by Kyra Jacobs
Thank goodness for wine, otherwise known as Maddie’s cure for overthinking. Half a glass was all she’d need to dull the hum and allow her to relax.
She reached into the fridge, unable to ignore Stephanie’s silver glitter covered gala invitation hanging from a magnetic clip on the freezer door. Why had she let both Miles and Ruby get under her skin earlier? Now she not only had to come up with a boyfriend in a matter of weeks, but convince him to attend this silly second-chance prom event, too.
Then there was the whole deal with Cole. A dating coach? Had that idea really come out of her mouth?
Maddie shook her head and pushed the wine box’s stopper in. If she’d been smart, she would have just asked him to go to the gala and been done with it. But his good looks and close proximity had left her feeling intimidated, so she’d sidestepped the invite and asked for his help instead. Probably a good thing, since he clearly wasn’t interested.
“I’m flattered and all, but…”
But. Of course there was a but. Like high school all over again.
She took her more-full-than-usual wineglass to the living room and sank down onto her couch with a sigh. No, it wasn’t nearly as bad as high school. At least now she was free of braces and raging acne. Plus, growing her hair out in college definitely had her looking much less like a boy. But even with all those changes, she still wasn’t confident in social settings. Growing up an only child hadn’t helped her much with that. Neither did being raised by a grandmother who worked from before dawn to after dusk and who expected no less of her.
An expectation that seemed entirely normal and didn’t bother her for many years.
Living in a small farming community in northern lower Michigan, it wasn’t often Maddie saw other kids her age outside of school during their elementary years—most of them were expected to help with their own families’ businesses. But as she and her classmates moved on to middle and high school, priorities changed. The farm kids were suddenly spending more time away from home, gearing up for sports scholarships and college, while Maddie was confined by absent parents, a tough economy, and an ailing grandmother. Sure, she’d envied the other kids from time to time. But she’d never blamed her grandmother or bemoaned their situation—she just accepted it and did the best with what she had. A good thing, since time with her Grandma Bea was coming to an end sooner than either of them would have liked.
She took a sip of wine and sank lower into her secondhand plaid fabric couch. So much had changed since high school. Since college, and the wool getting pulled over her eyes by Harrison. Since losing Grandma Bea.
But Ruby Masterson had brought her out of those dark days and back into the light. A little faith in her had gone a long way, and beneath Ruby’s ever-encouraging gaze Maddie’s chef skills had flourished. Not that she hadn’t been good before, but now she had the confidence to go with it.
Confidence in the kitchen, that was. Everywhere else she still felt like an outcast. Now she had a Cute Guy to win over, her fragile ego to protect, and a kitchen to share with a man whose voice alone was enough to make her knees go weak, let alone the very sight of him.
Maddie took a good long drink and turned her gaze to the ceiling. “Could use a little help from you up there, Grandma. ’Cause I have no idea what kind of mess I’m about to get myself into.”
…
Cole sat on a worn, three-legged chair in his room, guitar on one knee, eyes closed, and face turned to his window and the starry sky beyond, dreaming. The recent turn of events sure felt like a dream, anyway. A few more dollars in his wallet and a nod from Sheridan Realty, and the business he’d first envisioned while doing time might just become a reality.
His own guitar shop.
For as long as he could remember, life had been tough. The memories of his father had grown more and more faded as the years went by, but he held on to the knowledge Luke Granville had been a good man. Hardworking, dedicated to his family. The accident on I-27 north had been unpreventable, according to the people who know such things. Ice was rare in Lubbock, and Texans invincible. Or at least, the ones who insisted he make that last delivery by five o’clock rather than wait a few hours so the sun could melt the ice away must have thought all Texans were invincible. Cole’s father and the pickup truck driver who T-boned his semi had unfortunately proven otherwise. That left Daisy Mae Granville with no husband, no income, and a little boy who asked day and night when Papa would be coming home.
