The following day, Sunday, rolled in gray and drizzly. With her mornings off, Georgie and Deacon and whomever else had been available throughout the week had gone to the zoo, the waterfront and Pike Place Market, and the Ballard Locks. She’d even cancelled her therapy session to have more time with her brother before he left. It was just good to be with people who had her complete trust. The world outside was flowering, greening up, and healing.
But this Sunday was perfect for staying in. After church they played Scrabble and Boggle, and Georgie found she could focus on letters and finding words. Not as fast as she’d like, but they came. She accused Deacon of going slower than he normally would to give her more time, and he simply beat her soundly the next three games. But her head didn’t ache, and the words came.
The two of them decided to make dessert for their Sunday company, an older couple renting a house on the island for the month of the Tulip Festival. They made lopsided, drippy éclairs, but the process thrilled her, and they tasted much better than they looked. Naturally, she missed Jace. Anything with cooking made her miss him.
After a rainy walk, their company left, and Georgie, Deacon, and Tru settled in to watch the Food Network together. Deacon and Tru got into a discussion over past episodes of The Bachelor. Apparently Deacon was a fan.
That night Georgie pulled out her phone.
She typed, Hey, remember me?
Then erased it.
Then she typed, It’s raining here.
Her thumb hovered over send.
It must have hovered too close because all of a sudden it sent. She gasped, feeling her face flush with heat. Her heart pounded as she tried to decide whether to follow it up with a quick apology or to act like it never happened. What? Oh, I have no idea how that even got there. Why would I even text that? To you?
She blew out a breath of frustration at herself. It’s not like she’d written, When it rains and everything is quiet, all I can hear is your voice and all I can feel is your kiss. That would have been something to get all worked up about. But It’s raining here? A weather report? Calm down. It wasn’t like he would read between the lines.
Or would he?
Her stomach turned. He was smart. Insightful. And—her phone buzzed.
She closed her eyes, grimacing, then forced one eye open.
Shocker.
A smile formed on her lips, and she let out a sigh of relief. He’d read it as a weather report after all. She grinned, feeling inexplicably giddy, holding in her hands a harmless text from Jace. A simple, friendly exchange.
Her grin slowly faded. A simple, friendly exchange unattached to any passionate, aching kiss he’d given her just before he’d left. Maybe he had read more into her message and was covering it. The humiliation slowly returned.
Then it occurred to her that this internal conflict might finally mark her inevitable descent into madness. She turned over, planted her face in her pillow, and yelled at the universe.
The following evening at work, Georgie sought out Tyler and pulled him off the sprayer and out the door.
“Georgie, what are you doing? I’ll get fired.”
“No, you won’t; are you kidding me?” The door closed, and she folded her arms. “I just wanted to say something, and I wanted to say it now.”
He looked at her like he was resigned to listen, so she moved ahead. “I’m sorry for being a jerk the other day. There’s no excuse. You’ve been nothing but nice to me, and you didn’t deserve me snapping at you like that. I hated how I felt afterward. Thank you for being my friend. Almost since I’ve been here, you’ve been a friend.”
She waited for his response.
He toed the ground with his feet. He nodded. “Thanks.”
She smiled, feeling lighter.
“You know,” he said, still looking at the ground, “Megan told me that maybe I was coming on too strong. Which ticked me off because she kept setting things up.” The corner of his mouth lifted. He finally shrugged. “Live and learn, right?”
Georgie nodded. “Are you seeing that cute waitress?”
He shrugged again, but his smile returned. “I’m trying to be more cool about it. You know, play the field.”
“Sure.” She tried in vain to imagine Tyler playing the field, but growing up was hard. Sometimes you just had to wing it. Or say you were winging it. “Just don’t try too hard not to . . . try too hard.”
He gave her a puzzled look, and she returned it.
“I’m pretty sure I meant something profound in there,” she said.
That night she read through the Cordon Bleu pamphlet again. Deacon and Dar had held an animated conversation over what she could do with it. Dar even wondered aloud if there was some branch of restaurant law she could go into, should she be interested down the road. She’d laughed, but he was determined to look into it. Just to give her options.
Options felt great.
Later she held her phone close, thinking.
Is your dad glad to have you back? Send.
She was concerned. It was a friendly concerned question.
Seems like it.
So that was good. Things might not be too awful for him, then. Her phone buzzed again.
How are things at the restaurant?
How are things? Different. Quiet. Boring. Yech. All of those sounded like she was pining for him. And if he missed the restaurant, she wanted to sound positive.
The new dishes are popular.
Smiley face? Really, Georgie?
What’s it like working at the diner? she asked.
I’d forgotten how fun it is. Crazy but fun.
Her stomach knotted, and she rolled onto her side. I’m glad.
When a few minutes went by without any more from him, she put her phone away and pulled the quilt up over her head, squeezing her eyes shut.
She’d asked for that one.
* * *
Jace frowned. He slid his hand over his face and typed out one more text. I wish I could show you.
Then he erased it.
A few days later, Jace’s parents were checked in and standing next to the airport security lines, ready to begin their seven-day Mexican Riviera cruise. At least his mom was ready.
