“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just not ready for this.”
And while it was tougher than any trek she’d ever taken, Kate retreated to reclaim her poodle. She might be ten kinds of stupid, but for now, she’d managed to avoid adding an eleventh.
* * *
THE NEXT morning, Matt walked into his office—or what had been his office before he’d made Kate his personal assistant. Now ownership was questionable.
“Ginger just called,” Kate said.
“What did she want?” Until he had a signal from Kate otherwise, he planned to keep it all business.
“She’d like to know your Traverse City schedule. We’re working on coordinating your calendar so that someone other than you has a clue where you’ll be at any given time.”
“Nobody but me really needs to know.”
“Nice try, but untrue. We also talked about getting bids from subcontractors on the Tropicana, since you’ve decided to be the general contractor. I know you wanted to keep the bids local, but it’s a motel, Matt. You need to take advantage of that. We think you should widen your net some, since you can offer up rooms in exchange for lower price quotes.”
Matt smiled. “You look comfortable there.”
She looked around. “Where?”
“Behind my desk. With your papers everywhere.” There was a certain order to his pile filing system, and he hoped she hadn’t messed with it.
“Where else would I work? I mean, I suppose I could go use the phone at the servers’ stand, but I figure folks should have to work a little harder for their gossip than just lurking behind me.”
“How about we switch off and at least I get the spot behind my desk for a while?” he asked. “I need to get to the computer.”
She rose. “Do you want me out of here?”
And that was the thing of it. Even though they had a long way to go on a personal basis, and it made him a little crazy to have her close, he wanted her nearby.
“You can stick around,” he said. “I’m just placing a yeast order. We’re coming to the last generation we can use to brew.”
Kate had just moved to the visitor’s side of the desk when a knock sounded at the door and Lizzie poked her head into the office.
“So, business or pleasure?” Matt asked.
“Business, definitely.” Lizzie sat down. “Chief Erikson asked me to stop by and give you an update on the incident with Kate in the brewhouse.”
“I’m guessing that it’s more of a no-news update, or Clete would be here himself,” he said.
Lizzie nodded. “You’ve got his act down. The bottom line is that the brewhouse is as clean of evidence as the arson event. There were no prints that couldn’t be accounted for. I can rule someone out, though.”
“Really? Who?” Matt asked.
“Jerry. It seems that he took on a second job when his wife got laid off from the bank. He was there when Kate took her swim.”
“Good to know. Sort of,” Matt said.
“He thought he could pull off a second job without rocking the boat, but it’s been a scheduling mess,” Lizzie said. “He’s going to come talk to you.”
Matt nodded. He wished his manager had done that earlier, but he knew all about overconfidence sending a guy out to the end of a branch about to break. Matt had done it both literally and figuratively. He could forgive Jerry for doing the same.
“It’s a start, but not much of one,” Lizzie said. “For now, let’s keep things status quo. I know you’ve got the guard service, but we’ll continue with the extra drive-bys, too. And Kate, you keep staying at Matt’s.”
Matt looked down at his desk to hide his reaction to this mixed blessing. Then he started reading the papers Kate had left there. He picked one up.
“Kate, what’s this about?”
“It’s a booking contract.”
“I see that. And I see that Depot Brewing Company is contracting with someone named Dr. Love.”
“A blues band. I need you to sign the contract first, of course.”
“Nice of you to recall that detail,” he said.
“I know where I am on the org chart.”
“I don’t have an org chart.”
Kate pointed at a file folder at the top edge of the desk. “You do, now. I was going to post it by the time clock.”
“This is a microbrewery, not a multinational corporation,” Matt said. “With the possible exception of you, everyone knows who’s in charge here.”
Lizzie stood. “I’m all done here. I’ll just leave you to do … whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Witnessing a pretty impressive attempted coup, I think,” Matt said.
“Okay, then.” Lizzie gave Kate a wave. “Coup away!”
Matt turned to Kate as soon as Lizzie left the room. “What is the brewery going to do with a blues band?”
“Start a summer music series out on the terrace when the weather allows and in the taproom when it doesn’t?”
At least she’d made her statement sound more like a question.
“Look, I’m not saying that the idea is bad, because actually it’s great,” he said. “I just don’t have the time to deal with it. I’ve got too much going on up north.”
“That’s the best part. I can do all the grunt work,” Kate said. “You don’t give me enough to do, so if I have this on my plate, there’s a good chance I won’t be nosing into everything else.”
“How good of a chance?” About all she had left to do was alphabetize the pantry and tick off the cooks.
“Very good. And I really think this could work, Matt. You have a lot of summer people who will drive all the way to Traverse City for live music. Keep them in town, and your business will jump.”
Matt just shook his head. She was right. “Write me up a proposal.”
Kate came around the desk and stood close to him. She riffled through some papers, then held up a neatly bound document. “Already done.”
He opened the report and paged through a market study, cost analysis, and financial projections, complete with pie charts.
“You’re good, Kate. Very good.”
Kate smiled wickedly. “You don’t know the half of it.”
But he wanted to.
