by Olivia Miles
“Don’t worry about it. I know you’ve been busy, and my mom and Aunt Sharon have kept me in the loop.”
“No wonder you weren’t surprised that I was using my own kitchen instead of the diner.”
Kara looked at her strangely. “Is Mark really that bad?”
Anna grew quiet. “I know he’s your cousin.” For that reason, friend or not, Kara had never been told about their relationship. For all anyone knew, she and Mark just didn’t click like the other folks in town did. “It’s just… I don’t know. Just college stuff.” Not exactly a lie…
“That’s not what I think.”
They’d arrived in town quickly, and she pulled into a spot in front of Main Street Books. “Oh no?” she asked lightly.
Beside her, Kara grinned. “Nope. I’ve been thinking about it, and I think there’s a bigger underlying reason for why you and Mark don’t get along anymore.”
Anna switched off the ignition and jumped out of the car. She began grabbing the shopping bags full of boxed pastries and muffins and met Kara on the sidewalk. The shield of her sunglasses prevented her friend from seeing the panic in her eyes. If Kara knew, then Rosemary would know, and Luke would know, and Grace… and then Mark would know how much he hurt her. And she couldn’t have that. Ever.
“I think that you and Mark are too alike for your own good.” Kara’s blue eyes danced as she folded her arms across her chest.
“Oh.” Anna felt her shoulders drop with relief. “Ha. Maybe.” She popped the trunk and retrieved the last of the bags.
“You’re both stubborn to a fault.” Catching her stare, Kara said, “Sorry, Anna. I love you both, but it’s true. And you’re both running restaurants on Main Street.”
“You think it’s some competition thing?” Oh, if she only knew.
“Could be.” Kara shrugged. “I just think you’d probably be best of friends if you gave each other a chance.”
Anna’s lips thinned. Kara’s perception was painfully accurate, but then, who better to notice such a thing than someone so close to both of them? For two years he’d been her best friend, until he had to go and blow it.
“Well,” she said, “I’ll give it some thought.”
Kara gathered up a few more bags and closed the door with her hip. “Was it always this way? In culinary school?”
Anna sighed. She tried not to speak about that time period in her life, and she’d mastered the skill of turning the conversation whenever it was mentioned. It saddened her, knowing how much her father had encouraged her to go, how proud he had been of her success there, to know that she, like him, was following his passion. Now, she couldn’t even think of those four years without feeling a twinge of sickness.
“Oh, you know. It was a big school. Mark was a year ahead of me…” Anna frowned. Kara hadn’t brought any of this up in years. Why start now?
“Look. There he is now!” Kara waved over Anna’s shoulder, grinning broadly.
Anna whipped her head around reflexively, her mouth firming at the sight of Mark strolling lazily toward them. God help her if he didn’t look better than usual. His dark brown hair was tousled and, from the looks of it, hadn’t met a brush that morning. A white T-shirt skimmed his khakis at the waist, hugging every inch of that chiseled torso.
She quickly turned back and began fumbling for the handles of the bags, hoping to dart into the haven of Main Street Books without an exchange.
Too late. Mark stopped beside them, and from the way his Birkenstock-covered feet were planted at her side, he didn’t show any signs of going on his way. She slid her eye to him, hating the way her traitorous pulse skipped at the sight of that grin, which was positively wicked. His brown eyes tore through hers, forcing her to blink.
“Lovely morning today,” Mark said evenly, his eyes never straying from hers. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and jutted his chin to the bags of baked goods. “I can see you’ve been busy, Anna.”
Anna stifled a sigh. She really wasn’t in the mood for Mark’s banter this morning, even if the boyish gleam in his eyes made her heart roll over.
“Very,” she said. “And I have lots more to do, so if you don’t mind…” She started to walk away but he stopped her.
“Don’t leave on my account.” His grin never faltered, and Anna felt her eyes narrow.
“You may find this hard to believe, Mark, but not everything I do is because of you.”
He gave a shrug. “So you’re just baking scones all night for fun instead of using my kitchen for a couple hours?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it.
Kara, whose brow had begun to twitch as she followed the conversation like a spectator at a tennis match, offered, “Mark, have you seen your mother? We’re supposed to meet her at Fireside but we’re running a bit late.”
Mark slid his eyes to Anna and cocked a brow. “Running late? Since when are you—Ah. All those early mornings, I suppose.” He grinned a little wider.
Kara cleared her throat. “If you see your mom can you let her know we’ll be right over?”
Mark held Anna’s gaze for another beat and then slowly pulled his attention to his cousin. “Sure. I’ll swing by the café on my way back to Hastings. Stop by after your meeting if you want to go over—”
“Oh.” Kara seemed to stiffen. “I’m meeting my mom at the studio after the meeting, so… I’ll call you.”
Anna frowned in suspicion as a pink flush crept up Kara’s cheeks. Kara grabbed the bags from Anna’s hand and, with a murmured excuse Anna couldn’t make out, dashed to the door of Main Street Books and slipped inside, leaving Anna to turn helplessly back to the one man she couldn’t seem to get away from these days.
