Authors: Ruth Logan Herne
“Will do. And remind me to order some kind of coffee service for the hardware store. It's crazy not to have a coffeemaker there.”
Tina read what Max didn't say, that he felt funny patronizing her aunt's business when things were bad between them. She nodded, then paused. “I'll bring over my one-cup system. You buy the pods. But in the meantime, I'm okay with grabbing coffee from Aunt Laura's place. I think she could use the business and I'm pretty tired of having bad feelings surrounding me. Know what I mean?”
* * *
Max mentally counted her request as superachievement number one.
He knew exactly what she meant. He read it in her eyes. Old regrets wore on the soul, never a good thing. “I'll do that. Good night, Tina.”
“Good night, Max.”
He crossed to Seth's place once Tina's lights blinked on, then took his car for a short spin. He returned the back way, slid into a parking spot behind Seth's garage and wound his way through the trees to below the hardware store. From the shelter of an alcove he could watch the ruins of Tina's store.
His brother Luke, another deputy sheriff who lived farther down the east side of Kirkwood Lake, would take over the watch in two hours, allowing Max time to sleep. And Zach Harrison, a New York State Trooper who lived next to the McKinney Farm on the upper west side of Kirkwood Lake, had agreed to relieve Seth. They'd set up a schedule between them, knowing manpower was tight on their combined forces, but also aware of an arsonist's typical time frame. The emotional “high” of a fire wore off quick, and most arson-lovers struck again fairly soon. Seth, Luke, Zach and Max had decided among themselves that it wasn't going to happen on their watch.
And that was the beauty of a small town like Kirkwood, especially one front-loaded with a good share of first responders. The arsonist had used the element of surprise to his advantage when they'd torched Tina's café.
They refused to allow him or her to have that advantage again.
Chapter Five
T
ina lugged the coffeemaker into the hardware store early the next morning. She assumed she'd lie awake half the night, thinking about fire and arson and being alone.
She didn't. For the first time in weeks she fell into a sound sleep quickly and slept through the night. Why?
Because Max was watching over things.
When he's here
, her conscience chided.
The sage advice hit home. Life taught her to tread carefully now. She had no desire for another broken heart or to be the object of conversation in their small town. She'd been there, done that.
It wasn't a bit fun.
First, falling for Max would be a game changer and she was done with games.
Second, she knew his style. When the going got tough? Max did his own thing. She'd seen that with the Sawyers, then with his family. And how anyone could take a wonderful family like the Campbells for granted...
Reason enough to run scared right there.
She was leaving, anyway. And even if she wasn't ready to wipe the dust of her hometown off her heels, it would take more than Max's word to convince her he was back in Kirkwood to stay. He'd traveled the world, gone on secret missions, played G.I. Joe to the max. The likelihood of Max setting up house in their quaint, sleepy, lakeside hometown?
Thin. And Tina was done with thin promises and broken dreams. She set up the coffeemaker, filled the water dispenser, then hesitated, caught between her bravado from the previous night and the cold light of morning.
She'd told Max that she wanted to mend things with her aunt. Had she meant it?
Yes. But could she do it?
She sighed, made a face and walked to the front window. To the right lay the church, white wood and stone, a sweet country remembrance of putting God first, a lesson she needed to embrace more often.
To the left and slightly uphill was The Pelican's Nest, the lakeshore eatery her parents had owned for decades. She'd taken her first steps there. She'd learned how to read there. She'd had her first kiss there, on the back steps of the kitchen, when Brady Davis dared her to kiss him.
Afterward, she couldn't for the life of her figure out what all the fuss was about. A few years later, watching Max Campbell date girl after girl, she got a clue. It wasn't the kissâin fact it had very little to do with the kiss. It was the person you were kissing that made all the difference.
She glanced at the clock, saw she had plenty of time, then walked out the door and across the street to the restaurant entrance.
It felt odd walking through the front door. She'd always breezed in and out of the kitchen entrance, laughing, talking, working, her days and nights filled with school and The Pelican's Nest.
She hauled in a deep breath, pulled open the door and strode in.
Two customers she didn't know glanced up from the counter, nodded and went back to their coffee. Just two customers in the whole place, at prime breakfast time on a weekday morning.
“Can I help you?” Laura turned, saw Tina and stopped.
Tina took advantage of the surprise and moved forward as if everything was all right. “Can I have three coffees to go, Aunt Laura?”
“Of course.” Laura half stammered the words. A pinched look said she wasn't sure what to say or what to do so Tina helped once again.
