Authors: Kathryn Springer
They’d succeeded at both.
To honor their memory, Alex had continued the family legacy.
He carefully clasped the delicate bracelet around Abby’s wrist and she hugged him again. “You don’t know how much this means to me.” Alex heard the distinct sound of a sniffle. “I’m sorry. I know you hate emotional f-females.”
“It’s perfectly acceptable to cry on your wedding day as long as they’re…happy tears.”
Abby took a step back and peered up at him. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
“Maybe it’s all this fresh air and sunshine. I’m not used to it.”
“You aren’t used to any of this.” Abby smiled. “I told you that Mirror Lake is special. It changes a person. It makes you long for things you never even knew you wanted.”
“I have everything I want.”
Abby straightened his tie. “But you don’t have everything you
need
.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes—”
A knock at the door spared him another one of Abby’s lectures.
“Come in,” she called out.
The door swung open, revealing Jake Sutton on the other side. His gaze flickered from Abby’s tear-stained face to Alex.
“Is everything all right?” The question was directed at Abby, but the slight frown that settled between his brows was definitely meant for Alex.
Kate had probably sent the guy up to check on Abby. But the local chief of police? Not exactly subtle.
Alex realized he was smiling. Again.
“Everything is fine.” Abby dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “We were just talking about our parents.”
Understanding dawned in Jake’s eyes and he nodded. “I’m supposed to tell you that everyone left for the chapel a few minutes ago. Are you ready?”
Tears still glimmered in Abby’s eyes but her smile was radiant. “Yes.”
Alex decided it was probably a good thing the police chief didn’t ask him if
he
was ready.
Chapter Seven
“K
ate, come outside. Abby is about to throw the wedding bouquet!”
Kate was already shaking her head. “No way.”
“But you’re the maid of honor!” Haylie Owens and Morgan Peterson, two girls from the church youth group who had been helping in the kitchen, continued to advance on her.
“At the moment, I’m the caterer.” Kate skirted around the island and patted the apron that covered her dress. “See?”
“There are only six women. I counted. You’ve got a really good chance,” Morgan said earnestly.
A really good chance of being the first maid of honor ever to spontaneously combust from acute embarrassment!
“No one will miss me—”
“Kate Nichols.” The bride herself swished into the kitchen. “Where have you been? Everyone is waiting for you!”
“Go ahead without me, Abby. It’s almost time to serve the cake.”
“We can put it on the trays,” Haylie offered.
“Thanks,” Kate said through gritted teeth. “But—”
“No more excuses.” Abby latched onto Kate’s arm and tugged her through the doorway. “Stand a little to the left of the hydrangea bush,” she whispered.
“You’re
rigging
the bouquet toss?” Kate tried to dig in her heels…only she wasn’t wearing heels. And ballet flats, she quickly discovered, provided no traction whatsoever.
Abby didn’t look the least bit guilty. “You still have to catch it.”
“Abby, I don’t—” Kate balked when she spotted Alex near the gazebo.
“What’s the matter?” Abby gave her a gentle push toward the small cluster of single women, most of them friends from church. “This will be fun. You love fun, Kate.”
She did love fun. When she wasn’t being
scrutinized
.
All afternoon and into the evening, Kate had felt as if she were under a microscope—as if Alex were waiting for her to make a mistake. Even though everyone had raved about the food, he hadn’t said a word, good or bad.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t said much at all. Nor had he mingled with the guests.
Was she the only one who noticed how Alex held himself apart? How he seemed to watch the world rather than participate in it?
Abby had said that Alex had lost his faith in people when she was abducted; and his faith in God when their parents died.
Kate had experienced her share of pain. Losing her mother to breast cancer when she was a senior in high school had left a terrible void in Kate’s life. But it was her faith in God, and the love and compassion of a small town, that had gotten her through those first difficult months and beyond.
Alex had been there for Abby, but had anyone been there for him?
Lord, You always have a purpose. There must be a reason why You brought Alex here…show him that You’re real and that You love him.
For the first time, Kate found herself praying for the man himself, rather than an extra measure of patience to deal with him!
“No amount of dragging your feet or muttering will get you out of this,” Abby said cheerfully.
