Page 18 of Blame it on the Bet
“I assure you, it does not, Mr. Truitt,” she spits at me.
From sweet bells to hissing harpy in less than five seconds. Impressive.
“Miss O’Halloran, why are you making this so adversarial? Your father and I had many a pleasant conversation about this. Clearly it was his intention—his wish—to sell the pub and cash out.”
I hear her suck in a deep breath. I’m trying. God knows I’m trying. But she’s making it hard.
“Yeah, well, that’s when he didn’t want us to know what was going on with his finances. Now we know. And now we intend to do something about it,” she informs me coolly.
“Oh? And what do you plan to do—get a loan? Cash in your retirement plan? Oh, wait, you’re a public defender, right? You probably don’t have a retirement plan…” I realize that I’m sounding nasty, so I pause and reset, coming back with a softer, conspiratorial approach. “C’mon, Hennessy, you’re a smart woman. You know what I’m offering is a good deal. There are other, less scrupulous developers who’d come in here and rip it out of your hands.”
There is a long, tense silence.
“Good night, Mr. Truitt,” she grits out at last and hangs up the phone on me.
“Good night, Hennessy,” I murmur to the dial tone.
…
I have to admit, Miss Lucy puts on a better breakfast spread than any hotel I’ve ever stayed at. Fresh fruit along with light and fluffy pancakes and crispy bacon are served up as soon as I come downstairs.
“Wow. This coffee is amazing,” I murmur appreciatively into my mug.
“Oh, nonsense,” she says skeptically, taking a seat across from me at the table.“I’m sure a man like you has had plenty of coffee in places like France and Italy and Costa Rica.”
“Well, maybe,” I agree. “But this is, by far, the best cup I’ve ever had on American soil.”
She doesn’t comment, but I catch the flush of pride that washes over her soft, well-creased face.
“So, what are your plans for today, Mr.Truitt? And should I expect the pleasure of your company again tonight?”
I hold up a finger while I swallow a mouthful of the pancakes.
“No offense, Miss Lucy, but I hope not. I’d like to be on a plane home tonight. But I can’t leave until I settle some business here.”
“O’Halloran’s?”
Does everyone know everything in this town? “Uh…yes, actually,” I say with a nod, as I tuck into another pancake.
She looks down into her mug and swishes the contents around. I get the distinct impression she’s considering this situation, an impression that’s confirmed when she speaks again.
“Mr. Truitt, are your parents still with us? That is, if you don’t mind my asking…”
“No, not at all,” I assure her. “They are both alive, yes.”
“And are you close?”
I pause and consider telling her a lie, but there’s no point. “No, ma’am. We’re…estranged.”
She nods as if she expected as much.
“You see, the O’Halloran girls were very close to their father, especially after their mother passed away while the little one was still in elementary school. And now, don’t ya know, they see that pub as a part of their father. And…”
I can tell she’s not sure she should continue.
“It’s all right, Miss Lucy, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Please, go ahead.”
She gives me a sweet, pink-lipped smile.
