Sebastian cleared his throat and with pure comedic timing, the three elderly busybodies turned in unison. “Funny. I hadn’t heard Luke deputized anyone new this week. Keeping an eye on her for me?”
“Now, Sebastian, you know we don’t mean any harm,” Myra began as she straightened and tugged down her hot-pink sweatshirt. “We just don’t want to see you or Mandy get hurt.”
“I appreciate that.” And he did. But that didn’t warrant spying on Brooke. “But I doubt Brooke’s produce selection will have much effect on either of us.”
A bell chimed from behind the counter. “Mr. Bedemeyer, your prescription is ready.”
“Saved by the bell,” Oscar mumbled as he walked away.
“You know why she’s back, don’t you?” Penny asked Sebastian.
“Yes, actually,” Sebastian said in as kind a voice as he could manage. “She’s here to get to know her daughter.” And it was up to him, not the town gossips, as to whether or not that happened.
“That’s just what she wants you to think,” Penny countered, blinking lashes so thick it looked like spiders were sitting on her eyes. “That Candice Ardell never had anyone else’s interests in mind other than her own. Parading around town like she’s better than the rest of us. You know there are rumors Reginald was partially responsible for the bank going under, that he was the one who pushed for the foreclosures before he skedaddled out of town. And Candice?” Penny shivered. “Swore I caught a cold whenever she walked by. Why she thought she’d ever be mother material, well.” Penny inched up her chin. “Apples don’t fall far from their trees.”
“Now, Penny.” Myra looked suddenly contrite. “You can’t paint Brooke with the same brush.”
“No, you can’t,” Sebastian agreed. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t.”
He looked over to find Brooke standing at the end of the aisle, a basket tucked in the crook of her arm, a shiny red apple in her hand. There was a glint of anger in her eyes, and the way she planted her other hand on her hip had his lips twitching. He’d forgotten how pretty she was when in full temper. “Brooke, I—” He broke off, surprised, when she held up a hand.
“I understand you all are protective of Sebastian and Mandy.” Brooke spoke directly to Penny and Myra. “But I can assure you, my only reason for coming here is to meet my daughter.”
Penny stuck her nose up in the air.
“I also didn’t come here for anyone’s approval.” Brooke’s fingers went white around the apple as she stared hard at Penny. “I’m aware of the mistakes I made and that I’d have to face them when I returned, but I’m still here. And I will be for a while, so I suggest all of you get used to it and find something else to gossip about.”
She turned on her heel and resumed shopping.
“I guess she told you,” Oscar said with an approving nod as he returned. “Always wondered if the girl had a spine. No offense, young man.” He poked a finger into Sebastian’s arm. “But you gotta admit, standing up for herself was never one of her strong suits. Guess people can change.”
“It can’t have been easy, having parents like Reginald and Candice,” Myra said with a slow nod. “Like you mentioned, Penny. Her mother wasn’t very affectionate. Poor girl’s probably always been starved for love.”
“None of that changes what Brooke did,” Penny declared, straightening her purse and looking less than apologetic. “Actions speak louder, remember.”
“Then maybe give her a chance to prove herself,” Sebastian said, somewhat surprised at himself. He left them behind and went to catch up with Brooke. The last thing he expected to be doing today was apologizing to Brooke Ardell. “Hey, I’m sorry. That was rude and inconsiderate.”
Brooke shrugged, opened one of her reusable produce bags and dropped three lemons into it. “Like I said, I knew what I’d be facing when I got back. Most everyone’s been nice.”
“Doesn’t make it right. Speaking of making things right.” He took a deep breath. “About the other day—”
“You were right.” She set her lemons into her basket and faced him, the scent of jasmine drifting off her skin. “I should have been more decisive from the start about why I’m here. I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high because, honestly, I expected you to slam the door in my face and refuse to let me see Mandy.”
He winced. “I thought about it.”
She took a deep breath, then let it out in excruciatingly small increments. “The doctors were worried about memory loss. When I first woke up in the hospital.
“But I remembered everything,” she said. “There were days the guilt was so much I wished the accident had wiped my mind clear. Those ensuing weeks, all I could think was that the only good thing I’ve ever done in my life was have Mandy. And that I’d been given a second chance to be a part of her world.”
“You did more than one good thing, Brooke. You loved me.”
“Yes.” She tilted her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “I did. That’s something else you were right about. And I did love you. So much.” Brooke was about to touch his face, but at the last minute she folded her fingers into a fist and dropped her hand. Glancing around, she took a step back, as if wondering who was watching them. “I agreed to meet Mandy for coffee tomorrow morning.”
“At eight. Yes, I know.”
Brooke cleared her throat. “I understand Saturdays are usually your day to spend with her, so if you want me to change the day or cancel—”
“What do you want?”
She blinked, and the confusion on her face nearly broke him in two. That he’d even considered going to the diner to ask her to do just that blanketed him in shame.
“What do you want?” Sebastian pushed harder. “Do you want to meet her tomorrow?”
The nod came quick. “Yes.”
“Then do it. My plans can wait. She needs this.” And so, Sebastian thought as he walked away, did Brooke.
