Nora's Guy Next Door

by Jo McNally

  And now her angry daughter was standing in that gross coffee shop. She was ignoring Nora with every ounce of stubborn energy she had, but she was here. Amanda stepped closer and whispered to Nora as Cathy wandered back to the kitchen.

  “Blake told me the upstairs was pretty grungy.”

  Nora shrugged. “It has potential. I just need a lot of cleaning supplies.”

  “You don’t have to live here to run the coffee shop.” Amanda ran her finger across a shelf, grimacing at the dirt she lifted. “We have tons of space at Halcyon.”

  Nora shook her head, speaking loudly enough for Becky to hear. “I’ve been told I need to live my own life and find my own way. This is me doing that.”

  Becky finally turned to her mother, rolling her eyes with all the drama a teenage girl could muster. She gestured around the empty café. “Whatever, Mom. You bought a business for yourself. Big deal. You still have no idea how to run it, since you’ve never done it before.”

  Nora tried to measure her response, but her daughter’s lack of confidence in her stung. “Well, then, I guess we’re even, because I don’t know how you’re going to raise a child alone when you’ve never done that before.”

  “I’m not alone. I have Michael. Who do you have?”

  “Becky!” Amanda was shocked, but Nora wasn’t. Becky had always been fierce, unafraid to stand her ground. And she had just enough of Meredith Bradford in her to go for a scorched-earth policy with anyone who challenged her.

  “I ran all of your father’s campaigns, Rebecca—every detail. If I can run a gubernatorial campaign, I can certainly figure out how to manage a little coffeehouse in Gallant Lake.” She took a step closer to the window. “But, unlike you, I’m more than happy to accept help when it’s offered. Are you here to offer your help?”

  Becky eyed her warily. “Let me guess—if I agree to help you, then you’ll expect to help me, which basically means telling me what to do?”

  Becky was trying to goad her, but Nora wasn’t going to play into her hands. She measured her words carefully, stepping in front of Becky and looking her straight in the eye.

  “Rebecca Scarlett Bradford, I love you.” Becky’s head snapped back in surprise. Nora took her hands. “I am not here to take over your life. If you want my help, ask for it. Until then, I’m minding my own business. Literally, this business, which is more than enough to keep me busy. I did this because I wanted to.” And because she was trying to protect her only child. “I’m here if you need me, but it’s up to you, sweetheart. Until you say the word, I won’t interfere in your life. No matter how much it kills me.”

  Becky’s mouth twitched at the joke, then she sobered. “Mom, Michael and I need to do this on our own. It’s important to us.”

  Nora nodded, then looked around the shop. Cathy and Blake were out of sight, and Amanda was quietly sketching design ideas in the corner.

  “And I need to do this on my own. It’s important to me.” She didn’t realize the deep truth of those words until she spoke them. All her adult life she’d been Paul’s wife, Paul’s widow or Becky’s mom. This move was her chance to be Nora. Just as soon as she figured out who Nora might be.

  “Fine, Mom. But don’t hate me if I don’t include you in every little detail of my pregnancy or my life with Michael. Because all it’s going to take is one look of disapproval or one time telling me what I should be doing, and I’m going to lose it.”

  “I can agree to that. You set the ground rules and I’ll follow.” Nora opened her arms but made no other move.

  Becky hesitated only a heartbeat before rushing into Nora’s embrace. Nora sent up a silent prayer of thanks. Now she just needed a plan to make this family whole and strong again.

  Amanda blew her nose, breaking the moment.

  “I’m sorry! You guys made me cry!”

  Nora stepped away, being careful not to presume all was forgiven with Becky. She was going to have to prove herself to her daughter, and she may as well start by proving she wasn’t an idiot for buying Caffeine Cathy’s Coffee Café. Becky needed to see her succeed.

  “Blake and I talked last night—” Nora turned to Amanda “—and he thinks the contractor can have everything done within ten days. I’ve got a list here of the priorities...”

  Amanda laughed. “Of course you do. Nora Bradford always has a list.” Becky giggled behind her. Funny how much it meant to hear her daughter’s laughter again.

  “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. But I also know how to get things done.”

  Blake and Cathy walked back into the room. Blake nodded in Nora’s direction.

  “Bobby and his crew will be back tomorrow. I told him to plan on...” He glanced toward Cathy, but she was obliviously humming to herself as she ran her hand over the antique brass espresso machine in the corner. “I told him to plan on some heavy-duty cleaning upstairs before they start painting and remodeling down here.” Nora started to object, but he held up his hand, shaking his head. “I know, I know—you want to do it all yourself, because you’re one of the independent Lowery women.” Amanda snorted. “But let Bobby handle the first pass up there. His guys can set up scaffolding and make sure everything from floor to ceiling is clean and safe for you, then you can do what you want with it.”

  She frowned, but he was right. She had no desire to climb ladders and attempt to clean those windows or shovel out all that dirt. “Okay, but just the cleaning. I want to paint and decorate up there on my own.”

  “Hey!” Amanda, an interior designer by trade, voiced her objection.

