14. Cal
CAL
I didn’t make it to Kettle Hour today.
I spent most of the day with Sam—fixing a broken hinge on the gate, poking around his shed like we were on some top-secret mission, and talking baseball like we’d known each other for years.
We ate leftover pancakes and sat under the pear tree in the yard until the sun dipped low. Then I headed back to the inn, had a quick meal, and crashed. Hard.
Now it’s past eight. The sky’s slipping into night, and the air is cooler than it’s been all day. I wander out of the inn, drawn by the stillness, until I find myself in Aunt Edie’s herb garden.
I lower myself onto the bench, exhaling slowly. The ground still smells faintly of basil and wet soil from last night’s watering. The crickets are out, singing their evening chorus.
It’s peaceful here.
But my mind isn’t.
I think about Margot.
The way she smiled this morning.
The way she flicked her hair to hide a blush she didn’t quite manage to hide.
Then I think about her family—the chaos of it, the warmth.
How everyone had something to say, always talking over each other, yet somehow it worked.
The teasing, the laughter, the clatter of dishes and stolen bites in the kitchen.
Hazel’s sarcasm. Jo’s loud voice from the head of the table.
Thea’s quiet presence in the corner. Aunt Edie’s ever-watchful eyes. Sam’s booming laugh.
It was messy. Loud. Alive.
It was… love.
And I crave it more than I know how to admit.
I’ve spent so much of my life in silence. Hotel suites with too many pillows and not enough noise. Offices with glass walls and empty calendars.
I’m an only child, and I lost my parents so early that the word family has always felt like a borrowed concept—something other people get to have.
But today, I would eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner at that table every single day if I could.
Just to feel that again. Especially with Margot there.
My phone rings, breaking the quiet. I pull it from my pocket, and it’s my assistant, Marley, calling.
I answer with a low, “Hello.”
“Good evening, Mr. Hale,” she says crisply. “Just checking in. I sent over the latest projections and the updated budget approvals to your secure line. No major flags from the board. However, a few partners have begun asking for timelines.”
Translation: They’re getting antsy.
“Noted,” I say. “Anything else?”
“Just your schedule for next week. Still clear, per your instructions. But legal wants to finalize the Taiwan deal. They’ll need your approval on the restructuring clause.”
“I’ll review it tomorrow.”
There’s a pause, then: “Mr. Hale, may I ask—when should I let the team know to expect your return? It’ll be three weeks in three days.”
I look out at the garden, at the way the wind moves through the rosemary like it has nowhere better to be.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel the same.
“I’m somewhere with real air,” I say flatly. “I won’t be returning to the company yet.”
Another pause. “Understood. I’ll hold all external scheduling until further notice.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” Click.
Just like that, the line goes dead.
And I breathe again.
But at that moment, I hear a soft throat-clear sound behind me, and I turn to see Margot standing just beyond the rosemary. She’s holding a mug, her skin lit softly by the moonlight. A smile tugs at my lips—automatic, like muscle memory now.
She smiles, too, and walks over to sit beside me on the bench.
She smells like mint and chamomile. Comfort.
“What was that about?” she asks gently. “I heard you say you wouldn’t be returning to the company. What do you do, exactly?”
The smile slips off my face.
Dang.
That part of me—my real life, the weight of it—was supposed to stay outside this town. It wasn’t supposed to follow me here. And Margot isn’t supposed to find out anything.
“Well…?” she urges playfully.
I school my expression, lean back, and shrug. “Nothing that interesting. Just… business stuff.”
It’s vague. Cold. A door slammed shut mid-conversation.
And she notices.
I see her retreat—shoulders drawing in, eyes cooling over. She rises, the warmth from moments ago vanishing.
“Right,” she says, voice clipped. “Goodnight, Cal.”
She walks away before I can stop her.
And just like that, I’m alone again. But this time… there’s no warmth, just loneliness. Knowing the bubble I created around myself is gone, I rise from the bench and find my way back to my room.
T he next day, Margot is… different.
Distant. Evasive. Like I’m made of static she can’t stand to be around.
She slips out of the kitchen the moment I walk in for breakfast. Doesn’t look at me once. Doesn’t speak. It’s like we’ve reverted back to day one—only this time, there’s tension in the silence. A tension I caused.
Now I’m back in my room, pacing like a man waiting on a verdict. I glance out the window at the summer sky stretching endlessly above the trees, but it offers no peace.
I’ve got three days left.
Three days until my three weeks are up.
I should be packing. I should be checking in with my team, arranging flights, confirming meetings.
Instead, I’m standing here, thinking about Margot Hartwell and how I managed to ruin the one connection that’s felt real in… years.
And for what?
Because I panicked? Because I couldn’t tell her the truth?
I rake a hand through my hair and sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees.
I don’t know how to fix this.
But I know I want to. I can’t leave—I won’t leave—until I fix it.
I make up my mind.
No more waiting. No more pacing like a coward. I need to talk to her—clear the air, even if she doesn’t want to hear it. I’d rather be shut down than shut out.
I head downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. I’m halfway down when I hear voices—urgent ones—coming from the front parlor.
I follow the sound.
Glen is in one of the armchairs, hunched slightly, his face contorted in pain. Margot is crouched beside him, concern etched deep into her features. Aunt Edie stands just behind, wringing her hands like she’s trying not to hover too much.
“What happened?” I ask, stepping into the room.
Aunt Edie turns to me. “He fell. Missed the top step coming up the porch and landed wrong. We think it’s a sprain.”
I glance at Margot. She hasn’t looked at me yet, her full attention on Glen.
I shift closer. “How do you feel, Glen?”
Glen exhales through clenched teeth. “It hurts like the devil.”
Margot rises quickly, brushing her hands on her dress like she’s bracing for a storm. “Aunt Edie, please stay and keep an eye on things. I’ll take Glen to the hospital.”
Aunt Edie is already nodding her head before Margot finishes. But I step in, voice firm.
“I’ll take him.”
Margot turns to me. “It’s fine, I can?—”
“No,” I say, already moving toward Glen. “Let me handle it. You’ve got enough on your plate.”
She opens her mouth, ready to argue, but Aunt Edie beats her to it. “Thank you, Cal,” she says warmly. “We appreciate that so much.”
Margot whips her head around to glare at her aunt, but Aunt Edie just pats her shoulder like she’s immune to daggers now.
Margot exhales, clearly trying not to lose her cool. “Help Cal get him into the truck,” Aunt Edie adds, then waves a hand. “Go on.”
“Hold on,” I say, jogging toward the stairs. “Let me grab my keys.”
I don’t wait for a reply. I take the steps two at a time, heart pounding—not just because of Glen, but because Margot finally looked me in the eye again. Even if she looks upset.
I grab my keys from the nightstand and head back downstairs, the metal cool in my palm. Margot is already helping Glen up, one arm slung around her shoulder. I take his other side without a word, and together, we guide him out to the truck.
Once he’s settled in the passenger seat with a wince and a quiet curse under his breath, Margot leans in and fastens his seatbelt. “Take care, Glen,” she says gently, then straightens up and turns to me. “Thank you, Cal.”
Her voice is cool. Distant. Again, she doesn’t meet my gaze. And before I can say anything, she turns and walks back inside, the screen door hissing shut behind her.
I smile to myself as I slide behind the wheel and start the car.
Even now—even upset with me—I’m happy I’m doing this. For her. The truth is, I like it. I like doing things for her. Even if she doesn’t see it yet. Even if she’s mad. I know she has other things to worry about, and maybe today, she’ll get to rest her back a little longer because I stepped in.
I glance at Glen. “Ready?”
He grunts. “Let’s just hope it’s not broken.”