by Meg Benjamin
“Go and help your Aunt Nadia,” she said flatly.
Hyacinth’s lower lip jutted out fiercely. “I haven’t finished my breakfast.”
“Yes you have. You’re just playing with the food now. Go.”
Hyacinth pushed herself to her feet, still pouting. “All right, but I’ll be ravenous by lunchtime.”
“Good. You can do justice to the food by then.” Alice plopped into a chair, making little shooing motions with her fingertips.
Hyacinth threw one more tragic glance in Greta’s direction, then stomped out of the room.
Leaving her alone with Alice. Not necessarily something Greta was looking forward to. “French toast?” she asked a little stiffly.
Alice nodded. “Two slices. What are you doing for the store?”
“Banana bread. I’ve got it ready for the oven.”
“What are you going to do—sell slices?”
Greta shrugged. “Yeah. Unless you want to try selling the loaves, which I wouldn’t suggest. Don’t worry. Everybody loves banana bread.”
“Slices are all right,” Alice said sourly. She stared down at her coffee cup for a moment, then looked up at Greta again. “Thank you for saving my granddaughter.” She sounded as if the words were being extracted with pliers.
Greta stood very still, waiting for the but that she was sure would be coming. After a few moments, she realized it wasn’t. “You’re welcome. I was glad to do it.”
Alice fixed her gaze on the corner of the room. “I behaved badly last night. I should have thanked you then. I apologize.”
“Don’t mention it.” In fact, Greta meant that literally. She really wanted Alice to stop talking about it.
Apparently, Alice felt the same way. She started eating her French toast with enthusiasm. “Very good. Too bad we can’t serve it in the store.”
“That would require plates and forks, which would also require a dishwasher.” Greta shrugged. “You could consider serving breakfasts if you’re still interested in opening the dining room.”
Alice gave her another narrow-eyed stare. “You’re leaving? Today?”
Why was everybody asking her that question? Wasn’t it obvious? “Yes, I’m leaving. Today.”
Alice arched an eyebrow. “For how long?”
“Excuse me?” Greta froze in the act of putting the banana bread into the oven.
“How long do you plan to be gone before you come back here and get started on the whole breakfast pastries business? Surely it won’t take you that long to explain everything to your mother and take whatever you have coming from the town gossips. In fact, if you’ll leave behind a list of the things we need to do to get started, I can get the whole thing underway while you’re off doing penance.” She sliced another piece of French toast.
“I…don’t think I’m ready to do that yet.” Greta pushed the bread into the oven, slamming the door, then sank down at the table. “In fact, I don’t remember discussing this whole idea with you.” Mainly because they hadn’t ever done it.
Alice shrugged. “You didn’t have to. Nadia dropped a few details, but it doesn’t take a genius to see how the whole thing would work. I’d already been thinking about something along that line, but I didn’t have a cook before. Now I do.”
Greta took a couple of deep breaths. She felt a little dizzy. “I was just sort of brainstorming with Nadia. I haven’t really gone any farther than that. I mean, I have to sit down and think the whole thing through, maybe write out a formal proposal.” Which would give her some time to actually consider the idea carefully and in detail for once before jumping in with both feet.
Alice shook her head. “You can do that if you need to—maybe it’ll help you get it straight in your mind. But I can see how this is going to work. Can’t you?”
Greta rested her head in her hands. “I’ve got some very questionable history on things like this. I’ve rushed into a lot of things in my life and screwed up royally. How do I know this isn’t going to be another disaster?”
“You don’t.” Alice walked to the coffeepot to pour herself another cup. “I’d say our chances are decent to make back our outlay, but that’s without knowing how much our outlay is going to be. I’ll need to get somebody from the county in here to inspect the kitchen, and he’ll probably want some changes. Hell, it hasn’t produced anything but family meals for years. And I’m not sure Nadia’s cooking even qualifies as meals.”
Greta nodded slowly. “You’ll have to do some updating. And they’ll probably require some equipment replacement. And as I said, you’ll need a dishwasher.”
