“I’m so sorry, sir,” Jane apologized, placing a hand over the phone’s receiver. “What would you like?”
“I want some damn service!”
Jane’s cheeks flushed pink, and with one hand she fumbled around in her apron pocket, likely for her notepad and pen, her eyes welling with the obvious sheen of tears.
Without considering her actions, Maggie stood and turned. Moving between the empty tables, she stopped at the abhorrently rude man. She wanted to tell him to calm down, to act like a decent human being or do everyone a favor and leave. But this was Jane’s business; she had no right running her customers out. So, she did the next best thing.
“What can I get you, sir?”
The man looked Maggie up and down, a deep crease etching between his brows. And she couldn’t blame him. She was dressed in paint-splattered overalls over an Adele concert T-shirt from when she had seen her perform at Radio City in New York. But she held her chin defiantly high and pressed her lips together in the semblance of a smile, waiting for the man’s order.
“A coffee. Black,” he said with a resigned sigh. “And the French toast with fresh berries, hold the syrup.” His lack of manners was appalling, and the fact that he didn’t seem to care was even worse. He sat back down in the booth and went back to his newspaper, without so much as a care in the world.
Maggie’s hands balled into fists as she looked at him a moment longer. It was almost confronting; he was Tom if Tom had survived to be fifty-something and lost some of the hair on top of his head. It seemed the more expensive the suit, the more arrogant the man. She rolled her eyes and turned, heading back to the counter to find Jane smiling at her with a touch of awe.
“Sorry,” Maggie whispered.
Jane shook her head, waving her over to the other side of the counter. Maggie looked around curiously before making her way to her.
“Can you make coffee?” Jane asked over her phone call.
Maggie offered a reluctant nod.
“Can you give Joe in the kitchen that man’s order and make his coffee?”
“O-kay …” Maggie pulled her bottom lip between her teeth wondering what exactly she’d just gotten herself into.
“You’re a lifesaver!” Jane whisper-yelled, moving around her and heading through the swinging doors.
Maggie stood there a moment, looking out over the café. It sure did look different from the other side of the counter. Bigger, more intimidating. She tapped a finger against her chin as she searched the countertops before locating the coffee pot. She made quick work of getting down to business. The last thing she wanted was for Mr. Suit to get his tighty-whities in another wad.
***
Forty minutes later, Maggie was standing behind the cash register, processing her third sale for the morning, an apron tied around her waist like she belonged there.
When there was a break in customers and the café was empty save for Joe in the kitchen, Jane released a groan, slumping forward against the counter with a harrumph. Maggie felt terrible. The poor woman looked exhausted.
“Let me make me you a coffee,” Maggie said, moving quickly to the big espresso machine.
“Oh, honey, you are an angel!” Jane sighed. “I’ve been on my feet since four o’clock baking muffins for the morning tea at the nursing home. I normally whip them up the day before, but I was in Manchester yesterday with Katie getting her braces off.”
“Sit down.” Maggie smiled, moving around the coffee machine with expert ease. “Relax and put your feet up.”
“You’re a natural,” Jane said with a small laugh as she took a seat on a stool on the other side of the counter. “I can’t believe you got that horrible man to leave a tip!”
Maggie smiled to herself, remembering the man in the suit and his contrite smile as he paid his bill, thanking her with a murmur before hurrying out as if he was the busiest person in the entire state of New Hampshire. He’d left a five-dollar tip—so not a total monster.
“You want a job?”
From where she was frothing the creamer, Maggie glanced over at Jane, finding her watching on with a wry smile. She wasn’t sure if she was being serious or not, but it was the opening she’d been hoping for.
“Well, actually …” Maggie laughed nervously, pouring the creamer and foam into the two mugs of espresso. She carried them both back to the counter, placing one in front of Jane before taking a sip from the other. “I kind of do … Want a job, I mean.”
Jane gaped at her. “Really?” She made a point of looking around the quiet café with the slightest hint of derision. She snorted. “Here?”