EIGHTEEN
Kate didn’t want to jinx things, but she was on a roll. Over a week had passed since Matt had given her permission to schedule music events, and she’d gotten next summer booked. And because she was in overachiever mode, she’d also finished all the promo materials. Okay, maybe she wasn’t so much in overachiever mode as fill-every-waking-hour-so-she-couldn’t-think-of-Matt mode, but no matter. The results were the same. Kate rose and double-checked the events calendar she’d hung on the office wall.
Even better, her house was nearly repaired. The contractor had been very cooperative. He said he needed the work, so she could pay after the holidays. All it needed was some fresh paint, some new furniture, and a head-to-toe cleaning.
She stood hands on hip, pleased. “You’re golden,” she told herself.
Matt had scheduled a mandatory 10:30 staff meeting this morning. For no reason other than pride, she’d wanted to be done with these projects before then.
Kate’s cell phone rang. She went back to the desk, picked it up, and did a double-take at the name on the caller ID: Barb Appleton. She and her mom didn’t talk frequently. It wasn’t that her mom didn’t love her, or that she didn’t love her mom. They were just in different places in life. But today, Kate felt happy that her mom was calling.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hello, Kate. You’re a tough one to reach.”
“I answered on the third ring,” she said.
“I didn’t mean now, dear. I’ve been leaving messages on the phone at The Nutshell for days. Where have you been?”
Kate searched for an explanation. Her mom liked her kids in one piece.
“I … I’ve been having some work done out there and staying with friends until it’s complete,” Kate sai
d.
“What sort of work?”
“I’ve been getting the exterior doors re-keyed,” she replied. Which wasn’t a total lie, because she still planned to. Eventually.
“Why would you do that? We’ve owned that cottage for decades and kept it unlocked for just as long. There’s no place safer than Keene’s Harbor.”
Kate withheld comment.
“How is the house looking?”
“Just fine. Why?”
“Your father and I are feeling a little nostalgic. I know we usually stay in Naples October through May, but we were thinking that popping up to Keene’s Harbor for a family Thanksgiving would be wonderful. Just like the old days.”
“But we always had Thanksgiving at the country club,” Kate said. “You know, the Thanksgiving Day Parade in Detroit, then turkey with your choice of stuffing and sides, overlooking the putting green.”
“We must have had it at The Nutshell once,” Mom said.
“No. Never.”
“Then it’s definitely time. Your father and I aren’t getting any younger, you know, Kate.”
Man, she hated it when her mother played the aging card.
“Neither am I, Mom.”
“True. So this year, let’s get you, Chip, Bunny, and all the family up to the cottage for an old-fashioned meal.”
A couple weeks ago, Kate might have been horrified. The insecurity and jealousy that had infected her marriage to Richard had just sort of bled all over her other relationships, including the one with her family. But the truth was that, before Richard, holidays like Thanksgiving had always been a really big deal to her.
Suddenly, Kate realized that she missed her mom. She missed her dad. She missed her brother and sister. They were her family and they loved her and she loved them. She might as well get on the turkey train. “That sounds fun. Can’t wait.”
“Good, dear. Now see if you can find a chef to cook for us. I just want to relax with the family. If you can’t, we might have to come up with another option. Perhaps a restaurant up that way?”
“I’ll start looking.”
“Keep me abreast of the plans.”
“Sure thing. Give my love to Dad.”
Kate hung up and went facedown on the desk. She’d forgotten about Matt. How was she going to explain that they were living together to her parents? Matt entered the room and settled into a guest chair. “What’s up?”
Little wrinkle lines were forming on Kate’s forehead. “My whole family is coming to The Nutshell for Thanksgiving.”
“And?”
Kate bit her lower lip. “I’ve got two problems. One is of the big variety. The other could be huge.”
“Lay it on me.”
Kate sighed. “You know how Charlie Brown had a Thanksgiving party for Peppermint Patty, except that he could only make popcorn and toast?”
Matt laughed. “Yeah.”
“Well, I can only make toast.”
Matt got out of his chair and hugged her close. It was nice—friendly and loving. Like she had known him all her life. “No worries. I’ll help. It’ll be fun. Was that the big or huge problem?”
In Matt’s arms, her problems seemed small. “My parents are a little…” She paused. “Conservative.”
Matt smiled. “No problem. We can bond over our shared opposition to the hippie menace.”
“If they find out I’m living with a guy, they’ll be horrified. They won’t understand that cosmic forces are to blame.”
Matt shook his head. “Isn’t this Barb the table dancer we’re talking about?”
“Barb, the married table dancer,” Kate pointed out. “It’s like the 1960s in my family. It’s all about the order of events. You don’t skip past the entrée straight to dessert and you don’t shack up. The only thing that could make it worse is announcing at Thanksgiving that you’re my baby daddy.”
Matt’s eyebrows perked up. He held her tighter. “That can be arranged, too. And, on the plus side, no one will care about only having toast for Thanksgiving.”
“I’m serious.”
Matt brushed her hair away from her face. “So we have a minor inconvenience to deal with.”