Daisy Mae. Cole felt the muscles in his neck tighten—a natural reaction to thinking about his mother. In his younger days, he’d felt bad for her, losing so much so fast. She and Luke had married young and hit the road, thrill seekers looking for adventure. What they got was her pregnant the minute they stepped foot in Texas and Luke a trucking job to provide for his growing family. Often, Cole and his mom joined him on the road, her hating to be alone and Cole having no choice but to go along for the ride. But he adored his father, looked up to him, and never minded the long hours being stuck in that semi’s cab.
Blue. It’d been blue with a white eagle hand-painted on each of its doors. In the eagles’ talons were two yellow daisies—one for him and one for his mama, held safe from harm.
But the eagles hadn’t protected them any more that fateful day than they’d protected his father. In fact, if Luke hadn’t insisted they stay behind that day, all three would have perished. Lost without the man who’d always seemed bigger than life, Cole turned to music; his mama to alcohol. Together, they hit the road, looking to escape the pain of their past.
But finding work is tough for the uneducated, even tougher when they’re drunk. Cole loved his mama and tried his best to help however he could. Odd jobs, doing work around whatever motel or rental place they were staying, cooking, cleaning—you name it, he was on it. And while his mother slept off whatever hangover she’d incurred, Cole woke with the sun, softly strumming tunes on his dime store guitar.
While he slowly healed, Daisy Mae had gotten deeper and deeper into her addictions, trading alcohol for something much more lethal: drugs. Cocaine eventually became her habit of choice, landing her in jail on charges of possession when Cole was thirteen. That was the summer he’d come to stay with his Grandpa Tom and Grandma Eileen—the most carefree summer of his life. Their chore list had been limited, the depths of their love unending.
He’d cried when they put him on the plane back to Texas, but put on a brave face for Daisy Mae. She’d looked healthy waiting for him at the airport, smiled and hugged him so tight he thought he’d break in two. He’d felt guilty for crying, for not wanting to come home, until he caught sight of the man she introduced as her boyfriend. The verbal abuse only took a few hours to begin. The physical, well, Cole got really good at disappearing when the fists started flying. His mother? Not so much. Each time Cole convinced her to leave and stay away from one brute, she’d turn around and find another who treated her just as poorly.
Apparently, that was the culture drug users were used to.
Cole, however, wanted nothing to do with it. At wits’ end, he packed his mother and all their things into the beater car she still had of his father’s the week before he turned eighteen. She’d argued with him, said it was wrong to run from their problems instead of face them like adults. But he hadn’t listened, just drove as far as that tank of gas would take them. He lectured her the entire way about how it was time for her to get clean, to make something of herself. He wouldn’t be around forever to watch out for her. At first she’d been sullen, bitter. But by the time they reached the town of Happy he felt like he’d finally gotten through to her. She was talking about going back to school, maybe finding work at a nursing home taking care of the elderly.
And as desperate as he was to see her succeed, he’d believed her. What a fool he’d been.
That same night he’d woken to find her gone. The motel’s door was ajar, their car missing from the lot. Cole had assumed the worst, worried she’d been taken by the monster they’d just t
raveled all this way to escape. He’d grabbed his gun—protection his grandfather of all people had equipped him with—and headed into town, praying he’d find her in time.
The tightness in his neck increased as the rest of the memory played out. Finding Daisy Mae, strung out on whatever drug she must have had on her, dragging crates of alcohol out the back door of a shop she’d clearly broken into. Him begging her to abandon whatever crazy idea she had. To get clean, to start a new life.
The flashlights shining, the police shouting, someone finding his gun.
His mother, eyes glazed, shoulders slumped, and not saying a damned word in his defense.
Seven years had passed since that day. He’d done his time, completed probation, and was a free man in the eyes of the Texas legal system. But it was the eyes of everyone else he worried about. Eyes in a new town, eyes that wouldn’t understand.
This guitar shop would go a long way toward easing his mind. To healing his wounds and helping him move beyond his past. To become part of a community for the first time in his life.