He shouldn’t be standing here like this, staring at her, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn away either. A sudden sadness shadowed her blue eyes, a wariness that he’d so often detected over the years, when he dared to steal a glance at her.
He shouldn’t have teased her. He should have just come along, said hello, offered to help carry the bags. But that would have been too… serious. Too real. Too risky.
It was easier to keep her at arm’s length, even if sometimes all he wanted to do was reach out and take her by the hand, pull her close, and kiss that frown off her pretty mouth.
“I didn’t mean to rile you up,” Mark said, giving her a half smile.
The space between her brows pinched. “It’s fine.” She reached down to grab the handles of the two remaining bags. “I should really get inside.”
Mark pulled his hands from his pockets and leaned forward. “Let me.”
“Mark.” Her voice was urgent, and he knew this was about much more than some bakery bags. His gut tightened when he saw the pain in her expression. “Please. I know you offered to help me, and I appreciate it, but I think we can both agree that it’s best for us to keep our distance.”
“Is that really what you want?” He held her eyes, looking for an answer he wasn’t sure he should be hoping to hear. They should keep their distance; that’s what he always told himself. Now he wasn’t so sure. He’d let her go once before, and he’d regretted it every damn day since.
“I think it’s best,” Anna said after a measured silence.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Mark.” Her tone was impatient, but her eyes had gone flat.
He stepped back, holding a hand in the air, suddenly feeling the need to run, to put not just emotional, but physical distance between them, and this need… this all-consuming need he felt to do just the opposite.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. You’re busy, and I still have to track down Frank.” He waited a beat, hoping for a reaction, but all he met was that distant frown. “I’ll let you go.”
Let you go. Wasn’t that what he did best? She’d been his friend—the closest he’d ever had other than Luke—and he’d shut her off, let her down, turned her away without another glance back. Every time his mind wandered back to her, he forced it away,
taking company with whatever girl wanted attention, women who could never worm their way into his heart, who could never reach him, or touch him. Or hurt him.
He waited until she had disappeared behind the red door of Main Street Books before hurrying the eight blocks back to Hastings. The crowd was thin, but it would pick up again around lunch hour, and for once Mark wished there was a line outside, babies wailing, and frazzled waitresses bumping into each other. Chaos would take his mind off Anna. It would drown out the voices in his head that kept pulling him back to her, even now, after all these years. It wouldn’t, however, solve his problem about the competition. What if Anna didn’t come around? Did she really hate him enough to lose out on the possibility of fifty thousand dollars, now, when she needed it most? He’d called her bluff, and she wasn’t biting. And there was no way in hell he was going to partner with Frank Piccolino, no matter how sweet that cash would be.
He stopped right there. Maybe Anna felt just as firm in her stance against him.
“Well, there you are!” His mother’s smile pulled him out of his darkening mood and he snapped back to the present, grateful for the distraction.
“Hi there!” He smiled warmly, and leaned in to give her a hug. Even now, when she’d been in remission for more than five years, he still clung a little tighter, held on a little longer, just in case. “I just ran into Kara,” he said, consciously avoiding all thoughts of Anna as he stepped around the counter. “She asked me to tell you she’s running a few minutes late.”
“I’m glad to hear it, actually. I was hoping to share a cup of coffee with you before the meeting.” Sharon settled her bill on the table, but Mark quickly handed the money back to her.
“You know you don’t need to pay for anything here. You own it, after all.”
“Yes, but you’re the one working here now; it only seems fair.” Sharon shrugged and glanced around the room. “The place looks great, Mark.”
“Eh.” Mark tried to muster up some enthusiasm and failed. He grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee, then took a long swig. Hastings didn’t look any different today than yesterday, or last year, but he wasn’t going to argue. His mother loved this place for some reason. She saw it as a beacon, and for her, perhaps it was. The pay had been steady when she’d needed it, and looking back she had to have been lonely. Locals gathered in the diner, making friendly conversation—people cared, but they didn’t get close. For a while, that suited Mark fine. Now…
He rubbed the back of his neck. He was starting to sweat. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about getting close. Now was the time to be thinking of pulling back. If he ever wanted that restaurant, that was.
“Sometimes I miss working here,” Sharon mused. Catching his eye, she gave a shy smile and waved her hand through the air. “What am I saying? There’s no one better to run it than you.”
Mark nodded and finished his coffee. That’s what he told himself, what he tried to believe. When his mother was diagnosed with cancer his senior year of high school, he vowed to stay by her side, do whatever it took to help out. He’d driven her to all her doctor’s appointments in Forest Ridge and ordered her to take time off. Working at the diner made sense. He’d practically grown up here, and food was… Well, try as he might to deny it, food was in his blood. By the time he’d arrived at culinary school at age twenty, he’d seen his time at Hastings as nothing but good training. He hadn’t expected to return to this place any more than he’d expected the cancer to come back.
But then, when was he ever able to count on anything turning out the way he’d hoped?
CHAPTER
11
Standing in the middle of Fireside, in the dim lighting that filtered through the tarps that covered the windows, Anna felt her stomach roil with dread. She knew it would be bad—she’d braced herself—but the reality hadn’t really hit her until this moment. It was gone. Just gone. And what remained was destroyed. The wood floorboards were discolored; the walls, stained. Those few things that hadn’t been directly touched by the fire or smoke had been too damaged by the sprinklers to bother keeping.