Maggie shrugged. “Anywhere, really. I’m not picky. I was thinking of filling out an application at the Piggly Wiggly.” She took another sip of her coffee. “I don’t have a lot of experience doing much else. And I could do with the money now that … now that the boys and I are on our own.” She wanted to add since my husband spent all our savings on his whore but she swallowed those words before she had a chance.
Jane’s eyes grew. “When would you want to start?”
Maggie chuckled, looking down at the apron she was wearing. “Well, no time like the present, right?”
Jane released an almighty sigh, her shoulders sagging. “If I weren’t so dang tired I’d climb right over this counter and kiss you, Maggie!”
Laughing into her cappuccino, Maggie’s gaze lifted in time to see a shadowy figure walk through the door, the bell chiming musically. Involuntarily, her eyes widened at the sight of Evan, and she felt her body react, her shoulders straightening a little as she tried so hard to play it cool.
Evan’s gaze landed on Maggie first. A sliver of something came over him but he recovered so smoothly she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. A grin tugged at his lips as he stopped by Jane, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his sister’s head, his gaze still firmly planted on Maggie.
“Oh, hi, honey.” Jane looked up at him with a tired smile.
“What’s goin’ on here?” he asked, jutting his chin to Maggie standing on the other side of the counter, his eyes taking in the apron wrapped around her slender waist.
Maggie went to say something, but Jane spoke first. “Maggie’s going to work here!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Can you believe that?”
“No, I can’t.” Evan’s smiling eyes met Maggie’s, one brow quirked in confusion, and she knew exactly what he was thinking.
Their last conversation had been about her looking into design courses, not becoming a server at his sister’s café. At a loss for words, she simply shrugged one shoulder and smiled, taking another sip from her coffee.
“Larry brought by a fresh batch of lobster tails. I made you a sandwich,” Jane said to her brother. “It’s out back.”
Evan groaned before kissing the top of her head again. “What would I do without you?”
Jane rolled her eyes at him, flashing Maggie a droll look, but Maggie wasn’t really paying attention. She was too busy staring at Evan, eyeing him appreciatively. He was dressed in what she’d come to realize were his work clothes. Jeans, boots, a slim fitting T-shirt bearing the logo of his boat repair business, the sleeves stretching tight around his muscular shoulders. His hair was mussed, his beard scruffy, eyes bright blue beneath the drop lights in the café. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, staring at him over the top of her coffee mug.
“You okay, hun?”
Maggie snapped out of her inappropriate daze, finding Jane watching her with a curious smile.
“Yes. Sorry. What?” She could feel a heated flush creep up from the base of her throat, spreading to her cheeks at the sight of Evan’s growing smirk.
Thankfully, before Jane could say anything further, Evan spoke, the lingering hint of his knowing smile playing on his lips which he was at least kind enough to attempt to hide. “I’m almost finished at work,” he said, thumbing over his shoulder in the direction of the docks across the street. “I was thinking about stopping by your place afterward
s. Put up that screening?”
Maggie pressed her lips together, trying for a smile which she knew looked awkward as hell. But she nodded regardless, finishing what was left of her coffee.
Jane looked from Maggie to Evan and back again, her brow furrowed, but before she could say anything, Evan walked around the counter and disappeared into the kitchen before returning quickly with the sandwich his sister had made for him.
“Thanks for this, sis.” He held the sandwich wrapped in brown paper in the air on his way to leave, glancing at Maggie with a small smile. “See you back at your place.”
And then he was gone, leaving an obvious silence in his wake.
Maggie quickly turned away, busying herself with opening the dishwasher and placing her empty coffee mug onto the top rack. She could feel the weight of Jane’s curious and assessing gaze on her, but she did all she could to ignore it, chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek. She didn’t know why, but she felt as if she’d been caught out in some tawdry, clandestine secret. Evan was simply helping her at the house. It wasn’t as if she was paying him with lewd, sexual favors.
Thankfully, Jane said nothing. She remained silent, contemplative as she watched Maggie move to the place where she’d left her keys and her purse earlier.