“I wasn’t muttering.” Kate couldn’t deny the “dragging her feet” part. “I was praying.” She decided not to mention just whose name she had brought to the Lord’s attention.
“Praying I understand. But keep your eyes open or you might miss the bouquet.”
“You can do it, Kate!” Zoey and Emma waved as Abby towed her past the buffet table.
It wasn’t fair that her closest friends were exempt from the tradition because of the diamond rings on their fingers. Kate crossed her eyes before she was sucked into a vortex of tulle and satin.
Alex watched his sister tug a laughing Kate toward the flock of women standing near the butterfly garden.
Who was he kidding? He’d been watching Kate for most of the day.
The transformation had been startling.
Gone were the faded denim shorts and tank top. Triple strands of thin gold metal, studded with tiny faux diamonds, were threaded through her hair like a crown and glinted like dewdrops in the cap of auburn curls. A strapless dress hugged Kate’s slender curves, the filmy skirt a watercolor print of soft pinks, blues and greens that swept the tops of pale green ballet flats.
At the chapel, she had played the part of the attentive maid of honor, dispensing smiles and tissues to whoever needed them. Between the ceremony and the reception, she led the guests into the garden with the skill of a general commanding his troops and then gamely posed for the photographer. The next time Alex saw Kate, she was emerging from the kitchen in a white apron, helping the teenagers set up the buffet table.
She’d made sure the lights twinkled, the music didn’t overpower the conversation and that the food was served piping hot.
The food
.
Alex had taken a brief reconnaissance mission to the kitchen early in the day to see what Kate had done with the elusive order of chicken. When he lifted the lid on the counter-top roaster, the aroma alone made his stomach roll over and beg.
There were plump pieces of chicken, threaded on long wooden skewers, cooked in a light sauce, the distinct tang of cranberries complimented by a mysterious sweetness. Simple. Delicious. And something one of his chefs would have served with pride.
If Kate had the ability to create something like that, why was the café’s menu crowded with predictable but unimaginative offerings like hamburgers and meat loaf with mashed potatoes?
Alex couldn’t figure it out.
He couldn’t figure
her
out.
A sudden commotion snagged Alex’s attention.
Right before Kate joined the other women, she grabbed Faye McAllister’s hand. Faye resisted for a moment, her cheeks turning as pink as the Keds on her feet, before letting herself be pulled into the circle.
“Everyone gather around,” a gray-haired woman holding a pink cane bellowed. “The bride is going to toss the bouquet now!”
Abby looked at Kate, smiled and jerked her chin to the right. As soon as her back was turned, Kate inched to the left.
“Three. Two. One…”
The guests let out a loud cheer as Abby released the bouquet in a high arch, ribbons streaming like the tail of comet.
All the women leaped toward the bouquet as if they’d been launched out of a catapult.
Kate lifted her arms and the bouquet sailed right between them. She managed to grab hold of one of the streamers…and it unraveled as it continued on its course.
Straight toward Alex—who had a split second to decide if he wanted to catch the bouquet or wear it.
He caught it.
A chorus of cheers erupted from the onlookers.
“Look! A guy caught it!” A teenage girl pointed at him.
“He caught Kate, too!” another one giggled.
Alex realized that he was holding on to the bouquet…and Kate was still holding on to the streamer.
“Someone get a ladder for Kate next time,” a man standing next to Alex chuckled.
“Does this mean they’re both going to get married?”
“Does this mean they’re going to marry each other?”
They were drawing a larger crowd than the wedding cake, all pressing for a closer look. Pressing him and Kate together.
“Why did you catch it?” Kate grumbled under her breath.
“Because it went over your head,” Alex reminded her in a low voice. “Why didn’t
you
let go?”
The photographer waded through the crowd with his camera. “Since both of you caught it, you can pose for Abby’s photo album together.”
“You know what they say.” Kate dropped the streamer as if it were a fuse someone had just lit. “Possession is nine tenths of the law!”
She aimed a sunny smile at Alex before she danced away.
“Don’t forget to say cheese!”
Two hours later, the guests had left and the taillights of Quinn’s truck disappeared around a corner. The last vehicle parked in the driveway was a black Thunderbird.
