He felt heat in his cheeks again. “There you go with too much information,” he told her.
She merely laughed. “The point is,” she said, tapping the notepad, “we came up with a list of businesses the town needs. Sarah stopped by Tom McDonald’s office to discuss the suggestions with him. As town manager, it’s been his biggest priority to get more businesses into downtown Serenity. He thinks we have some terrific ideas here.”
“Such as?”
“An ice cream shop,” she began.
Mitch frowned. “Competition for Wharton’s?”
“Ice cream is the least of what Grace serves. I think she’d be fine if she didn’t have to bother with it.”
“Maybe so,” he conceded, thinking of how packed the place was for breakfast and lunch, to say nothing of the teens who swarmed in for burgers on date nights. “What else?”
“A bookstore, a bakery, a yarn shop, a quilt shop—”
Mitch cut her off. “Hold on a minute. You mentioned a bakery. Have you eaten Lynn’s pies or cakes? They’re out of this world—every bit as good as Erik’s over at Sullivan’s, not that I’d ever say that to him.”
Raylene’s eyes lit up. “I thought a bakery was the real winner, too. It just felt right the minute we discussed it.” She grinned. “And the space right next door to my shop is available. It’s been sitting there empty for a couple of years now. I’m not sure how smart it is to have people eating all those baked goods right before they shop for clothes, but, then again, if they put on a few pounds, they’ll need a whole new wardrobe. Or the reverse could be true, too. They get worn-out from shopping for clothes and stop next door to recharge their batteries. Either way, it could be a win-win.”
Mitch couldn’t help being impressed by the way her mind worked. “You really have put some thought into this, haven’t you?”
She nodded. “We all got excited about it. I think it’s the perfect solution for her. Cupcakes are really in right now. People always need special birthday cakes. And, as you said, her seasonal pies with all the local fresh fruits are amazing.” She searched his face. “Agreed?”
Mitch nodded slowly. “But we’re going to have to be very cautious about how we approach her about this. Lynn could well think it’s charity or something and turn you down flat.”
“Oh, I can be sneaky when it’s called for,” Raylene said proudly. “In fact, I already have one idea.”
“What’s that?” he asked cautiously, not sure how he felt about the twinkle in her eyes.
“I was thinking maybe I could buy that space and that maybe someone I know could do the renovations, all on our own. Kind of get the ball rolling, if you know what I mean. In the meantime, I’d start laying the groundwork with Lynn, talk about how badly the town could use a great bakery, have some of the others mention the same thing, then bingo! A lightbulb goes off and we ask her why she doesn’t do it.”
Mitch chuckled at her naive belief that she could pull that off without Lynn guessing what she was up to. “She’s a smart woman. She’ll see right through you,” he warned.
Raylene shrugged. “Maybe so, but what’s the worst thing that could happen? Lynn will balk, and you and I will have created a ready-to-go space on Main Street we can rent or flip.”
Mitch had to admit he was intrigued by the idea. There were other empty spaces on Main Street in dire need of the same sort of renovation. He’d been so busy for the past few years with other people’s jobs, it had never crossed his mind to buy a few places as investment properties for himself, then fix them up for resale or make them available as rentals for the new businesses Tom was encouraging to locate in Serenity. A lot, he imagined, were put off by the sorry state of the current properties. Turnkey spaces could be a real selling point for Tom.
With Tom aggressively going after new business, the timing for this struck Mitch as exactly right.
“There are a couple of other spaces on Main Street on the market, too,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe we’re thinking too small.”
Now it was Raylene’s turn to look surprised. It was evident he’d managed to kick her excitement level up another notch.
“I was just thinking about pulling this off for Lynn, but you’re right,” she said. “We could do even more. That way it wouldn’t be all about Lynn.”
“Interested in a partnership?” he asked. “We pick three or four of the most attractive locations, talk to Mary Vaughn Lewis about a package deal for buying them, and go from there. I can come up with some cash.”
“So can I,” Raylene said. “I have some money from my ex-husband that I’ve never wanted to touch because it makes me sick just thinking about him. Investing in Serenity would be a fantastic way to make something good out of something horrible.”
Mitch nodded. “Why don’t I make an appointment for us with Mary Vaughn? After that, if we decide we want to proceed, you set something up with Helen so we can work out the legalities. And then you can speak to Lynn. Let’s see where it takes us.”
He’d barely stood up when, before he could guess her intentions, Raylene threw her arms around him.
“I knew this idea had potential,” she said. “I am so excited, Mitch. This is going to work. It really is.”
He nodded. It was easy to believe that the overall project had huge potential. It was a lot harder to envision Lynn falling for their scheme quite so readily.
* * *
Lynn had grown used to Mitch popping into the bar at the end of her shift. Conveniently, he was always there just in time to drive her home. On occasion, he even convinced her to sit down and have something to eat before they left. She’d become addicted to Monty’s hamburgers and fries. It probably had something to do with the open-flame grill he had in the kitchen.
