Chapter 7 #2
He pressed a finger to his lips and leaned toward her. “Shush. Don’t tell.” He was so close she could breathe in the scent of his soap. Her hands trembled slightly under his watchful eye. Say something!
“Hey, Sam, is there a reason you don’t want Frank and Janice to know you bought Haven’s?”
He shifted his position and glanced at Frank’s cake.
“I don’t know. I—I guess Haven’s holds my best memories from before the divorce.
When I thought our family was something special.
I’m not ready to share it with Frank and Janice.
Besides, Dad might step in and start telling me how to run the place and—yeah, no thanks. ”
“I get it. I remember the afternoon you found out about your father’s affair. Then later when your mom packed up and drove off.”
“Sorry you had to witness it all.”
She touched his arm. “I was glad to be there for you…honestly.”
He clapped his hand over hers and the tenderness between them lingered. Then he broke away, saying, “I had a good time at dinner last night.”
“Me too. Thank you.”
“Did you tell him?” Ruby said as she walked back into the kitchen.
“Tell him what?” Sam said.
“Donut Heaven is opening a store in Hearts Bend.” Ruby, the Town Crier.
“You’re kidding. Donut Heaven? In Hearts Bend? Are you sure?”
Chloe gave him the details. The whispers from Octavia O’Shay, the old newspaper headline, the recon at Tina’s, and Art Loamier leaving the shop without his coffee.
“Apparently, the Reclaim Downtown committee already approved them. Now we’re waiting for the town council. There’s a meeting in a few weeks.”
“Then we have to be there.” Sam pulled out his phone and started a text to Rick. “I can help out some,” he said, almost to himself.
“Help out?” Chloe said. “Here?”
“Sure. I can work the counter. Start some buzz.”
Chloe gave him a dubious look. “That will cause a stir. Your dad and Janice will know you own this place for sure if you do that.”
Sam grinned. “It’s the price I have to pay to save my business. First things first, we’ll fix the roof and find out who’s behind this Donut Heaven venture. See if we can’t influence things our way, Hearts Bend’s way.” Sam stuck out his hand. “You with me?”
“I’m with you.” Chloe slapped her hand on top of Sam’s. Then Ruby joined the huddle followed by Laura Kate.
“On three, Haven’s up,” Sam said.
“1-2-3, Haven’s up!”
She felt the words all the way through her soul. She was on a team with Sam Hardy—and for the first time since Jean-Marc died, her life seemed to be moving forward.
Sam parked his SUV in front of his childhood home, the Craftsman-style bungalow with stacked-stone porch pillars. It had been a warm, inviting place as a kid. Mom always did it up for holidays and birthdays. She had so many traditions.
After she moved out, the house turned cold and lonely. Just a couple of sad bachelors under the high-pitched roof. Then Janice moved in a few months later. The house smelled better and felt warmer, and Frank certainly cheered up. But Sam remained on the outside, lonely, disconnected, and confused.
Then he and Chloe started hanging out regularly and all of that changed. She was warm and bright and liked to do things up for Christmas and birthdays.
Sam chuckled at the memory of her bringing a Charlie Brown Christmas tree into his room, insisting he decorate it and put presents underneath.
He plugged the thing in every night. Slept with the lights flashing around his bedroom walls.
He hadn’t taken them down until mid-February, when the last needle dropped from the skinny limbs.
When he was with her, he had felt…carefree. In fact, she still made him feel carefree. Like he could tackle whatever life sent his way.
What was this? Feelings for his old friend? But she was a recent widow. Her husband hadn’t even been dead for a year. And he was still recovering from his ribald reputation. To be honest, sometimes he wasn’t sure he could really be a stand-up man and go the distance.
Sam paused at the bottom of the porch steps—did every building in this town have steps to test his knee?
—to adjust his tuxedo tie, making sure the ends were even.
Janice was serious about this vintage 1960s theme.
A Ford Mustang had been parked in the circular driveway.
A ’64, the first year of production, if he had to guess.
He chuckled and shook his head as he climbed the front steps of his old house and rang the doorbell, tentatively bending his knee to gauge the pain before peering through the side window to peek inside.
The place looked amazing, decorated with glitz and glam, the china and crystal set out on a long table.
He’d seen the bakery’s van parked out back.
Chloe must be in the kitchen with the cake.
Black-tie caterers and servers hustled about, fine-tuning the last-minute details.
A band was setting up in the corner of the large stone-and-wood den.
He could hear someone playing a scale on a keyboard.
