The two ladies watched as he pulled out a bin and started peeling the mountain of potatoes they would need for the next few hours.
Olivia heard the coffee maker start to spurt and sputter, indicating it was done, and turned to fix cups for her and Tom. “Jackie, you want one?”
“Sure. I’ll come back and get it in a minute. I think I see Mrs. Crowley standing out there in the cold. I’m going to let her in a little early.”
Olivia laughed. “Between her and Mr. Harrington’s little contest to see who gets here first, we’re going to be forced to open earlier and earlier!”
Jackie grinned. “Tell me about it. Hey, at their age, whatever keeps them ticking. I think it’s sweet to see them flirting with each other. I hope I can be like that when I’m in my eighties.” She shot her a rueful grin. “Of course, it would be nice to meet a man before I reach that age.”
“I hear that. If all else fails, we can drink wine together when we’re gray and tottering. I’m sure I’ll be available to keep you company.”
Tom shook his head and grunted, the potato peeler never pausing in his hand. Both of them looked at him, then at each other, and started laughing. “Don’t worry, Tom. You can join us,” Jackie said with a wink, before heading to unlock the front door.
For the next few hours, the Sunday morning crowd kept Olivia and Tom busy filling order tickets. Whole rashers of bacon popped and sizzled on the flat tops and pancakes bubbled into golden discs as she stuffed and flipped a steady array of omelets. It was a constant and precise kitchen ballet that they both performed with perfect harmony and synchronicity.
After a while, she glanced at the clock and was surprised to discover it was already after 10 a.m. There was a slight break between the early birds and the people coming in from after church or those who had just slept in late and were now ready for brunch.
Sensing a lull in the breakfast crowd, Olivia turned to Tom. “I think I’ll head back to the office and work on my supply order. Hopefully, I can get it finished without having to stay any later this afternoon.”
“Yeah, that works. I’ll let you know if it gets too busy.”
“Great.”
She sent silent thanks for having a right-hand man like him working for her. He may be a man of few words, but no matter how busy the kitchen got, he always managed to be the calm in the middle of the storm. Between him and Jackie, she knew her business was in good hands.
As she made her way down the back hallway to the little storage room she’d converted into her makeshift office, her phone rang. “Hey, Liz, what’s up?”
Eliza, or Liz, was Olivia’s younger sister. She worked at the mechanic shop a few blocks down the street, the same one where their father did when he had been alive. “Just wondering how the crowd’s doing over there. Thought I’d try to pop in for a quick breakfast before I get started on this next car.”
“It’s a bit busier than usual. I think most people are getting what they need early and planning to hunker down before the storm blows in. What would you like? I’ll let Tom know.”
“Just my usual and a side of bacon, please. I should be there in about ten minutes or so.”
“I’ll be in my office; come on back when you get here.” Hanging up, she detoured back towards the kitchen to put Liz’s blueberry pancake order in before putting on another pot to brew.
***
There was such a feeling of satisfaction in being able to pay the bills for another month. She loved knowing the roof above her head was paid for, the people who worked for her would still have jobs, and her guests would be able to come in for a good meal and good company. A knock on the door interrupted her just as she started delving into the process of making sure everyone would be paid that week.
Liz opened the door and poked her head in the room. “Hey, Livvy, do you think my food is ready?”
“Yeah, I put the order in when you called. I’ll go check and see if it’s in the window. I need a warm-up for my coffee, anyway. Why don’t you sit back here and keep me company while you eat?” She gave her seat to her sister and went to grab her food.
A few minutes later, she leaned against the desk and took a sip from her mug. Liz slanted her a look as she poured an obscene amount of syrup on her pancakes. “So, how does it feel to be twenty-seven, birthday girl?”
“About the same as it did when I was twenty-six, I guess. I don’t know why people make such a big deal about getting older. I can honestly say I feel fine about it.”
She smiled, watching syrup pool on Liz’s plate. How her sister managed to maintain such a lean, athletic build was beyond her. Where she was curvy, her sister was straight and slender. Her short brown hair was usually styled into an edgy, pixie cut that perfectly framed her startlingly pale green eyes. However, Olivia noticed it was currently standing on end from the cold wind outside.
Liz just nodded and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. “I can see why you’d feel like that. If you think about it, you’ve been in this stage of your life since a lot earlier and for a lot longer than many of your peers. When they were out hitting the happy hours and clubbing, you were home making dinner, doing laundry, and checking that we’d done our homework.
“Most of them are just now starting to enter a stage of their lives where they are responsible for running a household and raising families. You’ve been taking care of Fiona and me for years now, along with running your own business. There probably isn’t that much of a difference between this time of your life and the last four years prior to it.”
Olivia tilted her head and looked at her, watching as she chased a blueberry across her plate. Leave it to her sister to be able to cut directly into the heart of a subject. “You know, I never thought about it like that. It kind of makes sense when you put it that way.”
Liz shrugged and took a swig from her coffee. “It makes me wonder, though. Do you think you’ll wake up one day and wonder what you missed during that stage? It’s not too late, you know. Have you thought about the fact that since Fiona and I are out of the house, you could go sow a few wild oats?”
