by Olivia Miles
“Everything okay?” Luke asked.
“Of course,” Mark said, reaching for the beer once more. He groaned, thinking of the day ahead. “I should probably swing by the diner, give Kara a much-needed break.”
Luke nodded, standing. “I’ll come with you if you don’t mind. From what I know, though, she seems to be really enjoying working there.”
Guess that makes one of us, Mark thought grimly. He set down his half-finished beer and grabbed his keys. The urge to call Anna burned deep, but he knew she was with her sister now, discussing the fate of their shop. He supposed he should feel grateful for the fact that he still had a family business, but right now, all he could think about was the stash of notes and recipes, left to collect dust.
Luke waited until they were in the car to say, “So… tell me to shut up if you want, but how exactly did you know that Anna’s hotel room was given the honeymoon suite treatment?”
Mark glanced at his cousin. There was no getting out of this one. “You might find this hard to believe but… Anna and I have a bit of history.”
Luke grinned. “Interesting.”
“I’m glad you find this so funny,” Mark commented.
“Not funny,” Luke said. “Just… not surprising.”
Mark frowned. “Not surprising?” He stared at his cousin, who could only shrug. “This is me we’re talking about, Luke. You know I don’t… commit.”
“You date girls you know you would never have serious feelings for. You say over and over that you’re a confirmed bachelor, like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
“So? What’s your point?”
“My point is that there’s only one girl in this whole damn town you’ve shown any sort of emotional reaction to and that’s Anna.”
“Yes, but before the fire we hadn’t spoken to each other in years.”
“You know what they say,” Luke said with a shrug. “Silence speaks volumes.”
CHAPTER
28
Glad you’re back, Mark!”
Wish I could say the same. Mark refilled Arnie’s coffee mug and slid him a bowl of creamers. The Monday morning crowd was thin; people were back at work, and aside from the handful of retired widowers who lined the counter seven days a week, there was no one else to talk to.
Mark gazed out the window, looking for a hint of long legs and honey blond hair. He muttered to himself, shaking his head. Of course he wouldn’t see her. She was at Fireside. In her own kitchen, prepping for the Annex. He should be happy for her.
Mark stripped off his apron and ducked into his office. He’d hated coming back here this morning, feeling that black hole of dread, the endless tunnel of more days spent like this. The notes he’d scribbled over the years were tucked in a folder in the top drawer of his desk. He took them out now, pausing just long enough to consider his folly, and slammed them in the trash. He cursed under his breath and flicked off the light. Coming back into the dining room, he settled Arnie’s bill and waited for Kara to start her shift. She arrived five minutes early, fresh faced and perky. Last night she’d spent nearly an hour regaling them with stories from the weekend, chuckling about Arnie’s insistence that the hash wasn’t the same without him, even though he rarely cooked the stuff himself. Mark had tried not to curl his lip, tried not to think of the way it might have been if he hadn’t come back here. If his mom hadn’t gotten sick. If his dad hadn’t left. If he’d never broken up with Anna.
But then what about Hastings? What would have happened to it if he’d been off with Anna and his mom had gotten sick? His gut twisted on the thought, reminding him of everything that could go wrong, all the reasons he had for ending things with her when he did. Doubt kept him awake last night, bringing him down that dark road he’d tried to forget. He had to tread carefully.
“Beautiful day today,” Kara said brightly, tossing her dark brown ponytail off her shoulder.
Mark shrugged. He supposed. He poked his head through the service window to his cook, who was standing at the griddle. “Hey Vince, I’m heading out for the day.”
“See ya,” Kara grinned, stepping out onto the floor to take orders from a family that had just sat down near the window. Mark watched the family with passive interest—a young couple and a newborn baby, nestled in a carrier, the blanket pulled up to its chin, despite the warm spring sun.
He tore his eye from the scene, but his heart began to pound when he saw a woman standing hesitantly in the doorway.
“Cassie. What are you doing here?”
“You said you worked at a family place,” Cassie replied, giving him a slow smile. “It was pretty easy to find the address for Hastings. The one and only.”
Mark set his jaw, feeling exposed and tense, thinking of the hurt in Anna’s eyes the night of the cocktail party. “Come back to my office,” he said, leading her through the diner.
He wound Cassie through the kitchen, wincing as a basket of fries went into the oil, sizzling and filling the room with the smell of grease, and ushered her into his closet of an office. “It’s not as fancy as what you’re used to,” he said, realizing the person he was apologizing to was himself.
“It’s charming,” Cassie said, sitting on the edge of the vinyl chair.
Mark sat opposite her, at the desk, and quickly began shoving papers to the side. He leaned forward, into his elbows. “So, to what do I owe the visit?”
“I’ll get right to it. I’m opening my own restaurant, and I want you to be my executive chef.”
Mark stared at her. “Me?”
“I saw your contest entry, and I was impressed. You know me… I was always more interested in managing the front of the house, interacting with customers and handling the business end. I loved those management courses.”
“I couldn’t stand those classes. I just wanted to get back to the kitchen.”
It was in his blood. He couldn’t deny it. No matter how much he tried to turn his back on cooking, on his dream—on Anna—he still wanted it, after all these years.
