by Jo McNally
“That apartment hasn’t been lived in for years. I thought she’d be living with the kids.” Weren’t those two idiots the reason she’d bought the café in the first place?
“Did Michael tell you that?”
“No. We haven’t spoken in...a while.” Since Christmas. When Michael had rejected Asher’s plan to salvage his son’s life.
“Hmm, you’re not talking to your son, your neighbor or your future daughter-in-law. What are you doing, trying to become a hermit? Are you just going to move up onto the mountain and hibernate?” Dan shook his head and straightened his chair. “There’s a wedding coming, man, whether you approve or not. You don’t want to miss that.”
“There’s not going to be a wedding.”
Dan just laughed. “You keep saying that, as if you can make it true just by uttering it out loud. But since you’re not speaking to them, you really don’t know anything.”
“Why? What have you heard?” As soon as the words were out, he knew it was a mistake. Dan was a good cop, and he never missed a clue, even in casual conversation.
“For someone claiming to be uninterested, you’re pretty curious. Talk to your son, man.” Dan drained his soda. “You know they’re going to be neighbors of mine, right? My new house is within a stone’s throw of their rental.”
Asher jumped at the chance to change the subject. “Are you really buying that crazy old Victorian?”
“Yup. I close on it next week. Chloe needs a place that feels like home, and my apartment ain’t cuttin’ it. Anyway, I fully expect my architect friend to help me.”
Dan’s divorce had been tough, but he and his ex were working hard to keep things civil for their daughter’s sake. Dan bought a house right around the corner from her so Chloe could go back and forth easily and not miss her school or her friends.
“I’m not an architect anymore.” That career, working for his former father-in-law’s firm, had evaporated at the same time his marriage did.
“Uh-huh.” Dan sat up and put the empty soda bottle on the workbench. “Says the man building a house on the side of a mountain. Michael could probably use some help babyproofing his place.”
Asher had driven by his son’s blue bungalow on Sunset Lane a few times recently. Nearly a hundred years old and in desperate need of a coat of paint, at least the little house was sturdy. Asher had helped him with a few projects before he’d learned about the girl.
“Why? Have you heard about any problems with the place?”
Dan laughed, sweeping his hand up and down in Asher’s direction. “Again, not looking like someone who isn’t interested. No, I haven’t heard of any issues with the house. Though I did hear old man McGregor told Michael he could pretty much do whatever he wanted to the place. They’ve been working on it...”
More hammering from next door distracted Asher from Dan’s words. Cathy had told him Nora was planning on changing just about everything in the café, starting with paint and continuing with adding state-of-the-art equipment. Asher liked Cathy, despite her freewheeling approach to life. He didn’t like the idea of her place changing into some snooty, upscale coffeehouse. And he really didn’t like the idea of Nora Bradford owning it.
“Earth to Asher. Are you listening to me at all?”
He set the sanding block down. “Sorry. What?”
“I said it looks like Michael and Becky are going to settle here in Gallant Lake for a while. He got a part-time job working for Judge Wilkes.” Dan stood up and adjusted his belt, getting his weapon settled on his hip. He started for the door but stopped at Asher’s next comment.
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m trying to get Michael as far from Gallant Lake as possible.”
“What? Why?”
Wasn’t it obvious? Was he the only person who could see what had to happen here?
“If I get him away from that girl, he’ll get focused on his career again. I’ve offered him a full ride at Stanford. I’ll pay tuition and all expenses if he goes out there alone. No way they’ll last long on opposite coasts.”
Dan looked down at the floor and scratched his head, making his sandy hair stand on end. Asher knew his plan sounded devious. Maybe even cruel. But he had Michael’s best interests at heart. And those interests didn’t include raising a baby.
“Okay...” Dan sighed heavily. “Let me see if I have this straight. You’re trying to bribe your son into abandoning his girlfriend and their unborn child? What the hell, Ash?”
