Second Chance Summer (Blue Harbor Book 2)

by Olivia Miles

  Second Chance Summer

  a Blue Harbor novel

  OLIVIA MILES

  Rosewood Press

  ALSO BY OLIVIA MILES

  Blue Harbor Series

  A Place for Us

  Stand-Alone Titles

  Meet Me at Sunset

  (Evening Island)

  This Christmas

  Oyster Bay Series

  Feels Like Home

  Along Came You

  Maybe This Time

  This Thing Called Love

  Those Summer Nights

  Still the One

  One Fine Day

  Had to Be You

  Misty Point Series

  One Week to the Wedding

  The Winter Wedding Plan

  Sweeter in the City Series

  Sweeter in the Summer

  Sweeter Than Sunshine

  No Sweeter Love

  One Sweet Christmas

  Briar Creek Series

  Mistletoe on Main Street

  A Match Made on Main Street

  Hope Springs on Main Street

  Love Blooms on Main Street

  Christmas Comes to Main Street

  Harlequin Special

  Edition

  ‘Twas the Week Before Christmas

  Recipe for Romance

  Copyright © 2020 by Megan Leavell

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Second Chance Summer

  contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  1

  Summer in Blue Harbor was Amelia Conway’s favorite time of the year, and not because of all the tourists who made frequent stops to her lakefront café and kept her business going for the quieter months. Summer in her northern Michigan hometown had a way of stirring up memories even sweeter than those from birthdays and holidays, reminding her of long, lazy days spent splashing in the lake, riding bikes with her sisters, and picking cherries at her family’s orchard. It meant dinners on the picnic table behind their house with warm pie and melting ice cream, and staying up late, waiting for the fireflies to appear.

  It was a time to breathe. And dream. And, once upon a time, fall in love…

  Amelia watched a young couple at the corner of the patio reach across the table and take each other’s hands. They’d split a dessert—a sign of true intimacy by her books—and soon she imagined they would take a walk along the lake that was glistening in the waning sunlight.

  She took their signed bill and bid them goodnight, her gaze drifting to the empty storefront adjacent to her own business. Not long ago it had been a sweet little stationery store, run by Gladys O’Leary. But Gladys had no takers when she wanted to retire last fall, and rumor had it that sales had been slow for years. Amelia had been eager to see who would move into the space next, knowing it would drive traffic to her café, but so far, it sat dark and empty. And unwelcoming.

  Well, no sense in worrying about it tonight. Tonight she didn’t need any extra customers pushing through the door. She was barely keeping up with the ones she had.

  With a sigh, Amelia finished clearing a table and walked back inside Firefly Café, where a line had already formed in the few minutes since she’d been outside. Her sister Maddie had come around from the counter, looking frazzled.

  “I just cleared two tables on the patio,” Amelia told her. They were short-staffed tonight, because it was a Thursday and usually weeknights were more of a local crowd. But it was August, and that meant families were coming to town for a week or two, not just a weekend. It also meant that summer would soon be over. Nearly as quickly as it had started.

  Amelia went back to the kitchen where she checked the schedule and was relieved to see that tonight’s staffing oversight wouldn’t repeat itself. Maddie had stepped up her hours, and from tomorrow through Labor Day weekend, they’d have three people on hand around the clock, thanks to her seasonal help. She just had to get through tonight.

  And stop that alarm from going off.

  She hurried to the oven and flung the door open, almost forgetting to grab an oven mitt before she pulled the now burnt flatbread from the middle rack. She set the pan on the range, cursing under her breath.

  “I got those two couples seated and another in the front room—” Maddie waved a hand through the smoky air as she came deeper into the kitchen. “Jeez. Is something on fire?”

  “Nearly.” Amelia sighed, and then, because she had no other choice, she went to work on another bruschetta-style flatbread—a favorite here at the café, made with three different cheeses from the local dairy farm, and basil and tomatoes picked straight from her own garden.

  “Table twelve?” Maddie asked, looking at the order slips. “I’ll bring them a house wine to make up for the delay.”

  House wine meant it came from their family’s orchard and winery, located right here in Blue Harbor.

  “Thanks, Maddie.” Amelia tossed her youngest sister a grin over her shoulder as she rolled out the dough she kept in large batches in the fridge.

  Once that was settled, and Maddie announced that the couple was thrilled by the reward of their inconvenience, they worked in silence for a few minutes. Amelia on the savories; Maddie on the sweets. Amelia knew that eventually her younger sister would want to do something on her own, open a bakery, or start a small cookie company. She’d always been good at baking, and pie was her specialty. For now, Maddie seemed happy for the work here and Amelia was happy to give her the space she needed to create and experiment, and share a little of her wisdom, too. Even, she thought, as she lathered some homemade pesto over the flatbread, the mistakes.

  Once that was in the oven and the timer was set, she glanced out through the open window that separated the kitchen from the front counter, catching a glance from her older sister, who had just come in by the looks of it.