She laughed. “Wild oats? Um, no. I don’t think that’s going to be much of an issue with me. Playing the field is not appealing.” She thought about it a little more. “Besides, I don’t regret the choices I’ve made. The only thing I would change is the fact that our parents died at all. I still miss them; I know we all do. But, I’m happy that I was old enough to take custody of Fiona so that she didn’t have to be put into a foster home. Going out partying really isn’t that important when compared to keeping the three of us together.”
She straightened up from where she was leaning on the corner of her desk. “At any rate, I need to get back to the kitchen and see how Tom is holding up. The brunch crowd should be filtering in by now. Will you lock the door and bring the plate back to the kitchen once you’re finished?”
Liz nodded and popped the last of her pancakes in her mouth.
“Oh! Have you heard from Fiona today?” Olivia asked. “She said she was going to drive down from school and stay in town for the weekend.”
“I haven’t talked to her today, but I remember her mentioning it.”
“I hope she gets an early enough start to be off the road by the time the storm hits. Will you give her a call and see when she plans to leave?”
“If I was to guess, she probably woke up and promptly forgot everything else with her nose buried in another one of her books.” They both laughed with warm affection for their youngest sister. Liz rose from the chair. “I’m almost done at the shop for the day, anyway. I’ll give her a call on the walk back.”
“Alright, thanks. We’re still on for the birthday dinner tonight, right?”
“Absolutely. I thought I’d ride out the storm with you two and just spend the night in my old room. We can have dinner, drink some wine, and make a sister party out of it.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll try to stop by the grocery store and pick up a few things for a
nice meal. I meant to do it earlier, but lost track of time. It’s been awhile since I’ve made my Chicken Marsala and I’ve been craving it.”
Liz grinned and rubbed her hands in anticipation. “Make sure you leave a bit early, too, okay? The weather is supposed to start getting pretty nasty around two o’clock.”
After giving her sister a quick hug, Olivia made her way back to the kitchen to take over the grill. She scanned the restaurant as she passed through the dining room, noting that everything was running smoothly and there was a small crowd of people in the front of the lobby waiting for a table.
Suddenly, the back of her neck began to prickle with the feeling of being watched. Looking around quickly, she spotted a man sitting at the breakfast counter with sharp, blue, brooding eyes, a strong—slightly stubbled—jaw, and a dark fall of hair across his forehead. Instantly, her cheeks flushed. Her pulse stuttered, and then began to race.
Speaking of wild oats, she thought.
Flustered, she turned slightly away, put her hair up in a quick bun, and headed back into the kitchen. Curiously, she contemplated the man sitting at her counter, as well as her own immediate response to him, while she pulled down the next ticket.
They didn’t get a lot of strangers in town during the off-season, and it had been a long time since she’d felt so completely stripped bare by just a look. Not altogether comfortable with her reaction, or train of thought, she began cracking eggs onto the grill.
It was probably just as well she remained back behind the scenes, Olivia thought. She didn’t have time for these sorts of distractions in her life.
Chapter Two
Mason flagged the high-school girl down for another cup of coffee and hunched over his breakfast plate. Idly, he rotated his shoulder to ease the stiffness in his left arm. He had to admit, the food was pretty good in this little café. Much better than he would have expected from the usual small-town greasy spoon.
The bubbly, dark-haired girl gave him a grin as she topped off his coffee.
“How is everything?”
“Good, thanks.” Mason grimaced as the girl gave him a big smile. She kind of reminded him of Ryan’s daughter, Jenny.
She cocked her hip and leaned on the counter, practically batting her eyes at him. “Did you need anything else?”
Was she actually trying to flirt with him? With a long look, he replied, “Just the check, please.”
He watched her cheeks turn pink as she straightened up and pulled the bill from her apron pocket. Mason felt kind of bad. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her. “Here you are, then. Let me know if you change your mind.”
He took a sip of his coffee and nodded agreement. Ryan’s little girl wasn’t much younger than the waitress. Who was going to be there to watch her back while she learned how to navigate the process of becoming a woman and how to make good choices?
His mouth twisted at the thought. Don’t go there. Stop that train of thought before you go any further. Glancing down at the plate, he sighed and pushed it away. The stray thought had made him lose his appetite despite how good the hashbrowns tasted. Actually, he was surprised his plate was half empty, considering it’d been weeks since he’d felt hungry or eaten more than a few bites.
No, it wasn’t a bad little café, he thought, as he took another look around. Judging by how busy it was, it seemed to be a hot spot for the locals. He watched as a well-dressed family, obviously just out of church, was seated across the dining room.
He liked how bright and cheerful the place was with the large windows looking out on the town. People stood at the front, holding white mugs filled with coffee and chatting with neighbors as they waited for a table. His seat at the counter gave him a glimpse, through the pass-through window, at the organized chaos of the kitchen.
As he looked around, he noticed a young woman make her way into the room from the back hallway. Something about the way she moved was utterly alluring. There was an unselfconscious grace in the way she held herself; shoulders back, head up, and a fluid gait that flowed straight down from her hips. She couldn’t have been more than 5’5”, but the way she walked gave the impression that her legs went on forever.
