Chapter 2
One month later…
After working in a restaurant for nearly thirteen years, lots of things don’t faze me anymore.
Strange food orders.
Spilled drinks.
Hangry customers.
But a child running out of the restroom screaming “I peed in the sink!” at the top of his lungs?
That one’s new.
His mother, a woman who looks around my twenty-eight years, races out after the boy, who looks to be around three or four. “No, he didn’t! I swear,” she screams as she chases her child around the tables. He’s one fast little dude.
The other customers inside The Green Robin—an adorable restaurant with pink walls and lime-colored furniture that’s also my home away from home—keep their eyes on the mother and son as they weave through the tables and out onto the back patio. Unfortunately, there are far too few of them here for a Friday night, but it’s only the third week of May, so I’m hoping things will pick up with the coming start of the Hallmark Beach summer season around Memorial Day weekend.
Jenny, one of my teenage waitresses, looks at me with wide eyes. “What do we do, Lucy?”
Laughing at her horror, I shake my head. “First, I’m going to help that poor mama out. And if he did really pee in the sink, then we’re gonna clean it up.”
Jenny wrinkles her nose. “Not it.”
“Me either!” And that would be Sam, the hostess with a nose ring and spiked purple hair.
“Me three.” Tiny Taylor—a forty-eight-year-old beast of a man with a droopy mustache—leans out of the kitchen door, his chef’s hat askew. Steam billows from behind him.
If I was acting in my normal capacity as a server, I’d probably pipe up and say the same thing. But three weeks ago, owner Winona Lambert left me in charge of The Green Robin until the end of the summer so she could take her daughter on a once-in-a-lifetime graduation trip through Europe. She trusted me enough to leave things in my hands, and I refuse to fail her.
Especially since I know just how special a trip like that is.
“You guys hold down the fort in here.” I put on an exaggerated brave face. “I’ll be back.”
As I walk through the restaurant toward the back patio, I greet guests and ask them how their dinner is. Our regulars already came through, and given the eight o’clock hour and the fact that we don’t usually get people pulling off the Pacific Coast Highway this late for dinner, these guests must be staying at our town’s singular inn, The Purple Seashell, owned by my Aunt Janine.
Most of the guests smile and mumble that their dinner’s delicious—something I don’t doubt, since Tiny makes a mean burger—although one older gentleman complains that his non-grilled onions are too crunchy. Instead of getting upset over the sheer ridiculousness of the complaint, I just wave to Jenny, who rushes over. “Can you bring this table a complimentary piece of fudge cake, Jen?” I turn to the guy, whose bushy eyebrows arc. “It’s the best thing on the menu. Trust me.”
He beams and rushes to nod. I leave Jenny to deal with him and exit onto the deck, scanning the few occupied tables until I find the small family of four in question. A breeze off the ocean just beyond the boardwalk nips at me, and I tug closed my black blazer, which I’m wearing over my normal uniform of a T-shirt, jeans, and white KEDS sneakers. The jacket is my attempt to look more professional. More like a manager.
Pretty sure I’m not fooling anybody, though.
The woman is feeding a little girl in a high chair, while the man with her listens to the little boy chatter as he stuffs his face with French fries. I head that direction, and the mom looks up, then buries her face in her hands. “Are you here to kick us out?”
“Of course not.” I squat beside the kid and hold up my fist. “Hey, little man. You like your food?”
“Mmm hmm.” The kid presses his own fist against mine and then pushes another fry into his mouth. “This playth ith ama-thing.”
“Georgie, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mom says.
“It’s okay.” I wave my hand in the air. “I do it all the time.”
The kid snort-laughs.
Then I tilt my head. “This place is amazing. Did you know I’ve worked here since I was sixteen? That’s more than twelve years. Crazy, huh?”
“Whoa. You’re like, really old.”
His dad rolls his eyes and ruffles the kid’s hair. “Nothing like a kid to make you feel good about yourself, right?”
“Totally.” I stand up. “Are you folks having a nice meal?”
“We are,” the woman rushes to say. “I’m so sorry about disturbing the peace inside. But just so you know, Georgie didn’t pee in the sink. He peed in the urinal in the family restroom. He just thought it looked like a big sink.” Her cheeks are tinged pink.
Okay, now that’s funny. “I’ve never thought of it like that, but that is a really good point, Georgie. Thank you for bringing that to our attention.”
Georgie nods, as solemn as if he’s been bestowed a medal of honor. “You’re welcome.”
I tap my knuckle against the green tabletop. “Anything else I can get y’all?” I don’t care how long I’ve lived on the West Coast. I’m a Texan through and through and will hold a death grip on my y’all until I draw my last breath.
