by Olivia Miles
No, his favorite room had been the dining room, and the parlor, with their French doors and heavy woodwork and the oversized windows from which his mother hung long paneled draped that went all the way to the ceiling. And the ceilings! He’d nearly forgotten the details of those rooms, with their layered and intricate crown moldings.
He walked through the house slowly, filled with sounds and voices and memories so clear that it cut straight through him, and he wondered more than once if he should have stayed outside, because it had been tempting to do just that.
But it had been more tempting to come inside.
He studied the fireplace—the carved detail of the mantle, where his mother used to hang their stockings. And there, in the bay window of the parlor was where their Christmas tree had always stood.
And where he had sat, on the window seat, staring at the rooms that sprawled off the hallway, as the movers carried their belongings to the truck waiting outside, until the house was no longer home, and could never be put back together as it once was.
“You loved this house,” Amelia said softly. “I did too.”
“A shame to see it empty like this,” he said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. This house was meant to be filled—with furniture and laughter.
He glanced at Amelia. It was meant to be filled with love.
Amelia just shrugged. “Oh, I’m sure that someone will buy it soon enough. They don’t make houses like this anymore.”
He shook his head. “No. They don’t.”
It had good bones. It was sturdy. But more than that, it was special and unique, each turn gave a new surprise, and no detail went unnoticed.
“I wonder…” Amelia said. She looked at him expectantly. “Do you think they kept the old swing?”
A slow realization built as the memories came back. Long summer nights and cool autumn afternoons, side by side on the old swing that hung from the rafters of the back porch.
He hadn’t thought of that swing in at least ten years—maybe more. It was easier sometimes, to harden his heart to this town, rather than look back fondly on it, and hold on too close. But it was also impossible to fully do so. His happiest memories were in this town. And many of them were with the woman now standing before him, her eyes bright, her smile still beautiful.
“We could check,” he offered, even as he braced himself for the inevitable disappointment he would feel if it were gone. Heck, it had been creaky back when he lived here.
Slowly, they moved to the kitchen again, and Amelia pushed through the screen door, the smile she tossed over her shoulder nearly as big as the relief he felt. And sure enough, there it was, the paint still chipped, and chains still squeaky.
“Do you think it’s safe to sit on?” Amelia stood back, looking wary.
“Only one way to find out,” Matt said, dropping himself onto the swing, bouncing a few times. He looked up at the porch ceiling, which showed no signs of rot or disrepair. “Seems sturdy to me.”
He patted the seat beside him and didn’t even scoot over when she sat beside him, stirring up a desire he was struggling to fight. She smelled sweet—but it wasn’t perfume or any specific effort on her part, he knew. It was a familiar scent, something that brought him back to another time. Something that brought him home.
“I hope it was okay, coming here,” she said, turning to give him a hesitant smile.
He nodded, looking out over the yard. At the tree he and his brother used to climb. At the basketball hoop still attached the top of the detached garage.
“In many ways it feels like yesterday,” he commented. “In other ways, it feels like I never left.”
They locked eyes for a moment before she looked away, blushing.
“One of my biggest regrets in life was leaving this town,” he said. It felt strange, saying it aloud, but he’d always been able to talk to Amelia. Deep down, he still felt he could, that there connection was still there.
“Then why didn’t you ever visit? You could have come for the summer—”
He shook his head, shutting that down. “It wasn’t that simple. I had a summer job, to help the family and help with college. And I worked all through college, too. And…” He bit back the emotions building inside him. “And it wouldn’t have been the same.”
She nodded slowly, scuffing her sandals against the porch floor. “I understand. It’s not your home anymore.”
Matt looked around the yard and the porch and back up to the house behind him. If he wanted to, he could almost dare to pretend that it wasn’t empty and painted inside, but that it was just as it had once been. When it had been his.
“No, it’s not,” he said gruffly, shaking himself out of all these sentimental feelings. He’d grown. He’d changed. He wasn’t the boy who lived here, and he hadn’t been for some time. This place might have inspired him, but it had changed him too.
“But you do see the beauty in it?” Her eyes seemed to plead with his. “You loved this house. You loved the charm. The details.”
He shook his head. “That was a long time ago, Amelia. I’m a different person now.”
“But—”
“But this house represents the past. In every possible way.” His jaw tightened and he saw her open her mouth and then close it again, as if changing her mind about what she wanted to say. Or perhaps knowing that he couldn’t be convinced. Because he couldn’t be. “What this town needs is progress, not another inn like the one just down the street. Progress is the only way to move forward.”
“To move forward? Or to move away from everything this town represents?” She stood up, barely looking him in the eye. “I should probably go. I still have work to do. Shopping and lists and planning for tomorrow.”
“This isn’t personal, Amelia,” he said, even though it was, he knew. To him. “I’m just doing what I think is the best.”
She turned to look at him when she reached the bottom of the porch steps. “Best for you? Or best for this town?”
