Not So New in Town Read Online Free PDF Page A

your hair than Vidal Sassoon.”
    “Thanks, I think,” he said dryly. No product gunked up his hair except shampoo and conditioner. But Margo’s spikes didn’t stand on their own without the aid of some gel. He’d hired Margo away from Whole Foods in Raleigh, the next largest city, about twenty minutes east of Harmony, so she didn’t know the history or the mysterious workings of this small town. Where everyone knew everybody, and old stories never died. In fact, they only got embellished…and not in a flattering way. He may have been the Golden Boy in the past, but today he was the subject of some erroneous gossip.
    “So, what is it? You post creepy pictures on Facebook?”
    “No.”
    “Worked for the IRS and audited everyone in town?”
    “Nope.”
    “Sell Ronco vacuum cleaners door-to-door?”
    “Nah.”
    If only. Any of those scenarios would be easier to explain and even rectify than the one he presently dealt with.
    “Who’s out front?” he said, changing the subject as he entered the front of the store.
    He immediately spied the guy Margo had referred to, because he was the only customer in the store and because he did indeed know him.
    He smiled. “Javier, glad you’re here.”
    “Bro!” Javier pulled Brogan in for a man hug, pounding him on the back. “This is awesome.”
    Brogan shook his hand and watched as Javier Coloma, his business partner, sized up the new location for the first time.
    “So, this is the latest?” He took in the shelves lined with packaged organic products, baked goods piled on round tabletops, and bins filled with dried beans and grains.
    Javier nodded with approval. “I like it. Much smaller, but has a nice homey feel. How are the numbers?”
    Not good, but Brogan would catch Javier up to speed later, poring over the books. “Plenty of time for that later.” Brogan opened one of the coolers on the far wall and grabbed two organic beers. And the last of the freshly made oatmeal-and-raisin cookies from the bamboo mobile display rack. Javier followed him to a cozy seating area near the front picture window. “Sit.” Brogan twisted the caps off the beers. “Help yourself to some cookies.”
    They folded themselves into comfortable, armless lounge chairs covered in teal blue chenille, and Brogan slid the container of cookies to the center of the glass coffee table.
    “Business is slow. Haven’t met my projections yet, but we’ll get there. We’ve only been open for six weeks. There’s still time.” Brogan tilted the beer bottle toward his mouth, hoping he didn’t choke from the lies spilling from his lips. Half lies. True, he’d only been open six weeks and hadn’t met his projections. Ten weeks remained in this quarter, but business still sucked, despite all the money he’d poured into this location and the quality product he sold.
    “You need to wake this sleepy town up. Don’t they know that greatness has returned to live among them?” Javier was referring to Brogan’s football glory days in Harmony and at Georgetown. Even though Brogan had loved playing football in high school and college, he’d never entertained thoughts of going pro.
    “That would be Keith Morgan, the famous tennis player. Not me,” Brogan grunted.
    “I remember reading about that. Didn’t the Prince move here a few years ago to raise his daughter? Gave up his wild party days in Miami,” Javier said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t comprehend such strange behavior from a fellow man.
    “Got married, too. Some local chiquita , right?” Javier added.
    Brogan leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee, fiddling with the beer bottle in his hand. Keith Morgan’s first wife had died and left him with a baby girl at the height of his tennis career. He retired from the professional tour and moved to Harmony to raise his daughter. And after meeting Bertie, the interior designer who renovated and decorated his old Victorian house, he’d finally found love and a place he could