“We’re so good, thank you,” the woman says.
“All right, then.” Turning, I head back inside, where a classic rock station plays lightly overhead—song forty-two out of the sixty in this particular rotation, if I’m not mistaken. The smell of meat and cooked onions permeates the air. All of this is the norm.
But what’s not normal—at least, around this time last year—is that not a single new customer has arrived recently, which might mean we need to cut servers and close up early. Again.
The Green Robin has seen lean times before, but the responsibility for them has never been on my shoulders. I’m still not sure why Winona chose me to watch over her baby for three whole months since I never went to college and I don’t have any sort of business experience. But I do love this place, and this whole town. That’s basically all I’ve got to recommend me. She thought it was enough, though, and I’m not going to waste my energy entertaining my doubts.
As Mama always said, if you ignore your negative feelings, eventually they’ll go away. That philosophy has worked for me so far in life, so I think I’ll just keep right on going.
Maybe I need to sit down and brainstorm ways to bring in new business. Tiny might have some ideas for new menu items that could entice people to come inside. I pivot toward the kitchen door to ask him, but before I can get there, Chloe Kensington breezes in.
Outside of this town, she’s known as the princess of the small European country of Kentonia—but here, she’s simply Hallmark Beach’s newest resident along with her boyfriend, Frederick Shaw, who used to be her bodyguard and now works as a cellar rat out at the Loveland family vineyard.
Tia, one of Chloe’s bodyguards, slips into the restaurant after the princess and does a casual sweep of the restaurant before settling against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. She’s a lot less friendly than Chloe’s other bodyguard, Les, but she takes her job of keeping the princess safe seriously, so I’m all for it.
Not that she really needs to be kept safe here in Hallmark Beach. But it was the concession Chloe made to her parents for staying in America, so I’m all for that too, since Chloe’s become one of my closest friends.
She waves to me, a wide grin splitting her lovely face, her perfect blonde curls bouncing. “Evening!” Her British-like accent is as charming as the way she leans in to offer me a kiss on the cheek by way of greeting. “Do you have a moment to chat?”
“For you? Duh.” I link my arm through hers and make eye contact with Sam, who nods. She’s got things covered out here.
We walk down the hall to Winona’s tiny office, which I’ve taken over for the time being. My boss would probably faint at the messy pile of papers—fine, piles, plural—on the desk and the three empty coffee mugs I haven’t had the chance to return to the kitchen. But I’m of the opinion that what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
Chloe’s absolutely stunning in a red jumper-pantsuit-thingy, and despite all the royal pomp she grew up with, she doesn’t bat an eye when I have to move my old ratty backpack from the chair on this side of the desk so she can sit down.
Instead of going around to the other side, I push aside a few restaurant magazines and sit on the edge of the desk, facing her. “What’s up?”
Chloe and I have only known each other for a few months—since she escaped to Hallmark Beach in the middle of March so she could plan a secret wedding for her princely brother and his bride—but I feel like she’s been my friend my entire life. Then again, this whole town has embraced her as one of their own, and I don’t blame them one bit. When she decided to stay and take over Rhonda Howard’s wedding and events shop, Something Blue, I cried happy tears.
She taps her manicured nails on the arm of the wooden chair. “Alberta Jenkins informed me today that Rhonda was supposed to be in charge of the town’s Independence Day festival. And now that I’ve purchased her store and she’s moved away, apparently it’s on me.”
I whistle. “Yikes.” That Alberta Jenkins—owner of Al’s Grocery and the head of our town council—sure knows how to drop a bomb. “Has anything been done yet?”
“Apparently the very basics. A fireworks vendor was booked a year ago, and the council has booked a few musical groups to play during the netball tourney.”
“Netball? You mean volleyball?”
“Right, yes. Anyway, I’m glad at least those things have been accomplished, given the fact the holiday is only little more than six weeks away.” Chloe gets up and begins to pace, kind of a difficult thing since this office is so small. “But doesn’t Alberta realize what she’s asking?”
“Maybe she doesn’t think it’s a big deal,” I say. “After all, you did plan Topher and Lauren’s wedding in like ten days.”
“Yes, but weddings are my specialty. Also, I had help.” She pauses, grips the back of the chair as if to steady herself. “Which is why I’m here. I know you’re very busy with your new responsibilities, and you just moved into Marilee’s house a few weeks ago and probably have loads of unpacking and organizing to do, but?—”
“Chloe, of course I’ll help you.” Does she really think I wouldn’t? Besides, even though I lived with Uncle Burt and Aunt Bea since Mama left me here in high school so she could travel the world and have her own adventures with my stepdad Kevin, I brought surprisingly little with me. And I haven’t gathered much else in the years since. Clothes, a few mementos, pictures. There wasn’t much to unpack.
