Jamie grinned at the noise and held a bowl of fruit in his direction. “Have some. My treat.”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s a free sample of what your restaurant is serving for dessert tonight,” she said. “You do know that we’re in business together, don’t you?”
“I saw the invoice.”
Her lips twitched. “Did you fire your chef for crossing enemy lines?”
“No. Gordon is in charge of his kitchen. I’m lucky to have him.”
Jamie jiggled her bowl to tempt him, and the glistening red berries made his mouth water. It was also a reminder that if he’d eaten something instead of gulping numerous cups of coffee, he might be doing a better job of handling this situation.
“So, top chefs do rule their territory,” she mused.
“That’s one way of putting it.” Zack thought of Gordon’s contract. It gave him broader authority than anyone else employed at Mar Vista, even Rick Lopez. The competition was fierce for a chef with Gordon Chen’s standing. Zack probably couldn’t have gotten him if he and his wife hadn’t wanted to raise their children in a rural setting like Warrington, California.
“Poor Mr. Denning. There’s a fiefdom in his kingdom that he can’t command.” Jamie ate a berry with unabashed pleasure, then licked a bead of ruby juice from her finger.
Zack hung on to his resolve and concentrated.
“Come on,” she urged. “Declare defeat and eat a few.”
“I don’t need anything.” His voice came out stiffer than he’d intended. “I want to discuss...”
His words were interrupted by the crunch of truck wheels on gravel. The pickup parked and the passengers ambled across to look at the spinach. Another car pulled in behind them.
“Excuse me,” Jamie said. “You comprehend the importance of customers, don’t you? People who buy what you want to sell. Catch my drift?”
Yeah, he got it. She refused to part with her land. But surely there was something he could offer...perhaps pay for renovations to make her produce stand more acceptable, though moving her was his top choice. His guests would still see the signs as they approached the resort, but he could have new ones painted that were rustic and charming, rather than garish.
“Loganberries?” queried one of the newcomers as she lifted a basket and sniffed. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“They’re yummy,” Jamie told her. “Kind of a cross between a raspberry and a boysenberry. Delicious in jam, pies, whatever.”
“We’re staying at the state park,” the woman said, wrinkling her nose. “No camper. Roughing it, or I’d bake a pie.”
Jamie smiled, a wide, unaffected smile that transformed her ordinarily pretty face into something truly striking. “That reminds me of the summer my mom made jam using a camp stove. She swore she’d never do it again. Tell you what—if you have a covered pot, you can make berries and dumplings.”
“Really?” the woman said, plainly intrigued. “We have sugar and I brought biscuit mix for pancakes.”
“That’s all you need. Cook it the same as you’d cook chicken and dumplings, only sweetened, and drop the dough into the simmering berries.”
“Yum. I’m going to try that.” She selected three pints, and told her husband they should come again before their vacation was over.
Zack had planned to wait for Jamie’s customers to leave so they could finish their discussion, but he couldn’t be sure of getting her full attention with the constant disruptions. It was amazing that people drove this far from town and the main highway to buy fruits and vegetables. The view was a plus, of course, and her produce was first-rate.
“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
