Free Suede to Rest by Diane Vallere

asking where to get a sewing machine.”
    â€œThis is temporary. It’s not like I’m setting up camp here.”
    â€œKeep telling yourself that.”
    Our conversation was interrupted by the loud rumbling of a car out front. Ken climbed out of his black Lexus. By the sounds of it, he was in need of Charlie’s services at least as much as I was. I was surprised to see him, considering his earlier warning about her.
    â€œI need to talk to you. Alone.”
    I looked at Charlie. She took a step backward and held her hands up. “He’s talking to you. I think he’s in denial about his muffler situation.”
    â€œYou’re here to see me? About what, the offer? I already told you, I need more time.”
    â€œThat’s not it. Things have gotten more complicated.” He looked over my shoulder. I followed his gaze to Charlie, who shook her head and walked away. “There’s another offer,” he said after she left the room.
    â€œSomebody else wants to buy the fabric store? Who?”
    â€œCame in about two hours ago. I would have called you sooner but I wanted to check him out to see if he was legit. He’s some finance guy in Los Angeles. Name’s Carson Cole.”
    â€œI need to use your phone.” I snatched Ken’s cell from his hand before he had a chance to say no and dialed Carson’s number from memory. I’d cycled through most of the entry-level curse words by the time he answered and was contemplating a couple of new ones.
    â€œIt’s about time you called me back,” Carson said.
    â€œWhat is wrong with you?”
    â€œI’ve left about a dozen messages on your phone. What’s going on?”
    â€œMy phone is dead. I’ve got about two minutes. You’re trying to buy the fabric store from me? Why?”
    â€œYou heard about my offer. Good. I was wrong. You saying ‘no sale’ to McMichael was a stroke of genius. I got together a couple of private investors. They’ll sell off the inventory for you, then resell the building to McVic for a profit. I heard he’s been in negotiations with a Walmart or a Target or somebody. These are big bucks. Don’t sign away the store to him. We can make a lot more from this if we play our cards right.”
    â€œWe? Our? Us?”
    â€œPoly, this is what I do. And the store, the fabric, that’s what you do. It’s the perfect project to bring us closer together. You should talk to your boss. I bet Giovanni would be interested in the fabrics even if they are dry-rotted. He’ll get you to design some kind of appliqué to hide the flaws.”
    â€œYou didn’t tell Giovanni about the store, did you?”
    â€œYou sound annoyed.”
    â€œI’m tired and cranky and I need a shower and I have to get ready for dinner.”
    â€œYour car’s not done yet? You took it to a licensed mechanic, right?”
    â€œI forgot this isn’t my cell phone. I better go.”
    â€œWait,” he said as I was pulling the phone away from my head. I could have hung up, but I didn’t. I felt bad about snapping at Carson. There was no way he could have known how I felt about the fabric store since being back inside of it. When I’d left our apartment yesterday, I’d expected to drive an hour to San Ladrón, sign some paperwork and maybe have lunch with Ken, and drive home. I hadn’t expected the nostalgic pull of memories that made me think twice about selling. I turned away from Ken and dropped my voice. “A lot has happened since I got here yesterday, and to tell you the truth, I’m tempted to cancel my dinner plans so I can go to sleep early.”
    â€œWho are you going to dinner with?”
    I paused for a second. “Vaughn McMichael. The son of the man who wants to buy the fabric store.”
    â€œOoh, they’re good. You know what they’re doing, right? They’re trying to soften you up, gain an