“I need room for cream and sugar in two of them. And if you have fresh Danish or coffee cake on hand, that would be nice, too.”
“Three of them?”
“Sure. Any mix will do. We'll share.”
An awkward silence ensued while Laura put the order together. There was no typical morning smell of sizzling bacon or rich French toast grilling alongside eggs over easy. Tina recognized the coffee cake as a recipe her mother had perfected two decades ago, a buttery-rich cinnamon concoction with melt-in-your-mouth texture. Tina's love of pastry making came from her mother, her love of restaurants from her father, and her stubborn nature had been a combo package. As Laura wrapped the square hunks of cake, she thought of the family they'd been so long ago.
Where had that gone? Why had it ended?
Illness, then greed. Her father's weakening condition pushed him to sell. Rocco's greed put her out on the street. But Aunt Laura...
“I'm sorry, Tina.” Laura paused from the simple task. She bit her lip, then squared her shoulders and looked up. Met Tina's gaze. “So sorry. Losing your coffee shop like that, after all the work you did.”
Tina stood silent, unsure what to say. There was so much more to be sorry for, their histories intertwined, then butting heads.
“No matter what went on before, it broke my heart to see it happen.”
Sincerity laced her words. For the first time in a lot of years, Tina felt the grace of sympathetic family, and it pricked emotions she'd thought long-buried. “Mine, too. Thanks, Aunt Laura.”
Laura nestled the drinks into a tray, bagged the wrapped cake squares, added plastic forks and napkins and set the bag alongside the drinks. For just a moment she faltered, as if not sure how to charge Tina, but Tina pulled a twenty from her pocket and handed it over without waiting for a total.
Laura drew a breath, hit the register keys, then handed Tina's change back.
Tina wanted to tip her, tell her to keep the change, but she understood the restaurant business like few others. First, you never tip the owner. It just wasn't done.
Second?
Laura would be insulted. Tina knew her well enough to understand the awkward dynamics between support and charity. Support wasn't a bad thing.
Charity?
Martinelli pride would fight that, tooth and nail.
She lifted the bag in one hand and the drink tray in the other. “Thank you.” She turned to go, but Laura called her name softly. She turned back. “Yes?”
“You were busy over there.”
Tina didn't deny it. “Yes.”
“I could use some of that here.” Laura glanced around the diner, and her expression said the lack of business was customary. Tina was restaurant-savvy enough to hear a death knell when it rang in front of her. Aunt Laura was going to lose The Pelican's Nest.
“Well, your competition's pretty much gone,” Tina remarked. “Maybe things will pick up.”
Laura frowned, and Tina had the strongest urge to hug the older woman.
She resisted.
“I want business to pick up, but not at your expense, Tina.”
Not at Tina's expense?
Laura's words dredged up raw feelings.
She hadn't worried about Tina's expense when she turned her out on the street, no job, no family and no college education shoring her up. She hadn't worried when Tina worked night and day a block away, building a cozy, inviting enterprise, the kind of place The Pelican's Nest used to be, in the shadow of her aunt and uncle's business.
She and Rocco had taken Tina to court, tying up time and a legal defense that took years to pay off at fifty dollars a month, saying she violated the non-competition clause of the sale agreement. Even though they were planning to move south, her parents had agreed not to open another restaurant within eight miles of The Pelican's Nest for at least ten years, a common practice in the sale of a family business.
The judge threw the case out, but not until Tina had wasted time and finances fighting the pointless suit. As the judge pointed out, Laura and Rocco had made the agreement with Tina's parents.
Not with Tina.
And that was that.
But they had to know that fighting a court proceeding was a huge setback for a young person trying to set up their own business. Which is exactly why they'd done it. But now, with Rocco gone, maybe Laura saw things differently. Tina hoped and prayed it was so. “I'd like them to find whoever set that fire and lock them away for a good, long time. Although maybe the fire was my cue to go elsewhere. Start over.” She lifted the tray and the bag of baked goods. “To everything there is a season...” She left the quote open-ended deliberately. It had always been one of her father's favorites, and Laura was his younger sister.
“And a time to every purpose under the heaven.” Laura finished the popular Ecclesiastes saying and nodded. “It's a lesson I should have learned a long time ago.”
“Maybe now's the time.” Tina moved to the door and smiled when one of the customers got up and opened it for her. “Thanks.”
“Don't mention it, miss.”
She started through the door, then stopped. Turned back. “Aunt Laura?”
“Yes?”
Tina's heart stammered in her chest. Old emotions fought for a place, but she shoved the negative feelings back where they belonged. “I could use your help.”
