Page 3 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
His eyes widened, and I wondered if I’d taken him by surprise with my candor or if he was just pretending. Instead of answering, he said, “Why don’t we sit so we can chat?” He held out his hand toward an open table, and I led the way.
We sat just as Jayne approached with a bag and two coffees. Marc immediately stood and took the coffees from her while Jayne clutched the doughnut bag close to her. “You don’t eat doughnuts?” she said to Marc, then quickly shook her head. “I mean, you don’t have doughnuts.”
He grinned warmly and I wanted to kick him to tell him being attractive and charming wasn’t going to help matters.
“I’ve got a delicious protein shake waiting for me at home, so I’m good, thanks.”
“She won’t share,” Jayne forced out, clutching the bag even tighter. We were going to have to work harder on social interactions with men. I’d thought that her relationship with Thomas Riley was a good sign that she’d been cured of acute awkwardness, but I’d been wrong. It apparently was on a man-to-man basis.
Anthony’s smile faded slightly as he glanced at me, as if needing reassurance that Jayne wouldn’t bite.
“She’s probably referring to me. I don’t share my doughnuts, and if anyone tries to take one, he will lose a finger.” I didn’t smile, trying to show him that I wasn’t joking.
I took a sip from my coffee while eyeing the bag expectantly, but Jayne kept it clenched closely to her chest, no doubt planning to hold the doughnuts for ransom until I finished the run. “So,” I said, “why have you been stalking me?”
Anthony quirked an eyebrow. “Stalking? Hardly. More like looking for an opportunity to approach you that wouldn’t be noticed by any of your friends, family, or coworkers. It’s very hard to do. You’re a moving target.”
I glanced around, glad we were in a public place and that Jayne was with me. Alarm bells were starting to go off inside my head, the same ones that rang out when Sophie or my handyman, Rich Kobylt, asked to talk to me. It was usually something bad—like wood-boring beetles in the dining room floor—and always something I didn’t want to hear, such as the cost of the repair.
“So why did you want to see me?” I asked.
“I’d like to make a deal with you.”
“A deal?” Jayne repeated.
Anthony leaned forward. “You may or may not be aware that I own Magnolia Ridge Plantation—or, as it’s known now, Gallen Hall. It was formerly owned by the Vanderhorst family—the same family who once owned your house on Tradd Street. It was purchased at auction by my grandfather back in the twenties, sold shortly afterward, and then bought by Marc a few years ago. My grandfather was the man found buried beneath your fountain, if you recall.”
Like I could forget. I kept still, trying not to remember the menacing ghost of Joseph Longo, or how his body came to be buried in my garden along with that of former owner Louisa Vanderhorst. “Okay,” I said, not sure where this was heading but fairly certain I didn’t want to go there.
“You may also recall that Marc and I started a winery venture together a few years ago, using the land around the plantation.”
“Vaguely.” The alarm bells were getting louder now. Jack had recently read to me—somewhat gleefully—an article in thePost and Courierabout a Longo family member accusing Marc of swindling and threatening legal action.
“Yes, well, my dear brother knew the land wasn’t good for a vineyard—a fact he kept from me when he told me from the goodness of his heart he was going to allow me to buy out his share and give me a good deal.” His hands formed themselves into fists. “A good deal on worthless land.”
“That wasn’t very nice,” Jayne said, her tone similar to the one she used when settling disputes between the twins. And Jack and me. She was a nanny, after all.
“You could say that,” Anthony said, giving Jayne an appreciative grin.
She blushed, then resumed her deliberate breathing.
“So what does that have to do with me? He’s married to my cousin, but we’re not close.”
“I know. Which is why I was thinking we needed to talk.” He leaned very close. “It seems we both have a bone to pick with my brother.”
“We do? If you’re referring to Jack’s career, he just signed a new two-book deal and is hard at work on the new book. Marc gave us a setback, but that’s behind us.”
“Is it? I thought Marc wanted to film his movie in your house.”
“He does. And I believe Jack told him where he could file that idea.”
Anthony smiled smugly. “I’m sure he did. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting your husband, but I’ve heard Marc rant about him often enough to know they’re not friends.”
Jayne coughed.
“You could say that,” I said. “Which is really why we’re putting all of that in the past and moving forward.”
“Yes, well, too bad Marc didn’t get that memo.”