Alex tracked Kate to the kitchen. A dishtowel was knotted around her trim waist, the ballet slippers at her feet by the sink.
She was humming one of the songs that Zoey Decker had sung during the ceremony. Something about love and commitment and a whole lot of other things Alex had stopped believing in about the same time he stopped believing in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy.
Kate did a little two-step to the side as she reached for another dish.
“Go home, Kate.”
The slender shoulders tensed. Relaxed. She turned to face him, iridescent bubbles clinging to both hands. “I think that sounded like an order.”
“You think?” Alex leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “Then I must have not done it right.”
A hint of a smile touched Kate’s lips. How could she look as fresh as one of the daisies in Abby’s bouquet after being on her feet since five o’clock?
“I’m almost finished.”
“Go home,” he repeated softly. “I’ve got a cleanup crew coming in tomorrow.”
“I should remind you, that right now you’re in the kitchen, which is
my
jurisdiction.”
“Not quite.” Alex looked down at the strip of wood that divided the ceramic tile from the hardwood flooring in the hallway.
Kate’s eyes narrowed as she thought about that. Alex found himself looking forward to her response.
“Technically,
you
can’t…” She ruined the effect by stifling a yawn. “Give me orders until Monday.”
“Consider this a practice round.”
“I thought you had already perfected the art of telling people what to do.”
So had Alex.
But something told him that Kate wasn’t “people.” No doubt about it. They were going to drive each other crazy for the next two weeks.
But even more crazy?
Alex found himself looking forward to it.
Chapter Eight
H
umming along with the classical music she’d put on, Kate snapped open a red-and-white checkered cloth and let it drift over the top of the kitchen table in her apartment.
Once that was in place, she skipped back to the stove, lifted the lid on the enormous cast-iron kettle and gave the marinara sauce another stir. Kate’s nose twitched appreciatively as the scent of tomatoes, garlic and fresh herbs perfumed the air.
Almost ready.
Dumping a batch of homemade linguini into a pan of boiling water, Kate set the timer and then raided the cabinets for her eclectic blend of china plates.
Most people in their right mind would be taking a nap the day after catering a wedding reception, not preparing another meal. But Kate wasn’t most people. And others, oh, like the man who’d all but
ordered
her to go home and get some sleep after said reception, might argue that she wasn’t in her right mind.
A foreshadowing of things to come.
Fortunately, Kate didn’t have to report to the inn until Monday morning. The first guests, a Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Gibson, wouldn’t be checking in until later in the afternoon, which gave her time to plan and prepare the breakfast menu. Something that Alex had no control over.
Kate smiled as she took a loaf of bread out of the oven.
Something brushed against her leg and she glanced down. “No, this isn’t for you,” she told the enormous rust-colored tabby curled around her ankle. “I’m sure Mr. Lundy will bring you a nice can of tuna.”
Her friend loved animals, but because pets weren’t allowed in the retirement home where he lived, Mr. Lundy had a tendency to spoil her two cats rotten.
Kate heard a rap on the door and smiled. He was also the first to arrive.
She opened the door. “Right on time…”
“You don’t have a security system. Or a lock on your door.”
Kate winced as Alex strode past her.
Ambushed again.
“I’ll get on that.” As soon as possible.
“You don’t answer your phone, either.” Alex stopped in the middle of the room, which suddenly seemed a lot smaller than it had ten seconds ago. “I didn’t realize you lived above the café.”
And yet he’d found out. Kind of disturbing. But what Kate found even more disturbing was the way her pulse started jumping like a hyperactive terrier whenever Alex was nearby.
“I grew up in a house a few blocks from Main Street, but Dad sold it when he relocated to Arizona, so I moved into the apartment. It’s very convenient. I like it.”
And you’re rambling, Kate.
“Convenient.” Alex nodded. Something in his expression told her that particular description was the only one that fit.
Kate’s gaze swept the room. She tried to see the apartment through his eyes. The furniture had seen better days, so she had hidden the outdated fabric under white canvas slipcovers and colorful pillows. Watercolors by local artists strategically covered the holes in walls that she’d painted a delicious shade of yellow.
Kate loved having a space to call her own. It just happened to be a very small one.
