Authors: Kathryn Springer
“So what’s the fuss?”
“The
fuss
…” Kate cleared her throat to open a passage in which to breathe. “Is that I didn’t order a box of frozen chicken patties. I ordered fresh, free-range chicken cut into kabob-size pieces.”
“Huh.” Doug scratched the back of his head. “That’s weird.”
“It’s worse than weird, Doug. I need that chicken for Abby and Quinn’s wedding reception.
Tomorrow
.”
“Can’t you just substitute? Nothing wrong with chicken patties. Smear ’em with a little mustard and—”
“I’m calling my supplier.” Kate veered toward the oversize closet that passed for her office. “Don’t leave,” she called over her shoulder.
“I’m on a tight schedule today, Kate.”
“Five minutes,” she ground out. “Help yourself to coffee.”
Doug’s lips peeled back into a wide grin, unveiling a gold-capped incisor. “Okay.”
Kate took two laps around the desk, debating whether it was too early to call the Jensens, who owned a small farm several miles from Mirror Lake. The couple had stopped in and introduced themselves early in the summer. Kate had never ordered from them before but she had a soft spot for family-owned businesses.
The first order she’d placed was for the meat and fresh produce for Abby and Quinn’s wedding.
Farmers were up with the sunrise, weren’t they?
Kate took a deep breath and dialed the number. Just when she was about to hang up, a young woman answered.
“North Star Organics. Amber Jensen speaking.”
Kate took a deep breath, praying that once she explained the situation to Amber, the mistake would be rectified and all would be right with the world.
The absolute silence on the other end of the phone told her otherwise.
“I’m really sorry, Miss Nichols. My parents left for the Upper Peninsula yesterday to visit my grandparents and they won’t be back until Monday.”
Monday.
Kate closed her eyes. “It’s very important that I get the order
today
. There has to be someone there who can help me out.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Amber sounded as if she were on the verge of tears, which made Kate feel even worse. “It’s the first time my parents put me in charge and I promised my dad he wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”
“It’s okay.” Kate wasn’t sure how she found herself in the role of comforter when she was in dire need of some comfort herself! “I’ll figure something out.”
“You’ll order from us again, won’t you?”
“I’ll talk to your parents when they get back.” It was the only promise Kate could make.
The response was a faint sniffle. “All right.”
“These kind of things happen,” Kate heard herself say. “It’s all part of owning a business. It will work out.”
Please
let it work out.
At this late date, Kate wasn’t sure where she would find what she needed, but she wasn’t quite ready to release the mental image of her main entrée. Chicken, slow cooked to perfection, with a drizzle of her famous maple-syrup and cranberry glaze, nestled on a bed of wild rice pilaf. If worst came to worst, she would just have to revise the menu.
Abby wouldn’t mind. Kate couldn’t count the number of times over the past few months she had heard her friend say, “we aren’t going to sweat the small stuff. The wedding is only a day, the marriage is forever.”
It was good to know Abby felt that way but there was another opinion to consider and it wasn’t Quinn’s. Alex Let-Me-Hire-A-Real-Chef Porter would never let her forget it.
“Thank you so much for not yelling, Miss Nichols,” Amber said. “And—”
Don’t say it, Kate thought.
“Have a nice day!”
“Right.” Kate hung up the phone with a sigh, knowing Doug would be champing at the bit to get back on his route…
“Hey, Kate! Over here.”
Or maybe not.
The truck driver was sitting at a booth near the window and he raised his fork in a mock salute. “The guy in the kitchen gave me this while I was waiting. Apple pie counts as a fruit, right?”
Knowing how busy she was getting ready for the wedding, Grady must have slipped in a few minutes early.
“Thanks, Grady!” she called.
“You’re welcome.”
Kate strangled on her next breath as Alex sauntered out of the kitchen.
Chapter Five
“W
hat are you doing here?”
Alex showing up at her café at the crack of dawn was beginning to be a habit.
“I was out for a run and saw the lights on.”
And it wasn’t fair, Kate thought, that Alex looked better in black sweatpants and a plain cotton T-shirt than most men did in a tux. She tore her gaze away from his lean but solid frame and looked pointedly at the clock on the wall.
“The café isn’t open yet.”
“Doug let me in.”
“Really.” Kate wasted a scowl on the truck driver, who was so intent on tunneling his way through the massive piece of apple pie that he didn’t even notice.
“He mentioned that you’re having a little trouble with the order for the reception.”
“No trouble,” she denied sweetly.
“You got your chicken?” Doug had surfaced for air.
Not exactly, Kate wanted to say. But she couldn’t with You Know Who standing right there.
Alex gave her a measuring look. “You’d tell me if there was anything wrong.” It wasn’t a question. “This is Abby’s wedding and we want to make sure everything goes the way it should.”
Translation: the way Alex Porter thought it should go.
“Really. Nothing is wrong.” Nothing that fervent prayer and a few phone calls wouldn’t fix, anyway.
Alex didn’t look convinced. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do. We
are
business partners.”