She couldn’t even walk into that kitchen.
“This looks even worse than I feared!” Kara murmured.
Anna felt her mouth thin as she followed her friend’s gaze to the space that had once housed the beautiful glass bakery counter. It, along with the dozens of polished tables and chairs, had been destroyed, and all that remained of Fireside’s cozy dining space was the fireplace itself, made of indestructible brick. Anna let her attention stop there, remembering the thrill she’d experienced when she first set eyes on it. She’d imagined club chairs in a semicircle, the flames crackling, and piano music streaming softly through speakers.
If she tried hard enough, she could picture it not just as it had been, but possibly even better—with a café area near the counter, overflowing with fresh breads and trays of pastries, and a separate dining area to the side, maybe even a hostess stand…
She opened her eyes quickly and steadied herself. Better came with a price tag. The best she could hope for right now was to have things up and running by July. The summer was always a busy time on Main Street: There were weekly festivals in the town square, and people tended to linger, enjoying the warm weather that was so precious in their northern climate, often going out of their way to come in to town and relax at a sidewalk table or enjoy an ice cream from the local parlor.
Anna took a deep breath and wandered toward the kitchen—or what had been the kitchen—and then turned away with a frown. She just couldn’t do it. The last time she was in there, she was in her element, moving on autopilot, working hard and loving every minute of it, thriving in the one place where nothing could touch her and no memories seeped in. There was no point in facing the obvious or wishing for things to be different than they were.
Something she should keep in mind more often, she thought, forcing her thoughts from Mark and everything that might have been.
“When do you think it will reopen?” Kara asked.
“I think the best we can hope for is early summer.” Being here now, though, her statement felt optimistic. She couldn’t imagine the labor it would take to get this place cleaned up and set right again, much less the cost. Insurance would help, of course, but it had taken months, even years, to find some of the little elements that had made this place her own. It almost felt less daunting to choose a new location and start over, but she had a lease agreement she intended to honor, with clauses to deal with this sort of tragedy. She just had to trust and believe… and be patient.
She sighed and put her back to the kitchen just as Sharon was coming through the door—or rather, the tarp that had been hung in its place.
“So you’ve come to have a look then.” She gave a small smile. “It’s probably just as bad as you imagined. It only gets better from here.”
Anna bravely nodded her head and blinked. “I wish I were as resilient as you,” she admitted through a watery smile.
“Who says you aren’t?” Sharon retorted, and Anna felt her heart skip a beat. If only Sharon knew. “Besides, I wasn’t always this way.”
Anna pulled in a breath. Of course Sharon wasn’t always this way—but life had thrown her a curveball, and then another, and what choice did she have? Anna could still remember hearing rumors around town after Mark’s father left. The restaurant was in the red, and Sharon didn’t have the skills to keep the place running or the means to hire someone to take over. She’d been one step away from filing bankruptcy, but thanks to Luke’s father—Bill Hastings’s brother—it didn’t have to come to that. He’d handled the debts, worked out a payment plan with the creditors. Sharon started working at the diner, and eventually she found a tenant to fill the old Tavern on Main space. It was touch and go for a while, but eventually it all worked out.
Just like things had worked out for Anna for a while. Fireside had been her happy ending. Her second chance. Now look at it!
“I’ll just be happy when
all is set right,” Sharon continued. “These old buildings have given me a lot of grief over the years, but they’re the only investment I have other than the diner and my home. When it’s going well, it’s keeping me going.” She sighed. “I suppose you heard the stationery store next door broke their lease?”
Anna perked up. “No, I hadn’t heard,” she said, trying to keep the interest from her tone when it was such an obvious setback for Sharon. It was utterly pointless to carry on with these thoughts of expansion. She’d already taken on more than she could handle with the bookstore. She was in debt. She didn’t know how she was going to cover that loan until Fireside was reopened. Now was not the time to dig herself deeper.
Still, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering when the opportunity would present itself again. While the contractors were here, they could easily knock down that wall… Oh, what was she thinking? This was nonsense. She didn’t have the money. Period.
“The noise and chaos was too disruptive, apparently,” Sharon explained. “They’re relocating to that empty space on Chestnut, just across the town square.”
“Do you have another tenant lined up?” Anna asked, and to her great relief, Sharon shook her head.
“I can’t imagine anyone being interested now, with the scaffolding and construction.” She gave a small shrug. “I’ll worry about it once this place is taken care of. I’m sure I won’t have any trouble finding someone in the summer.”
“I’m sure you won’t have any trouble at all,” Anna agreed. Already her mind was beginning to travel to places it shouldn’t. She pictured an arched doorway, opening into the main dining space, a lounge just off to the side. The bakery counter could be tightened, to give more space, and cleared out at night to display their dessert offerings. There was another fireplace in the stationery store—one Shea O’Riley used solely for decoration—that could anchor the other half of the restaurant, where clusters of their most private tables could be focused.