“Right. So there will be some expenses involved. Which, in turn, will mean we’ll have to expand to as many stores as we can reach. How are you on salesmanship?”
Greta shrugged. “I’m decent, I guess. I believe in my own stuff.”
“As well you should. So are you ready to go with this?”
She closed her eyes. “I can’t make a decision like that, Alice. I just can’t. It’s too big, and it’s too important. I need time—for once, I need to actually weigh pros and cons before I get invested in this. I’ve made too many mistakes because I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing.”
“You also rescued my granddaughter from a fifteen-foot pine tree,” Alice said quietly. “You didn’t stop to think and you got her down.”
“One of my rare successes,” Greta muttered.
Alice sighed. “All right. I have to open the store. Bring me some banana bread when it’s ready. And you might spend some time thinking about the future.”
Greta gathered the dishes in the sink after she’d gone. She could pretty much guarantee she’d be thinking about the future from now on. She just couldn’t guarantee she’d be able to come to any decision. From being somebody who jumped into anything that presented itself, she’d suddenly changed into somebody who couldn’t make a decision to save her soul.
Maybe I need to talk to my mother. She closed her eyes. Talking to her mother was probably the first thing she needed to do.
Fifty minutes later, she started slicing up the banana bread, covering it in squares of plastic wrap. If we were to do this full time, we’d need more help. It takes me too long to wrap these suckers as it is.
She paused. If we were to do this full time… Her shoulders ached with tension. What if it all goes south? What if I make another mistake? And this time it would break my heart in more ways than one. She took a deep breath, arranging the slices of banana bread on a sheet pan, and headed for the store. She wasn’t going to do anything now. She didn’t have to. She’d have other chances—no matter what Alice said, she didn’t have to make up her mind this very minute.
And she had other possibilities she could consider. She could always go to Boston and work in Mary Ellen’s bakery. Or go back to Promise Harbor. And move in with her mother.
She closed her eyes. Okay, so she didn’t necessarily want to do that. There might still be other possibilities.
The customers in the general store were lined up four deep this time, watching her like pigeons eyeing a bag of peanuts. She placed the tray in front of Alice. “Here’s the first batch.”
Alice frowned. “Best get the next batch out as soon as you can. We’ve got a lot of hungry people this morning.”
“You’re leaving?” somebody called out. “Whose idea was that?”
“Mine,” Greta muttered, turning back toward the door.
She let Hyacinth take the next tray of slices out to the store once she’d finished wrapping them. Nadia was busy processing mint at the sink when Greta came back in. “Do you need to wash anything in here?” Nadia frowned. “We’ll need to work out logistics once you start cooking larger batches, but I expect we’ll also need to invest in a dishwasher and perhaps some more prep space.”
Greta bit her lip as her stomach gave another twinge. Other possibilities, damn it! She headed back toward the door to the hotel. “If anybody wants me I’ll be in the lobby.” Or somewhere. Basicall
y, anywhere she wasn’t being pressured to commit herself one way or the other.
She wandered out to the front porch of the hotel. The wooden rockers looked as if they’d been worn smooth by generations of butts. Sighing, she slipped into one of them, then closed her eyes and began to rock slowly.
If she stayed, she’d make little or no money for a while, maybe a long while. And she might have to invest some money herself. All their profits would have to be plowed back into the business. If she stayed, she’d be living with the Dubrovniks. Hell, she’d probably become a Dubrovnik herself. If she stayed, she’d have to explain to her mom why she was willing to commit herself to a group of relative strangers who couldn’t promise her much beyond a kitchen and a starting place, although she’d only known them for a week.
If she stayed, she’d have to figure out what to do about Hank.
That last thought really made her shoulders clench. She’d only been divorced for a couple of weeks. She’d only been on her own for two or three months. How could she be ready to jump back into a relationship so soon? Was she actually jumping into a relationship or was she just doing the rebound thing?
Her stomach gave another twinge.