“Not until Monday,” Kate reminded him.
“You took on a partner?” Doug’s head lifted like a hound on a scent trail.
“No!” Kate choked out. “I mean…Alex and I…our relationship has nothing to do with the café.”
Seeing the gleam of interest in the man’s eyes, she realized she shouldn’t have used the word “relationship.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Doug!”
“Don’t worry.” Doug winked at her. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“There is no secret,” Kate hissed. “We’re helping out Abby and Quinn. That’s all.”
“I get it.” Doug lumbered to his feet and gave Alex a good-natured jab in the side with his elbow. “You’re a lucky guy. Kate’s one in a million.”
“Oh, I figured that out right away,” Alex drawled.
“Don’t encourage him,” Kate said in a terse whisper.
Alex might frequently make the society pages of the Chicago newspapers—not that she’d looked—but it paled in comparison to how many people the unofficial grapevine of a small town could reach.
Doug’s truck route zigzagged through the entire county. By sunset that evening, everyone he’d come into contact with would be speculating about Kate’s relationship with Alex Porter.
Business
relationship, she corrected herself.
The idea that she and Alex would—could—ever be anything else was…well, it was laughable.
Not only did Alex move in a social sphere far above that of mere mortals like herself, from what Kate had gleaned from her conversations with Abby, he also lived his life by a strict set of guidelines. The Grand Plan, Abby had ruefully called it during one of the times she’d lamented about her older brother.
Abby hadn’t gone into detail, but it sounded as if everything on the list revolved around work.
That was something that Kate could understand. She devoted the majority of her time and energy to the café. But to her, it was less about serving food and more about serving
people.
She and Alex Porter would never see eye-to-eye. His goal was to build an empire. Kate’s was to build a life.
“Thanks for the pie.” Doug reluctantly moved the plate aside, mopped his face with a napkin and pushed to his feet.
“You’re welcome,” Alex said.
Kate waited for him to follow Doug out the door. He took over the empty booth instead.
“I’ll have coffee.”
“I’m sorry.” Kate tried to look as if she meant it. “The café isn’t open yet.”
Alex consulted a wristwatch that resembled the control panel of a jet. “It’s six o’clock.”
Kate glanced at
her
watch. The one shaped like a wedge of cheddar cheese that she’d won in a drawing during Dairy Days.
It
was
six o’clock.
“One coffee, coming up.”
Kate no longer believed that Alex had come to Mirror Lake to check up on her.
He’d come to Mirror Lake to drive her crazy.
“You summoned?”
Alex glanced up and saw Quinn standing in the doorway of Abby’s office.
“Very funny. You could always moonlight as a stand-up comedian if you don’t make enough money in the security business. Or, here’s a thought.” He leaned back in the chair and considered his future-brother-in-law. “You could marry an heiress.”
“Watch it or we won’t invite you for Christmas.” The tone was mild enough, but Alex didn’t miss the flash of warning in Quinn’s pewter-gray eyes.
“Who needs an invitation?” Alex hid a smile. No doubt about it, O’Halloran loved his sister. And he was protective of her. Alex had recently come to the conclusion that the guy might—just might—be good enough for Abby.
No point in telling Quinn that, though. Maybe on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Or the fiftieth. As skeptical as Alex was about “happily-ever-after,” there was something in the way Abby and Quinn looked at each other that told Alex they just might make it that far.
His sister had been floating around the place all day, smiling and humming as she took care of the last-minute wedding details. The last of the guests had checked out before lunch. Abby’s decision to close the inn for the weekend had been a good one. Like ants at a picnic, a steady stream of people had been coming and going all morning, sprucing up the grounds and the stone chapel in the woods where the couple planned to exchange their vows.
“So, what’s up?” Quinn wandered into Abby’s office and folded in half to fit into one of dainty wicker chairs stationed by the windows overlooking the lake. “Abby said you wanted to talk to me.”
“Since I’m sticking around for a few weeks, I wondered if you wanted me to keep an eye on things at O’Halloran Security, too.”
Quinn laughed.
“Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”
“It’s a no—thank you,” Quinn added. “I appreciate the offer, but my employees are extremely capable and I’ve got Faye guarding the front office.”
Capable. There was that word again. Alex was tempted to repeat the Porter family motto but decided it wouldn’t do any good. Not only was Quinn
not
a Porter, but Alex had a strong suspicion he would agree with the version Abby had, in her words,
tweaked.
The tough bodyguard-turned-security-specialist had a marshmallow center and Alex couldn’t put all the blame on his sister. References to God—and not the ones typical to a former Marine—seemed to come as naturally to the guy as breathing.
“Just thought I’d offer.” Alex shut down the computer program he’d been working on. Abby had given him full access to her records, so he’d spent the morning going through the inn’s finances.
Surprisingly enough, even in a slow economy, Abby had been turning a decent profit. The cabins Quinn had renovated the previous summer were booked solid through the end of October. Once Abby decided to open up the rooms inside the main lodge to guests, Alex guessed those would fill up, as well.