Cole drew in a deep breath, exhaled, and opened his eyes. Mount Pleasant was as good a place as any to put roots down. Better even, with his grandfather here, offering his unending emotional support. Though, it remained to be seen if Mount Pleasant would grow to accept him as easily as he’d grown to accept it.
He looked out his bedroom’s small window to the Quarter Clean-It, the laundromat’s old-fashioned neon orange sign bringing Maddie Frye to the forefront of his thoughts. Pink had tinted her pretty face as she’d admitted to needing help last night. His help. Of course he’d wanted to help her—he’d proven repeatedly over the years that he was a sucker for a damsel in distress. Too bad his mother had burned him one too many times playing that role. Now his help was going to come with a price tag.
Hopefully, he hadn’t set the price too high.
Chapter Four
Maddie eased into the Checkerberry’s kitchen the next morning at four thirty, savoring the blessed quiet. And stillness. Unlike last night, there was nothing in here to distract her or make her self-conscious. No worrying about whether or not her top gaped open too much when she bent to retrieve a dish from the oven or if her panty lines were too obvious through her thin black pants. The worries had left her unsettled, bothering her to no end. After all, the kitchen was her sanctuary, the place she felt most comfortable in. Where she was most in charge.
Last night, that confidence had been seriously tested by one Cole Granville.
Not because of anything he’d said or done, but by the simple fact that he was a member of the opposite sex. She hadn’t dressed to spend the evening in the company of men, she’d dressed the way she always did: in clean, professional clothes that didn’t impede her work in the kitchen. White button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black slacks, comfortable black socks and shoes—definitely nothing to write home about.
Of course, Cole being too attractive for his own good only added to her ire. And though from what she could tell he’d kept his eyes on the sink and not on her, she still couldn’t help but wonder if agreeing to let him stay on would be a mistake. Then again, if she could learn to ignore him it’d be to her advantage—he was twice as efficient as Sarah. Maybe even more than that. The man was a machine, washing dishes nearly as fast as Maddie could dirty them.
And did he really know anything about relationship coaching? Bah, she must have sounded completely pathetic. But the wild hair of an idea had slipped out before she had time to think about its ramifications, and there was no taking it back.
Which led to this morning’s dilemma: how to get “Mr. Scrimp and Save” Miles—otherwise known as Ruby’s second grandson and the inn’s chief financial officer—to cough up two hundred bucks by Friday. And to increase wages for their kitchen help, which would be tough enough as it was. Lord knew she and Miles had already butted heads over increased expenditures far too often this year.
But Cole did do a great job last night. And she really needed help getting a date for the gala before the others found out about her fib and gave her grief for, oh, the rest of her life. What to do, what to do? With a sigh, she put her things away, pulled out a fresh apron, and flipped on her tunes. Maybe a few hours alone in the kitchen would give her time to come up with a plan.
There were no guest rooms above this portion of the inn, only an open seating area beside the main stairway’s second floor landing. That meant not having to worry about making too much noise in the kitchen, or that anyone would hear her singing along with the radio. And though she loved having the space to herself, Maddie had never gotten used to the silence that came with working alone. Growing up, she’d had her grandmother there, chattering away in between tasks. She’d planned on Grandma Bea being around to help get her dream cafe off the ground after college. But life doesn’t always go as planned, and Bea’s heart attack a few years ago ended hers far too soon.
Maddie tugged a heavily scribbled upon index card free from her recipe box and gave it a quick once-over. Today’s breakfast feature was to be “Cheddar Hashbrown Triple Treat Surprise,” otherwise known as “pork overload.” If the cheese and biscuits didn’t fill their guests up, the sausage, ham, and bacon would. It was a fairly new recipe of hers, perfected just these past few months, but it had been a big hit with Ruby’s guests so far. A good thing, as happy guests led to good reputations, and good reputations could someday land her in a bigger, more upscale kitchen with the budget for more than a single evening dishwasher. But that was down the road a ways. For now, she would count her blessings—Ruby had taken a chance on her, after all—enjoy her reign over the Checkerberry’s modest accommodations, and keep doing the best she could.
