Copper Lining (The Cardwell Family Series Book 3)

by Christy Pastore

  “Cookbook? Minka didn’t mention a cookbook to me.”

  I shake my head. “What does that even matter?”

  “I’ve got contacts in publishing, and so does Haven. We could have worked that into her contract.”

  “Well, what about her having her own show? Do you have people in TV?”

  He tosses me a scowl. “Not anymore, but we could’ve set her up with a podcast or a YouTube channel. Instagram’s got tons of new features. Cardwell has a pretty large social media presence.”

  “Minka’s already an Instagram star. Besides, it’s not the same as your own show on a massively popular cable network, Brant.”

  “I get that,” he sighs. “I should’ve asked her what she wanted from Cardwell. I could’ve tried to at least offer her something substantial.”

  “It wouldn’t matter. Working at Cardwell was only temporary. Minka loves being creative and baking. She did a hell of a lot for us with the bar jars and the coffee creamer. The world needs someone with Minka’s talents. We were lucky enough to have a small part of her.”

  Brant eyes me. “What about what you need?”

  I know what he’s asking, but I ignore that and go for the basic bullshit answer. “I guess I just need a beer and some fun with my family.”

  For the most part, that’s true.

  All night, as hard as my family tries, I can’t shake my thoughts of Minka. I fucking miss her. The food’s good. The cake is even better, and the game of gin rummy is a nice touch.

  “Oh my gawd,” Maybelle shouts.

  “Where’s the fire?” Brant asks as he lays his cards on the table.

  “The building next to The Tea Room downtown is going up for sale. Mrs. Martin just sent me the email.”

  “Kristen Martin?” Caroline asks.

  “Yeah, she’s the owner. She’s moving to North Carolina to take care of her dad. He has dementia.”

  “That’s so upsetting to hear,” Haven mentions.

  Maybelle levels her gaze to Brant and me. “Guys, we should buy this building. We could expand The Tea Room. The downtown location is always packed. We have to turn people away for lunch most days.”

  “Just send those people over to Saffron House,” Tyler interjects.

  Brant’s thumb scrapes along his chin. “Buying that building, it’s not a bad idea at all.”

  “And the basement is such a great space,” Maybelle continues. “We could turn that into a bar or lounge.”

  “Maybe a cigar bar,” I say, and lay my cards on the table.

  Everyone’s eyes meet mine.

  “What?” I shrug and shuffle my cards.

  “That’s a great idea,” Maybelle speaks up. “Imagine this . . . you enter The Tea Room, and then you walk the long corridor to the back staircase. We keep it all brick, but we add glass cases and place single bottles of our bourbon along the wall. With the right lighting and a fabulous purification system. This is a cool idea.”

  “Email her back and tell her that we want to look at the space before she lists the property,” Brant tells Maybelle.

  Soon after that, the evening ends, and everyone goes home.

  Brant and Caroline are the last to leave.

  “Thanks for all this,” I say as I hug Caroline.

  “You’re welcome. Pray for me that this baby comes tonight.”

  “I can do that.”

  Caroline steps outside, leaving Brant and me alone.

  “I want to go with you to look at the space. Let me know, okay?”

  Brant slaps my shoulder. “I will. Night.”

  After I watch the taillights fade into the darkness, I get ready for bed. I’m not even tired. I just want this day to be over.

  I climb into bed, but I can’t sleep.

  I pick up my phone to check for messages, hoping to see something from Minka.

  Instead, I find a notification from the Marco Polo app Minka installed on my phone so I could talk to Celia.

  I tap the message and Celia sings, “Happy birthday.”

  “Happy birthday to you, Wes. I hope you got to eat lots of cake. I asked Mom if she’d make cupcakes today for your birthday. She made coconut and chocolate, your favorite.” She points, and then she does what Haven calls “jazz hands.”

  Yes, those are my favorite.