With a casual smile, Maggie untied her apron and placed it onto the counter, collecting her things. “So, when would you like me back for my first official shift?”
“How’s Monday?” Jane said, still watching her with an uncertain look in her eyes. “Same time?”
Maggie nodded with a tight smile, looking away before heading for the door. The atmosphere between them had quickly shifted. It was thick with palpable tension, and she needed to get the hell out of there in case Jane had a change of heart on the job offer.
“Maggie, sweetheart?”
Pausing at the door, her hand poised at the handle, Maggie closed her eyes momentarily, her shoulders falling as she released the breath she’d been holding. Oh no. This was it. She’d had a feeling Jane was the overprotective big sister type, but would she really go back on her offer of employment?
“Yeah?” Turning with a hopeful smile in her eyes, Maggie looked at her, waiting.
Jane stood, looking at her from across the dining area. “Evan’s been coming to your house?”
Maggie nodded after a beat. “Yeah.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Just helping out with a few things. He’s been a huge help,” she answered as lightly as she possibly could. But despite the fact that it had been nothing but innocent, she couldn’t help but feel guilty.
Jane seemed to contemplate something, glancing down to the hardwood floor before meeting Maggie’s eyes with a tentative smile that looked forced.
She went to speak but stopped herself, then finally said, “Just … be careful.”
It was almost as if her own words had pained her. Like she didn’t want to say them, but had to.
Maggie watched her struggle for a moment, before she finally managed a smile that met her eyes and, without saying anything further, without any semblance of elaboration, she turned and headed into the kitchen.
Chapter 22
Evan pulled up outside Maggie’s house just as the thick gray cloud cover was beginning to clear and roll out to the ocean. He stayed put for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel, surrounded by nothing but silence, the ticking of the engine accompanying the sound of his ragged, heavy breaths.
He’d planned on stopping by on Tuesday, but it had been raining. Then on Wednesday he was in no fit state after the night before. Drunk was an understatement. He’d gone home with Cindy. Again. He had to sneak out of her house before sunrise, careful not to wake her so she didn’t cause a damn scene like he knew she would. Why are you leaving? Stay. Be with me. Why do you use me like this? How dare you, Evan Boyd! He couldn’t risk that. So, he’d snuck out while still drunk as sin, had gone straight home and crawled into bed, feeling disgusted with himself. He’d only managed to get out of bed this morning, two days later.
He really needed to cut the crap and get his life in order, especially now with Maggie around. She relied on him and he felt bad, like he’d somehow abandoned her during her time of need. Then when he’d seen her at the café, standing there behind the counter wearing a goddamn apron, he knew he had to make an effort. And find out what the hell she was doing working for his sister.
Forcing himself out of his truck, he collected his toolbox from the back and walked around the side of the house, noticing the front door was wide open, the familiar tune of a Fleetwood Mac song spilling out into the afternoon accompanied by a terribly off-key voice. Smirking to himself, he placed his toolbox onto the porch, and crept over the decking, sneaking inside.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the muted light inside the house, but when they did, he came to a sudden stop. There, standing on the kitchen countertop, oblivious to everything but the music, was Maggie. Dancing. Her hips swaying to the beat of the music. She sung unapologetically loud and out of tune, getting nearly every second word wrong. Evan relaxed against the door frame, folding his arms over his chest, watching the show with a wicked grin.
It wasn’t until halfway through the second verse of ‘Dreams’ that he finally came to, jumping when Maggie reached up to the light that hung over the countertop, a spare bulb in one hand. It was almost as if it was happening in slow motion. He sucked in a deep gasp, glancing furtively to the switch on the wall, his heart jumping up into the back of his throat as he lurched forward with a roaring “Stop!”
Terrified, Maggie turned so fast, a shrill blood-curdling scream exploding from her. Her bare foot slipped off the side of the butcher block countertop, and she went tumbling toward the floor.
