Small Town Love

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

"I must say, boss, that you sound rather chipper today," Patricia informed him as Vince lay stretched out on his bed at the inn with his cell phone to his ear.

Vince rolled his eyes. "I can promise you that I have never once, in my entire life, sounded chipper."

"Until now," Patricia agreed. "Did you finally get laid then?"

"You are such a lady," Vince intoned dryly. "With a mouth like that on you, it's a miracle you aren't married yet."

"Bite your tongue, boss!" Patricia scolded. "I'm not the marrying type."

Vince stood and walked to the window. He pulled the curtains back to let the Sunday morning sunlight come into his bedroom. The mist was still hanging thick over the surrounding mountains and the view he had of them was pretty spectacular.

He moved his gaze down to main street to see the townsfolk all dressed in their Sunday best heading toward the two churches. He wondered why a town as small as Clifton had two churches but decided it didn't matter. Things would be changing soon.

But, then again, Grace had said that Clifton needed to remain the way it was and that was why Vince had barely slept the night before because he was too focused on attempting to formulate a plan that would make him money but give Grace what she wanted.

"Patricia, I'm calling because I need you to do something for me," Vince admitted.

"I figured that was the reason for your call, sir. I didn't think you were calling to check on my sick aunt that has the wolfhound."

"How is she?" Vince asked, feeling guilty when he realized he hadn't even known Patricia had an aunt.

"She's fine. She gets fleas from time to time and she has this terrible habit of rubbing her ass against the wall...."

Vince pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and shook his head. "I meant your aunt. I could not care less how the dog is."

"You know I've heard that serial killers hate dogs too," Patricia warned.

"No, serial killers sadistically torture and kill innocent creatures. I could give you a demonstration when I return to the office."

"We'll have to find a sacrifice, sir," Patricia lamented. "I haven't been innocent in a long long time."

"Are you ready to focus on work now or must we sit and talk about a sick dog and the fact that you have far too much fun?" Vince demanded.

"There's no such thing as too much fun," Patricia countered. "And, yes, I'm ready to work now," she added at the sound of his grumble.

"Okay. I need you to take all the figures I've sent you and check out the profit margins for a rustic getaway instead of a fancy resort. Cabins, guided tours, hiking trails.. A large bed and breakfast just outside of town for those that don't like roughing it. Also, perhaps a campground equipped for both tents and R.V.'s...."

"Camping? Rustic? Tents? Sir, are you feeling okay?"

"Of course I'm okay," Vince replied.

"I don't think you are, Mr. Profit. That's what we call you when you're not around the office, by the way. You'll do anything possible to make the most money you can make. Now suddenly you want a rustic getaway? I don't see Beyonce and Jay-Z making plans to sleep under the stars with the mosquitoes and the strange mountain natives."