“For an itty-bitty thing, you sure do have an appetite,” Mitch teased one night when she’d finished every morsel of food on her plate.
“I think it’s finally come back,” she responded. “For a long time, I was so worried about making sure the kids had enough to eat, I barely touched anything at home. Thank goodness for those meals at Raylene’s and the leftovers she insisted on sending home. I think they saved me.”
Mitch looked angered by her comment for some reason. “Ed ought to be strung up,” he muttered.
“I won’t argue,” Lynn said. “Sooner or later things will settle down, or at least Helen promises me they will.”
“Do you have a final court date?”
“A couple of weeks. Helen hasn’t been pushing because she’s wanted her financial investigator to have plenty of time to find out what Ed’s been up to. We should know something next week. For now, thanks to you, Raylene and this job here, we’re getting by.”
“Then what, Lynn? You may be juggling all those balls just fine in the short-term, but you can’t do it indefinitely. And you told me yourself, you’re doing this for the paycheck, not because you’re passionate about any of it.”
“True,” she said. “Passion doesn’t enter into it.”
He leaned back in the booth. “What are you passionate about?” he asked, a gleam in his eyes she wasn’t sure how to interpret.
“I have to say you’ve caught my fancy,” she teased, mostly because talk of the future seemed pointless when she was doing the best she could just to get through each day.
“Good to know,” he said, chuckling. “But I was thinking more in terms of a job you might be passionate about. Or do you think your settlement will keep you and the kids comfort
able?”
She immediately shook her head. “No, I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never be so reliant on a man for anything again. Not only is it foolish, but it sets a terrible example for Lexie. I want her to know how to be an independent woman. This whole situation would have been far less scary if I’d learned that lesson at her age.”
Mitch nodded, looking oddly pleased by her response.
“Any dream jobs in mind?” he asked. “What are you happiest doing?”
“I’m happiest in my kitchen,” she admitted. “But opening a restaurant’s out of the question. There’s no way I’d want to compete with what’s already here, and it would be much too demanding while the kids are still at home, anyway. I know how hard Dana Sue works.”
“You make a terrific pie,” he commented in a casual way that suggested he was trying to make a point. “Your cakes and cookies are real good, too.”
Lynn studied him suspiciously. “You know, Raylene said something very similar to me just recently. Have you two been talking?”
“Sure we have,” he said innocently. “We just went through the final punch list for the addition a week or so ago.”
She frowned at him. “I meant about me.”
He shrugged. “I imagine your name came up. It usually does. You know how she is. She’s no better than Grace when it comes to matchmaking.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, and saw the immediate rise of color in his cheeks that told her she was exactly right to be skeptical.
He held up his hands. “Hey, I’m an honest guy. Have you ever known me to lie to you?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean you’re incapable of it.”
“Let’s forget about me and get back to your future,” he suggested. “Have you ever thought about baking as a career?”
Lynn decided to let him get away with the evasive maneuver. Mitch wasn’t a complicated man. Sooner or later whatever was really on his mind would be revealed. She shook her head. “I don’t have any professional training.”
“You have a few recipes, don’t you?”
She laughed at that. “Mitch, I have recipes going back to my great-grandmother. Every woman in my family baked all the traditional Southern pies, cakes, cookies and even doughnuts.”
“Well, then, it sounds to me as if you’d have everything you need to open a bakery, at least if it were something that held an interest for you,” he said. “Ever thought about it?”
“Not really, at least not until recently.”
“Well, I know I’d be a regular for a morning cup of coffee and that pecan cake thing you’ve made me a time or two.”
Ever since Raylene had planted the seeds several days ago, Lynn had been giving the idea of a bakery more consideration. She had to admit that she liked the thought of being able to share all those old family recipes with everyone in town. Could she run a business like that, though? Where on earth would she get enough money to start it? She certainly wasn’t in very good standing at the bank these days.
Wearily, she shook her head. “It’s crazy,” she told Mitch. “There’s no way I can start any kind of business. If we had a bakery, I’d probably enjoy working there, but we don’t.”
“I thought you wanted to set a good example for Lexie,” Mitch chided.
Lynn frowned. “Of course I do.”
“Then do you want her to hear you sounding defeated before you’ve even tried?”
“I’m being realistic,” Lynn argued.
“Without exploring a single option? Sweetheart, that’s not being realistic. That’s self-destructive. You’ll never succeed in this world if you don’t believe in yourself. Do you think people in town would buy your baked goods?”
She nodded. “I always sell out first at the school bake sales.”
He smiled. “Well, there you go. You’re already a success. You have a reputation to build on.”