Cassie grinned. “Exactly my point. We’d make a pretty good team, Mark.”
He frowned at that, breaking her stare. Was he really considering this? Up until a few weeks ago, he was ready to get out of Briar Creek and focus on a new venture, but that was before Anna had come back into his life.
“You’ve caught me by surprise,” he finally said.
Cassie held up a hand. “Of course. I should have called first, but I have a meeting with my business attorney in Forest Ridge in an hour so I thought I’d stop in.” She tipped her head, sensing his hesitation. “Why don’t we meet for dinner and discuss it further?”
From behind the door, he heard Vince calling out orders: “Cheeseburger and fries, hold the pickles. Eggs, scrambled. Hash browns, extra crispy.” He winced. Could he really turn down this opportunity? But could he really stay in this dive? Up until now, he’d failed himself as much as his father had—he’d hidden behind his fear, turned his back on change and growth. Turned his back on the things he’d loved most.
“I’m staying in the area tonight,” Cassie said. “How about seven thirty at that cute little place across the town square?”
Piccolino’s, Mark thought bitterly. “Sure,” he said, standing. It was just dinner. Just a meeting. He didn’t have to say yes. He didn’t have to say no, either.
He waited for her to go and then grabbed his keys, exiting out the back door, his chest pounding.
He gripped the steering wheel with both hands as he drove through town, slowing as he passed Fireside and then Main Street Books a few blocks down. His heart picked up speed when the door of the bookstore opened, but it was only Grace, popping out to water the flowers. Spotting him, she smiled, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding the watering can.
Mark forced a smile in return and pushed down on the accelerator.
A real kitchen. Respect. A chance to do what he always wanted to do.
Making a detour at the light, he headed down the wi
nding, tree-lined roads and pulled to a stop outside the gray Colonial where he had spent the first eighteen years of his life. He could still remember sitting on the floor near that front window, looking down the street for his dad’s car, searching as night fell for the headlights, for the purr of the garage door being opened, and the sounds of that booming voice saying hello.
He slammed the door shut and jammed his hands in his pocket as he traced the brick path to the front door. He knocked twice before entering. “Mom?”
“Mark? Back here!”
He followed the sound of her voice to the kitchen, where Sharon was sitting at the old oak table, clipping coupons. For as long as he could remember after his dad left, she’d done this, and even when she eventually got back on her feet. It kept her busy, she said, but Mark had always suspected there was a deeper reason. They’d been broke, in debt, and taking handouts from Luke’s father and, later, Rosemary. Their lifestyle had changed as abruptly as Mark’s father’s departure; once you struggled like that, you always worried. Worried that it could happen again, just as quickly.
Mark narrowed his eyes. He understood. When life turned upside down, you were always preparing for the worst.
Sharon folded the newspaper inserts and slid them to the edge of the table in a neat pile. Standing, she walked over to the counter and fetched a mug from a cabinet before filling it with coffee. The rich, strong brew perked Mark up and he accepted it with a grin. “Thanks.”
“Everything okay?” Sharon topped off her own mug and slid back into her chair.
Mark leaned back, giving a small shrug. “A lot on my mind, that’s all.”
Sharon tipped her head. “Are you still disappointed about not winning?”
“Oh, yes and no.”
Sharon’s warm brown eyes were kind. “I’m just proud of you for entering.” She hesitated, looking down into her mug. “If I may be candid, I’ve been worried about you, Mark. You used to have such a sense of passion, such a drive and ambition when it came to your career. It was nice to see you find that again these past few weeks.”
Mark frowned at her words. The passion had always been there, dormant and suppressed, held at bay because it seemed the better way, the safer way. “You know I don’t mind running the diner, Mom,” he said, hating himself for the lack of truth in his words. He’d done it for her, and that was one thing he could never regret.
“Mark. I hope you know that I never expected you to take it over, not permanently. I certainly didn’t want you to feel compelled to stick around.”
“It’s our family place—”
“No.” Sharon shook her head. “Tavern on Main was our family place. Hastings was… a job. I worked there to get back on my feet, and I also enjoyed the company. It can get lonely sometimes, living alone…” Mark hated the thought of his mother, alone in this big house, one son off in Baltimore, and the other…
“Hastings is still a family place. You took it over. You bought it.” His voice was gruff. Determined.
“It’s not the same. I took it over because Gary Sullivan was retiring. He wanted to sell it and I didn’t want to risk new ownership and be out of a job. It seemed like the sensible option at the time.”
“It definitely has a loyal crowd,” Mark agreed. He took a gulp of his coffee.
“I was happy enough with that. I needed that—security, stability. I had two growing sons to feed.” She leaned forward. “But you aren’t like me. Not deep down, Mark. You have your father’s spirit. You always did.”
“Don’t say that,” Mark snapped, and then, catching his tone, muttered, “Sorry.”
His mother sat back. “You’re still angry with him.”
“Damn straight I’m angry.” Mark stopped himself. “Sorry again.”
“It’s okay to feel hurt for the way he left, but don’t let that ruin something else you love, Mark.”
