Elaine crossed and gently traced the letters with her fingertips. “I had forgotten all about this.”
“Who was Sadie?”
“She was a local girl who worked for my grandmother for a time.”
“Is she still in town?”
“She passed away in the 1990s.”
Libby wondered if a search in the local archives would reveal much about Sadie. Even as the thought occurred to her, she wondered why it should matter.
Libby followed Elaine to her truck and slid into the passenger seat. Elaine started the engine, put it in reverse, and backed up and turned around as if she had done it a million times.
“It’s a beautiful space.” Libby clicked back through images of the domed roof—the glass cut the light into a rainbow of colors.
The truck bumped and rocked up the hill toward the road that led to the circular drive in front of the house. Elaine pulled up beside Libby’s car.
She wondered again why Elaine’s grandmother had turned her back on this incredible space. “I’ll put the proposal together and email it by tonight.”
“I’m having a little dinner tonight. It’ll be Margaret, Colton, and the boys. My daughter, Lofton, might also attend. Bring it in person and join us.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“Yeah, sure. That would be great. Thank you. What time?”
“Five. I know it’s early, but the boys will be ready for bed by seven. Children have a way of taking over our lives in the best ways.”
“So I’ve been told.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
LIBBY
Monday, June 8, 2020
The Woodmont Estate
As Libby was about to drive away from the Woodmont Estate toward Bluestone, her phone chimed with a text from Sierra. Meet me at the general store. S. She texted back a thumbs-up emoji and then put her car in gear and headed for the center of town.
Parked in front of the old store was Sierra’s red MINI Cooper. Libby nosed her car behind Sierra’s and crossed the sidewalk to the front door. The large picture window was covered in brown paper with a GOING OUT OF BUSINESS sign. The door’s worn handle was made of tarnished brass. A spiderweb and a bird’s nest sat atop the transom.
She pushed open the door and stepped from the bright summer sunlight into a dingy space filled with shadows and stale air. The floors and the three remaining shelving units were covered in dust. Across the room stood the storekeeper’s counter. On top of the counter was a sealed mason jar filled with clear liquid.
Libby picked up the jar and cleaned off its metal lid. She had lived in this area long enough to know that this was moonshine and long past its shelf date for safe consumption. Either way it had to be toxic as hell. “Sierra, please tell me you didn’t buy this place.”
“I bought it!” Her voice echoed from a darkened back room seconds before she appeared. Sierra had changed into a black T-shirt, fringed jeans that hit midcalf, and red sandals with a thick cork sole.
“You’re serious?” Libby asked.
Sierra’s grin brightened, as it always did when she was a little panicked. “The good news is that I bargained the seller down considerably.”
“What about the bank loan to renovate the building?”
A small shrug lifted her shoulder. “I didn’t get the loan.”
“Why not? What about the land you inherited from Adam? Wasn’t that going to be your collateral?”
“The land is in a trust for the next ten years. His family feared he would marry a gold digger.” The bright smile dimmed for a split second and then returned. “Tanner thought I could take out a bank loan against the property, but as it turns out, it requires his father’s approval.”
Libby kind of sympathized with the man. This was not the soundest investment, and keeping the money in a trust would mean Sierra would have resources down the road. “You can’t persuade your father-in-law?”
“He won’t budge.”
She walked through the dusty room. “And this will be your sandwich shop.”
“It’s just what the area needs. There are enough pizza places in a twenty-mile radius, which is fine if you’re feeding kids or want an easy meal. But if you want a nice picnic lunch to take with you to one of the dozen wineries in the area, then you’ll come to me. Anything I sell will nicely complement a picnic basket. In fact, that’s what I’m going to call my place. Picnic.”
“Picnic.” She could kind of see it, but she already knew Sierra would be working long hours for marginal profits at best.
“Simple. Straightforward. How long until you launch?”