30. Chapter 30
Caitlin
I set Luna’s carrier carefully on the table in Daniel’s exam room.
She’s calmer than I expected, just watching me with those unblinking green eyes.
I slip my finger through the door, and she rewards me with a sandpapery lick.
It’s crazy how attached I’ve become to this matted ball of fur in just a few short days.
The door swings open, and Daniel walks in, all professional in his white coat but still with that charming smile that instantly makes people comfortable. “So this is my newest patient,” he says, setting a clipboard down on the exam table.
“This is Luna,” I confirm, unlatching the carrier.
Daniel opens the carrier door and speaks in that special soft voice people reserve for babies and animals. “Okay, Luna. Come on out, beautiful. Let’s get a look at you.”
To my surprise, Luna emerges without hesitation and immediately begins rubbing against Daniel’s hand. “Traitor,” I mutter. “She never stopped glaring at Adam, but you she instantly trusts?”
Daniel laughs. “What can I say? Animals love me.” He runs expert hands over Luna’s body, feeling for abnormalities while she purrs like a small motor. “So you said you found her at your grandmother’s place?”
“Yeah, in the garden shed. Adam and I were checking out the property and heard her inside. She seemed friendly enough, and I couldn’t just leave her there.”
“Well, she’s certainly latched onto you.” Daniel checks Luna’s teeth, ears, and eyes with practiced efficiency. “No tags, no microchip that I can feel. She’s been living rough for a while judging by these mats, but she’s definitely been someone’s pet before. She’s too comfortable being handled.”
“Do you think someone abandoned her?” The thought makes my stomach clench.
“Hard to say. She could have escaped, gotten lost.” He carefully examines the small tear in her ear.
“This is an old injury, healed fine. Overall, she’s in surprisingly good shape for a stray.
Underweight but not dangerously so, no signs of disease, parasites, or serious health issues.
She just needs regular meals, some grooming, and a lot of love. ”
Relief floods through me. “So she’s okay?”
“She’s great, actually. Healthy teeth, clear eyes, good heartbeat.” Daniel scratches under Luna’s chin, and her purr kicks up another notch. “I’d put her at about three years old. We’ll give her the standard vaccines today, and you should bring her back in a few weeks to be spayed.”
He prepares the vaccines while I hold Luna, who seems blissfully unaware of what’s coming. When the needle goes in, she barely flinches, just gives Daniel a mildly offended look before settling back into my arms.
“She’s a tough girl,” Daniel says with approval. “I’ll have Alice set you up with some samples of good quality food and a grooming kit for those mats. Go slow with those, a little each day so you don’t stress her out.”
As he makes notes on Luna’s new chart, his expression shifts to something more thoughtful. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to mention something to you. It might be nothing, but I thought it could help with Louise’s Table.”
“Oh? I’m all ears.” I settle Luna back in her carrier, where she curls up with a disgruntled meow.
“You know the Midsummer Festival is coming up in a few months, right? Big tourist draw, vendors from all over, that whole thing?” Daniel leans against the exam table, suddenly looking more animated. “Well, a friend of mine, Meg Harrison, is on the planning committee—”
“Of course she is,” I interject, unable to keep the amusement from my voice. “Is there anyone in this town you don’t know?”
He grins, not even trying to deny it. “Small town, what can I say? Anyway, Meg mentioned they’ve had some food vendors drop out last minute. Something about double-booking with another festival. They’re scrambling to fill the spots.”
My interest perks up. “And you think we should apply?”
“Exactly.” Daniel nods. “It’s the perfect opportunity to get your food in front of tourists and locals who might not have tried the restaurant yet. The festival draws people from all over.”
I bite my lip, considering. “I don’t know, Daniel. We’re already stretched thin with staff, and a festival booth is a lot of work.”
“Well, you don’t need to do a full menu. Just a few signature items that showcase the best of what you offer. Pick three or four items, prep ahead, and you’ve got an assembly line on site.”
The idea has merit. I imagine a simple menu, maybe focusing on Grandma’s recipes that aren’t as common in the newer restaurants downtown. “It could work,” I admit cautiously. “But we’d need equipment, a tent setup—”
“Already thought about that,” Daniel cuts in. “I know a guy who’s got a food truck he only uses seasonally. He’ll probably rent it to you at a decent rate. No tent needed, full kitchen setup.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “Of course you know a guy with a food truck.”
“It’s my superpower,” he says with a shrug. “So what do you think? Shall I tell Meg you’re interested?”
The practical part of my brain is already running calculations, staff hours, food costs, potential profit. “I need to talk to Uncle Peter first. It’s a good opportunity, but I want to make sure we can handle it.”
“Fair enough.” Daniel nods, understanding in his eyes. “Just don’t wait too long. Meg needs to fill those spots soon.”
“I’ll talk to him tonight,” I promise, gathering up Luna’s carrier. “And Daniel? Thanks. Not just for Luna, but for thinking of us for this.”
He walks me to the reception area, where his assistant is already putting together a care package for Luna. “That’s what friends are for, right? Besides, Louise’s Table is an institution. This town wouldn’t be the same without it.”
As I leave the clinic with Luna and a bag full of cat supplies, I find myself warming to the festival idea.
It would be a risk, stretching our resources even thinner, but it could also be exactly the visibility boost we need.
And with the way things have been going at the restaurant lately, we can’t afford to pass up opportunities.
I glance down at Luna, secure in her carrier. “What do you think, girl? Should we take a chance?”
She blinks slowly at me, which I choose to interpret as a yes.
* * *
The screen door bangs shut behind me as I step into what used to be my grandmother’s kitchen.
Now it’s a disaster zone of exposed floor joists and dust-covered surfaces.