  “Don’t worry, cuz, I’ll be happy to listen to your advice. And I’ll be more than happy to stick a paintbrush in your hand.”

  The plan was for Nora to stay at Halcyon for a week or so while the heavy remodeling took place in the shop, so that would provide time to get the apartment cleaned up and hopefully livable before the shop opened.

  “Nora, sorry to interrupt, but I’m going to take off now, if that’s okay.” Cathy ran her fingers down the front of the tall brass coffee maker sadly. “I’m not sure what to do with myself when the machines are this quiet.”

  “Oh, Cathy, I’m sorry. This must be hard for you, listening to our plans to change things.”

  “Change is part of life, so don’t be sorry. It was my decision to sell, and it needed to be done.” Nora knew Cathy was unhappy about her plans to revamp the shop and replace her aging espresso maker with a state-of-the-art La Marzocco. The shiny new machine was sitting in its box in the back room, waiting for a place of honor behind the new counter.

  “Cathy, why did you sell the shop?” Amanda asked.

  “My granddaughter needed the money.”

  Blake frowned. “I’ve known you for five years now, and I never knew you had grandchildren.”

  “I didn’t know, either, until last summer.” Cathy looked at their surprised expressions and shrugged. “It’s a long, sad story of ruined relationships between mothers and daughters, and I’m not about to depress you with it.”

  Nora and Becky locked eyes. Nora silently vowed that would never happen to them.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NORA’S FIRST WEEK of business with the newly renamed Gallant Brew threatened to be the death of her. She wasn’t at all used to spending twelve hours on her feet, and she definitely wasn’t used to setting her alarm clock for 5:30 a.m. But if she wanted the shop open by six thirty, she had no choice. The mysterious and complicated science of coffee brewing made her brain even more tired than her feet were, and Cathy’s voice repeated in her head on an endless loop.

  Nora had watched hours of video tutorials online before leaving Atlanta, but nothing prepared her for the real deal, with Cathy watching her fill the filter, level it, then tamp the grounds, but not too hard. But they couldn’t be too loose, either. The coffee stream had to be fine, like a
mouse’s tail. If it was dripping out instead of streaming, the grounds needed to be thicker. A proper extraction should take no longer than twenty-five to twenty-seven seconds. The milk had to be the perfect temperature or the froth would be too thin. Or too thick. Neither was good. It was important to use metal pitchers for the milk. When the pitcher was too hot to hold, it was done. The used grounds had to be dumped immediately, and it was important to have beans ready to grind fresh.

  Nora’s head had spun with all the directions, and she’d written lists as fast as she could. Cathy had insisted she learn how to brew first on the antique brass espresso maker, then on the twenty-year-old manual machine.

  “This is an art. You’ll never know if that newfangled machine is making a good cup of espresso if you don’t understand the whole process.”

  After three days of “art” lessons, Nora banished Cathy’s old machine to the kitchen and fired up the ruby-red automated espresso machine. She still had to keep an eye on the grinder, but the measurements and temperatures for the brew and the milk were much more controlled. Even Cathy finally admitted the “newfangled” machine made excellent espresso and cappuccino, and made it more efficiently. She’d managed to open in time for Valentine’s Day, offering a two-for-one sweetheart special that had brought a lot of traffic into the coffee shop the first week. They were off to a good start.

  Nora pulled the trash bag out of the kitchen receptacle, closed it with a twist tie and set it in the hallway with the full bag from the café. The front of the shop was locked up tight with the shades pulled low.

  She’d spent longer than expected working on the books tonight, trying to make sense of Cathy’s records for the past few years. She didn’t know how much to order of anything based on Cathy’s scribbled notes in an old spiral binder. How did the woman ever manage to make money? Or had she made a fortune and just didn’t have the records to show it?

  Nora sighed. It would probably take her another month or so to get the paperwork in order, but she couldn’t deal with it anymore tonight. One last trip to the Dumpster and she could crawl upstairs and maybe eat something before collapsing into bed. Tomorrow it would start all over again. The muscles running up the back of her legs protested at the very thought.

  Too tired to grab the heavy jacket hanging by the back door, she figured she could handle the short walk to the giant green trash receptacle on the far side of the parking lot without it. She thought she was getting used to the bone-chilling dampness of winter in the Catskills, but she still gasped when she pushed the back door open. Bracing it with her hip, she tugged the heavy trash bags outside.

  She checked her wrist to make sure the key fob was still there before the door closed behind her. After having to call Amanda twice in two weeks to come unlock the door with Blake’s extra key, Nora was hypervigilant about not locking herself out again.

  There were many challenges in Nora’s new life, but that massive metal monster in front of her was the bane of her existence. It was not designed for someone as vertically challenged as she was. The high door of the Dumpster was heavy, and she had to hold it open while tossing the trash inside. That was no easy task with short, tired arms.

  The only way for her to do it was to attack it. She’d throw open the door, whip the garbage bags in, then jump away and let the door slam closed. There was a strong possibility the door was going to end up smacking her on the head one of these days, if she didn’t move fast enough, but so far she’d been lucky.

  She hauled the two bags across the lot and braced herself, gripping the first bag tightly.

