her eyes as they swayed in time to the distant music.

“Prim.”

“Yes, Max?”

“It’s good to have you home.”

Home.
Yes, Good Hope had always been home. It was that fact that had made leaving Milwaukee, and her friends, easier to bear.

“Did you buy a house?” he asked after another few beats.

“I rented a fabulous Cape Cod.” Prim smiled against his shirtfront. “It has a large fenced backyard and is in a quiet neighborhood. It’s perfect for me and the boys.”

“Where is this gem located?”

“Coral Road.”

He laughed. “You’re kidding. I live on Coral.”

Prim jerked back in his arms. “Seriously?”

His thumb and little finger came together in a gesture she recognized. “Scout’s honor.”

The thought of Max living so close made her traitorous heart flip-flop. She was a widowed mother of twin boys. She did not need the distraction of an old flame just a few doors down. “I thought you lived on Market.”

“Old news, Primrose.” Max grinned. “I moved last year.”

Prim had known when she’d decided to return to Good Hope that her past would be waiting for her. So what if she and Max were neighbors? It was inevitable they would cross paths, living in the same town. She had to get herself together. It was not a good sign that less than a week into her fresh start she was going to let an attractive old friend throw her off track. She was an adult. She could handle this.

“Well, I guess there are worse people I could have for neighbors,” she said, even as a jolt of anxiety coursed through her. “Ax murderers, for instance.”

He gave her a spin before responding. “True. I’m nowhere near as dangerous as an ax murderer.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” she muttered.

Her pulse began to drum when he grinned broadly.

While certainly not as threatening as an ax murderer, there was no denying that living close to Max was a dangerous proposition.

Then why, Prim wondered, couldn’t she keep from smiling?

C
hapter
T
wo

Max pulled khakis and a plaid button-down shirt from his closet. After a momentary hesitation, he grabbed a tie. There would be hell to pay if he met Eliza Shaw wearing his normal summer attire of cargo shorts and a T-shirt.

He added an extra shot of espresso to his travel coffee mug before heading out the door. His former high school classmate had insisted on meeting with him right away. Since he didn’t have anything on his calendar other than returning phone calls and e-mails, he’d let her set the time and place.

Though he had time to respond to a few more e-mails, he left shortly after receiving the call. Not out of a desire to be on time—although Eliza
was
a stickler for promptness—but because he didn’t like to rush.

He drove downtown with the windows down. Though he spotted a couple of open spaces on Main Street, he parked a couple of blocks away, leaving the prime spots for tourists. Good Hope merchants, which made up the majority of his clients, depended on money brought in by year-round visitors.

Max stood beside his car for a moment, breathing in the fresh morning air. One of the benefits of living in a place like Good Hope was being able to saunter instead of scurry from appointment to appointment. He’d done too much of that when he’d worked for a large CPA firm in Madison.

In this small community on the shores of Green Bay, there was plenty of time to stop and smell the roses. Or rather, be engulfed by the overpowering scent of jasmine wafting up from the large pot outside of the Enchanted Florist.

“Women love flowers. I suggest you take a moment and pick up a bouquet for your sweetheart.”

The familiar male voice had Max turning, a smile already on his lips.

Dressed in a uniform of crisp, tan pants and a dark brown shirt, Sheriff Leonard Swarts rocked back on the heels of his shiny boots. Despite the large gap between his front teeth, Len was a handsome man who’d earned the nickname Silver Fox years ago because of his thick thatch of gray hair.

“Morning, sheriff.” Max barely refrained from shoving his hands into his pockets. The sheriff had been a frightening figure when Max had been a boy. Even now, closing in on sixty-five, the man had an imposing presence.

For over two decades Leonard had patrolled the roads of Good Hope. At six feet four inches, with his broad shoulders and large hands, the man reminded Max of a sturdy oak.

“The sign says there’s a special on roses.”

Max glanced at the chalkboard set on an easel next to the front door, more out of form than interest. “Thing is, I don’t have a sweetheart.”

“Then what’s this I hear about you and Eliza meeting up at the Bake Shop this morning?”

Though Max hadn’t mentioned the meeting to anyone, he wasn’t surprised Leonard had heard. The man had his finger on the pulse of the community. It was the speculative gleam in the sheriff’s eyes that had Max spreading his hands. “Strictly business, lawman.”

Even as Leonard chuckled, his gaze sharpened. “Heard Primrose Bloom Delaney is back.”

