Amber Williams - A Place with Briar

“Ms. Browning?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Jack Fields. I’m with the Baldwin County tax office. I’d like a few minutes of your time.”

CHAPTER THREE

ALL THE BLOOD drained from her face down to her toes. She wanted to shrink to the floor. Without a chair, she leaned against the wall as her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. “Is there a problem, Mr. Fields?” Her voice trembled. She prayed for control and watched her free hand quiver as it reached for a pen on the podium.

“I’m afraid there is. Is this a convenient time to talk or should we schedule a meeting sometime this week?”

She swallowed. “Now’s fine.”

“You are the proprietor of Hanna’s Inn on South Mobile Street in Fairhope, Alabama?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“And you own the adjacent property, as well?”

“I do.”

“I’m sorry to say this, Ms. Browning, but you’re late on your property tax payment. Are you aware of this?”

Of course she was aware of it. The tax plagued her every thought—along with the inn’s other debts. She took a shaky breath. “Mr. Fields, business was very slow this past autumn and winter season. I had to pay an unexpected remodeling charge for one of the shops next door. Plus, there was another hotel established in the downtown area and it took a chunk out of my profits.”

“I sympathize, Ms. Browning, but I’m afraid that failure to pay taxes is a serious offense.”

She took a minute to gather herself. She had to stand up against this. Had to be strong. “I realize that, Mr. Fields, but surely, there can be an extension on the deadline....”

“We’ve already offered the extension. Twice. You did receive the notices we sent?”

She’d received them. And she’d scrimped and saved. But then there was the matter of her car breaking down for the final time. Without a vehicle, she couldn’t haul groceries or landscaping materials. The down payment on the used Honda had burned a devastating hole in what was left of her savings. “I received them, yes.”

“And you failed to comply.”

“It’s not a matter of failed compliance, Mr. Fields. It’s just a matter of simple finance. I have every intention of paying the tax and I will when I have the resources. At the moment, though, I do not have the payment.”

“Ms. Browning, you do know what the penalty for failure to pay your taxes is, don’t you?”

Her head started to spin. The wallpaper whirled sickeningly. “I—”

“The county can seize any assets you hold in your name to account for the debt. In this case, we would be forced to take the property.”

Now she did shrink to the floor. Curling up, she dropped her brow to her raised knees. She struggled to breathe through the panic that assailed her.

“Ms. Browning?”

She couldn’t lose the inn. She just couldn’t. In an instant, she was transported back to last winter, watching her mother wither away before her eyes. Staring out at the bay as if the sight of sun dappling on its blue-gray waters would bring healing where nothing else could.

Tears burned her eyes. “Mr. Fields...” She took a deep breath, doing her best to steady her voice. “My mother, Hanna Browning, a pillar of this community, lost her life last year.”

“Yes, I knew of her illness.” The voice softened. “I’m very sorry, Ms. Browning. I’m also aware of the fact that she was under your care.”

“As you can imagine, the expense of her treatments and everything it took to make her comfortable during her last few months...” Again she had to take a breath. The quaver in her voice had worked its way into her joints and threatened to tear her to pieces. “It was devastating to both my family and the finances we had accumulated over the years.”

“I understand that, ma’am, but—”

“Mr. Fields, please, I need you to understand that I will pay the tax. I always pay my debts. I...I just need more time.”

A long pause followed the waning words. Her heart hammered somewhere between her stomach and spinal cord. The hole it left in her chest throbbed miserably.

“We can give you until mid-July.”

She released the breath she’d held on to as a last resort. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Fields. Thank you so much.”

“Just make sure you get the payment in. Preferably ahead of time.”

“I will. You can be sure of it.” Anything to prevent losing Hanna’s. “Goodbye, Mr. Fields.”

“Have a good day, Ms. Browning.”

She stood to hang the phone back in the cradle. For a long moment, she leaned her head against the wall and concentrated on steadying herself. Her knees quaked, and she ordered them to stop. She wiped her eyes before turning to walk back into the kitchen.

A gasp launched from her throat when she found Cole standing in the hallway just beyond. She clapped a hand over her heart. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Mr. Savitt. I didn’t see you there.”

He said nothing, just scanned her face with a frown.

Oh, dear God, her troubles were no doubt written all over her. How much had he heard?

He stepped forward, into the light. The haunted look had vanished from his face, replaced with concern. “Are you all right?”

She swallowed, her insides squirming in embarrassment and cheeks heating all over again. “Is there...anything I can get you?”

He closed the distance between them in three quick strides. Startled, she pressed her back against the podium. Her breath caught as he hovered close, gaze intense now as he searched her eyes, seeing too much. “Are you all right?” he asked again.

She sucked in a long, steadying breath. “I’m fine.” When he didn’t look convinced, she sighed. “Mr. Savitt, you’re my guest. It’s my job to see to it that you’re all right. Not the other way around.”

“And who sees to it that you are?” he blurted.

Her lips parted. No guest had ever asked her such a question. Certainly not one she had ever met before.

Lips firming, he lowered his penetrating stare. “I...apologize, Ms. Browning.”

With a short shake of her head, she fought for words. “It’s forgotten.”

Hesitant, his gaze latched on to her face once more, spanning her features. “You look exhausted, is all.”

Lifting a hand to her hair, she realized she must look a fright. “I—”

“If you need a break, I’ll be happy to—”

“No,” she refused, finding strength buried beneath the shame. “No, that’s out of the question. I thank you, Mr. Savitt, but the last thing I need right now is a break.”

Silence loomed over them both. Then he slid his hands slowly into his pockets in a gesture of acquiescence. “All right.”

Her eyes avoided his as disbelief again crossed his face. “Really, if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable...”

His face hardened and for an instant, she thought she saw the muscles in his jaw quake formidably. Finally, he pulled in a long inhale and said, “I told you. Just call me Cole.” Turning away, he walked out, the bells jangling over the door in his wake.

She watched him through the windows until he disappeared from view. Then she shook her head.

The man was unbelievable.

And he’d smelled so good up close—like soap, her cinnamon rolls and that very base note she suspected belonged to him alone.

Setting the pen she still held tightly in her hand on the podium, she dragged her fingers through her hair and made her way back to the kitchen.

She stopped short just inside the door.

The table had been cleared. Three clean plates and forks dried in the sink-side drainer.

Did he...?

Something inside her awakened, unfurling, tingling to life. Something that’d been dead for too long to measure.