“He can still be responsible for the child financially.” His friend’s obvious disapproval made Asher’s temper rise, along with his voice. “He has no idea what he’s getting into, Dan. What parenthood means. I’m trying to protect him, damn it!”
Dan stepped forward, and Asher recoiled. “Protect him? Ash, is this all because...” He shook his head. The two of them had shared a lot of late-night talks, but the loss of his youngest son was never up for discussion. “What does Michael’s fiancée think about your plan?”
“Stop calling her that. And I have no idea.”
“And Michael’s future mother-in-law?” Dan nodded his head toward the window, where they could see Nora Bradford standing next to Amanda Randall, head down, staring at her clipboard as if her life depended on it. She was wearing the same pink jacket she’d worn in November, and it highlighted the rosiness of her cheeks on this raw February day. She laughed at something Amanda said and looked up, her eyes meeting his through the glass.
Her eyebrows rose in surprise, then she nodded her head at him in acknowledgment. Or dismissal. He wasn’t sure, since she went right back to her conversation with her cousin. But the cousin kept a close eye on him while Nora talked. She finally smirked and looked away, studying the front of the coffee shop. The Randalls were regular clients of his, and he liked them both. He bit back a sigh. It was going to be more than a little complicated having Nora for a neighbor.
“She’s not going to be his mother-in-law.” Asher ignored Dan’s snort of laughter. “And if she has any sense, she’ll want them to avoid marriage as much as I do.”
Dan headed off to finish his shift, while Asher purposefully stayed as far to the back of his studio as possible, working hard on fitting the dovetailed drawer to the table he was finishing for a client in Albany. Word of mouth was bringing new customers every month, and the work would be enough to keep him from thinking about his pretty...scratch that...his annoying neighbor.
CHAPTER SIX
“HOW IN THE world did I get here?”
Nora didn’t realize she’d said the words aloud until Cathy answered. They were going up the stairs behind the coffee shop to see the apartment that would soon be Nora’s home. So far, she’d only seen photos of the open loft space.
“These stairs climb right over the storage room, honey.”
“I didn’t mean...” Nora stopped. There was no point in telling a complete stranger that she was referring to her life in general. How in the world had she ended up owning a coffee shop in Gallant Lake in February, with the temperature hovering in the single digits outside? It wasn’t at all her style to make an impulsive decision, especially one that would uproot her entire life, but her former in-laws had forced her hand. Bree was right—the only way to avoid being the center of a scandal was to remove herself from Atlanta. So she had. She’d received an offer on her house right away, and even though it wouldn’t close for another month, she was able to get a mortgage for the coffee shop and the building that housed it. Cathy had been more than happy to close quickly.
Cathy Meadows, otherwise known as Caffeine Cathy, unlocked the brightly painted door at the top of the stairs and pushed it open. A wave of heat rolled out into the hallway.
“I know it needs a little cleaning up, but it’s homey, you know?”
Cathy proudly waved a bang
le-wrapped arm toward the room. The movement only managed to stir up more dust in the stuffy air.
Nora stood at the entrance to the...well...apartment seemed too fancy a word. The space above the coffee shop. Her coffee shop. Her space. Her new home. This was why she didn’t believe in making spontaneous decisions—you ended up living in a hot, filthy loft that smelled vaguely of sweet herbs. It had to be eighty degrees in there.
Throughout the telephone and email negotiations for the coffee shop, Cathy had given the impression that the apartment needed little more than a broom sweep. Cathy emailed her pictures that made the small space look charming, with cheerful gingham curtains over the wide windows facing the street and cute little throw rugs on the wide plank floors. She wasn’t sure which decade those photos had been taken in, but they were far from recent.
A heavy layer of dirt lay on every surface, from the floors to the faded curtains drooping sadly over grimy windows and right on up to the exposed beams crossing overhead that were draped in dusty cobwebs. One kitchen cabinet had a door that was hanging precariously from its hinges. The counter, a gold-flecked Formica relic of the sixties, was chipped and... Was that actual black soil scattered across it? Nora couldn’t keep her nose from wrinkling in disgust, but Cathy was too busy gushing about all the “potential” to notice.
