A Place with Briar. Amber Leigh Williams

cook in L.A.” At his dubious look, Olivia laughed. “That’s Lower Alabama, newcomer.” Olivia’s digital watch beeped and she cursed. Dropping her fork to her plate with a sharp clang, she pushed her chair back to rise. “Duty calls.”

      “You’re going to work already?” Briar asked. “You didn’t finish your breakfast.”

      “I’ll survive, Mama.” She took her plate to the sink to rinse. “The bar doesn’t open until noon. I’m helping that new girl move her stuff into the shop upstairs.”

      Briar gasped. “I forgot all about that!”

      “Don’t get up. Two pairs of hands will get the job done fine,” Olivia assured her as she dried hers. “And Adrian’s going to sneak up when she can.”

      “I’ll head over later to see if you need anything,” Briar said. She’d fit it in between fixing a leaky sink and weeding flower beds. “Call me if y’all need me before then.”

      “You just do what you do best first.” Olivia leaned over and kissed the top of Briar’s head. “Be good.” She sent Cole a sidelong grin as she headed out the screen door. “Don’t give her any trouble now, ya hear?”

      “I wouldn’t dare,” he assured her. “I’ll come by later for that margarita.”

      “You do that. First one’s on me. See you two lovebirds later.”

      When the door rapped shut, Briar turned to him with a grimace. “I’m sorry about that.”

      “She’s a feisty one.”

      “Always has been,” Briar said with a weary sigh. “Trust me. There’s never a dull moment around here.”

      “You grew up here?”

      “Yes. My mother established the inn after she married my father. A short time later, Olivia’s parents bought the bar from a couple of retirees and rebuilt from the ground up. They lived in the apartment upstairs. When they retired, they handed it all over to Olivia. Ever since I took over, it seems I’m either over at the tavern yelling at her to turn the music down or she’s over here making a fool of me in front of my guests.”

      “You’re right. Never a dull moment. Can I have another one of these?”

      Her face lit with a quick smile. “Finish them off, by all means.” She passed the basket of cinnamon rolls across the table and felt the glow spread from her heart to her cheeks when he took two. “I’m glad you like them.”

      “Mmm. This is all wonderful, Briar. I don’t remember the last time I had a fine meal like this.”

      In an instant, his eyes clouded over again. She wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand, squeeze it reassuringly. Anything to erase that haunted look from his face.

      Before she could react or resist, the phone rang. She lifted her napkin to dab the corners of her mouth. “Excuse me.”

      He raised a hand to show that her departure didn’t bother him.

      She sprinted into the entryway. Hopefully, it was another customer calling to reserve a suite. Or an investor. Please, let it be one or the other. “Hanna’s Inn,” she greeted, pulse pumping in her ears.

      “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