“Remember to turn off those fryers every night. And lock both doors. I should have put up bars on the windows. I’ve been meaning to do that.”
“Dad, we’re not in Vegas.”
“We’re close. And don’t let the mail pile up. Cassi knows what to do with the bills.”
“Cassi knows everything. She should be running the place, Dad.”
His dad paused whatever he was about to say, giving him a long look. He shook his head. “And make sure that dog of yours gets a walk. He likes that. If dogs get bored, they get into trouble. Digging holes in the lawn . . .”
Dad and Kit had bonded during their week at home together, but Dad wouldn’t admit that.
“I’ll make sure he gets a walk.”
“Two, if you can manage. And don’t forget the inspector’s coming on Thursday.” He placed his hand over his eyes and groaned. “What in Moses’s wee little basket made me think I could go away for a week?”
“Liev?” his mother finally spoke, her voice sweet but firm.
He looked down at her.
“I’m the reason you think you can go. And I’m going to keep sowing that idea into your thick head until you are thrilled to be gone. Do you understand me?”
Jace smiled.
The lines in his dad’s face softened. He patted his wife’s hand, then took it in his own.
“The diner’s in good hands, Dad,” Jace said, meaning every word.
His dad glanced up at him, gave him a short nod, then turned, heading toward the security line.
His mom looked back at Jace. “Good-bye!” She blew him a kiss and lifted her shoulders, her face lit with anticipation.
He waved. “Have fun! Both of you!”
She winked at him, and then they were gone.
Ste
p one, done.
Back at the diner, during the after-lunch lull, Jace met with his brother-in-law Dan, an accountant and their sometimes bookkeeper.
“Thanks for meeting with me. I just want a rundown of the numbers.”
Dan sat across from Jace in the corner booth where Jace could keep an eye on things. Cassi and Addy were both at school, but a few staff members tended to chores and prepped for the next rush. Dan opened the ledgers and pulled up spreadsheets on his laptop.
“No problem. Cass and I have updated everything, so it’s all on the computer, but Penny kept such accurate paperwork, we continue that as well. The original numbers go in the ledger as purchases are made, bills paid, etcetera, then we enter it all into the computer once a week.”
Dan led him through purchases, site maintenance and mortgage, payroll, and everything else, saving overhead for last.
Jace squinted at the profit numbers. “Is that right?”
Dan shrugged. “Liev only has a couple more payments before he owns this building outright. They’ve been smart. Careful. Your dad can be a pain in the rear, but he knows his menu, he knows his vendors, and he knows the market. I’ve watched him forecast a day’s sales simply by looking at the weather.” He chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “I’ve seen Cass do the same thing.”
“So . . . the diner is a sound investment.”
“By somebody who knows what they’re doing, yes. And by someone who’s willing to commit to it. You’ve got prime real estate here, just down the street from a national landmark. And diners themselves are considered an American institution. Sentimental national pride in the form of, you know, little museums of food.”
Jace smiled. “So all we’d need to find is a buyer.”
Dan raised his brow. “Your dad won’t agree to sell.”
Jace narrowed his gaze. “Why is Cassi taking business classes?”
“Because she never finished her degree, and we thought it would be a useful thing for her to have.”
“Have you seen her run this place?” Jace asked.
He could tell by the expression on Dan’s face that he had. Sort of a resigned pride.
Jace leaned forward. “Why aren’t you guys investing in this place? Why aren’t you taking it over? Cassi already commits the time, and when she finishes school, it won’t be such a stress on the family. On her.”
“It’s a stressful career anyway,” Dan said.
“True. But I merely mentioned switching up the menu the other day, and she nearly tanned my hide. And have you heard her talk about this place? My waitresses. My marquis. My tables. Dan, have you asked her what she wants from this place? Have you asked her what she wants for this place?”
Dan sighed and let his gaze wander toward the kitchen. “I’m afraid to.”
“Yeah,” Jace said. “And I’m afraid to ask what she really thinks of Dad making it clear that he’d only leave it if I came back. That had to sting.”
Dan rubbed his temples.
Jace continued. “I’ve got a job. With a pretty good future if I stick it out. I’ve got a place and a . . . Well . . . there are people.”
“People?”
“Yeah. A someone. Maybe.”
Dan’s eyes focused on Jace. “Have you told the family this?”
Jace shook his head. “I came here to help. I’m committed to staying as long as I’m needed. But, yeah, I left stuff.”
Dan turned the pages in the ledger from front to back. Finally he said, “We’d have to hire and train a new assistant manager.”
“I’ll help if I can,” Jace said.
Slowly Dan let his forehead drop to the open ledger with a soft thud. “I have to buy my wife a restaurant,” he told the pages.
Jace leaned across and rested his hand on Dan’s shoulder. “You will be the husband of all husbands.”
“I can use that, right?” he asked, still in the pages.
“Any chance you get.”
Step two, done.
Jace put the key in the lock of his parents’ house and turned it. He opened the door, flipped on the light, managed to shut the door, let Kit out back, and then stumbled to the sofa.
He groaned as he sat, his bag of dinner still clutched in his hand.