  “School’s fun. My friend, Erin, isn’t in my class this year. She doesn’t talk to me at recess much either. I heard her tell Samantha S., that my dress wasn’t cute. I told Savannah about it, and she told me just to ignore Erin. I showed Savannah my dress, and she said Erin was just jealous.”

  Her hands cover her mouth, and she giggles. Celia’s green eyes dazzle with amusement.

  “So, I guess that means that we’re not friends anymore? I don’t know. I haven’t told Mom yet.”

  Hearing the pain in her voice makes my heart hurt.

  “Speaking of Mom, she’s busy with her new TV show. The set is like so cool, Wes. I can’t wait for you to see it. Mom even has this really pretty mint green mixer.”

  “Well, I have to get going. I’m going to my dad’s tonight.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s with his new girlfriend, Percy. She’s nice, and she snorts when she laughs. It’s really funny. Miss you, Wes. I hope your birthday was the most special day ever. Byyyeee.”

  Another red bubble pops up . . . another message from Celia.

  “Hey, Wes, I’m probably not supposed to tell you this, but Mom was crying while she was baking this afternoon. I asked if she was crying because she can’t be there for your birthday. And she said, ‘Something like that.’ I told her I missed you, too, and then she hugged me. Mom’s not been happy since we left Mayfield. I mean, I think she misses you a lot. I told her to call you, but she said you’re super busy with work and stuff. So maybe you could call her or something? That might make her feel better. Okay, that’s it, see ya.”

  Knives stab at my heart. Kids are so damn intuitive.

  I tap at my text messages, and I write something and delete it. Write more words and delete them.

  A few months ago, I would have done anything to have Minka’s number to contact her. Now, I have her number, and I can’t seem to string two sentences together.

  I miss you.

  I’m sorry.

  Let’s make us work.

  But I don’t write anything.

  Instead, I just lie in the dark, feeling miserable and alone. It’s what I deserve anyway.

  Minka

  One month later

  I’m fine, I tell myself, and let out a few deep breaths.

  I’m sitting in my dressing room, decompressing from the show. The network ordered thirty episodes for the first season. We’ll wrap just after the fall sweeps.

  If the show does well, I’ll be back in January.

  Everything is going well.

  Is it?

  Technically, yes. The producers are happy with everything that’s happening. There’s a lot of positive buzz about the show. Can’t complain about that fact.

  My cookbook is coming along. I’ve written a ton of recipes over the years. Some I’ve just never published. But my editor says that I can include a few pre-published recipes or tweak them if I want.

  Celia’s happy to be back home, and she likes her new teacher a lot. I haven’t heard her talk about her friends that much. And I’m really surprised she hasn’t spent any time with Erin outside school. But she and Savannah talk nearly every day thanks to the Marco Polo app.

  Since being back in California, it’s like everything is stagnant. Or maybe it’s just me. And how can that be since I’m in a new phase of my career.

  The show. The cookbook.

  It should be moving my life forward. In some respects, it is. But these moments—big or small, I’ve got no one to share them with. I don’t have Wes sitting across the dinner table telling me about his day. And vice versa.

  What is life if you can’t share the highs and the lows with someone you care about?

  Caroline texted me an
d let me know she delivered Leanna with zero complications. Brant sent me pics and thanked me for the care package I sent. Every Monday, he emails me the sales reports and keeps me updated with the ongoing process of making their next bourbon.

  Wes is in my thoughts constantly. After Celia, he’s the next thing on my mind. My desire for him hasn’t evaporated. I long for his touch. His lips pressed against mine. His smile and his warmth. I hate my mind because my memories haunt me, and I can’t seem to shake them.

  And I can’t bring myself to call him. I should reach out, but I remind myself over and over that it’s for the best. I have to let him go.

  But my damn foolish heart won’t let me.

  You just need more time.

  There’s a knock at my dressing room door, and I’m stunned when I open it . . . Haven.