As Mason watched, she didn’t go to join a table in the dining room, but instead made her way behind the counter and pulled a white chef’s jacket down from the hook by the kitchen door. He appreciated the way the pale coat contrasted with the toasted-almond color of her smooth skin.
She deftly wound her long, mahogany-colored hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. His fingers itched to feel if it was as silky as it looked. Mason couldn’t help but notice the gentle slope of her breasts, barely visible under the shapeless frock.
For crying out loud, he needed to get it together. Granted, it had been awhile since he’d seen or dated anybody, but that was no reason for him to start acting like a gawky teenage boy who had never been with a woman before.
Truth be told, catching the interest of a beautiful woman had never been a problem for Mason. Many would have been considered more attractive than the lady behind the counter in her baggy chef’s coat, faded jeans, and serviceable sneakers. So, what was it about her that caused such an instant, visceral reaction? Maybe it was because it was so obvious that she hadn’t tried to enhance her natural beauty, and yet it still managed to shine through.
About the time he reached this conclusion, he realized he’d been staring. Mason quickly went to take another sip of his coffee, but it was too late. She must have sensed his attention, because she suddenly turned and looked directly at him.
He paused with his mug halfway to his lips, and forgot to breathe. Her eyes reflected the pale sunlight filtering in through the windows and glowed like bits of amber. For a split second, everything else faded into the background. Then, just as quickly, she turned away and swung through the kitchen door.
Mason watched as the woman pulled down the next ticket. He could tell she was clearly in her element as she easily fell into the rhythm of working the grill with the other cook, a man. Every action seemed to be fluid and competent.
He lingered over his half a cup of coffee for another ten minutes and enjoyed watching the easy way the two of them worked. He knew what it was like to work in sync with a partner. He missed that feeling of knowing someone well enough to practically predict their next actions before even they knew what they’d do.
The swift sting of loss caused his fascination and enjoyment of the moment to pop like a soap bubble. He berated himself for his preoccupation. Dammit, his partner hadn’t been buried for even a month, and here he was mooning over some random woman who, truth be told, hadn’t done anything to encourage his wayward thoughts.
What the hell was wrong with him? The last thing he needed was to get involved with somebody, given his current state of misery. He could barely stand his own company, let alone subject someone else to his surly moods. It was bad enough that his sister had to see him like this as he recuperated.
Besides, he knew first-hand how deeply it hurt to lose someone close. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone. If he chose to stay in this line of work, the best thing he could do is keep his distance. Mason suspected the intriguing woman would want more than just a casual arrangement.
Shaking his head and firmly deciding it was time to go, he laid some cash on the counter to pay the bill and told the girl to keep the change. Resolutely, he strode towards the door and out into the cold, refusing to allow himself even a quick – tempting – glance back at the golden-eyed kitchen goddess.
Chapter Three
By the time Olivia managed to finish her next supply order and close the restaurant, it was four o’clock in the afternoon. The storm had rolled in earlier than predicted and snow had already been coming down for nearly four hours.
Close to a foot of snow had piled up along the sidewalks and mounded in the gutters along the road. Pulling her collar up and bending her back against the wind, she silently scolded herself for not following her own advice and heading home earlier
.
The fan belt gave a squeal of protest as she started her car. With a sigh, she made a mental note to have Liz take a look at it. She threw her purse into the passenger seat and grabbed her ice scraper.
Luckily, the heater had a chance to kick in once she’d cleared her car off, and the interior was toasty when she climbed back in. She was grateful that although her Toyota Camry was twelve years old, it still worked like a champ.
Before pulling out from the space behind her building, her chilled fingers quickly dialed Liz’s number and got her voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. I got out a bit later than expected but I’m heading to the store now and will be home soon.” She hung up and carefully navigated her way across the road and into the grocery store parking lot.
She promised herself she was just going to quickly stop in the grocery store to pick up what she needed for the Chicken Marsala and make her way home. Thankfully, her sisters were probably already out of the snow and safely inside the house.
At least there was one good thing about the storm, she thought, pulling into the parking spot closest to the doors. As she walked towards the entrance, a group of young women were coming out of the store. They looked like a flock of bright tropical birds that had taken a wrong turn north. All of them were about her age, maybe a few years younger, and looked like they were going out for a night on the town.
She cringed inwardly at how cold they all looked. They must not have felt a coat matched their outfits, because none of them wore one. She glanced down at the pretty heels they all wore and wondered which one of them would fall first. It was hard enough to balance on high heels; she couldn’t imagine trying to walk through snow and ice on them.
She walked up to the automatic doors, catching her own reflection in the store windows. She’d changed out of her sneakers and into some sturdy, blue Merrell snow boots with rubber soles. Her jeans were so worn that the seams had begun to turn white. She was thankful that her long, black coat came halfway down her legs. Her long hair was gathered and tucked up under a dark-gray knit hat. Overall, she may look a bit old and frumpy, but at least she was warm.
Secret Hunger (The Harper Sisters) Page 2