“For…for both.” He couldn’t deny it. This opportunity wouldn’t come along again and he didn’t intend to blow it, and he certainly wasn’t going to be foolish enough to let sentimentality stand in the way. His parents hadn’t been willing to move with the times, to listen to the demands of the people, to adapt. He wouldn’t make the same mistake. He’d promised himself that a long time ago.
She shook her head, backing away. “I should go. Thank you. For breakfast.”
He nodded, unable to say anything more, and knowing that really it should be him thanking her, for bringing him back to this house, for opening a part of his memory that he’d blocked out over the years. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it, not when he wasn’t so sure that coming here had helped at all.
Or if coming back to Blue Harbor was such a good idea after all.
7
Amelia arrived at the café earlier than usual the next day, hoping to push away some of the disappointment in her chest with a whisk and a bowl.
She tied her apron strings, noticing that her manicure was already started to chip. She shook her head, annoyed with herself for feeding into something so frivolous, and all because Matt Bradford was back in town? She should have known better. The man had resurfaced after a dozen years when he could have made the effort to come back years ago—and didn’t. Really, the answer was as clear back then as it should be now.
With a sigh, she took two dozen eggs from the fridge and began cracking them into a large ceramic bowl, muttering to herself as she did so until she finally resorted to flicking on the radio to silence the noise in her head.
Even though she’d come back to the café yesterday afternoon, scoured the kitchen, made up her lists, and placed her orders for the week, and then went home to do all that laundry she had set aside on Sunday, she still couldn’t shake the image of Matt’s fancy new resort, or the horrible feeling that he was going to ruin this town for good. She could already picture the large, monstrous thing, so out of place in the rest of the comm
unity, glaring at everyone from the bay. Sure, it might draw more tourists to town, but she doubted any of them would want to trek down to her café for breakfast or lunch when they had more upscale accommodations at their fingertips.
Besides, she’d much rather keep the business she had if it meant keeping Blue Harbor as it was.
She was still muttering to herself when she took the big knife from the block and went to work on a pile of bell peppers, admittedly with more vigor than usual, and she hadn’t even heard Maddie come in through the door until her sister started laughing.
“What’s this I hear you grumbling about? Something about coming back and ruining the whole town?” Maddie slipped her apron from its hook and looped it over her neck. She gave Amelia a pitying look. “Is it safe to assume that your date didn’t go well?”
Amelia set down her knife. “It wasn’t a date,” she corrected, even though she wasn’t exactly sure what it had been at all. Maybe it could have been a date—if things hadn’t gotten so derailed. It had sort of started off in that direction, with the bagels and the conversation. Truth be told, she’d originally wanted it to be a date. Hoped it would be. Even primped for it, in case it was.
She shook her head. What a fool. She of all people should have known that life didn’t work that way. It wasn’t some story in a book. Real life meant waking up, working hard, and running this café. It didn’t mean that your old boyfriend would return to town years after abandoning it, claiming he’d been thinking of you every day since he’d left.
If that were the case, he wouldn’t have stayed away so long in the first place!
Amelia gritted her teeth and went back to her chopping.
Maddie tied her apron strings behind her back and sighed. “I assumed so when you didn’t come knocking on my door to tell me everything. That was part of our agreement, if you recall.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Amelia said. She minced a red pepper and moved on to a bright yellow one, which she sliced into long thing strips. “And I washed and ironed your dress last night. I’ll return it tonight.”
“No rush.” Maddie gave her a little pat on the arm as she moved toward her station near the flour and sugar canisters and quickly went to work on her morning cinnamon rolls.
“And I’ll be happy to give you the details. Well, not exactly happy.” Amelia set down her knife and huffed. She didn’t even know where to begin. With the disappointment over Matt’s plans or the horrible realization that he had changed for the worse? Because the Matt she remembered would never have come up with such a design, especially not for Blue Harbor.
She decided to focus on the facts, not feed further into her own emotions. Eventually they would pass. Hopefully.
“Matt designed a resort that he’s hoping will get built here in town,” she said.
“A resort?” Maddie looked at her with interest. “That would be a first. Is there even land for that? It’s pretty built up already. I think the only new addition we’ve seen in our lifetime is the yacht club!”
“I didn’t even get into that,” Amelia said. She added the sliced peppers to the arugula salad and her minced peppers to the beaten eggs. “I was too focused on how…how ugly the building was.”
There. She had said it. The thing was ugly. Cold. Uninviting. Everything that Blue Harbor was not and should never be.
Maddie laughed. “Ugly? But you always used to praise his drawings when we were kids. I remember!”
As did Amelia. She had been his biggest fan back then. They’d seen the town through the same lens, and loved every inch of it. Together.
“Well, it would seem his tastes have changed since he’s been gone!” Amelia put her quiche into the oven and set the timer. She grabbed a rag and wiped her hands, squaring her sister with a look. Maybe, it was more that he had changed. And that he didn’t remember Blue Harbor or everything he once loved about it. That he didn’t value all the things that he used to say made it special.
