The Magnolia Inn(8)

The cat gave him her best disgusted look and settled on the other end of the sofa.

“Worthless animal. I bet a dog would fetch my beer,” he fussed at her.

He went straight to the refrigerator, got out another bottle, and headed back to the sofa. He picked up his phone and called the nearest pizza place. It rang five times before he remembered that it was a holiday. He had his finger on the “End” button when someone said, “Pop’s Pizzeria.”

“Y’all open and delivering?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. This Tucker?”

“Yep. Will you send your delivery guy out here with my regular order?”

“Hand-tossed supreme with extra meat and cheese, and a container of marinara on the side, right?”

“You got it,” Tucker said.

He meant to turn off the phone when he finished his order, but he forgot. It rang again, and he checked the ID and laid it back down. Dixie Realty, Belinda’s business—it could wait.

He picked up the remote and found a John Wayne western on television. Ten minutes into the movie, as he was reciting the dialogue with the Duke, someone pounded on his door. He stumbled to the door with his wallet in hand, expecting to see the pizza delivery kid bringing his order.

“Dammit! What are you doing here?” he asked when he saw Belinda on the other side of the door.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in out of the cold?” she replied.

“What the hell do you want? Don’t you know when I don’t answer the phone that I don’t want to work? This is a holiday,” he answered.

She pushed her way past him. “I’m not happy that I had to drive out here—it’s a holiday for me, too.” She removed her scarf and hat. “Melanie was my best friend, and I know she’d hate to see you living like this. Why don’t you get out of this trailer and let me find you a decent apartment?”

“It keeps the wind and rain off, it reminds me of the good times Melanie and I had, and it beats paying rent. But come right in. Make yourself at home. Do the dishes while you’re here,” he said.

“I’m not your maid, although it looks like you could use one.” She tossed a dirty shirt off the sofa and sat down. “I’m here on business. I’ve got a really good business deal for you.”

He leaned against the refrigerator door and waited.

“Well?” she said.

“I’m listenin’.”

“Half interest in the Magnolia Inn is up for sale. It’s the place where Melanie and I—”

He threw up a hand. “I know that y’all had a senior tea there. She told me all about it. Why’s only half interest for sale?”

“Sugar and Jasper, the owners, left the place to her only niece, Jolene, and his only nephew, Reuben. Jolene wants to keep it. Reuben wants to sell. Reuben has authorized me to act on his behalf. You interested?”

“Are you kiddin’ me? Half ownership? No, thank you,” he said. “I don’t share. It hurts too bad when . . .” He let the sentence drop and swallowed the lump in his throat. “You should know that. I don’t usually even hire a helper when I do work on your houses. Besides, come on, Belinda—half ownership with a woman? Melanie would haunt me for sure.”

“It’s business, not love. I’ve been in the Magnolia Inn lots of times. There are two big bedrooms on the ground floor and six that Sugar and Jasper rented on the second level. You can choose your room, do some repairs, and make a nice profit every year. It’s a full-time job for you until spring. After you get the renovations done, you can come back, live back in this ratty trailer, and just rake in the money,” Belinda told him. “Or, if you want, you can stay on and help Jolene run the place.”

He raked his hand through his dark hair. “I don’t cook.”

“Surely Jolene does if she’s plannin’ to run a bed-and-breakfast,” Belinda said.

Tucker ran a hand down over his square jaw, which sported two days of dark growth. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’ve got another buyer who’d like to invest in the place, so you’ve got twenty-four hours,” Belinda said.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow. Call you at the office?”

“I’ll be there from nine to five.”

The noise of a car stopping too quick on gravel took his attention to the door. “I hear my pizza delivery kid. Want to stay? I’ve got an extra beer.”

Belinda glanced over at Melanie’s picture. “I’m serious, Tucker. She would want you to move on, and I can’t stay for pizza and beer. Ray and the kids are waiting for me to come home and make our traditional New Year’s supper. You better eat black-eyed peas and something green if you want yours to be prosperous.” She stood, crammed her hat onto her head, and wrapped her scarf around her neck. “This is a good deal for you, and it’ll get you out of this sorry excuse for a home. I hope you don’t let it pass you by.”

“I said I’d think about it,” Tucker answered.

Belinda pushed the door open and disappeared out into the cold night air. She and Melanie had been best friends since they were in the church nursery together, but they looked nothing alike. Melanie had been a tall, slim-built brunette with green eyes. Belinda—a short dark-haired lady—had gained weight with every one of her three kids.