The easiest thing to do would be nothing. To get into her car and drive back to Promise Harbor. To pretend the last week had been a really nice vacation and then get ready for the rest of her life without Tompkins Corners.
The Rest Of Her Life. Her whole body ached all of a sudden. She wondered if she was coming down with the flu.
Oh yeah, Greta, the rockin’ pneumonia and the indecisive flu.
A car pulled in to one of the parking spaces in front of the hotel, and she opened her eyes. And stared.
Her mother climbed out of the driver’s seat of her Accord. Owen Ralston climbed out of the passenger’s side. Before Greta could gather herself for a dash back inside, her mother glanced up and saw her.
Greta licked her lips. “Hi, Mom,” she croaked. “Long time, no see.”
When Greta hadn’t shown up at the site by lunchtime, Hank finally decided to head back to Casa Dubrovnik. It wasn’t just that he hadn’t brought any lunch with him this time. He hated to admit it, but he’d begun to worry that she might have taken off. He didn’t think she’d leave without talking to him, but he was afraid she might. She’d been sort of antsy ever since last night.
He gave Marty an hour for lunch, with strict orders to sieve dirt if he got back first. Hank really hoped that didn’t happen since he didn’t trust Marty to do anything on his own, but he didn’t know how long it would take for him to track Greta down.
And if she’d left, he would track her down. Of that, he was absolutely certain. Of course, what he’d do when he found her was another question.
He started to head toward the carport where he usually parked, but he slowed when he reached the front of the hotel. Greta was standing on the porch, talking to an older man and woman. She looked…nervous. On impulse, he pulled his truck into a spot down the street and climbed out.
Greta glanced up as he mounted the steps. Her eyes widened slightly. Terrific. Now he was making her nervous too. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“Hi,” she murmured, rubbing her hands on her thighs. “Um…this is my mom. Mom, this is Hank Mitchell. Professor Hank Mitchell. He’s an archaeologist and he lives here at the hotel.” Her smile looked more like a grimace.
Mrs. Brewster—he assumed that was her name anyway—gave him a slightly more genuine version of the same smile. “Pleased to meet you, Professor.”
“Likewise.” He glanced back and forth between them, trying to figure out what was going on. “Are you taking Greta back to Promise Harbor?”
Amazingly enough, Mrs. Brewster’s face turned faintly pink. “No, we’re actually going the other direction. That is…” She turned toward the man sitting in one of the rockers at the side. “This is Owen Ralston. My friend, Owen Ralston. We’re just…headed toward the coast.”
Ralston leaned forward, grinning as he shook Hank’s hand. “Vacation,” he said. “Need to get away. From those old hens in the harbor.”
Oddly enough, Hank was pretty sure he knew what Ralston was talking about in spite of his somewhat elliptical phrasing. “Taking some time off would give them time to find something else to talk about, I guess.”
“Damn right,” Ralston said placidly.
Greta ran her fingers through her hair, leaving it standing more or less on end. Hank discovered he liked it that way. “How did you know I was here?” she asked.
Mrs. Brewster shrugged. “Ryan told me.”
Greta’s expression became guarded. “Ryan’s in the harbor?”
“So far as I know, he’s in Boston. But he stopped by long enough to tell us you were here before he drove on home.”
“Oh.” Greta blew out a breath. “Well, good. I mean, I was coming home today, honest.”
“And, of course, you wouldn’t have found me if you had,” Mrs. Brewster said briskly. “Since Owen and I are going to Greenbush Island for the weekend.”
“Oh,” Greta repeated. “I just… Could I maybe talk to you for a minute?” She sounded a little desperate.
“You mean in private?” Mrs. Brewster shrugged. “Why not. You boys can take care of yourselves, can’t you?”
“Sure.” Hank gave them both another reassuring grin. “Don’t worry about us. We can wait.”
“Good.” Mrs. Brewster turned back to Greta. “Well, then, shall we go inside? I assume they’ve got a lobby here.”
“More or less,” Greta mumbled. She held the screen door for her mother and then followed her.