This time Max’s smile came easily. “With her two boys. They’ve rented the house next to mine.”

“Seem to recall you two were tight in high school.”

Max hesitated. “Prim and I were debate partners.”

“Is that what it was?” Leonard grinned. “Well, you be sure and give your new neighbor my regards.”

The sheriff’s radio squawked. When he stepped away to answer, Max resumed his stroll.

Eliza had mentioned she wanted to discuss the Cherries’ finances. He tamped down his annoyance. It was just like her to snap her fingers and not give him time to prepare.

It had been the same when she’d contacted him to do the annual audit of the Cherries’ books two years ago. The previous accountant had made a last-minute move to Florida, leaving her scrambling for a replacement. Max hadn’t let himself be pushed, though she’d certainly tried. In the end, Eliza had been pleased with the thoroughness of his report.

Not that she’d implemented any of his suggestions. The treasurer still used the old ledger method to keep track of accounts, the board still only met semiannually, and they’d yet to bring anyone on to pursue grants.

Those first two audits had been straightforward with no blips. This year, it hadn’t taken long for him to become concerned, then alarmed.

Max assumed the meeting this morning was to discuss the steps the Cherries planned to take to remain solvent. He couldn’t understand why Eliza had set such an important business meeting at Blooms Bake Shop, a business owned by a woman she barely tolerated.

Once again, he reminded himself that she was the client.

As it was a beautiful day, Max waited outside the bakery, enjoying the sunshine and the cool breeze from the bay. Although it was barely nine a.m., the quaint street already bustled with tourists. They scurried in and out of shops, reminding him of the pet mice he’d had as a kid.

From the number of people entering Beckett Cross’s Muddy Boots café, Max wasn’t surprised his friend’s income had soared this year. He had no doubt these same tourists would be renting kayaks and sailboats later this morning before attending a fish boil or a performance at the Northern Sky Theater in the evening.

But this crush was nothing compared to how it would be in several weeks. Visitors and locals would swarm the streets at the end of June to enjoy all the festivities the Cherries had planned. The weeklong series of events would culminate with the big bash, the Independence Day parade, followed by fireworks over the bay.

All the merchants would benefit, including the woman clipping down the sidewalk in bright red heels and a white sleeveless dress with bold swaths of color across the front. Members of the Shaw family had been forces to be reckoned with in the Good Hope business community since Victorian times.

Max noticed several men checking her out as she passed by. Eliza didn’t spare them a second glance. Though Max was usually drawn to dark-haired women, Eliza’s beauty left him cold.

As she drew close, he lifted a hand in greeting. She gave an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment. The slight frown on her classically sculpted face disappeared when she stopped to speak with the Cherries board president, Lynn Chapin.

Oh, great
, Max thought,
she’s bringing backup
.

“Good morning.” He smiled warmly when Eliza concluded her conversation and drew close. “Will Lynn be joining us later?”

“No,” the brunette snapped. As if realizing she’d crossed the line into rudeness, she offered a smile and added in a cordial tone, “I asked Lynn to join us, but she had another meeting scheduled.”

“That’s too bad.” Max liked Lynn, but dealing with Eliza was enough of a challenge. Opening the door to the bakery, he stepped aside to let her enter. “You’re ready to discuss my recommendations.”

Eliza’s short nod sent her bob swinging like a dark curtain before falling back into place. “That and several other matters of importance. I’ll be updating Lynn later today on the results of our conversation.”

“What other matters do—?”

“Not yet.” Her razor-sharp voice sliced the air.

Max clenched his jaw so tightly it ached.

“Sorry. I’m not fit for cordial conversation until I’ve got at least two shots of espresso in me.” Eliza flashed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and moved directly to the counter. “A mocha and a cherry Danish.”

Hadley Newhouse, Ami’s second-in-command, manned the counter. Her long, honey-blond hair was pulled back in a low tail. Though he knew she often worked late at the Flying Crane, Hadley looked bright and cheery in a hot-pink T-shirt that proclaimed “Baking Up Some Love,” the new slogan for Blooms Bake Shop.

“Coming right up. Have a seat and I’ll bring it out to you,” Hadley said with a pleasant smile.

“Fine. Just make sure the mocha is extra hot.” With an imperious wave of her hand, Eliza turned on her stilettos and walked over to one of the brightly painted tables.

“Hey, Max, a mocha and cherry Danish for you, too?” Hadley said with a wink when he reached the counter.