“My mom used that up there as her bedroom until the stairs got to be too much for her. I just used it for storage, but it does have a little bathroom and closet. And there’s another small bedroom down here and a bathroom.”
Nora pulled her eyes away from the tiny kitchen and looked up. Sure enough, there was a rather large loft there, with an open metal staircase coming down the exposed brick wall on the far side of the living room. For the first time since walking through the door, she started to see the possibilities.
Sure, she had to squint her eyes and rely heavily on her imagination, but she could envision the kitchen cabinets repaired and painted a cheery color. Once clean, those big windows would give her a pretty view of Main Street and the mountains beyond. The plank floors would clean up nicely, and the loft was a perfect place to put her bed.
She followed Cathy up the open stairs. The loft was roomy, and sure enough, there was a bathroom up there with a tiny shower in it. It wouldn’t be the most private bedroom, with just a commercial-looking metal railing around the edge of the platform, but she’d be living alone, so it was fine. She looked out over the living room. Above the first row of windows, and directly across from the loft, was a large arched window in the peak of the old building. From up here, she could look out onto Gallant Lake and the surrounding mountains that were covered in a blanket of snow at this time of year. She nodded to herself in satisfaction. She was already creating multiple to-do lists in her head. A plan was taking shape, and plans made her feel calm.
Cathy was heading back down the stairs, still talking nonstop. The woman had hardly taken a breath since handing Nora the giant ring of keys down in the coffee shop.
“I know the place is a little messy.” Was that sarcasm? Nope. Cathy really did seem to consider this chaos to be just a minor mess. “And sorry about the heat. I forgot to turn it down yesterday when I moved my plants out of here.”
“Plants?” That explained the soil on the counters. “So you grew flowers up here? I bet the windows were great for that.” Especially when combined with the tropical temperature. At least she knew the furnace worked. Cathy’s cheeks flushed.
“Flowers? Oh, hell no. Honey, I grew...” The older woman’s dark eyes narrowed and she stopped short. Then her lips pressed together and she made an exaggerated motion with her hands like the turning of a key in a lock. “Not that I think you’re a narc or anything, but let’s just say I grew...um...medicinal herbs up here.”
It took Nora a minute to catch on, and when she did, her mouth dropped open.
“You were growing pot in this apartment?” That explained the sickly sweet smell.
“Well, hell, say it a little louder, princess! I don’t think Sheriff Dan quite heard you. It’s not like I was dealing or anything. It just helps me sleep at night.” She gave Nora a wink and turned away, heading toward the back of the apartment beyond the kitchen with a swish of her long cotton skirt. “The thermostat’s back here. The plants liked it warm, but I’ll turn it down for you. Over there’s the other bedroom and the bathroom, and the utility room’s by the back door. The washer and dryer aren’t exactly new, but I had Ash check everything and he said the plumbing and appliances were all functional.”
Nora stopped short. “Ash? Asher Peyton?”
Cathy was fighting with the deadbolt on the back door. She nodded without looking back to see Nora’s discomfort. “Yup. He’s your neighbor to the west, with the furniture shop. He’s a little crusty on the outside, but a good man underneath. If you ever need anything, just knock on the wall and he’ll come right over.”
“Knock on the wall?”
The deadbolt finally opened, and Cathy gave the door a hard yank to pull it open, letting in a rush of cold air. “Well, not the brick wall, of course, but you see those filled-in windows along the side of the apartment?” Nora looked back at the arched openings in the brick, filled with wide boards painted reddish brown to match.
“His place was built after this one, back in the early 1900s, and it butts up against this wall. The brick is thick enough that you can’t hear anything, but those old boarded-up windows allow a little noise to seep through. Sometimes I’ll hear his music if it’s turned up really loud.”