* * *
BOLSTERED BY SEBASTIAN’S encouragement of her meeting Mandy the next morning, Brooke waited until the end of her shift on Friday evening before she approached Holly about the upstairs apartment.
She couldn’t believe she’d spoken to those old women at the grocery store that way. Of course, she’d known they were watching. It felt as though someone was always watching her, and who could blame them? But honestly, didn’t they realize it was easier to talk to her than to gossip and guess what might be going on?
“It’s four, Brooke.” Twyla joined her behind the counter and heaved a sigh of relief. “We are officially in the dead zone and you are off.”
“I guess I am.” Her nerves fluttered to life again and she pressed a hand against her stomach. “Holly back at her desk?”
“She’s working on next week’s schedule,” Twyla confirmed. “If you have any time off you want—”
“My schedule’s pretty open,” Brooke said. “But thanks.”
“You want a shake for the road?” Twyla offered.
“I don’t think...” Two days in a row had felt like an indulgence—one her mother never would have approved of. All the more reason to.
“Oh, come on.” Twyla reached for the metal tumbler and popped open the freezer, scoop in hand. “Your jeans gape in the back. You need to keep up your strength if you’re going to keep working like this.”
“All right.” Brooke caught her lower lip in her teeth, deciding to go all in. “Mocha with extra whipped cream?”
“There you go. Coming up.” Twyla’s heavily lined eyes twinkled. “I’ll have it ready for when you leave.”
Feeling oddly comforted, Brooke untied her apron and headed into the kitchen, where Ursula was cleaning the grease traps. She eyed Brooke, those odd gray eyes of hers almost spooky, but she no longer grumbled under her breath when Brooke passed. And that, she decided, was definite progress.
“Holly? Do you
have a minute?” She tossed her apron into the laundry basket by the bathroom.
“Hmm?” Holly chewed on a pencil, frowned and looked up. “Yeah, sure. Wait. How do you feel about giving the dinner shift a shot next weekend? Simon’s got a school thing, and Luke and I—”
“Plug me in wherever you need me,” Brooke said, finishing for her. “My social calendar isn’t exactly overflowing.”
“Great. We close early on Sundays so I’ll have you come in at two.” She scribbled Brooke’s name on a few more days. “How are you feeling about things?”
“Things here?” Brooke asked. “Great. Good. I really like it, actually. The customers have been nice.” And after her trip to the grocery store and confronting the Cocoon Club, she didn’t plan on being as intimidated anymore. “And my tips are getting better.” She’d already begun to see a difference in the amount she received after having been on the job a few days.
“Everyone has to learn. So, what’s up?”
“Um.” Just like that, the butterflies returned, only now they brought a swarm of bees with them. “I was wondering about the apartment you have upstairs. I know you’ve been using it for storage, and you probably need to, considering you don’t have a lot of space down here, but I could do some rearranging and organizing. I’m really good at that. You know, get your storage here in the diner a bit more efficient.”
Holly arched an eyebrow.
In a surge of memory, Sebastian’s words about fighting for what she wanted came back to her. “Sorry.” She took a calming breath, closed her eyes for a moment and tried to forget Holly was watching her. “I was wondering if you would be willing to rent it to me. While I’m here. I could get it cleaned up for you, repaint and decorate, make it real nice for later on...” When she was gone. A pang of regret struck and she wished she could erase it. She didn’t want to think about leaving just yet.
“Sure.” Holly shrugged as if Brooke hadn’t just asked a question that could change her life. “That’d be great. I’ve been meaning to do something with it, just haven’t had time. I’ll have Luke round up the troops to empty out the space. And I’ll take you up on that offer to reorganize my storage down here.” She tapped her pencil on the desk and tossed out a very reasonable rent. “Seeing as we’re already into the month, you can pay me partial rent once you’re settled in. That work okay for you?”
“I... Yes, it works fine, thanks.” Was this really that easy?
“It’s a bit limited on furniture. I used to have a daybed in there, but Luke and I took that for the nursery.”
“I don’t need much. And what I do need, I’ll find. Thank you so much.”
“Good luck telling BethAnn she’s losing her guest. I think she’s liked having you around.”
“I think so, too, but it’s time I get a place of my own.” She hugged her chest and squeezed, until those scars pulled at her and she eased her hold.
“You ever lived on your own?”
“Oh, back in South Carolina? Sure. Off and on over the years. Then my dad got sick and, well.” She shrugged. Her mother wasn’t a caretaker, so Brooke had moved back home to help. It had been good in the long run. She and her dad had worked out a lot of stuff, and by the time he died, they were in a good place.
She’d never made it back out of the house. She had kept up with her part-time catering job, though, and her volunteer work at the hospital. She missed the hours she spent in the nursery helping with the babies—babies that reminded her of the one she’d left behind.
“Well, this is a big week for you, then.” Holly reached over and squeezed her arm, then handed her an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“Your first paycheck.”
“But I’m not due—”
“Due or not, it’s yours. When you figure things out for the apartment, make a list and check with Frankie. They have a ton of furniture over at the firehouse. And Abby might have some things from the Flutterby Inn. They upgraded their rooms recently. How about we head upstairs now and get an idea of what you need?”