Why was he early? He should’ve arrived an hour late. He turned to go back to the Range Rover when Janice, in a form-fitting sequined gown, swung open the door.
“Sam, I thought that was you. Come in.”
Why did he feel awkward walking into his childhood home? Because it wasn’t his anymore, was it? There was nothing of his life with Mom and Frank here anymore.
“Your father will be down in a minute,” Janice said, smiling, her hands clasped at her waist. “He’s excited to have you here.”
“The old man only turns sixty once.”
Janice’s countenance brightened. “I guess that’s true, yes.”
Through the living and dining rooms, he caught sight of Chloe carrying in a portion of the cake.
He limped over to help her. “Here, let me.” He took the layer. “Is this it or is there more in the van?”
“The rest is in the kitchen. Laura Kate is assembling them, making sure everything looks good.”
“I hope you’re charging Janice enough,” Sam whispered in Chloe’s ear. “This is a high-class party.”
“I charged her the price in the book.”
“Oh…wow. Let’s go over the prices next week.”
Sam grudgingly admired the remodeled kitchen as he entered the room to watch Chloe and Laura Kate. He liked the idea of working at Haven’s, of being around Chloe.
Chloe and Laura Kate set to work assembling the cake and adding the golf decorations.
The final addition was a miniature figure of a man dressed in plaid knickers, argyle socks, and a matching sweater, leaning on a golf club.
Chloe set him on the bottom layer and gave Sam a look as she stepped back to survey the finished product. “My attempt at a ’60s golf cake.”
“It’s beautiful.” Sam gave her a side hug and when she relaxed against him, he wanted to never let go.
The kitchen door swung open. “Sam?”
Chloe stiffened again, pulling away just as his cousin Sophie appeared in a slim skirt, heels, and with her honey blonde hair clipped behind one ear. A tall man followed behind her. “There you are!” She threw her arms around Sam and hugged him. “I’m so happy you’re here. This is Eric.”
Eric was Ichabod Crane-thin and gangly with a benign expression as he shook Sam’s hand. Sophie greeted Chloe, then gasped at the cake. “This is amazing! Does it taste half as good as it looks? Do you design wedding cakes?”
Chloe assured her she did, and Sophie launched into fast-paced wedding cake chatter. Chloe offered her a Haven’s business card—with Bob’s and Donna’s names scratched out—and told her to call and schedule a taste test. Sam made a mental note to get new business cards for the bakery and for Chloe.
Sam watched as she and Laura Kate carried the cake out to the dessert table for the final assembly. Pride flickered through him. Chloe, way to go. She’d come a long way from the shy girl dressed in black who had introduced him to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus and Fall Out Boy music.
A man entered the room and Sam tensed.
“Jake!” Janice swooped and wrapped him in a hug. Janice’s son, Sam’s former best friend, and now his stepbrother.
“Sam.” Jake extended his hand, which Sam shook, the familiar ache squeezing his chest.
Once upon a time they’d been closer than brothers—until they actually became brothers. Thanks to Frank, that rift never mended.
Jake turned to Chloe and his face lit with appreciation. “Um…”
“Chloe Beason. Now LaRue. Rock Mill High School.”
“Emo Girl?” He grinned. “Always scribbling in a journal with your earphones in.”
“That was me,” Chloe said with a laugh.
“I think it’s past time we caught up. What’s it been, ten years? More?” Jake crooked his arm toward Chloe, but Sam stepped in.
“She’s working, Jake. Besides, I think I have the first dance.”
Chloe glanced between them then down at her work clothes. “Afraid I’m not dressed for a party or a dance, boys.” She and Laura Kate disappeared back into the kitchen as more and more people arrived. The place filled up with family, long-time friends, and town leaders.
A couple of Frank’s old Rock Mill High buddies slapped Sam on the back and greeted him, launching into football talk before he could say, “I’m fine. How are you?”
Then Janice announced, He’s coming, and the guests surged forward as the man of the hour descended the staircase with the air that he was the king of his castle.
“Happy birthday, Frank!”
Someone started a rendition of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” which Sam could not sing. He loved his father. But he did not like him.
Frank made the rounds shaking hands, clapping shoulders, you-ole-dogging the high school football buddies—they still met once a month for poker and beer. Then he saw Sam. For a moment, it seemed as though his dad’s eyes glistened, but Sam was sure it was just his imagination.
“Happy birthday.” Sam extended his own hand.
“Thank you, son. Thank you for coming.” His father shook his hand, then pulled him close and clapped him on the back. “H-how’s your knee?”
“Getting there. I’m hopeful for the season.”