Adam kneels in the center of it all, his back to me, muscles tensing beneath his t-shirt as he wrenches at something beneath the floor.
I clear my throat, and he whips around, surprise written across his dust-streaked face when he spots the takeout bags dangling from my fingers.
“I brought lunch,” I say, lifting the bags slightly. “Figured you might be hungry.”
Adam sits back on his heels, setting down a wrench. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But you’re helping me, so…” I shrug, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Well, it’s definitely better than the peanut butter sandwiches I packed,” he says, wiping his hands on a rag. “Thank you.”
I nod toward the dining room. “Should we eat in there? Less dust.”
He follows me through the plastic sheeting he’s hung to contain the construction mess.
The dining room table is covered with his tools and paperwork, and there aren’t any chairs, so we sit on the floor instead.
I unpack the containers; roast beef sandwiches, coleslaw, and Uncle Peter’s homemade potato chips.
“This looks amazing,” Adam says, washing his hands at the sink in the hall bathroom before joining me. “I’m starving.”
We eat in silence at first, the crunch of chips and occasional sipping of drinks the only sounds. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but it’s not exactly comfortable either.
“Adam,” I say abruptly, setting down my half-eaten sandwich. “I want to talk about what happened. In Mount Pella. I want to talk about that year from your perspective. I need to understand why you did the things you did.”
His hand stills for a moment before he sets his food down too. “Okay.” His voice is steady, but I catch the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. “I’ll answer any questions you have.”
I’ve thought about this conversation for days, rehearsing what I want to say, what I need to know. But now that we’re here, I start with the question that’s been haunting me since shortly after we moved to Iowa.
“Do you love Millie? Romantically, I mean. Did you ever?”
“No.” His answer comes immediately, without hesitation. “I never had romantic feelings for Millie. Not when we dated in high school, never.”
“Then I don’t understand.” I clasp and unclasp my hands. “If you didn’t have feelings for her, why did you prioritize her over me so consistently? Why was she always there, always the center of everything?”
Adam takes a deep breath. “It’s complicated, but not because I had feelings for her. It was this combination of guilt and responsibility that had been drilled into me since I was a kid. My mother made me feel responsible for Millie’s happiness my entire life.”
I nod, thinking his answer over.
“Millie was always around.” I begin, the words tumbling out now. “Every time we went to your parents’ house, she was there. Every time we hung out with your friends, she was there. She was constantly stopping by our apartment.”
His expression turns pained. “I know.”
“I guess you did try to set boundaries sometimes, but it felt half-hearted. Like you were saying one thing to me and another to everyone else.” I swallow hard.
“You told me Millie was just like one of your sisters, but literally everyone else was telling me something different. They’d talk about this great teenage love affair you two had, how devoted you were to her, how you’d taken care of her your whole life. ”
I blink back unexpected tears. “Everyone treated me as if I were an intruder. Like as soon as I left, you and Millie could be together the way you were meant to be.”
“Caitlin,” Adam’s voice breaks slightly. “I am so sorry. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and there is no good excuse for me failing you so badly.”
“It was hell,” I whisper. “You weren’t listening to me.
You were telling me that Millie was like a little sister, but she was telling me she was your first love, your first kiss, your first…
” I hesitate, then force myself to continue.
“Your first lover. She told me once that she had parts of you I never would.”
Adam physically recoils, his face draining of color. “What did you just say?”
“Millie told me you two were lovers. Multiple times.”
“That’s a lie.” His voice is tight with anger; not at me, I realize, but at the revelation itself. “We were never lovers. Ever. Not even close.”
“Then why would she—”
“Because she’s manipulative and obsessed.” Agitation is visible in every line of his body. “Why didn’t you tell me she was saying these things?”
I shrug, feeling suddenly defensive. “What was I supposed to say? I didn’t want to look like a jealous shrew over something that had happened before you met me. It’s not like you didn’t have a life before me. I had previous relationships too.”
“Caitlin, look at me.” His eyes lock with mine, intense and earnest. “I never slept with Millie. I never would have. I never loved her romantically. I dated her for a year in high school because the guilt and pressure from my mother became too much to resist. We kissed, yes, but every time she tried to take it further I’d tell her I wanted to wait.
That I didn’t want to go that far until we were out of high school. ”
He takes a shaky breath. “She wasn’t even my first kiss. There was a girl I really liked in high school; her name was Evie. When my mother found out I had a crush on her, she forbade me from ever seeing her because it would ‘break Millie’s heart.’ But I kept sneaking around to see her anyway.”
A small, sad smile crosses his face. “Evie was my first kiss, my first everything, and it was the most awkward experience of my life because neither of us knew what we were doing. I broke it off when I finally gave in and started dating Millie. I felt too guilty continuing to see Evie behind everyone’s back. ”
He turns towards me, not quite touching me but close. “I had relationships in college, yes. But you’re the only one who ever had my heart, Caitlin. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache. I want to believe him, but there’s so much to process.
“I need some time,” I tell him. “To think about everything we’ve talked about. I’d like to leave it there for today.”
Adam nods, leaning back. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
We sit in silence for a moment. There’s more to say, more to untangle, but it’s enough for now. A start.
“I’d like to bring you lunch tomorrow too,” I say as I stand to gather the empty containers. “And help with the house, if I can. Maybe we can talk more then.”
His face brightens with cautious hope. “I’d like that. I look forward to it.”
As I leave, I glance back at Adam, now standing in the doorway between the dining room and the demolished kitchen. There’s dust in his hair and sincerity in his eyes, and for the first time in months, I feel something like possibility unfolding between us.
Not forgiveness or trust, not yet. But perhaps the beginning of understanding.