“Oh, I think you underestimate your sway. But I see your point. Now, who can nudge your wayward boyfriend in the right direction?”
Hannah’s phone shrilled, making her jump and slosh her tea.
Daphne waved her fingers in a “go ahead” gesture.
“Hannah Leone.”
“Ms. Leone, it’s Jim Malinowski.”
For a moment, she drew a complete blank—until he gave an impatient harrumph.
“Colonel, how are you?” Eyes wide, she pointed to her phone and grinned.
Speaker, Daphne mouthed.
Why not? It was almost closing time, and no customers lingered to overhear.
“A little birdie told me some very bad news about Gus Anagnos’s building.”
Hannah gulped. “Little birdie?”
“My cousin works for the county planning commission. Apparently, Souvenir Planet is slated for demolition.” He made more phlegmy noises of disapproval. “That’s out of the question. I’ve left a dozen voice mails for that young man, but he hasn’t returned my calls.”
She chewed her lip. This could be a golden opportunity or a stinking disaster. How to maneuver the blowhard colonel and his UFO cronies into supporting Xander’s new project?
A little flattery might get the ball rolling. “Mr. Anagnos has assured me that the cosmic transmitter will remain in place and accessible to the public. Maybe you could—”
“Cosmic Transmitter my pasty white ass,” he said with a snort.
Daphne sprayed tea onto her lap.
“I beg your pardon?” She shot her friend a look of warning.
“Missy, you and I both know that transmitter is a bullshit DIY art project. But the cosmic vortex beneath the property, that’s very real. And if that young man knocks down the building, who knows the effect it’ll have on the vortex? Already, our measurements show an alarming flux in electromagnetic vibrations.”
Daphne crossed her eyes and twirled a finger at her temple.
Hannah cleared her throat to stifle a rising giggle. “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s nothing that can be done. The building is too dangerous to save.” A lightbulb switched on in her head. “However, Mr. Anagnos is planning a cluster of small shops surrounding the transmitter. Perhaps you’d like to lease one for your—er, instruments, or an information center about UFO activity in the region.”
Daphne flashed a thumbs up.
And really, it was a brilliant idea. Harnessing these alien believers’ avid interest would draw hordes of new shoppers to Trappers Cove. After all, even UFO nuts go shopping. And if she offered the colonel’s organization a guest column in theBeacon, she’d net who knows how many new subscribers. Xander might be worried about skeptics who looked down their noses at the whole UFO issue, but Hannah was too smart and too desperate to turn down a juicy opportunity like this.
Win-win!
The colonel hummed his interest into the phone. “I like how you think, little lady. We’ll work up a proposal. I’ll be in touch. Malinowski out.”
She disconnected before she and Daphne dissolved into helpless giggles.
“Is that guy for real?”
“He’s a genuine Air Force pilot. Retired, of course.”
Daphne wiped her streaming eyes. “Probably medically discharged due to a knock on the head.”
“Hey now, don’t insult your future customer. You’d better stock up on books about UFOs.”
“Roger Wilco.” Daphne snapped a salute and doubled over with laughter again.