Cathy smiled. “Two winters ago I was working up here, trimming plants, and I tripped over that crazy old cat of mine and everything went crashing down—lights, plants, table, tools and me. What a racket! Before I was on my feet, Asher was pounding on this very door to get in, scared someone was killing me over here.”
The cold air wasn’t the only thing making Nora feel chilled. Buying a business next door to a man who hated her and her daughter was one thing, but knowing he might be listening was entirely another. Cathy must have noticed her concern.
“Oh, honey, don’t worry. When I say I can hear his music, I mean only if he’s cranking it, and even then it’s just low, fuzzy bass notes. He doesn’t do that a lot.” Cathy’s smile faded. “But when he does, he doesn’t want company, just so you know.”
Cathy stepped outside, oblivious to the cold. “He’s not the type to hold a glass up against the wall trying to hear what you’re doing. He keeps to himself. More than he should.” Those last four words were spoken under her breath, as if to herself.
Before Nora could respond, Cathy was pulling her outside onto a long metal fire escape overlooking a gravel parking lot behind the row of buildings. The walkway stretched across three or four buildings, with a matching one right above it. On the rear of each building a small wooden balcony jutted out over the parking lot. Narrow metal staircases led down to the ground at regular intervals. There was one right between her doorway and Asher’s.
Their buildings were not only connected, they also shared a fire escape. Nora frowned.
“Well, this isn’t very private, is it?”
Cathy just shrugged. “There was a big fire in town ages ago.” She stepped back into the warmth of the apartment and closed the door behind Nora, turning the deadbolt. “Grandma used to talk about it. These buildings didn’t burn, but some across the street did. Back then, a lot of places used these upper floors as boardinghouses. Some people were trapped in their rooms and died. After that, the town decreed that all downtown structures had to have fire escapes for each level. They’re not the prettiest thing to look at, but it’s nice to sit out there in the summer and watch the sun come up over the mountains. The neighbors used to get together for drinks out there in the evenings.”
Nora kept her thoughts to herself. She couldn’t imagine she and Asher Peyton would be sipping wine on the fire escape an
ytime soon. Cathy kept talking as she headed past the kitchen.
“Of course, that was back when more of them lived here, you know? I think the only places being used as homes now are Asher’s and Carl Wallace’s. Carl owns the liquor store a couple doors up. He’s lived over that store forever, but he’s been talking about retiring. His wife, Eunie, just passed away last year. And Asher’s building a house up on Gallant Mountain, so he’ll be out eventually.” Cathy opened the door leading to the coffee shop downstairs. “You might be the only one left if you really want to live up here.”
“I do.” Nora followed Cathy down the narrow steps after locking the apartment door. Amanda had offered her a suite at Halcyon for as long as she needed it, but she wanted her own space. Even a ten-bedroom castle started feeling small when you were living in it with someone else’s family. Besides, she was determined to show Becky that she could do this, be independent.
“Hey, look! We have customers!” Cathy walked over to greet Blake and Amanda in the center of the now-empty café. The tables and chairs were stacked in the back of the building, just as she’d written on her to-do list. She’d have to start a whole new list for the work required upstairs, of course. The artwork was off the walls. Even the old counter was gone, ripped out today and set aside. And there, by the window, stood her daughter.
Nora stopped, afraid to speak. Becky was staring outside, so she had a moment to take in her appearance. They hadn’t seen each other since Christmas. Becky’s hair was longer than usual. She wore a dark wool coat, but it was open and Nora could see the swell of her stomach. She was almost six months pregnant now.
She wanted to run and hug her daughter and never let go, but she was afraid to make the wrong move. Becky hadn’t exactly been supportive of this move when she’d finally answered her phone so they could talk about it.
Are you for real? After I told you I didn’t want you here, you went and bought that gross coffee shop? God, Mom, how desperate can you be?