Face it, Kate. Your entire apartment would probably fit in the man’s walk-in closet.
Alex’s gaze snagged on the stack of stoneware plates that Kate had stationed at the end of the table. “You’re expecting company?”
“I think so.”
The eyebrow rose. “You
think
so?”
How to explain this in a way that Alex would understand?
Kate decided there wasn’t one. “Every Sunday after church I make dinner for…people.”
Alex shifted his attention to the enormous kettle of sauce bubbling away on the stove. “How many people?”
“Oh, anywhere from two to…twelve.” The week before, she’d had eighteen, but that had been a record number.
“Twelve?” he repeated.
“Give or take a few.”
At the beginning of the summer, Kate had designated Sunday afternoons as her official “traveling day” even though she never ventured farther than the front door. After church, she chose a meal from the international cookbook her dad had given her the Christmas before.
The trouble was, Kate always made way too much food for one person. So she’d started to pray that God would bring to mind a person, or people, to share it with. But something unexpected had happened along the way. Her friends and neighbors heard about it and had started to simply show up at the door—without an invitation.
The first time she’d ended up with more people than she had chairs to sit in, Kate had been a bit flustered. But everyone had such a good time, laughing through the meal and lingering over dessert that now she left the guest list in the Lord’s hands. Kate figured that God would bring the right people to her door and He did.
Most of the time.
“Let me get this straight. You have people coming over but you don’t know how many.”
“Right.”
“How many did you invite?”
“I didn’t exactly
invite
anyone.” The timer went off and Kate dashed to the stove. “Excuse me.”
“Kate?”
“Mmm?” Where had she put the colander?
“I’m being attacked.”
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Alex keeping a wary eye on the two cats circling his feet. “The orange one is Lucy, the white one is Ethel, and they aren’t attacking you. They love people.”
“Uh-huh.” Judging from Alex’s tone, the feeling wasn’t mutual.
“Don’t you have any pets? A dog or a cat? Horses? Shark tank?”
Oops. Sorry, Lord. I just can’t seem to help myself.
“No.” A smile pulled at the corners of Alex’s lips and Kate felt a responding tug on her heart.
“I get it. Animals aren’t part of The Grand Plan.”
“What grand plan?” The smile disappeared and his voice dropped ten degrees.
Um, the grand plan she shouldn’t have mentioned?
“Everyone has…goals, right? I want to cook my way around the world—I’m going to Italy today, by the way—and I want to knit something bigger than a potholder.” And she was rambling again. “But I’m sure you didn’t come over to listen to me go on and on.” Kate paused, sucked in a breath and rushed on, “Why did you come over, by the way?”
“I found a note on Abby’s desk that I can’t decipher,” he said abruptly. “I thought you might be able to tell me what it means.”
Business. Of course that was the reason he’d sought her out. The man probably had no clue how to relax on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
“Sure. I’ll take a look.” Anything to divert his attention from her knowledge of the master plan.
Alex dug a piece of paper out of the front pocket of his jeans and gave it to her.
Kate peered at the handwriting. “You can’t decipher it because Quinn writes in his own personal brand of hieroglyphics. It looks like he scheduled a picnic for the mentoring ministry at church. Abby usually provides the food but I’ll call Matt tomorrow and find out for sure.”
Alex frowned. “Abby didn’t mention a picnic.”
“She probably forgot in all the pre-wedding whirl.” Kate turned the paper sideways. “If I’m reading it right, the date is set for this coming Saturday. That makes sense, because guests check out of the inn by noon and that frees up the grounds for the kids.”
“Kids?”
“Boys,” she amended. And then, hoping to see him sweat, added, “Fifteen of them.”
“Do I have to do anything?”
Since Alex’s tone matched the one she’d heard when he was glowering down at her cats, Kate could only deduce that he wasn’t fond of children, either.
“The mentors plan all the activities.” She drained the pasta and emptied it into a colorful ceramic bowl. When she turned around again, Alex was examining the row of porcelain trinket boxes lined up on the window sill.
He picked up her favorite, a bird’s nest.
“Open it.”
Alex gave her a look.
Good grief.
“It’s not a booby trap.” Kate crossed the room, plucked it out of his hand and lifted the lid.