What can I say? I’m a simple girl.
My friend slumps forward. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that. Once I tell others you’re on board, they’re sure to follow.”
“I don’t know about that.” I wrinkle my nose, because I’m no leader. And I’m okay with that, actually. Being in charge makes it far harder to go with the flow, which is my natural state.
“Well, I do. I’m planning to hit up all the local business owners, as well as our friends.” And by that, I assume she means Kelsey and Elisse Loveland, my cousin April Reynolds, and Marilee Moffitt, my best friend and new housemate. I moved into her family’s three-bedroom house two weeks ago, after her former tenants left to get their own apartment together.
“Great idea. Just let me know what you need me to do.”
“I’m thinking I’ll put you on the food committee. Apparently there’s a town-wide picnic every year on the beach?” Chloe waves her hand. “I’ll fill you in on the details. For now, just be at the first meeting on Sunday afternoon.”
“You got it.” I take in the natural glow of Chloe’s skin but don’t miss the circles under her eyes. They’re only barely visible thanks to her expertly applied makeup, but I still see them. Perhaps she’s just tired from all she’s had going on, but I’d better check anyway. “You doing okay otherwise? Business all good? Freddy?”
She smiles, probably because I mentioned two of her favorite subjects. “I finally got all of the paperwork completed for Something Blue, so that’s brilliant. And Freddy…” Chloe sighs, and I imagine her as a cartoon character with hearts in her eyes and doves circling her head. She moves around the chair and reaches for my hand, squeezing. “If only I could find such a wonderful man for each of my friends.”
Oh, Chloe. She’s a matchmaker at heart, but I’m afraid she’ll be pretty disappointed in my prospects. Hallmark Beach is a tiny town, after all. “That’s sweet, but I fully expect to settle for being the cool aunt who buys your kids all the annoying toys and goes home to her dogs. Or maybe I’ll be the weird bird lady on the block.”
The words roll off my tongue with ease. I won’t let myself be bothered at the prospect of being alone forever. What good would that attitude do me?
Besides, being alone forever is better than having my heart broken like Mama’s when Daddy died. Like my little teenage heart when Blake left for college and came home the next summer a different person—one who acted like we were never even friends. Like he barely knew me.
Nope. Alone is definitely better.
Chloe wags a finger at me. “Your time’s coming, Miss Lucy Reynolds. I can feel it.”
I smile and pretend it isn’t forced. “You must know something I don’t. Are you planning to conjure up my perfect man?”
Impossible. He’s not here anymore.
Argh, stupid subconscious. He’s not anywhere, because he wasn’t who you thought he was, I argue back.
Sweet macaroni. That must be the tired talking.
But Chloe’s looking at me thoughtfully, like she can hear my internal thoughts. I hope I’m not so exhausted that I’m saying any of this out loud. My new friend might have me committed to an insane asylum.
“What about Thomas?” she asks.
“Thomas Montrose? He’s like a little brother to me.” Two years behind me in school, the owner of the White Mocha coffee shop is one of the few, like me, who stuck around Hallmark Beach after high school.
“He’s kind of cute in a puppy dog way. And he’s clearly infatuated with you.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re obsessed with love. It’s like you spend your days planning weddings or something.”
Her laughter rolls off her tongue, a tinkling sound that lights up the whole room. No wonder Freddy loves her. No wonder the whole town does. “All right, I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks again for your help. And I’ll see you Sunday, yeah?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
We hug good-bye, and I spend the next hour attempting to clean the office, releasing my staff, and calling it a night at The Green Robin.
When I tell Tiny he can go home an hour early, he frowns. “Everything all right, Boss?”
“Don’t call me that. And yeah, I’m sure things will pick up.” I snap my fingers, remembering my earlier thought. “But if you can think of anything new to add to the menu, let me know. Maybe that will draw in some new guests.”
He agrees to consider it, then clocks out. I sweep and wash down the counters, then flip off the lights, exit, and lock up. The streetlamps over Main Street illuminate the mostly deserted road, and almost all of the shop windows and restaurants are dark by now except The Black Hole, the club music of which I can hear thumping all the way from here. For a brief moment, I consider heading through the wide walkway between The Green Robin and Rainbow Ice and taking a moonlit stroll along the beach on the other side of the buildings, but my body begs for a shower and bed.
I curse my earlier self for not driving the five minutes to work, instead forcing one foot in front of the other as I trudge north on Main and then up Hillside Drive, which curves and overlooks our little downtown area. This is where most of the Hallmark Beach homes are located, and thankfully the Moffitt home—and now mine—is toward the beginning of the road at the edge of the bluff.
