“Thank you for speaking with me, Ms. Conroe,” he murmured. “I’ll contact you when it’s more convenient.”
“Whatever.”
Just then a young woman squealed and hugged her. “Jamie Conroe. I heard you were here.”
“Kristie, you look fantastic. How are you?”
“Great. You know what? I married Greg Norton, the way I predicted. He finally noticed me the last year of college. And I made him pay for taking so long.... He chased me for weeks before I’d go out with him. I loved it.”
The two women chatted as Zack strode to his car. He definitely had to find a strategic location for their next encounter—on his turf, rather than hers. He’d learned long ago that the person who controlled the environment had the advantage in a negotiation.
* * *
JAMIE DREW A breath of relief after Zack’s departure. The customers were arriving fast and furious—it was strange how they came in waves.
Although Granddad’s stand had always been popular, the volume of shoppers had amazed her until she’d realized the locals knew about the land dispute. Some were showing their support; others were curious. On top of that, she got plenty of tourist traffic. It was a bonus week. She sold out every afternoon except for bits and pieces.
It was a demanding schedule. She had to meet growers before five in the morning, assemble the load for Gordon and count boxes as they were packed into the Denning Enterprises truck at five-thirty. Despite his pickiness, Gordon wasn’t difficult to deal with, and jabbing Zack Denning was a perk. She just wasn’t sure the extra profit was worth it.
Zack’s apology had come as a surprise, and Jamie suspected his lawyer was responsible. Not that he’d genuinely sounded sorry; it was more like he thought Granddad had swindled him. If there was one thing she knew for certain, her grandfather had played fair. She had no idea how the mix-up had occurred, but she wouldn’t let anyone malign one of the best men she’d ever known.
Swallowing, Jamie tried to recapture the peace she’d felt earlier. Why let Zack Denning spoil things?
Yet deep down, Jamie knew part of her trouble stemmed from guilt—she hadn’t been here when Granddad was putting his affairs in order. She should have come, but her marital problems had kept her away. She’d been trying to hold things together, and was embarrassed to be with her family and admit what was happening. It was Tim’s attempts to keep her from visiting Granddad during his final illness that had tipped the scale. She’d stood up to him and walked out.
Perhaps it was okay that she couldn’t easily relax after a confrontation—she didn’t want to forget how to defend herself.
Footsteps broke the quiet and she saw Brad Denning.
“Gordon tells me the strawberries are tasty,” he called. His limp was more pronounced than the day they’d met, and the creases on his forehead were deeply drawn...from pain, she guessed. He must have pushed himself to get this far.
She grabbed the dish of fruit samples and offered it to him. “I hope you aren’t as pigheaded as your brother. He wouldn’t even eat a small one, though his stomach was growling louder than an angry grizzly bear.”
Brad chose a juicy berry and popped it in his mouth. “I can be pigheaded, but not over food. I don’t know any jarheads dumb enough to turn down a tasty meal.”
“Jarheads?” Jamie asked.
Pride flared in his eyes. “It’s a nickname for a marine.”
“Oh, I remember now. Have a seat.”
Sinking into the other chair, he sighed. “This is the farthest I’ve gone in a long time. But it’s great to get outside for exercise instead of on a therapist’s treadmill. I...uh, I’ve had to do some rehab recently.”
“I’ll give you a lift back if you don’t mind waiting. It’s on my route to the bank.”
“My ego says no. My common sense says thanks.”
Jamie had the feeling that Brad would prefer accepting a ride from her, rather than his brother.
“This is the perfect spot to take a break. Have more berries.”
Brad took the bowl and ate several strawberries, then gestured at her empty displays. “Don’t you keep stock for late customers?”
“Nope, unless I have a reservation for something. That’s why I’m still here. An old friend of Granddad’s is coming for the four flats I’ve got stored in the trailer. Otherwise, as I put on my sign, first come, first served. I order the amount I think I can sell and usually get to close early.”
“You sound experienced.”
“As a kid I spent every August with Granddad, so my policies and attitudes come from him. He also had thorough records on the daily turnover.”
“That must make it easier.”
He seemed drowsy and his left hand scratched his shoulder before settling onto his lap.
Jamie’s sensation of peace returned. She liked Brad Denning. It was bizarre that he was the brother of such an arrogant jerk, but siblings could be very different. Her own brother didn’t look like her, and they certainly didn’t have much in common.
As Brad slept, her brain chewed on designs for her next jewelry project. She’d taken a silver-casting class in college for fun. Tim used to be snide regarding her efforts, so it was an ironic triumph that selling the expensive clothes he’d insisted she wear during their marriage provided the money she’d needed for tools and supplies. Hopefully, marketing her jewelry would be a real supplement to her fruit-stand earnings.
Jamie stiffened, despite the comforting warmth of the sun. Tim had been nauseatingly smug in court, claiming she wouldn’t be able to live without him. Fat chance, just like the split lip he’d given her when she told him she was leaving for good. She restrained a giggle as she recalled the contempt in the expression of the judge, who’d privately congratulated her on getting rid of a pompous jackass.
Her last customer, Mrs. Kruger, came and Jamie loaded the four flats she’d bought into her car.
“Thank you, Jamie.” The elderly woman gave her a check in payment. “The jam tastes different made with berries from the Little Blue Fruit Stand. I suppose that sounds silly.”
“It isn’t silly. Granddad used to say this place had a blessing on it.”
“I believe it.” Mrs. Kruger glanced at Brad. He was awake and blinking sleepily at the ocean. “Are you all right, dear? I understood you’ve had trouble with your neighbor.”
“No worries—we’ve straightened it out,” Jamie said. “It was a miscommunication over the property lines.”
“I’m so glad. And you’ve gotten divorced? What a shame.”
“Some marriages aren’t meant to be.”
“Gabe and me, we’ve had fifty-two happy years.” Mrs. Kruger’s attention kept moving in Brad’s direction. “Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Kruger. Right now I’m focusing on my business,” Jamie answered patiently. The motherly types who remembered her from childhood were interested in her romantic plans, though some of the younger wives were also inquisitive, but for entirely different reasons. Jamie had already learned a sour truth—a youthful divorcée was considered dangerous by some women, although her genuine friends weren’t worried.
Mrs. Kruger’s curiosity was transparent as she squinted at Brad Denning.