  “Britt’s here,” she told Maddie. “And Robbie,” she added, noticing Britt’s ex-boyfriend turned boyfriend again. More than that, he also now helped Britt run Conway Orchard since their father’s retirement.

  “Is Keira with them?” Maddie perked up. Robbie’s seven-year-old daughter was a favorite at the café, and a professional taste-tester, too, even if she was rather easy to please. “I saved the last flower-shaped sugar cookie for her just in case they stopped by.”

  Amelia grinned at her sister. “Just like Dorothy used to do,” she said, referring to the original owner of the café, and its original namesake. Maddie was the youngest of the four Conway sisters, and more than three years below Amelia. “Do you remember how she used to always save you an oatmeal cookie? Claim it was the very last one, even though we all knew she had tucked it away?”

  Maddie nodded. “They were the best. Almost as good as—” She inhaled sharply and grabbed the wax paper bag containing the flower cookie from the counter.

  Maddie didn’t need t
o finish the thought for Amelia to know what she meant. The cookies that used to be made here at this café were almost as good as their mother’s cookies had been, but they couldn’t compare. Even she hadn’t dared to try, despite all her love for this café and her work in the kitchen. But Maddie…Maddie had carried on the dessert recipes that her mother had taught her over the years from their home kitchen, and Maddie’s pies and cookies and cakes were every bit as good as their mother’s.

  “I’ll go make the rounds,” Maddie said, before pushing out into the dining room.

  Amelia went back to plating orders, her heart a little heavier than it had been a few minutes ago. She’d only been sixteen when her mother had died, and each of the sisters had taken the loss in their own way. Britt had left town first chance she’d had, and stayed away. Cora had kept their mother’s Christmas traditions going even when the rest of them had felt too sad to put up a tree, and Maddie had continued to bake the recipes that their mother had loved to share.

  And Amelia…Amelia had taken care of the nest in Britt’s absence, tending to the younger girls, going through the motions, trying to keep her head on practical things, and her heart out of everything.

  But when this café had gone on the market shortly after she’d graduated from college, she knew that it was meant to be hers and that her father wouldn’t mind her leaving her job at the orchard to pursue her dream. It was in these four walls that her mother would bring them after school, to have a snack, to talk about their day. It was in this café that she had gone from talking about boys pinching her during storytime to boys catching her eye. It was a place of comfort and hope, a bright spot even in the darkest nights, much like the fireflies that lit up the sky.

  And it was all hers now. Hers and hers alone.

  “Yoohoo!”

  Amelia had learned by now not to let the singsong greeting from her father’s girlfriend startle her—too much. She looked up to see Candace’s face through the window. The woman had let herself back around the counter again, and it would appear that she’d had her hair done today too. The curls were bigger and bouncier than ever.

  “Hello, Candace,” she said with a distracted smile. It was usual for her family to stop by the café for dinner a few nights a week, but having everyone here at the same time wasn’t exactly typical, and Amelia and her sisters were still warming up to the woman their father had been dating since only June.

  “Oh, you girls! Always so formal! You know you can call me Candy!”

  Amelia met Candy’s wide smile, and despite her own reservations, she couldn’t help but grin. “You know me. When I’m on the job…”

  “Always so professional! I know!” Candy hovered in the window pass, blocking Amelia’s view of the tables. Her father was already sitting at the counter, she saw.

  “Maddie will be right over to take your orders,” she said, hoping this was all that was needed to get Candy out from behind her counter and back to her seat, like a paying customer. Or non-paying customer, really. Amelia never charged her family for their food at the café. It wouldn’t feel right.

  Still, her father always stuffed a few bills in the tip jar, more than covering their meals.

  Candy kept on grinning. “You sure know how to cook. Maybe one of these days I can show you the recipe for my famous cheese biscuits.”

  Amelia kept her eyes on the cutting board as she sliced through a baguette. As far as she knew, those cheese biscuits were only famous within the walls of her childhood home, where Candy now unofficially resided. Still, she said, “I’ll try them sometime soon. I promise.”

  “I can drop some off one day,” Candy offered. “Maybe come in a little early? Have a little girl time in the kitchen?” She laughed out loud. Loudly.

  Amelia picked up the plates for the next order—field greens with farm fresh goat cheese and pan-fried Michigan whitefish with a side of her sweet-potato fries—and carried them through the swing door, dodging Candy’s open arms and wiggly fingers as she gestured to the plates.

  “Can’t drop these!” she warned. “Oh! And I think Maddie’s already there with Dad.” She grinned at her father, and flashed a warning look on her sister, who didn’t need further communication. They’d all mastered the art of silent glances growing up, and now that Candy was in their lives, it had come in handy.

  Maddie called Candy over to discuss the specials and Amelia breathed a sigh of relief as she sets the plates down at table six before going to the patio to greet Britt.