Voices and footsteps sounded in the dining room about the time Maddie was sliding the first batch into the oven.
“Mmm, I smell bacon.”
She looked up to spy Miles push past the swinging doors that separated the kitchen and dining room. Hot on his heels was Stephanie Fitzpatrick, Miles’s girlfriend and perfect match. Steph also happened to be the only woman alive who’d been able to tame the former playboy, and she kept him in line quite well. Maddie had instantly liked her, for that if nothing else. This morning, both intruders to her kitchen were dressed in running gear and glistening with sweat. A quick glance at the clock found it to be after six.
“You came in here for a glass of water,” Stephanie said, giving Miles a light rap on his shoulder. “Not to get in Maddie’s way.”
“I won’t.” Miles ambled deeper into the room and angled for the glasses. With a wink, he swiped a strip of cooling bacon from a nearby tray. “But this bacon? Well, it was definitely in the way. So you’re welcome, Madds.”
Maddie jabbed her tongs in his direction. “You just remember that the next time you think about giving me grief over meat market invoices, buddy.”
“Whatever. One strip of bacon won’t blow our budget.” He retrieved a glass and filled it at the sink. “A good thing, since business will be winding down for the season. Revenue’s gonna start tapering off soon.”
She cringed. “Uh, yeah. About that…”
Miles’s gaze narrowed in mid-drink. Maddie drew in a calming breath and braced herself for the oncoming battle. Asking him for money was like ripping off the bandage of a perpetual sore spot.
“I need to raise the wage for my kitchen help. By three dollars an hour. And offer them a cash advance.”
Miles slammed his glass down. “Are you nuts? We can’t afford that!”
“Actually, I think we can. And before you have a coronary, just hear me out. I had to fire Sarah last night. She walked out on me an hour into her shift after getting a breakup text from boyfriend number forty-three of the year. Left me scrambling, and not for the first time. So I told her to either get back inside or not come back.”
“Let me guess—her world was ending and she couldn’t understand how you could be so cold and heartless.” Stephanie smirked.
“Pre
tty much. Kids these days.” Maddie shook her head. Bea would have swatted her butt good for being that irresponsible. “Anyway, about that time Granville’s delivery truck came barreling up the drive. I knew Old Tom’s grandson was looking for some extra work, so I tracked Cole down. Talked him in to covering for Sarah last night. And I’m telling you—this guy’s amazing. You should have seen him in here—he was a monster with those dishes. Careful, thorough, quiet. Never complained once. Better yet, we finished half an hour earlier than usual. And that was his first night! If he gets faster with a little more experience, we’ll end up paying him fewer hours than we would have paid Sarah. So the increase in salary will just…even out.”
Miles grabbed his cell phone and started tapping numbers onto the screen. “If you can keep his hours down, maybe. But we can’t go over what we were paying Sarah, Madds. We took a hit bringing her on—I’d hate to give up any more income than we already have.” He looked up to meet her gaze. “You really think you need the extra help now that our season is winding down? Who knows how long we’ll be able to support him. A few weeks, maybe? And the cash advance is a definite no go, unless you want to skip buying ingredients this week.”
Dang it, why had he picked today to rattle off such bulletproof reasoning? The boost in business this season had been a much-needed surprise and allowed them to remain open longer than in the past. Unfortunately, no one knew when business would start to drop off, only that it would once the neighboring golf courses and tourist sites officially closed for the season. Maddie leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms.
“You still planning to keep the place open until the end of November?”
“Yeah, but that’s nearly six weeks off,” he said. “And I seriously doubt occupancy rates will be worth a darn after Halloween. Heck, we may not have enough revenue coming in after that to pay you, let alone an extra set of hands in here.”