They’d scrubbed and mopped and bleached and shined and sorted and organized and stocked until the diner gleamed. Inspection was tomorrow, and Cassi had lorded over the staff like a madwoman. Jace was starving, but as he lay on the couch, he felt his eyes closing, and they were somehow winning out over his stomach.
I’ll eat in a minute, he thought as he drifted off.
With the rattle of the front door knob, Jace opened one eye. He groped for his phone and peeked at the time. He’d slept for two hours.
The door burst open, and he sat upright, his now-cold bag of food sliding to the floor.
Cassi slammed the door behind her. Her expression was . . . not friendly. “Jace Christopher Lowe, what in Moses’s wee little basket do you think you’re doing talking to my husband behind my back about buying the diner?”
He scrunched his eyes tight and rubbed his face, trying to pull himself out of the depths of sleep he’d just been torn from. He blinked at his sister.
She stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes bulging.
“I just ran the idea by him.”
“Ran the idea by him? Are you kidding me? He’s ready to apply for a loan. Why couldn’t you talk to me? Am I not smart enough or distinguished enough to be included in this decision? Do you think I am so completely incapable that I wouldn’t be able to understand all your man vocabulary?” She puffed out her chest and dropped her voice. “Me Jace. Me sous-chef. You buy diner, everything A-okay.”
“That doesn’t sound anything like me.”
She made an angry sound and stomped her foot.
“Do you not want the diner?” he asked.
“Of course I want the diner, but that’s not the point!”
“So you do want the diner.”
She paused, breathing hard. She nodded. “Yes.”
He watched her calm down. Then her face crumpled, and he stood.
“Whoa, whoa, what’s the matter?” he asked as she started to cry.
She took a breath. “You’re just like Dad,” she said, wiping her eyes.
He threw his hands up in the air and turned to the wall. “I don’t believe this.” He faced her again. Very calmly he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Cassi. I know what you can do. I know you have the brains and the drive and the ability to run that diner with one hand tied behind your back. I also know that Dad—being Dad and not me, Jace—is blind to that, and I am trying to do what I can to plant seeds, little, tiny, not-so-subtle seeds so that when the time comes for you—not me, Jace—to approach Dad about taking over the diner, he will be A-okay with that option.”
She blinked at him. “But why couldn’t you talk to both of us? Me and Dan together?”
Jace folded his arms. “Because Dad said something about Dan not supporting you in the idea, and I wanted to get the truth about that without you there influencing him. The last thing I’d want to do is drive a wedge between you and your husband.”
“So . . . Dan was okay with the idea?”
Jace lifted his brow. “Hasn’t he already told you he is?”
“Well, yeah, but . . . I thought you somehow—”
“Cassi, Dan admitted pretty quickly that he’s known what you’ve wanted for a long time. He just happened to agree with me that the time was now.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? Are we A-okay?”
Slowly she smiled.
Jace began to sing. “You’re gonna get the di-ner. You’re gonna get the di-ner . . .”
She shook her head. “I have to talk to Dad still.”
“Piece of cake. He’ll be relaxed and tan and holding hands with Mom. You couldn’t ask for better timing.”
She smiled at him. Probably the best smile he’d ever gotten from her. “Thanks, Jace.”
> “I’m just a little cog in the great big Lowe machine.”
“Well, thanks still,” she said. “Oh, and one more thing.” She slugged him hard on the arm.
“Ow! What was that for?” he asked, rubbing his arm.
“That’s for not telling me you had a girl back in Washington. Holy crap, Jace. I told you you needed to think about being back here forever. And you came? What did you tell her? I feel like a first-class jerk. Don’t keep stuff like that from family.”
He was beginning to see a lot of Liev in his sister.
“First of all, I didn’t say anything because it’s complicated and I wasn’t sure where things stood. And second of all, I spent most of the ride down here thinking of how to get back to her, so that kind of helped me with the first thing.”
“Is it serious?”
“No.” He moved his arm around, scowling. “But I’d like to find out if it could be. Someday.”
Cassi went home happy, and Jace ate his warmed-up dinner. He rubbed his thumb over the surface of his phone. Georgie had texted him a few times since he’d been gone. Little things. He hadn’t known how much response to give her. But tonight he felt like it was his turn.
Adam and Eve in a sombrero smokin’ with whistleberries on the side.
It wasn’t T. S. Eliot.
His phone beeped.
Do I even want to know what that is?
He smiled.
Juevos rancheros burrito, extra chilis, refried beans on the side.
He waited. She’d either laugh or roll her eyes.
Ha. Whistleberries.
She’d laughed.
He paused. This was where it got weird. The way he’d left and the time she needed to get beyond the demons she was fighting made it hard to say all the things that would be so easy to talk to her about. And he’d really rather just talk. A voice call. With voices.
But he’d left her, after that kiss out of nowhere, without a word.
He set his phone down.
You couldn’t just pick up and talk about anything after doing something like that to somebody. After doing that to somebody like Georgie.
Chapter 23
Deacon checked out his goatee in the hall mirror. “Do you think Mai would want to hang out with us tonight after work?”
Kisses in the Rain Page 29