Page 72

“And this sale nonsense? Where did that come from?” Gram went ahead and answered her own question as she sat down. “From Harlan’s tiny head. That’s where.”

Well, actually...

“It’s a mistake, Mags. Bad information. Nothing more.” Celia put her hand over Gram’s and held it there for a few seconds before moving on to scone distribution.

“He’s tried this before. Remember?” Gram shook her head. “He never learns.”

“What?” I sat down and listened because this was news to me. “When?”

“It’s no big deal.” Celia kept pouring and setting out plates. “We said no, and he stopped lobbying us.”

Another snort from Gram. “He’s clearly not done trying.”

“Hold up.” They’d lost me, likely on purpose. “What exactly did he do?”

“He presented us with a proposal about a year ago. Talked about how he’d usher the deal and spouted off hiswith me you’llget the best dealnonsense.” Gram mimicked Harlan’s voice in a way that would have been funny if the words weren’t so familiar. “His idea was to take the company national. Expand the customer base. Become a household name and bring more attention to North Carolina ingenuity.”

“And more attention to him. It was clear he wanted to leverage our business to increase his profile and convince those in power that he was irreplaceable,” Celia said.

The play sounded familiar. NOI excelled at that type of maneuvering. Brock bragged more than once about finding a business’s weakness and leaning on it to “convince” those in charge to sell.

Why the hell did I drag Mags’ Desserts into this vicious world?

“Harlan talked about us getting a paycheck withlots of zeros. He kept saying we’d never have to worry about money again.” Gram blew by a snort and moved right to her famouspfft. “I don’t worry about money now, not regularly. We’re fine.”

Celia shot me an intense look. “We are.”

They didn’t need Harlan and his money. They didn’t need NOI or my interference.

A gnawing tension moved in and ticked up in intensity. Once these ladies knew the whole story about the business sale the usual calm of the room would shatter.

“I surely don’t need businessmen coming in here telling me how to make a damn pie,” Gram started muttering under her breath.

I caught a few words. Some were profane. None of them were nice.

Celia ripped her scone into pieces. “Mags’s mood is a reflection of a provision in Harlan’s proposal that would have limited our ability to make desserts and sell them even to friends.”

“Prohibited it thanks to some noncompete nonsense.” Gram’s voice grew louder with each word. “He acted so helpful. Even said he’d run the business until sale. Him.”

Gram like to refer to Harlan as a toad. She was right. The guy was a toad.

“A betrayal. That’s what that was.” Gram sounded fighting mad. “What does he know about desserts? Nothing.”

True, but I’d be happier if they didn’t throw words like “betrayal” around so freely.

“A sale.” Gram worked in one more snort. “As if I’d forfeit control and put that man in charge.”

“Well then.” Celia sent Gram a stern look that saidthat’s enoughbefore turning to me. “I’m sorry you were here for his visit.”

Gram wasn’t ready to stop. “I’m sorry any of us were.”

“We don’t like to bother you with assorted business details.” Celia finally dropped the scone remains. She had crumbs and pieces scattered all over her plate like pastry shrapnel.

Celia didn’t engage in nervous fidgeting. She tended to be the calm one. The one who didn’t grump and stomp around. Seeing Celia in a restless state started alarm bells ringing in my head.

“It’s not your job to worry about us,” Celia said, as if she knew the direction of my thoughts.

Nice try at placating, but she was wrong about this. Dead wrong.