  The couple in the corner was sitting side by side now, admiring the view, sipping wine and whispering sweet nothings.

  Amelia resisted a sigh.

  “Just a heads-up, but Dad’s here. With Candy,” Amelia said, lest there be any confusion.

  Britt’s eyes flashed on hers, and Amelia saw Robbie try his best to hide a smile. And fail miserably.

  “It’s not funny,” Britt warned, but there was amusement in her eyes, too. Since Candy had come into their lives, they’d learned to adjust, to see that she wasn’t anything like their quiet, unassuming mother, but that their father was happy just the same. He’d been given a second chance at love, and really, they should support that.

  Even if Candy was…well, a hugger.

  “Beautiful night,” Robbie said, tearing off a bite of Keira’s cookie, which sparked a wail of protest from the little girl.

  “Busy night,” Amelia said. But still, beautiful. The breeze was coming in off the lake and there was still some light left in the sky.

  They’d be closing within the next hour, meaning she could take a walk along the waterfront, or sit out on this patio and enjoy a much needed glass of wine. Maybe Britt and Maddie would stick around. Maybe Cora would even join them, though she was more of a homebody than the rest of them.

  Chances were, though, she would get a start on prep for tomorrow, and then go home. Her feet were tired, and she was already looking forward to catching up on her favorite shows. And she’d made that batch of blueberry ice cream over the weekend as a test run for the monthly specials…

  But while all that sounded nice, the truth of it was that it was rather lonely, and seeing her sister sitting beside her high school sweetheart, with his arm casually hooked on the back of her chair, well, it stung. Amelia was happy for Britt, and happy for Robbie and Keira, and they were all overjoyed that Britt had decided to return to town at the start of summer. But sometimes, especially on these lovely, warm nights, Amelia couldn’t help but feel like everyone else had found second chances at love. Except for her.

  Britt leaned forward and set a hand on her wrist. Her eyes shone with unspoken words. They needed to talk.

  Amelia wondered if Britt was going to say something about Candy again, and much as Amelia saw the good in the woman, she would love to vent about Candy’s determination to make herself at home at the café—as well as the big Victorian house they’d all grown up in—but Maddie called out to her from the patio door, interrupting the moment.

  “Amelia. Did you need me to check on that flatbread?”

  The flatbread! Amelia muttered her excuses and hurried away, because there was no way that she could burn a table’s order twice!

  She pushed her way through the tables, back around the counter, ignoring Candy’s call of “Yoohoo!” and telling herself that it could wait. It would have to wait. The timer was going off. They were short staffed. Usually when the dinner hour was this busy, she stayed in the kitchen, only venturing into the dining room if one of her employees was in the kitchen.

  She grabbed an oven mitt and yanked open the door, sighing in relief when she saw she had made it just in time. She plated the flatbread, handed it to Maddie who was coming through the door, and watched her go right back out again, giving her a wink on her way.

  Right. She needed a drink. Or better yet—dinner. For as much time as she spent in this kitchen, she was often too busy cooking for everyone else to give herself a decent meal.

  She studied the pan of brownies that Maddi
e had made for tonight’s dessert special and, double checking the clock on the wall and estimating that they wouldn’t sell out, cut herself a large square.

  It was chewy and rich and she knew it would go great with a cold glass of milk. She opened the fridge, wondering if heavy cream would do instead, when the sound of a pot falling made her jump.

  “Maddie? You okay?”

  When there wasn’t an answer, Amelia closed her eyes. Counted to three. Now, coming around the counter was one thing, but if Candy thought she could barge into this kitchen—

  Amelia crammed the rest of the brownie into her mouth, grabbed the milk with one hand and the creamer with the other, and stepped back from the fridge, letting the door swing shut on its own.

  And there he was. The unexpected guest in her kitchen. But not an unwanted guest.

  Matt Bradford. Looking every bit as good as he did the last time she’d seen him, more than twelve years ago. Still the blue-eyed boy with the tousled dirty blonde hair. Still the boy who had captured her heart at the tender age of fifteen, and then broke it, three years later.

  He’d left town with his parents, moved away and moved on. And now he was back.

  In her kitchen.

  And she had a palm-sized brownie crammed into her mouth, making her cheeks fat as a squirrel harvesting nuts for winter. She tried to chew, but the stickiness made it difficult, and the more she tried, the longer it seemed to take, and even though she was holding two cold bottles of dairy products and had just taken her head out of the fridge, she could feel the heat build inside her, flaring in her face and spreading down her neck.

  There was a glimmer of amusement—or maybe confusion—in his eyes as he watched her, grinning.

  Finally, she swallowed. It was really too big of a chunk to swallow, and she resisted the urge to cough.

  “Matt!” she said, for lack of anything better to say. Really, what do you say to a guy you haven’t seen in a dozen years, even if you had thought about him for the better half of that time?