“Believe me, you’ll have plenty to do around here,” Quinn said. “The locals love the fact that Abby reopened the inn and she encourages them to use the property.”
Uh-huh. And, according to the records, she didn’t charge them a thing.
His sister was asking to be taken advantage of. Alex had discovered that Church of the Pines, the one Quinn and Abby attended every Sunday, frequently scheduled events at the inn. Abby generously provided refreshments and, at times, invited visiting speakers to stay at the inn. Free of charge.
Alex made a mental note to talk to the pastor, Matthew Wilde, at some point over the next two weeks. Just so the guy knew that someone was looking out for Abby’s best interests.
“There you are.” Abby glided into the room, clutching the gaudiest shoes Alex had ever seen, a pair of white sneakers crusted with sparkling beads and pink sequins.
She smiled at Alex before zeroing in on her fiancé. “Could I talk to you for a minute, Quinn?”
“Sure.”
“In the kitchen?” Abby bit her lower lip.
Alex recognized the gesture. Obviously Quinn did, too, because they both came to their feet at the same time.
“What’s wrong?”
Abby smiled at Quinn. And frowned at Alex. “Nothing. There’s always a few last-minute…glitches…to work out when it comes to weddings.”
Alex looked at the shoes in her hand. “I see what you mean.”
Abby chuckled. “I’m not talking about the shoes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. These are for Faye. She can’t wear heels because of the arthritis in her feet, so Kate bedazzled her favorite pair of Keds.”
“Bedazzled?” Alex looked at Quinn.
“I have no idea, but it sounds like something Kate would do,” he said with a shrug.
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “So does causing a glitch.”
Abby cast Alex a meaningful look, silently reminding him of their conversation the night before. “Don’t worry. Everything will be…everything
is
fine.”
Where had he heard that before? Oh yes, in the Grapevine Café that morning.
“Does this have something to do with the chicken?” he demanded.
Abby’s eyes went wide. “Kate told you?”
Actually, the tattooed, pie-eating truck driver had. He’d also told Alex—between bites—that the café’s walk-in freezer had died and she’d lost a good portion of her inventory.
“I heard the order didn’t come in.”
Abby nodded. “Kate called about half an hour ago. The order was supposed to be on the truck, but she found out the supplier wrote down the wrong date. The chicken will arrive on time—a week from now.”
“I hope that doesn’t mean you want to postpone the wedding?” Quinn wrapped an arm around Abby’s slender waist.
She smiled up at him. “Not a chance. It’ll work out. Kate just wanted to let me know that she’ll be a few minutes late for the rehearsal dinner. Thor is giving her grief again so she’ll meet up with us at the restaurant.”
“Her boyfriend’s name is Thor?” Alex said before he could stop himself.
Abby grinned. “No. Her
car’s
name is Thor. Kate’s grandfather left her a Thunderbird when she was in high school, but the last few months it’s been in the shop more than it’s been on the road.”
“That’s because it attracts more attention than Charlie Pendleton’s ice-cream truck,” Quinn said. “Thor practically has his own following in this town. I think Happy takes his time fixing the car because people hang around the garage to admire it.”
A car with a fan club and a mechanic named Happy. Eccentric didn’t begin to describe this town, Alex thought.
“What about the reception dinner?” He pushed the conversation back on track.
“What about it?” Abby looked a little confused. Alex knew that too much stress could have that effect on a person.
“Is there going to
be
one?”
“Oh, if Kate says it’s under control, believe me, it’s under control.”
Alex didn’t believe it. Not for a minute. Kate was juggling too many plates. A crash was inevitable but he didn’t want it to be on Abby’s wedding day.
“It isn’t like she has superpowers,” he muttered.
Quinn and Abby glanced at each other.
“Well…” Abby drew out the word. “She and God make a pretty good team. If you ask Kate where she gets her energy, she’ll tell you to look up Isaiah, chapter forty.”
“I don’t have time to look it up.” Alex checked his watch. “We have to leave for the rehearsal dinner soon.”
“Does Kate need a ride?” Quinn asked.
Abby shook her head. “No, she’s got Penelope.”
“Let me guess.” Alex couldn’t keep the sarcasm from leaking into his voice. “Penelope is a hot-air balloon.”
“Now you’re starting to get it,” Quinn murmured.
“Penelope—” Abby shot her fiancé a quelling look “—is a bicycle.”
“She’s riding a bicycle. To the rehearsal dinner.” Alex wanted to make sure he understood. Because of the size of the wedding, Abby and Quinn had opted for a small, informal gathering at a nearby supper club.
Alex had stopped in the day before and talked with the manager. With only a little persuasion and his signature on a check, the man had not only agreed to close the entire dining room while they were there, he’d promised to hire a local pianist to provide music during the meal.
But if Alex’s memory served him correctly, The Cedars had to be a good three or four miles west of town. For some reason, the thought of Kate pedaling that distance set his teeth on edge.
“I’ll swing by the café and pick up Kate.”