“It’s a cement block, Maddie,” she said, wincing at the mere memory of it.
“That doesn’t sound right,” Maddie said, her brow knitting in confusion. “How could he even think it would make sense?”
“He thinks this will be good for the local economy. That it will bring in more tourists, and year-round. He thinks that this is what people want. He thinks it’s fresh.”
Maddie’s expression mirrored Amelia’s thoughts so perfectly that no words needed to be exchanged.
Fresh! Amelia knew what was fresh, and that was the food she served here in the café, made with locally sourced ingredients, farm to table. She took pride in supporting the community. What Matt called “fresh” did not support the people of Blue Harbor, despite what he might think.
He’d been away too long, Amelia thought sadly. He’d forgotten the way this town functioned, and felt. He’d forgotten the heart of it.
Probably forgotten her too, if she was going to be honest with herself.
While she… She swallowed back that thought. No sense in dwelling on what couldn’t be changed.
“Anyway,” she said tersely. “I don’t see any reason to continue to talk about Matt. What’s done is done. We dated. We broke up. End of story.”
Only it wasn’t the end of the story, and Maddie knew it.
Her sister turned to her as her expression softened. “You loved him once.”
“Once.” Amelia nodded crisply. She struggled to keep the pull out of her chest when she remembered those years spent with Matt, and how he could make her laugh, and how he was always such easy company. She’d relied on him. Counted on him. Trusted him.
And…she’d missed him. Only the boy she’d missed no longer existed. Somewhere along the way he’d grown into a man whom she didn’t recognize, at least not completely.
“Matt will be gone before long. With any luck this resort will never get built. And soon enough life will go back to normal.”
Meaning boring, routine, and…a little bleak. She just hadn’t thought of it that way up until Matt had returned and made her realize what she’d been missing.
Love. Excitement. A little pull in her chest that made her heart speed up with anticipation and hope. She’d dared to wish for things she never allowed herself to think about most days. Usually she worked until she was too tired to think about those things.
A fantasy, she reminded herself. The past. And if there was one thing that Matt did not want to hold onto or preserve, it was the past. He’d made that very clear.
“Is that really what you want?” Maddie didn’t look any more convinced than Amelia felt. “To go back to the usual routine, with nothing to look forward to?”
“It’s the way it has to be,” Amelia said. She grinned at her sister, but it felt forced. “Besides, I happen to look forward to plenty around here. Time with my sisters, for example.”
Maddie rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Amelia did, of course, but she wasn’t going to let herself be dragged down by it. With that, she walked over to bulletin board to look at her daily menu, her eyes drifting over to the contest that Maddie had tacked up last week. The deadline was certainly soon, and she doubted that she could devote the time to coming up with an entry as well as handle everything here at the café this week. But she couldn’t resist the thought of putting the Firefly Café—and Blue Harbor—on the map.
And maybe showing a certain someone that a little old-fashioned café like hers could pull in business. And that this was exactly the kind of establishment that drew people to town, year after year, and season after season.
“Hey, Maddie?”
Maddie looked up from her butter and brown sugar mixture that was already filling the kitchen with a heavenly aroma.
“You think there’s really time to enter this contest?”
Maddie grinned. “I think there’s time. But you’re not just going to enter. You’re going to win.”
Win. Imagine that!
Amelia unpinned the sheet from the bo
ard and set it down on the center island, as a reminder for the day.
And a reminder for why she was certain that Matt was going to make a big mistake. And that she may just have another way to prove that to him after all.
Before it was too late.
*
Matt dropped down onto a bench on the docks that lent a panoramic view of the lakefront, from the harbor to the back of Main Street to the wide stretch of beach and the dense forest that curved around until it reached the neighboring town.
He’d tapped that particular spot as the best location for his resort, and not just because the acreage allowed for it. The green foliage would turn to shades of crimson and orange in the autumn, and be frocked with snow in the winter. All year round, the guests would be surrounded by trees on one side, and the lake on the other. They’d have a view of Evening Island, and be walking distance to the ferry port. They could walk or bike to town, and have the seclusion from it, too. He knew that the development team would go for it. He just had to be sure that the town would approve the plans, though he doubted they would have much room for argument with the pitch he had prepared.
He’d speak to the mayor, this week, and get it on the books for a vote before he went back to Minneapolis and cemented his plan.
He had already asked the research team to gather everything they knew about the targeted parcel of land, but that was the spot. He could see it. And he was already proud of it. Imagine! One of his buildings. A building all of his own. Right here in the town where his happiest memories had been formed.
And most of those memories were with Amelia.
He frowned when he thought of how they’d left things off yesterday. She didn’t understand, but then, how could she? She’d never left town; it was all she knew. He could tell from the way that she and Britt were talking that it wasn’t much easier for her than it had been for his parents, or half the other establishments in town. None of these businesses were thriving; they were just getting by. And some might not even be able to hold out. He’d seen the empty storefront beside Amelia’s café.