“Yes to the Danish, but make it black coffee for me.” Relaxing under the warmth of her smile, Max gestured with his head to Eliza. “You handled that like a pro.”

“Well, she’s just lucky the customer is always right. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t had years of practice dealing with difficult people.” Hadley’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Frankly, I’m surprised she has the nerve to show her face in here. I bet she only got her courage because Ami’s away on her honeymoon.”

The warm smile Hadley had bestowed on him disappeared as her gaze settled on Eliza.

Max turned to see the executive director of the Cherries tapping a perfectly manicured nail on the table in an impatient gesture. Something told him this was going to be a long morning.

He pulled out his wallet as Hadley placed their order on the tray. She gestured to a blue table off to the side. “That table would give you more privacy.”

“The queen has already chosen.” Max chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep her safely away from the rest of the customers.”

“Thank you.” Hadley mouthed the words, her blue eyes twinkling.

Picking up the tray, Max walked to where Eliza sat. He placed the cups and plates on the pink tabletop and set the tray aside before taking a seat opposite her.

After casting the pastry a calculating look, Eliza picked up the Danish. “It looks passable.”

Personally, Max thought the pastry looked mouthwateringly good. One bite confirmed his assessment.

Eliza set down the Danish. “We’ll start with your audit recommendations, then move on to several other matters. It’s imperative we stay focused. I’m on a very tight schedule today.”

In other words, no small talk. Fine with him.

“As I emphasized when we spoke previously, this matter requires immediate attention.”

Max opened his briefcase. He slipped out the report he’d shared last week with her and the executive board.

Eliza shifted her gaze to the clock on the wall that proclaimed “It’s Cupcake Time.” From the distant look in her eyes, Max knew she wasn’t admiring the various cupcakes that designated the hours.

Without warning, she refocused those steely gray eyes on him. “How did I miss it?”

Okay, so they’d revisit what went wrong.
Then
they’d discuss the changes that needed to be made.

“It’s easy for boards of old, established groups to become complacent. When things run smoothly for so long, they grow lax in their oversight. Floyd, as board treasurer, should have caught what was going on. However, Gladys, as treasurer of the Cherries, bears the bulk of the responsibility. And—”

Eliza held up a hand, stopping him. “Although Gladys feels badly about what occurred, the responsibility is mine. I’m the executive director. I should have been scrutinizing the P&L statements. I should have asked myself how bills were getting paid when we’d scaled down our fundraising. I should have seen we were depleting our savings.”

Max didn’t argue. “You might have noticed if you were meeting quarterly.”

“Semiannual meetings have been the practice for decades.” Eliza lifted the cup of mocha but made no move to drink. “Per your recommendation, we’ll now be meeting quarterly.”

“You need to computerize the books.”

“Gladys has always refused to embrace new technology.” Eliza’s inscrutable gaze gave no indication of her thoughts on the matter. She set down her cup. “That’s not an issue now, as she handed in her resignation this morning.”

“She what?” Max dropped his mug to the table with a clatter.

“She resigned. This is her seventy-fifth year as a Cherrie, and she figured it was a good time to bow out.” Eliza frowned, then her expression cleared. “The official stance is she’s leaving the organization in order to pursue other interests. It plays well as she’s deeply involved in rehearsals for
George M
.”

Max knew all about the woman’s involvement in the patriotic play put on by the local community theater. This year they’d chosen
George M
, the Broadway musical that had produced such favorites as “It’s a Grand Old Flag” and “Yankee Doodle Dandy.”

“What about the Independence Day parade?” He and Gladys were co-chairs for the event this year. Max couldn’t say he was sorry to see her go. She’d been too busy with all her other social projects to be of any help. “Do you have a replacement in mind?”

“The person who replaces Gladys will take on the parade co-chair role. Which means you’ll mentor them.” Eliza’s cool gray eyes met his. “It can’t be helped. The other Cherries already have their assigned tasks.”

Great. He would get the new person. Still, could whomever they chose be worse than Gladys? Max took a bite of Danish, considered.

“The parade is less than a month away.” Max washed the pastry down with a gulp of coffee. “How soon will you have her replacement on board?”

“Our next meeting is Monday. My plan is to take nominations, vote, and confirm that same day.”

“Make it someone with a strong accounting background.”

“Who is chosen is up to the membership.” Eliza’s voice rose, garnering a curious look from a couple of tourists settling in at the other table. Visibly restraining herself, she continued in a softer, but no less determined tone. “It isn’t your concern.”