When I get to the sixteen-hundred-square-foot craftsman bungalow, I breathe a sigh of relief and enter as quietly as I can. Marilee has an early morning at the bakery, and I don’t want to wake her.
The house is dark and buzzes with the white noise of the fridge’s ice maker in the kitchen to my right. Something smells divine—is that banana bread?—and my stomach grumbles. Now that I think about it, I didn’t eat dinner tonight, did I? “Yes, I’ll feed you,” I say, patting my belly. “But first, I have to wash away the restaurant smell.”
So I do.
Once I’m showered and dressed for bed in my tank top and shorts, my long hair still damp from my shower, I tiptoe back to the kitchen and peek in the fridge, humming a Garth Brooks song to myself. I know it’s not what the cool kids listen to these days, but I can’t help it—it’s the Texas girl in me.
But then, I hear a noise…and freeze.
My heart picks up speed, and I close the fridge door. Is that?—?
The front doorknob wiggles, and I squeak, retreating until my back is against the granite countertop. Did I forget to lock the door? Surely not.
I’d call the police, but my phone is inside my backpack, which is in my room down the hall. Past the front door. I’m stuck here. My hand goes immediately to the wall, and I flip off the kitchen light so the intruder can’t see me when he steps inside, the door creaking as he advances.
And it’s definitely a he. I can only see the person’s outline, but there are broad shoulders and strong arms. I’m no shrimp, but I’m definitely going to be outmatched against this guy.
Why is he here? Hallmark Beach isn’t exactly a bastion of crime.
My hand trembling, I reach back onto the counter and feel for the closest weapon.
The guy turns away from me and starts heading for the hallway.
I start to breathe easier, because now I can escape. Except…Marilee. She’s sleeping in one of those rooms. Innocent. Unaware that an intruder is headed her way.
So instead of doing the smart thing—which would be escaping out the front door, running for the neighbor’s house, and asking for help—I decide to take on the giant.
By flinging the weapon I discovered on the counter.
It’s not much, but it’s all I have thanks to the darkness I created. The porch light is faint and coming through the front window—enough to show me where the guy’s at.
But it’s all I need. Something to aim at.
“Ahhh!” I yell as I lob the object with as much force as I can manage.
It hits him square in the back and falls to the ground.
He grunts. “What the?—”
Then, before I know what’s happening, he’s turning—and coming straight for me.
I feel for another object, grab it, and toss it at him, this time smacking him in the jaw. Then I jerk away from his outstretched hand…
Which hits the same light switch I just turned off a few seconds ago.
Light floods the kitchen. I blink against the sudden glow, and my mouth falls open as I realize exactly how this “intruder” knew where to find the light. “Flake?”
“Nice to see you too, Lucy.” But the way he says it—and the frown he’s wearing—tells me it’s really not.
Well, the feeling is soooo mutual, buddy.
Even if Marilee’s older brother is more attractive now than he was at eighteen, back when I was maybe just a little bit in love with him. But looks don’t make the man. Maybe if they did, the five o’clock shadow on his normally shaven jaw, his brown hair perfectly gelled just enough to actually look finger-combed, and those light blue eyes that used to make me weak in the knees would make Blake Moffitt the perfect guy.
But I know better.
He glances down at the ground. “Did you just throw bananas at me?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I thought you were breaking in.” And for all I know, he is. This may have been his family home once upon a time, but he lost all right to be here when he left six years ago—after his parents’ funeral—and never set foot in Hallmark Beach again until recently. If Marilee hadn’t asked him to provide the last-minute dinner for Chloe’s brother’s wedding out of his grilled cheese food truck at the beginning of April, who knows if he would have ever come back here.
So yeah, I threw bananas at him. But he deserved much worse.
As if he’s tracking with my thoughts, he cocks an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you didn’t go for the knives.”
I lift my chin. “If I’d known it was you, I might have.” Of course, that’s not true. I’d never really hurt a living soul, much less my best friend’s brother. I may have a major problem with him, but Marilee’s forgiven him for his abandonment in her deepest time of need. She’d never forgive me if I maimed him in return.
Too bad the banana to the jaw didn’t leave a mark on his annoyingly symmetrical face.
“What are you doing here, Flake?”
He flinches at the nickname he so deserves. “I?—”
“You know what?” Shaking my head, I flounce out of the kitchen, then turn on my heel to face him again. He’s standing there, looking impossibly handsome—and also like a statue carved out of stone. Just like his heart. “I actually don’t care. You’re just going to disappear again anyway.”