“And not one cent to my name to invest in this business,” she reminded him, trying not to let herself get carried away by the excitement he’d stirred in her. She was in no position to latch onto crazy dreams at this point.
“What would you call your business?” he prodded, ignoring her doubts.
“Sweet Things,” she said at once. “It’s simple. It’s clear. And it sounds like one of those Southern endearments—you sweet thing, you.” She regarded him hesitantly. “What do you think?”
“Sign me up for coffee at eight,” he said. “You’d have tables and chairs, right?”
“A few,” she said, reluctantly allowing herself to dream. “And blue-checked café curtains on the windows and flowers on the tables. I think the tables and chairs should be mismatched old kitchen sets painted in pretty colors, too. I’d like pictures on the walls.”
“What sort of pictures?” he asked, clearly encouraging her.
“Paula Vreeland’s botanical prints if I could afford them,” she said readily. “They’re beautiful.”
“I imagine she’d make you a deal,” Mitch said.
Lynn sighed. It was such a lovely daydream, but it was time to get back to reality. “Enough of this pie-in-the-sky stuff,” she said. “No pun intended. I should get home. Lexie was hanging out over at Mandy’s tonight since it’s not a school night. I trust her, but I don’t want her to be wearing out her welcome over there.”
“Where’s Jeremy?”
“With his dad.” She shrugged at Mitch’s surprised look. “It’s taking everything in me to try not to interfere in that relationship. Jeremy doesn’t know about all the things Ed’s done. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Does Lexie know?”
“When she’s asked me directly about something, I haven’t lied to her, but I try really hard not to scare her or to make her think any less of her dad than she already does. He’s her father. They should have some kind of relationship, but she’s not interested. I’ve tried to intercede on Ed’s behalf, but I won’t force her to spend time with him.”
“That seems reasonable to me,” Mitch said.
“I wish Ed thought so,” she said. “He blames me for her attitude. He just can’t see that she’s too smart to be fooled by his pretenses of caring when his actions have clearly shown otherwise.”
“I imagine that’s one more regret he’ll be able to add to his list if he ever starts thinking clearly again,” Mitch said. “Okay, let’s get you home.”
A few minutes later, parked in her driveway, he turned to her, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “One of these days,” he said, his eyes locked with hers, “both of your kids are going to be on sleepovers and I’m not going to be saying goodnight in your driveway.”
She smiled at the intensity in his voice. “Looking forward to it,” she said, her heart thundering in her chest. She’d forgotten what it was like to feel this kind of anticipation.
Still gripping the steering wheel as if to prevent himself from doing anything out of line, he leaned over and touched his lips to hers. Lynn leaned into the kiss, prayed he’d deepen it, but he demonstrated remarkable restraint. Darn him!
“Good night, sweet thing,” he said with an exaggerated drawl and a wink as he walked her to the door. “See you tomorrow.”
Lynn watched him leave, then sighed. Once in a while old doubts surfaced. She caught herself worrying about whether he was truly over his drinking and how she’d react if she discovered he wasn’t, but more and more she felt herself falling head over heels in love with the kindest, sexiest man she’d ever run across
.
19
Even before Lynn walked over to Raylene’s on Memorial Day, she could smell the scents of hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill and hear the laughter of the younger kids as they raced around the big backyard. The littlest ones were splashing happily in a wading pool with a couple of the teens watching them.
Music was pouring out of the windows of the new addition. Good Jimmy Buffett party music from what she could tell. This holiday was the one time they tended to veer away from country music. Buffett was the perfect complement to a summer kickoff party.
Mitch came around the fence just as she was coming out her back door with the assortment of pies she’d baked for the occasion. He saw the picnic hamper and sniffed appreciatively.
“Apple, blueberry,” he said, his eyes closed as he apparently considered the aromas. “What else? Cherry, maybe?”
“And strawberry rhubarb,” she told him, smiling at his reaction. “And you can stop swooning over them. I get it. You and Raylene want me to open a bakery. A couple of days ago even Helen dropped a hint. I’d have to be dumb as dirt not to get the message.”
“And?” he asked. “Are you listening to us?”
“I’m considering the possibility,” she said. “I might even be thinking about it seriously, but the postponement in court last week came as another shock. I certainly can’t do anything until the divorce is resolved and I know where I stand financially.”
“Fair enough,” he said, trying to take the heavy picnic hamper from her.
She held it away from him. “I’m not sure I can trust you to get these next door without sneaking samples.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to stick close and guard them from me,” he teased, managing to take the basket.
For once when Lynn walked into the party, she felt like less of an outsider. She’d grown closer to all these women over the winter and spring months. And, to be honest, she felt more comfortable because Mitch was by her side. Unlike Ed, who would have thought the whole backyard celebration to be too much of a cliché compared to some stiff, formal event at the club, Mitch clearly fit right in here, and happily so.
Where Azaleas Bloom Page 26