  Fling door open.

  Toss bag in.

  Jump back.

  Success! One more bag and she’d be able to go back to her warm, almost-finished apartment and get off her aching feet. She took a deep breath and wrapped her fingers tightly around the top of the bag while trying to ignore the sting of cold air in her lungs.

  Fling door open.

  Toss bag in.

  Land on her back on the hard, cold pavement.

  That had definitely not been part of the plan. She didn’t realize she’d been standing on black ice until her feet shot out from under her when she twisted to throw the bag through the opening the second time. The impact knocked the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping like a fish out of water. She closed her eyes and took a silent inventory, starting by wiggling her toes, then moving up her body until she was tentatively turning her head back and forth. Everything seemed to be in working order, other than a dull ache in her lower back. More specifically, her butt. She could almost feel the bruises forming there.

  “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  She was so surprised to hear the deep voice right above her face that her eyes snapped open and she started to sit up, a soft moan of pain escaping her lips.

  “Easy, easy. Don’t move until we know if you’re injured.”

  Asher Peyton’s hands gently held her shoulders down, his eyes staring straight into hers. He was on one knee at her side, and he looked worried. About her.

  “It’s cold. Let me up.” His presence here was confusing, and she was too tired and sore to deal with confusion well.

  “Yes, it is cold. That’s why people in the North wear coats outside when it’s only fifteen degrees.” He glanced down at the old sneakers she was wearing. “And boots that give you traction on ice. Tell me where it hurts.”

  His fingers were still holding her shoulders, and she did her best to ignore the sizzle she felt. There could be no sizzle between her and the man who hated her daughter. She pushed his hands away.

  “I’m fine. Let me up.”

  “Nora...” The way he said her name, with an intensity she didn’t think he even realized, made her stay still. She didn’t want to feel the flutter in her chest when he spoke, but there it was. Why did it have to be this man, of all men, who made her react this way?

  “I’m fine. Really.” She needed to get away from him.

  He sat back and watched as she carefully got to a sitting position and stretched. When she didn’t feel any surprises, she moved to stand. Asher stood with her, supporting her with one arm until she was on her feet, then he stepped away. But only after draping his coat over her shoulders. She couldn’t resist pulling it tight around her to soak up its warmth.

  She noticed the trash bag hadn’t made it into the metal box. She reached for it, but Asher stopped her, muttering something under his breath. With one smooth move, he tossed the bag inside, then slowly closed the heavy door. Nora burned with irritation.

  “I could have done that.” She was pretty sure she saw the corner of his mouth lift in a half smile.

  “Of course you could have.” Something in his tone screamed sarcasm, and she bristled.

  “I’ve been tossing out the trash from the shop all week.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  What did that mean?

  “Why are you even here?”

  He hesitated before answering. “I saw you fall. I wasn’t going to leave you lying there.”

  Nora glanced up at the small window overlooking the lot from above Asher’s studio. She had a similar small window in her place, and it was located in her utility room. Assuming they had similar floor plans, he’d been watching her from his laundry room.

  She turned to glare at him, knowing her annoyance was partially fueled by exhaustion and hunger, but she got no satisfaction from it. He was busy staring at the green bin with a great deal of concentration.

  “You need a platform with a step or two to be able to reach the door.” He kicked at the frozen ground, and his voice dropped as if speaking to himself. “It would need to be level.”

  “Yeah, well, until the garbage company decides to supply us with a trash bin with stairs, or even better, a door that someone under six feet tall can manage, I’ll just have to mak
e do.”

  “I could make something.”

  “You... Why would you do that?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “Because I can build something that will make it safer for you...”

  “I thought you hated me.”

  His hands rose in a frustrated gesture. “I’ve never once said that. Look, it wouldn’t matter if it was you or if it was Carl at the liquor store. It’s not a safe setup.”

  “So you don’t hate me?”

  His head dropped until his chin almost hit his chest. “I have definitely forgotten the joys of trying to talk logic with a woman.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Never mind. I’m just trying to be a good neighbor. Don’t turn it into some evil plot.”

  Nora crossed her arms. “Says the man who thinks my pregnant daughter and I are plotting to trap his son into marriage.”

  Asher rubbed the back of his neck, his lips thinning in anger. “Let’s leave our dumbass kids out of this, okay? Christ, I’m sorry I even came out here.” He reached his hand toward her. “Why don’t you get off that...”

  Nora finished the sentence in her head. He was going to tell her to get off her high horse, just like Paul always used to say. Get off that high horse you’re always on. Just because she was organized and liked things under control, didn’t mean she was some kind of uptight snob. What had Asher called her back in November? A fixer? Well, she’d fix him. She slapped his hand away.

  Which was a bad idea, because she was still standing on black ice. The quick movement sent her feet skittering, and she threw out her arms to catch her balance. Asher muttered something and grabbed her. Instead of being thankful for the save, she struggled to pull away.

  “Get your hands off me!” She pushed him away, resisting the urge to stomp her feet like a child. The man made her completely irrational. “And don’t tell me to get off my high horse, because I wasn’t...”

  “What?”