Hank glanced back at Owen Ralston. “They may be a while. Would you like some iced tea or something?”
Ralston shook his head. “Nope. Good time for a nap.” He settled back in his chair, closing his eyes.
Hank watched him for a moment, then dropped into the chair next to him. All of a sudden, a nap seemed like a fine idea.
Chapter Nineteen
Greta was trying not to babble. She had a feeling if she opened her mouth, the torrent of words that came out would bury them both. And her mother didn’t look like she’d enjoy that much.
Her mother looked around the lobby of the Hotel Grand with narrowed eyes. “You’re staying here? Seriously?”
“It’s fine,” Greta said quickly. “The rooms are really…nice.”
Her mother looked unconvinced. “Ryan said you were cooking.”
“I am. I get a free room in exchange for cooking the meals and preparing some pastries for the store.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “Why do you need free room and board? What happened? Did you lose all your savings?”
Greta gritted her teeth. “No, Mom. It was just a short-term deal. Alice only takes cash and all I had were credit cards. Besides, it’s been fun. I like cooking.”
“But you’re leaving now?” Her mother settled into the leather chair. At least it didn’t send out a puff of dust.
“I guess so,” Greta said slowly. “I mean, I was going back so I could talk to you, but here you are.” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “With Owen Ralston.”
“Here I am,” her mother said hurriedly. “So talk.”
“I’m really sorry, Mom.” She sighed. “I should have told you about Ryan and me when it happened. I meant to. And then I got to the harbor, and everything started with the wedding…”
Her mother held up her hand. “How long ago did you and Ryan separate?”
Greta sighed again. “Three months, more or less.”
“So it wasn’t really the wedding that was the problem, was it?”
Greta’s heart gave a hard thump. She shook her head.
“Then tell me—why couldn’t you talk to me about it? What were you afraid I’d say?” Her mother frowned. “You couldn’t possibly think I’d be on Ryan’s side, could you?”
“No, it’s not that.” She paused. “Well, not exactly. It’s just that I thought you�
�d be…disappointed. Again.”
“Disappointed in you?” Her mother’s eyebrow arched.
Greta nodded. “I was afraid you’d think I’d made another rotten decision, jumped into something without thinking, and then gotten burned. Just like the purple hair and the prom dress that was too tight and all those other times I did stuff you said I shouldn’t do.” She sank onto the couch opposite her mother. “I should have listened to you when you told me I was rushing into the marriage, Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t. I wish I could promise I’ll listen from now on, but I don’t think that would be honest.”
Her mother sighed. “Now would be a great time for me to say I told you so. It’s probably the best chance I’ll ever have, in fact. But I wouldn’t be much help to you if I did. What happened, Greta?”
“He…hooked up with somebody else. Sort of. I guess it wasn’t permanent, but when I found out about it, I was really hurt. I kicked him out, and then I realized I didn’t want him to come back even if he said he was sorry and wanted to.” She rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. “And I was really sort of embarrassed about the whole thing. That he’d found somebody else—or let somebody else find him. It didn’t say much for our marriage that he did.”
Her mother’s jaw tightened. “I thought it was probably something like that—the rat bastard.”
Greta blinked. “Mom?”
“Well, he was, Greta. Even if he says she seduced him, that’s really no excuse. He was weak enough to let it happen. So what have you been doing since then?”
Greta shrugged. “I worked for one of my friends in Boston at her bakery—sort of a temporary fill-in, only she started talking about making it permanent and full time. I’m supposed to decide if I want to go on working for her now.”
“So you’re going back to Boston?” Her mother sounded like she was keeping her voice carefully neutral.
Greta shook her head. “I don’t know if I am. There’s this…possibility here.”
“Cooking for this place?” Her mother looked around the lobby again, pursing her lips. “Really?”
“It’s more than that. I’d be baking pastries to sell here and at some other general stores in the area. We’ve been brainstorming about the details, but it seems doable.” And I like it here. And they like me. And there’s Hank. She licked her lips. Not what she should be thinking about.