Mark’s skin was on fire, and he clenched his teeth harder, unable to back down. “I was there for you. Dad—” He stopped himself before he said something he’d regret. “Working at Hastings all these years has been the best thing for all of us.”
Sharon frowned at him. “I’ve been willing to go back for over a year, but if I’m honest, I wasn’t sure what you would do if you weren’t manning that counter.”
This was news to him, and he tried to wrap his head around the information.
“You know, one of the things that made me fall in love with your father was his passion. The way he could visualize something beautiful and bring it to life. He really threw himself into everything. He was a perfectionist that way. He loved that restaurant. We all did.”
“But he loved it too much,” Mark said bitterly. “More than us.”
Sharon frowned. “Is that what you think?”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I suppose it might have seemed that way,” Sharon sighed. “The restaurant was a part of him. It’s what made him happy. I don’t think he would have been happy sitting back, doing something safe. He liked to run the kitchen. He liked to cook what he wanted to cook. He didn’t take custom orders.” She gave a wry grin.
“Then why did he leave?” It was the first time he had dared to ask, the first time he had confronted his mother on the reason their family had been torn apart. His father was gone. He wasn’t coming back. He needed something to blame, damn it. “He left because Tavern failed, right?”
“You know we always argued about the business; I won’t deny that. It was a source of stress, and a strain on us financially. But if you’re asking if he left because the restaurant closed, no. He left because he was… in love with someone else. Someone he worked with—his sous chef, actually.” Sharon held up her palms and let them drop back to the table.
Mark startled. “His sous chef?”
“They were close, working side by side every day. He left town with her.”
“And he never came back,” Mark nearly spat.
Sharon sighed. “He should have come, for you boys. But he wasn’t the one who chose to leave. I was the one who kicked him out.”
Mark stared at his mother for several, silent seconds. “But I heard you crying—”
“Oh, I was hurt,” Sharon agreed. “I was also near bankruptcy. I was completely overwhelmed. But I know I did the right thing. I made my decision. I’m just sorry that your father made his own.” She hesitated, glancing at him as if wondering whether she should continue. “Tavern had been struggling for years, long before Piccolino’s opened. Your father kept it going because he loved it, and he believed in it. But he really kept it going for you.”
Mark startled. “For me?”
“He saw how much you loved being in the kitchen. Even from an early age, you had an interest—and a talent.” She grinned. “He hoped to pass it down to you someday.”
Mark tried to make sense of this, how the man who had thought enough of him to pass down a restaurant would be capable of walking out of his life forever. “Is this why you always encouraged to me to go to culinary school?”
“I saw the way you resisted it, after your father left. It crushed me to see you so hurt, to think of you giving up that dream. When you stayed behind after high school to be with me, I wanted to think of a way to make it up to you. I wanted to encourage you to go for what I knew would make you happy, even if you didn’t know it yourself yet. It’s also why I held on to the property. It belongs with you, Mark.”
An uneasy feeling took hold and rested square in his gut. “I don’t want to be like him.”
What would he have done years ago? If Anna had told him that she was pregnant, what kind of father would he have been?
She hadn’t trusted him enough to find out.
“I don’t want to be like him,” he said again.
“Your father had his faults, but he had a lot of fine qualities, too. Don’t resist the part of you he touched, Mark. Take it and learn from it.”
Mark nodded, and reached for his mug. The coffee had gone cold,
but he finished it in one gulp. All this time, he’d thought his father was incapable of love, but maybe that wasn’t the case at all. He’d wanted him to have Tavern. It wasn’t much. But for now, it would be enough.
Mark pushed back his chair and stood. No more indecision. No more waffling through life. It was time to move forward once and for all.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this again,” Jane groaned as she fanned her fingers, waiting for the polish to dry.
Anna gave her a nudge with her elbow. “You said yourself, the third time’s the charm.”
“Ha.” Jane pursed her lips. “I guess I’m not holding out much hope. Even if this guy does turn out to be great, he could end up just like Adam in the end.”
“I’d like to think there might be some good guys left,” Anna mused.
Jane frowned at her sister’s mysterious smile. “That’s rather optimistic of you, Anna. I thought you didn’t believe in happy endings.”
Anna shrugged. “I didn’t used to.”
Jane flexed her fingers, hesitating on her next words. Anna was a private person; she kept her feelings close to her heart. Even the loss of their father had been her own, special struggle. Still, something in her words suggested an invitation for sharing, as if there were something on her mind she needed to talk through.
“Do you mind me asking what caused that?”
“I was in a relationship in culinary school.” Anna didn’t meet her eye. “With Mark.”
Jane knew she made a poor show of masking her shock, despite her suspicions. Mark was a great guy—cute, Jane had to admit, and yes, a bit of a flirt. She could see where his smooth ways could rub Anna the wrong way, especially if there were lingering feelings, and it was becoming increasingly clear there were.
“You know,” she said, grinning, “You’ve been a lot happier these past few weeks since you started spending time with Mark. Here I thought you were being brave, holding yourself together for Grace’s sake, trying to put on a front because you were worried about Main Street Books and the loan. It was about Mark, though, wasn’t it?”
Anna released a small breath. “It hasn’t been easy being around him. Not at first, anyway.”