  “Haven, hi, what are you doing here?”

  “Flew in to see my friend, Ryleigh, before I’m no longer able to travel.” Her hand rests on her tiny little bump. “I’m a few hours early, so I thought I’d drop by and check out your show.”

  “We’re done for the day, but I can give you a tour and take you to lunch if you have time.”

  She smiles. “Funny. I was going to ask you out to lunch.”

  “Let me just change my outfit and we can go. Any place in mind?”

  “There’s this amazing Italian place over by Warner Records—a husband and wife duo are the chefs. Fabulous wood fired pizza and the wine list is to die for. Although I can’t partake, thanks to this little one.”

  “Oh, yep, I know the place you’re talking about.” I slide on my shorts and change into my favorite white lace top.

  “So, how are you?” she asks when I step out from behind the partition.

  My stomach dips when I look into her blue eyes. She’s trying to mask the discomfort, but unfortunately failing.

  “I’m good.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  So I’ve been told.” I swipe under my eyes.

  Haven looks around, spying a box of tissues on the vanity. She plucks a few out of the box.

  “Oh, just bring the box.” Tears well in my eyes despite my attempt to keep them at bay.

  “Here, let’s sit.” She gestures toward the couch and then hands me the tissues. “So, what happened? I mean, I have Wes’ version of everything, but something isn’t sitting right.”

  Turning away, I blow my nose and try to put myself together. “I honestly don’t know. He came over for lunch. We had a great afternoon, and then as we’re eating, he just turned on me.”

  “How so?” she asks, her voice full of sympathy.

  “It seemed like he wanted me to go. I was leaning toward staying in Mayfield. I really was.”

  “Did you tell him you were thinking of staying?”

  “No, he cut me off before I had a chance. His words and attitude—it was like he dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. It was such a shock to my system. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing my plans since he expressly rejected me.”

  Haven’s brows scrunch together. “He told us that you’d already accepted the job here. Said that the network was looking forward to baking beautiful memories with you.”

  Confusion washes through me. “Oh, no. No. He didn’t. Oh my gawd. Earlier in the day, I got a package from Love and Dine. It was a corporate gift. The kind of gift that they send to woo you.”

  She laughs. “Oh, of course, my old company did that all the time. It’s the classic ‘let’s sweeten the pot’ deal.”

  “Or, in my case, the icing on the cupcake,” I laugh out loud. “That gift was sitting on my counter, and that’s what the card said. I hadn’t made any final decision.”

  “My little brother is an idiot. I mean, I love him, but he’s an asshat.”

  “So, Wes saw the card and assumed that I took the deal.”

  “Or after reading the card, he gave you a gentle nudge.”

  “There was nothing gentle about the way he nudged me.”

  She blows out a deep breath. “Okay, so now what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You must know something, Minka. Deep down, what’s your gut telling you?”

  “That I’m scared. That I don’t know how to be a part of a family. I’m scared that I won’t be able to give Wes all the things he wants. On the other hand, I should be pissed at Wes for forcing me to choose this.” I gesture around the space.

  She grasps my hand. “As foolish as Wes was, I think he was leading with his heart. I’m fairly sure that he loves you.”

  I squeeze her hand. “Well, now I know why he told me that I’d blame him for moving to Mayfield and turning down my dream job.”

  “Oh jeez, Weston.” Haven stands and slings her purse over her arm. “Come on. Let’s have lunch, and we can worry over the details together.”

  “Okay.”

  It’s all I can manage because I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I do know that I need to talk to Wes and straighten this mess out.

  Is it really that simple though?

  Wes

  For weeks, nothing’s felt right.

  This feels right.

  I glance around at the space that used to be a craft and sewing shop, but now it’s an extension of The Tea Room.

  “Are you sure about this wall of pink?” Brant asks.

  “Yeah. I’m definitely sure.”