“Help?”
Tina would have to be blind to miss the uncertainty and surprise in her aunt's eyes. She stepped back in and nodded. “The festival. I always did the baking for the vendor booths, but I've got no ovens now. Piper and Lacey both offered their baking areas, but they're not close enough for me to manage the baking and the running to keep fresh supplies going. Do you think I could do it here? In the restaurant kitchen?”
Her aunt's face brightened, but then she hesitated, looking embarrassed. “I don't have supplies, Tina. Or money for them.”
“That's all covered under my budget,” Tina assured her. “All I need is baking space. And I know your ovens aren't geared for major baking, but they'd work fine in a pinch. If you don't mind.”
She'd extended an olive branch. Would her aunt take it?
Laura glanced toward the kitchen, then back to Tina. “I think it's a great idea, Tina.”
Tina released a breath she didn't know she was holding. “Me, too. I'll have to come over here early.”
“Can I help?”
“Sure, I'llâ”
“I missed the bus again.”
A young voice interrupted the moment. Tina turned and spotted Ryan, her fourteen-year-old cousin. He didn't notice her at first. His gaze was trained on his mother, his expression sullen and defensive. A bad combo.
“I got you up.” Laura stared hard at the boy, then the clock. “You were in the shower when I left.”
“I fell back asleep. So sue me.”
Hairs rose along the back of Tina's neck. The boy's profile, the gruff tone, all reminded her of Rocco, and that tweaked a host of bad memories.
But then he turned more fully.
Ryan didn't look anything like Rocco from the front. Seeing him up close for the first time in a few years, he was the spitting image of her father, Gino Martinelli, in his younger days. Realizing that, she pushed aside her assumptions and said, “Ryan, you need a ride? I'll run you over to school.”
He turned, surprised, then paled when he recognized her.
“Tina, could you?” Laura turned, her voice appreciative.
“No.” Ryan's quick refusal drew the interest of one of the guys sitting at the counter.
“Well, you have to get to school and I can't take you,” Laura reminded him. “In case you haven't noticed, I have a business to run.”
Ryan glanced around, as if searching for a third option.
“I'll run him over, Laura.” The older man at the counter stood, stretched and yawned. “I've got to go home and catch some shut-eye before the next shift, and it's on my way. Come on, Ryan, let's get you an education so you don't end up working two jobs to make ends meet like I do.”
“Thanks, Bert.”
The older guy shrugged and waved. Ryan followed him out the door, but he turned and looked at Tina again before he left, like he couldn't believe she was standing in his mother's restaurant, talking.
He'd been a preschooler when she got tossed, and Rocco made sure that lines were drawn in the sand, with Tina on one side and the D'Allesandros on the other. She'd just blurred that line by coming over, asking for help, and maybe with a little more time they could erase the line altogether.
She'd like that.
* * *
Max strode into the hardware store just before nine. He'd left the house early to fulfill his end of the bargain. He'd driven to Clearwater, the small city tucked at the southern tip of Kirkwood Lake, stopped by the Walmart there and grabbed four boxes of varied one-cup coffee pods. Turning the corner into the back room, he saw that Tina had remembered to cart her brewer down to the store.
His coffee-loving heart leaped in approval.
And when he noted the steaming hot coffee and cake from her aunt's restaurant, he wanted to hug her. Draw her close and tell her he was proud of her. But if he did that with two customers and Earl in the store, he'd create a groundswell of small-town conversation neither one wanted or needed.
He grabbed the third coffee, took a sip, moved out front and smiled his thanks to her over the brim. “Perfect, Tina.”
Her expression said she understood he was praising her for more than the coffee, and the slight flush of her cheeks said he'd scored points in the good guy column.
Good.
He'd decided last night that he enjoyed gaining points with Tina Martinelli, and if he stopped to examine it, he might wonder why. But when she handed him a wrapped piece of tender apple cake, it became obviously clear.
Fresh.
Funny.
Beautiful.
Cryptic but kind, and she loved little kids, small animals and his family.
His heart opened wider, and he'd have loved time to explore these feelings, but the day flew by with little time to chat or flirt, and he was on watch duty again that night, so by the time they closed up shop, he needed to have his car disappear as if he'd gone homeâ
And then slip back into town like he'd done the night before.
“Are you guys working the same game plan tonight?” Tina asked softly as he turned the key in the back door lock.
“We are.”
“Do you want supper first?”
“You asking me out, Tina?” He turned, grinning, and her rise of color said she wasn'tâand yet, she was. “What have you got in mind?”