Evan kicked into gear, closing the distance and catching her in his arms in the nick of time; a split second later and she’d have landed on the hardwood and potentially done some serious damage to herself.
“What the hell are you doing? You scared the crap out of me!” Maggie shrieked, face stark and eyes wide as she gaped up at him. She struggled out of his awkward embrace, finding her feet after a few unsteady moments.
“You could’ve electrocuted your-damn-self!” Evan yelled just as indignantly, his abrupt words hoarse and raw. He knew his neck veins were likely popping, but he was incredulous. Raking his fingers through his hair, he tore at the ends as he tried to calm himself.
“What are you talking about?” Maggie asked with a huff, clutching at her heaving chest while trying to catch her breath.
Evan stormed across the kitchen, stopping at the wall. With dramatic flair, he indicated the light switch like it was a prize and he was one of those showcase girls on The Price is Right. “This is a light switch! An electrical current flows through this to that!” He pointed at the light hanging above the counter.
Maggie shook her head, her brows drawn together in confusion. “Yeah. The bulb blew,” she said, holding up the spare light bulb in her hand. “I’m changing it.”
Evan stared at her long and hard, wondering if she was actually that clueless. Then it dawned on him. She was that clueless, and by no fault of her own. He softened a little, asking, “Have you changed a light bulb before?”
She looked down at the new bulb. “No. But …” She met his eyes again as she continued, “I mean, it’s hardly rocket science, right?”
Evan muttered a curse under his breath. He took a moment to calm his frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose before offering her an exasperated look. “Maggie, the switch is on.” He pointed to the light switch again. “When a light bulb blows, the first thing you need to do is turn the switch off. There’s electricity running through the wires. One wrong move and that bulb bursts, you could’ve …” He stopped himself, scrubbing a hand over his weary face with a murmured, “Jesus Christ.”
Shaking his head to himself, Evan flicked the switch into the off position and went back to her, holding his hand out.
She looked up at him with ru
eful eyes and a sheepish smile. And an unfamiliar emotion tugged in his chest, right there in the big gaping void where his heart once sat. He cleared his throat, managing a contrite smile as he took the bulb from her dainty hand.
“Here.” He nodded to the kitchen counter, slapping a hand upon the surface. “Hop up. I’ll show you.”
Folding her arms over her chest, Maggie shot him a steely look. “I’m not some damsel in distress, Evan. I can change a damn light bulb.”
He steadied her with a doubtful once-over. “If I’d been five minutes later, you’d be frying on the damn floor.”
Maggie rolled her eyes, but thankfully relented. She moved around him, pulling herself back up onto the wooden countertop, the new bulb held carefully in her hand.
“Okay, so, you always want to check the switch is off,” he began, “especially when a bulb blows. So many people forget.”
Maggie shifted from foot to foot, and he could see she was a lot less confident than she had been only moments before, dancing to Fleetwood Mac like she was at her own private concert. He gave her ankle a reassuring squeeze.
“So, reach up and you wanna gently unscrew the old bulb.” He watched as she did as instructed, her hand gentle as she twisted the glass, a small gasp escaping her when the bulb popped off. He smiled to himself. “Okay. Now you need to carefully twist the new bulb in. Not too tight, though.”
She did just that, slowly moving her hand away as if at any moment the new bulb was going to spontaneously combust.
Evan stepped back to the wall, flicking the switch again, and the kitchen was illuminated with a soft white glow. Maggie looked down at him, her eyes wide and a victorious smile curling at her lips. Pure pride. He couldn’t help but chuckle at just how adorable she was.
“Voilà.” He waved a hand in the air, smiling smugly when she met his eyes.
“Thanks,” Maggie muttered and, with a derisive snort, she wiped her hands over the back of her overalls before moving to climb back down.
Before he even knew what he was doing, Evan swooped in, his large hands securing around her waist before easing her back down to the safety of the floor. With a gasp, she turned in his arms, looking up at him with wide eyes, her breath seemingly caught at the back of her throat.
The Long Way Home Page 17