Alex stared down at the tiny blue egg inside. “What do you do with it?”
Do with it? No one had ever asked Kate that before.
“It’s a trinket box. My grandma gave me the first one on my eighth birthday.” She pointed to a carousel horse. “I was so excited when I found the little gold key inside. It was like getting two gifts. She gave one to me every year after that.
“After she passed away, I kept collecting them. I try to match them to a memory. See this lighthouse? I bought that one in Door County.”
“But once you open it, then what?” he persisted. “You already know what’s inside.”
“That’s true.” Kate smiled. “But then I get to see someone else’s face when
they
open it.”
Was she for real?
Alex set the box down on the windowsill. Along with the bird’s nest and the carousel horse, there was a miniature English cottage, a sand castle and a sailboat.
“You can open the rest of them if you want to.”
“That’s all right.” Alex caught a fleeting look of disappointment on Kate’s face before she turned away, and he was tempted to take back the words.
But he hadn’t stopped by to socialize.
“I’m surprised you feel up to having company today,” he said abruptly. “You stayed at the inn until almost midnight.”
Until he’d all but kicked her out.
Alex hadn’t let himself feel guilty about telling her to go home. Even the Energizer Bunny needed to recharge its batteries once in awhile.
Kate shrugged. “I have to eat. It doesn’t take much effort to stretch out the meal to include a few more.”
Stretch out the meal? From the number of plates stacked on the table, it looked as if she were expecting an army.
The aroma of fresh-baked bread reminded Alex that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Abby had stocked the kitchen before she left, but he’d skipped lunch and gone for a short run.
The inn had been quiet upon his return. Too quiet. He’d spent a few hours in the office, organizing things to suit his own system before discovering the note about the mentoring ministry picnic.
That’s when he’d decided to pay Kate a visit.
Alex glanced down at the wool area rug that didn’t quite cover the scuffed hardwood floor.
The café couldn’t be doing very well if all she could afford was the cramped apartment on the floor above it. Two open bookcases formed a divider between the kitchen and the living room.
No wonder Abby had offered her the opportunity to cater the reception dinner. As a friend of Kate’s, she would know if the business was struggling.
“I didn’t see a bill. Did Abby pay you already?”
Kate tipped her head. “Pay me for what?”
“For the reception dinner.”
The constellation of freckles on Kate’s nose seemed to deepen in color.
“Abby doesn’t owe me anything.” She rattled a drawer open and began to remove the forks. And knives.
“I’ll write a check, then. Just tell me what she owes.”
“No one owes me anything.” Kate wouldn’t look at him now. “Providing the food was my
gift
to Quinn and Abby.”
She’d donated the food. And her time.
Before Alex could process all the ramifications of that unexpected information, there was a knock at the door.
“Excuse me.” Kate whisked past him to greet her visitor, her tone more enthusiastic than the one Alex had heard when she’d greeted
him
. “You don’t have to knock, Mr. Lundy. You’re family.”
A gray-haired man shuffled in, a leather case clutched under one arm and a checkered fedora cradled in the other. “I’m sorry I’m a few minutes late, my dear. Every week it seems to take me longer to climb those stairs.”
Alex instantly recognized him as the customer who had gone behind the counter to make a milkshake.
Kate tucked her arm through his and led him inside. “I love the zinnia. Very dashing,” she added in a whisper.
Mr. Lundy looked down at the flower tucked in the top buttonhole of his seersucker jacket and beamed. “Marsha loves to garden, you know. She won a blue ribbon at the county fair every year.”
“I remember.”
“Orange is her favorite color…” He fingered the fragile petals and a faraway look came into his eyes. “But Marsha didn’t plant a garden this year, did she?”
“Not this summer, no,” Kate said softly. “Alex, this is Mr. Arthur Lundy. Mr. Lundy, Alex Porter.”
“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Alex took the man’s trembling hand in a firm but careful grip.
Faded blue eyes studied him. “I’ve told Kate time and time again to find herself a beau. I’m glad she finally took my advice.”
Kate’s cheeks turned a fascinating shade of pink. “Alex isn’t my
beau,
Mr. Lundy. He’s—”
“Her boss,” Alex said helpfully.