Kate looked at him for a long while. “And, it’s Thanksgiving. And, if I can’t find your saboteur by then, my house belongs to you. So it really isn’t a ‘we’ problem. It’s my problem.”
“I see.”
Kate felt bad. The truth was, she wanted it to be their problem. And, in her heart, she’d said something very different to Matt. But her hasty words had just sort of popped out and hung in the air like a bad smell. Kate decided to change the subject. She’d try to make it right with Matt later, after work.
“The first thing I need to do is get a locksmith, then move back and get The Nutshell ready for them,” she said.
“Thanksgiving is still over a week off. What’s the rush?”
“I just think it’s time. It’s been pretty quiet the past few weeks. Maybe the jerk has gotten bored with the whole thing and moved on. Anyway, I’m feeling safer now.”
She hesitated and looked at Matt with wide, hopeful eyes. ”And you can get your life back.”
“For the record, I’m okay with my life the way it is. But all the same, even though I don’t like it or fully understand it, I’m not going to stop you from moving back out there,” Matt said.
“Thanks.”
It was what she’d asked for, but it wasn’t what she’d wanted. She wanted to add that she knew she was being weird. That this was what dealing with her parents did to her, and she just couldn’t stop herself.
“Chuck has kind of grown to like having Stella around,” Matt said.
She knew what he was saying, and it had nothing to do with dogs. But maybe she was more traditional than she wanted to believe.
“Maybe I can bring Stella over to visit every now and then?”
“Chuck would like that,” Matt said. He hitched his thumb toward the door. “Do you think you could head out to the taproom? I need a couple of minutes to get my notes together.”
She needed a couple of minutes to pull herself together, too. This had hurt way more than she’d thought it would.
After Kate left, Matt sat at his desk. He had no notes. All he had was a numb sensation he’d last felt when he’d fallen off his roof and nearly knocked himself out.
Matt couldn’t nail the exact moment, but at some point reality and he had parted ways. Having Kate in his house and in his life had felt real to him, not just an arrangement. But even though they’d had breakfast together, gone to work together, and flipped a coin over whether to watch football or movies at night, it hadn’t been real.
If he’d been rational, he’d have known it had been all the illusion and none of the substance of being a couple. But he wasn’t rational. He was in love.
Still, no matter how crappy he might be feeling, he had a roomful of people waiting for him out there. So he’d move on and deal with his feelings for Kate later. Matt joined his crew in the taproom, and when he looked at his gang, he felt better, if not perfect.
“Thanks to those of you who weren’t scheduled for coming in, and the rest of you for being here early,” he said. “I don’t have a lot of big-picture updates about what’s going on here at Depot Brewing, except to officially announce the start of a music series next summer that Kate’s been putting together, and I’m sure most of you have heard about it, anyway. I think we’re going to see a big jump in business on formerly slow nights, and I want to put on more part-time staff. If you know of anyone good, send them my way.”
Steve, the server, raised his hand. “I’ve heard that Bagger’s is cutting staff down to one server a shift. You might pick up someone there.”
“Thanks,” Matt said.
He’d known that traffic had been down for Harley, but he hadn’t known it was that bad. If it was time to give Harley a hand, Matt was glad to do it.
“And now on to other news,” Matt said. “I know that a lot of you have
had questions about where I go when I’m not around the brewery. To make a long answer short, I’ve been spending a lot of time in Traverse City, and that time investment is starting to pay off. By next summer, I’ll be looking for staff for a microbrewery up there, plus for a new motel and restaurant. I’m also opening a new restaurant in Keene’s Harbor. It’s a couple miles out of town on the lake. If any of you are interested in making the move, you’ll get first shot at the openings. Think it over and let me know. No rush, okay? And now I’m going to turn the meeting over to Jerry to update you on front of the house matters.”
His manager had just started talking when Matt motioned Kate over. They walked into the hallway by his office.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Get your locksmith and whatever else you need done lined up so that you can move back to The Nutshell,” he said.
“And what’s the point?” She felt anger rising in her voice. “New locks on a great old house you’re just going to bulldoze. I never had a chance. I wouldn’t be surprised if you put Junior up to the mess he caused me just to seal the deal.”
She knew she’d gone too far, but he’d caught her by surprise with his announcement, and it had all come gushing out.
* * *
FOUR DAYS later, Kate stood in The Nutshell’s living room steeling herself for her parents’ impending arrival. She was pretty sure she had her act together, since she’d prepared as she would for any natural disaster. Kate had stocked up on Manhattan mixings and maraschino cherries for her dad and champagne and crossword puzzles for her mom. She’d also hidden a handful of candy bars and three bags of potato chips in her bedroom in case she needed to take shelter for an extended period of time.
It was nearly six, and a pot of beef stew simmered in the kitchen. Kate had thrown in a jar of cocktail onions and some red wine, hoping she could fake her mom into thinking it was a classic boeuf bourguignon. Mom had always been all about dinner being a sit-down meal, even if the house had been falling down around them. When she was a kid, it sometimes seemed inconvenient. Now, she realized it was one of the best parts of her childhood—a constant in her adolescent life that made her feel safe and protected.
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