Thinking of you. Tony
“Show-off,” she mumbled. It would be just like him to send flashy displays of flowers. “But where’s the chocolate?” Cam had always been an overachiever.
“Did someone say chocolate?” A weak voice emanated from the bed. Hadley took one look at her grandma and forced back tears again before going in for a hug.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re back.” Gran leveled her gaze with Hadley’s. “You’re thin and wan. But nothing we can’t fix.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Hadley said. “Worry about you.”
“Tony was here,” Gran said instead, a little groggily. “He told me to tell you hi.”
Hadley smiled for her grandmother’s sake, but secretly thought she’d like to tell him a few things too. However, hi was not high on the list.
“Hadley, I have to tell you something.” Gran took both of Hadley’s hands in hers. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Tony wants to buy my building.” Hadley started to speak but Gran shushed her. “You must promise not to judge him too harshly.”
Hadley pursed her lips before she said something upsetting, like How could you? Instead, she squeezed her grandmother’s hands. “Don’t worry, Gran. I’m going to be here all summer to help you with the business and to help you recover. You know I love the Palace just as much as you do.”
Gran pointed to the little table between her bed and the wall. “He left you something.”
Hadley’s gaze followed to where Gran pointed. No. It could not be. Hanging off the edge of the bedside table, right underneath the flowers her mom must have brought from her garden, was a sticky note, rippling slightly in the current from the air-conditioning.
A yellow sticky note.
Bile rose in her throat as she reached forward and snatched it.
Underneath the words, he’d scrawled his phone number. She calmly pocketed the note, but pure unmitigated anger made her crumple it into a little ball inside her pocket.
Just then, her parents walked in, along with Gran’s nurse and a tall guy in scrubs with a kind smile. “Hi, Mrs. Edwards,” he said. “I’m Nasir. I’ll be taking you down to surgery.”
“Let’s get this over with so I can dance the two-step again,” Gran said as the family all kissed her. Her voice was cheery, but Hadley detected a tinge of bravado. Just before she was wheeled out the door, she gave Hadley a wink and whispered, “Don’t forget the shake.”
As Hadley and her parents prepared to trek down to the surgical waiting room, her mom stifled a yawn. “It’s been a long day already,” she said. “At some point I’ve got to run home and grab some overnight things.”
“I’d love to stay with her,” Hadley said. “I’ve already got all my stuff with me.” She glanced at the ugly beige chair in the corner. Not exactly the bed she’d planned on sleeping in, but it would do.
As she walked out of the room, her fingers brushed against her pants pocket, reminding her of the note. She pulled it out to analyze one last time, struggling to tamp down her anger.
Two things came to mind. One, Cam’s handwriting was just as bad as ever. And two, he was not getting Pooch Palace. Not now, not ever. She’d make certain of it.
Chapter 2
Cam’s in there, all right,” Hadley’s best friend Kit said the next morning. She stood with Hadley and their other best friend Darla across the street from Pooch Palace. “I see his vintage Mustang in the back lot.”
“I’m going to go in there and give him a piece of my mind.” Hadley tried to unball her fists and calm down. “Except I’m so angry I’m seeing splotches. I may not be responsible for my actions.”
“Maybe you should go home and take a nap first,” Darla said. Although she was petite with a cute blond pixie cut, she was tough as nails. And she never hesitated to say what she thought.
The WELCOME HOME, CAM banner was draped clear across Petunia Street over their heads, as flashy as the man it paid homage to.
“I’m glad your grandma’s surgery went well,” Darla said. “But I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”
“Me too.” Worry squeezed Hadley’s abdomen tight. Breathing deeply, she reminded herself that it was sleep deprivation from spending the night curled up in that rock-hard chair beside her grandmother’s bed that was making her bad mood a whole lot worse.
“I’m sorry too,” Kit said. “But quit looking at the banner. You’re just punishing yourself.”
“The whole town is pretty excited Cam’s back,” Darla said. “I mean, he’s the most famous football player in the world.”
Kit shot Darla a look.
“He was definitely a jerk to Hadley a long time ago,” Darla rushed to amend. Then she added, in true Darla fashion, “But he’s still hot.”
“Was the most famous football player,” Kit said, shaking her head sadly. “Before he got his knee crushed.”
Darla gave Hadley a squeeze. “I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”
“It’s fine,” Hadley said. “This is about my grandmother.” Who needed her. “I just wish she would’ve mentioned something to me if she were really thinking about retiring.”
She did not want her grandmother to feel forced to sell the business she’d poured her lifeblood into for the past thirty years, the one that she—and Hadley—loved with all their hearts.
“Maybe she didn’t want to trouble you because you’ve had a lot going on,” Kit said. Practical and nurturing, with big brown eyes and a heart-shaped face, Kit had always been most like an understanding mom, even before she became one. Which Hadley desperately appreciated right now.
Kit took a second to roll a hair elastic from her wrist, bending over to gather up her still-damp mass of dark hair into a ponytail, a reminder to Hadley that both her friends were taking time from their busy mornings to support her.
“You’re here now.” Kit gave her a side hug. “You can make a difference now.”
Hadley flashed a grateful almost-smile at Kit, the optimist in their tight-knit group of three, her sisters-of-the-heart. Hadley’s dad had jokingly dubbed them the three musketeers from the tender age of five, and the moniker had stuck. They had stuck together, through thick and thin, ever since.
Hadley thought of the simple joys of their childhood with a longing that nearly made her tear up again. How had her life gotten so complicated? She’d planned to come home to rest, to get herself together—to eat ice cream on the curb faster than it could dribble down her chin. To be surrounded by her tight-knit circle of family and friends. To play with the dogs.
Except now there would be no more dogs to play with.
“Oh, yoo-hoo, there you three are,” a voice behind them said. Hadley turned to find Anita Morales, one of her grandmother’s good friends and the owner of Ye Olde Yarn, the needlework shop down the street. She was dressed in a vivid floral-print dress with a matching fuchsia purse and shoes. Her poodle, Jesse, wore the same color bows on her ears and had painted toenails.