  The contractors put the final touches on the wall this morning. A large boxwood hedge with a sign that says, “But first, bubbly.” We’ve added signature champagne drinks to the menu along with cakes, cupcakes, and specialty items for brunch and dinner.

  The inspiration for the design is from the cupcake shop in Maui. I only hope that Minka will take the opportunity we’re offering.

  Haven came back from California and slapped me upside the head. She actually hit me.

  “You idiot, Wes!” Haven yells and storms into my office.

  “What now?”

  She marches toward my desk, around the side, and slaps the back of my head. “Minka didn’t want to take that offer from Love and Dine. She was going to move here, you asshat.”

  “I know that, but I couldn’t let her give up the opportunity. It was her dream.”

  Haven crosses her arms and stands in front of my desk. “Sometimes our dreams change. When I was little, I dreamed of being a dancer. Then it was a teacher. And when I was older, I thought I had everything I wanted, the corner office, the fancy title, but I was overworked, and the fulfillment died. I wanted more time with Tyler.”

  Regret hits me hard. “But I . . .”

  “I’m not finished.”

  “Guys, what’s with all the yelling?” Brant stands in the doorway with a pained expression on his face.”

  “The yelling is because our little brother is an idiot.”

  “What did he do?” Brant drops into the chair in front of my desk.

  Haven rehashes everything, and Brant looks at me and shakes his head. “Seriously, Wes?”

  “You need to call her and tell her that you’re an idiot.” Haven drops her purse onto the corner of my desk.

  I scrub a hand over my face. “Can we just stop with calling me an idiot? You think I don’t feel terrible? It killed me to tell her that I didn’t care what she did which is completely idiotic.”

  Brant lifts a shoulder. “Then why did you do it?”

  Haven’s arms fold over her chest. “Because he didn’t want her to miss out on her dream job and then blame him if she moved here and hated it or if things didn’t work out between the two of them.”

  “Okay, I can understand why Weston did what he did.”

  Haven side-eyes him.

  “Doesn’t mean I agree with it,” he says calmly. “I do agree with Haven though. You should call her. The ball is totally in your court.”

  Haven blows out a breath. “She misses you, Wes.”

  “I miss her too, but I’ll feel terrible if she leaves the show. Not
to mention, she’s in a contract. What can I do about it?”

  “The only thing you can do: be honest,” Brant says. “The two of you had something in Maui, and then months later she shows up here. That’s called fate.”

  “Yeah, the two of you are so meant to be together, and the sooner you work it out the happier you’ll be,” Haven adds. “The happier she will be.”

  And then I thought about something Minka said to me—“I used to dream of opening my own restaurant.”

  Baking is her passion. I laid out my idea to Brant and Maybelle, and they were more than impressed. We hired Nichols Corp. to redesign the space.

  The bells ring out over the door and Tyler walks inside. “Wow, this place looks incredible.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Tyler slaps my shoulder. “They’re almost here.”

  “Is Celia with her?”

  He smiles. “Yep. And when the time is right . . . well, you got this man.”

  Sawyer and Jake appear in the back hallway.

  “Everything’s ready to go,” Jake adds.

  “Thanks, guys. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.”

  “How about beers on Saturday at Kenton’s?” Jake suggests.

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “Maybelle just text me,” Sawyer informs. “They’re just around the block.”

  Showtime. Time to prove to Minka that I’m worthy . . . time to grovel and beg. No, that’s not Minka’s style or mine.

  Over the last few weeks, I’ve witnessed so much goodness. Brant and Caroline had Leanna. Mom and Pop celebrated their fortieth wedding anniversary. Thanks to all the good things happening with Cardwell, Pop’s going to retire.

  I see the way Brant is with Leanna, and I wonder if I’ll have that someday. I adore Celia, and I can imagine her being old enough to babysit Leanna and Haven and Tyler’s son or daughter.

  Can Minka imagine a life in this small town with me?

  Apparently, she had been before I went and wrecked everything.