Last Chance Knit & Stitch by Hope Ramsay Page A

mine.”
    “Uh, no, not really. The building belongs to the First Bank of South Carolina, and they’ve been trying to off-load it for years. And it would appear that there is a buyer for it. Although the buyer is a mite ticked off that it’s been leased.”
    “Who did you lease it to?”
    “Simon Wolfe.”
    “Dang!” She stomped her foot, turned around, paced three steps and then back. She wanted to put her fist through the wall. But that would probably hurt. A lot. “I’m gonna kill him.”
    “Uh, don’t do that Molly. Stone would have to arrest you, and it would break Coach’s heart.”
    “Ha. This is not funny.”
    “Well, honey, you just bide your time for a while and maybe someone else will kill him for you. For a dude who’s been here for less than a week, he sure has managed to tick off a lot of people. You take my aunt Rose? She has a brand-new Ford Fusion, and she’s going to have to drive eighty miles to get that car its warranty service. Sure is a sad time.”
    “Then why did you lease the building to him?”
    “Easy. He’s a teammate. And the way I remember it, we wouldn’t have ever made it to the state championship without his foot. So I owed him one. And the building was empty, and he didn’t even want me to do any cleaning or upgrading, which was kind of a godsend because the place is a mess. And also, the bank would have been furious with me if I hadn’t.”
    Molly made an inarticulate sound that verged on a Rebel yell.
    “Honey,” Arlo said, “relax. Maybe I can find you something else. What are you looking for?”
    “Garage space. Someplace to start a restoration business.”
    He snorted. “Well, you just wait and Wolfe Ford will eventually be available. After Ira’s family strips it clean.”
    She glared at him.
    “All right,” he said with a professional grin. “I’ll just do a little search for you and see what might be available. How’s that?”
    Molly let Arlo appease her. “All right.”
    “Good, I know where to find you. I’ll give you a call tomorrow sometime, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    She turned and trudged right out of the real estate office, across the street, and up into Eugene Hanks’s law office. If she was going to spend the money to rent commercial space, she had better get her hands on the Shelby, and fast.
    But when she found out that Eugene couldn’t represent her, on account of the fact that he was already representing Simon Wolfe, she was, really and truly, ready to commit murder.

CHAPTER
8
    O n Saturday, a week after his father’s untimely death, Simon sat amid the flowers in his mother’s perennial garden. He’d spent the last few days making himself useful by weeding the bed, edging the garden’s border, and staking up foxgloves and delphiniums. This morning, he was hiding out with his sketch pad, doing studies of the flowers while Mother got ready for her garden club meeting.
    The gardening aside, he felt like a prisoner in this house. Not only had Mother failed to recognize him, but, thanks to Aunt Millie, Mother was convinced he was the new combination handyman, caretaker, gardener, cook, butler, chauffeur, and footman.
    He didn’t mind taking care of his mother or her garden, but he hated every minute she treated him like an employee. His emotions were so deep and complicated he didn’t even have words to express them. It was painful to realize that the scars of his childhood still festered.
    He was itching to paint. But his painting equipment wouldn’t be there for another couple of days. His assistantwas on his way with the unfinished Harrison commission. At least he had a place to set things up. The old Coca-Cola bottling plant was way too big for him, but the lease had been cheap, and Arlo Boyd had allowed him to take a short-term deal on the place.
    He added shading to his sketch and let the morning sunshine soak in. It was hot here, in a humid way that he’d forgotten. Northern California could get hot, too. But not the same way.