“I’d appreciate that.” Brooke pulled out the check and blinked back tears when she saw her name. It wasn’t a huge amount, but she’d earned this. Herself. On her own.
Another step taken.
CHAPTER NINE
OF ALL THE SHOPS, stores and service shops in town, Brooke was exceedingly grateful Mandy had chosen Chrysalis Bakery as their meeting place Saturday morning. After another explanation from BethAnn as to who owned or ran what, Brooke knew Chrysalis had been sold early last year and that the new owners were recent transplants to town. Which hopefully meant that whoever was behind the counter wouldn’t have any clue who Brooke was.
Her trip to the hardware store to get some things for her soon-to-be apartment had been...stressful. Harvey Mills was still managing the place and made no pretense of letting her know she hadn’t earned her way back into his good graces. Conversation had come to a screeching halt when she’d walked in the door, but by the time she’d left, she’d managed to eke a few smiles and pleasantries out of some of the customers.
She was already nervous at the prospect of having an extended conversation with her teenage daughter; she didn’t need the added stress of dealing with people trying to pass judgment on her. She didn’t blame them. Much. It just wasn’t what she wanted to focus her energy on at the moment.
The scent of fresh doughnuts tickled her nose from more than a block away, and for the second day in a row, she found she had an appetite. For weeks after the accident, she couldn’t bear to eat. At the time she’d only been allowed Jell-O and clear broths while her system and insides adjusted to her injuries and healed, but even after she was home and well into therapy, the idea of food just turned her stomach. Oreo cookies were the only thing she’d been able to enjoy. But even that was bittersweet, as they had been her main craving when she’d been pregnant with Mandy.
The green-and-white-striped awning stretching over the bakery’s two large plateglass windows reminded Brooke of little patisseries in Paris. There the pastries were showcased in beautiful window displays, whereas here the café tables and iron-back chairs filled the space so customers could watch the people passing by. A trail of delicate hand-fired metal butterflies trailed up and around the window frames, and continued inside. A faint fairylike bell tinkled when she pushed open the door and stepped into what she instantly surmised was heaven on earth.
She was early, mainly because excitement had preempted any possibility of sleep, but clearly she’d hit the right time. As she looked beyond the three glass cases overflowing with various doughnuts, pastries, cookies and pies, she could see a silver-haired woman in the kitchen, her hands filled with a giant tray of fresh glazed doughnuts. Her stomach growled. Brooke’s face went hot and she glanced around at the few customers loading up on coffee before starting their weekends.
“Good morning.” The woman with close-cropped silver hair and red-rimmed glasses emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on the flowery apron she wore. “What can I get you?”
“I’m going to be meeting someone in a few minutes, actually. But...” Brooke let out a long breath. “Everything looks amazing. How do you choose?”
“You ask the owner to recommend something. I’m Gale.” She stretched her hand across the top of the closest case.
“Brooke,” Brooke answered automatically and returned the greeting. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Why don’t you tell me your three favorite flavors?” Gale swooped over to the doughnuts since that’s where Brooke’s attention fell.
Brooke’s mind went blank. “Um, chocolate?”
“Hmm.” Gale’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so. You look like more of a lemon person to me. Or maybe...pistachio. Yep. There’s the look I was waiting for.” She snapped her fingers and dropped out of sight. “I just started making these a couple of weeks ago and the
y’ve been a big hit.” She pulled out a hand-sized pillow of perfectly baked dough that was topped with a light layer of pale green glaze. “It has a pistachio pastry cream inside. And store policy—if you don’t like it, we’ll find what you do, no extra charge.”
“It’s worth the risk.” Even now she could taste the sugar on her tongue. “And I’ll take the biggest coffee you have.”
“You got it.” Gale took the doughnut over to the register as Brooke continued to admire the woman’s incredible attention to detail. Meticulous mini fruit pies glistening with melted apricot preserves. Muffins with chunks of fruit clustered on the top. Éclairs and profiteroles perched beside one another in airy pastry perfection. Petits fours in a pastel of rainbow colors, each topped with a delicate tiny butterfly. “Do you make all these yourself?”
“I do.” Gale grinned over her shoulder as she poured Brooke’s coffee. “I have a couple of employees who work the counter most of the day so I can spend mine in the kitchen. But I like the early morning hours best.”
As Brooke approached the register, she spotted the shelves behind the counter that held baskets of fresh baked bread and bagels.
“Here you go.” Gale set a small, square tray decorated with a paper doily in front of her. The pretty plastic plate had a thin gold rim of flowers around the edge, but it was definitely the doughnut that stole the show.
Brooke paid and added an extra five. “To pay for my...” She stopped herself. She’d almost said to pay for her daughter. “The young woman I’m meeting. For whatever she orders. If it’s not enough, just let me know.”
Gale nodded. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Brooke dropped her change into the tip jar—something she’d become increasingly aware of since she’d been working as a waitress—and took her tray over to one of the empty tables near the window. No sooner had she settled herself than the door opened. Her stomach twisted into a hard knot.
“Morning, Gale.”
A Match Made Perfect--A Clean Romance Page 12