Chapter 6 #3
He stepped past her, ignored the sense of her, standing too close, and ran his fingers across the control panel, his fingers searching its edge. “Do you have a screwdriver? I want to pop the control panel face off.”
“Hang on.” Lily opened a lower cabinet and rummaged around, emerging with a pink Tupperware toolbox. Opening it, she plucked a flathead from inside and handed it over.
“Thanks.” Declan found the lip of the panel and popped it off. “Hmm.”
“You’re just pretending to know what you’re doing, aren’t you?”
He flashed her a look. “Do you want my help or not?”
“Fine.”
“What’s wrong with it, again?”
“Shutting off before the cycle’s done. I’m getting slightly colder mush. Not ice cream.”
“Sounds like it isn’t running long enough, cold enough, or both. Could be the sensor.”
She’d stepped up, next to him, peering into the wiring. “So, how do you know so much about ice cream machines?”
He’d found the sensor, and unattached it with the flathead. “During my freshman year of college, I worked in an ice cream shop.” He handed the screwdriver back.
“I’m having a hard time imagining you serving up scoops in the Windy City.” Lily placed the flathead screwdriver back into the plastic tub. “Did you have one of those cute retro paper hats?”
“Yes. And an apron too.”
“Bet that was a real chick magnet.”
Declan pulled the sensor out of the machine, studied it. Looked like the sensor plate had dulled. “As a matter of fact, yes. My first college date came after I served a group of ladies their cones.”
He glanced at her, grinning. And was it just his imagination, or was there a flash of something—maybe even jealousy—in Lily’s eyes?
Oh? Declan cleared his throat. “Your thermostat sensor is rusty. Do you have a small scrub brush?”
“Maybe.” Lily fished around and grabbed an old toothbrush. “Will this work? If not, I think there’s some steel wool under the sink.”
“We can try it.” He gently scrubbed the end of it until the dull end had some shine. He set it back in place. “Let’s try that. I recommend ordering a new sensor, though.”
Replacing the panel cover, he plugged the machine back in. “Did you save your mixture?”
“The last one, yeah.”
“Okay.” He plugged the machine back in. “Give it a go.”
Lily grabbed the cream mixture from the refrigerator and poured it back in. Turned on the machine. “Now we wait.” She turned to him. A beat. Finally, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. See, that wasn’t so terrible, right?”
She looked away, and maybe it had been. Ouch.
Then she sighed and met his eyes. “I don’t understand, Declan.
Why are you trying to run me out of my family’s fudge shop?
Your family already owns enough restaurants on this island.
They don’t need this shop. And besides, their legacy of fudge isn’t nearly as long as my family’s. ”
She held so much pleading in her eyes he wanted to hold up his hands, to agree.
Except, “I’m doing this for my grandma.”
Lily frowned. “What does any of this have to do with your grandma?”
Oh. “I guess I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
Huh. “My grandma’s house is being foreclosed on. The whole ordeal was so stressful for her that she had a small episode—not quite a heart attack, but close.”
“Oh, Dec, I didn’t know.” And just like that, in the softness of her tone, he saw her. The Lily he once knew.
Once loved.
She made it worse by adding compassion into her blue eyes. “Is she all right?”
“She’s okay. Back home and resting. I visited her yesterday, and she’s looking stronger. But ever since Grandpa died, she’s been…” He sighed. “Well, just a shell of her former self, you know?”
She nodded then, as if she did know. Huh.
“Anyway, don’t ask me how she did it, but Mom worked it out so that her house could be part of the whole revitalization program. The one that promises a house for a dollar to new business owners.”
Lily’s mouth opened. “And so the house that’s tied to this business…”
“Is Grandma’s. Yes.” His eyes searched Lily’s. The hard edges had melted, softened. “The whole reason I’m here is to save her house.” He swallowed. “And because it’s my fault that she’s in this mess in the first place.”
She frowned. “How do you figure?”
“Grandpa took care of paying the bills, the property taxes.”
She drew in a breath. “Right. And because he died that night…” She folded her arms across her chest, drew in a breath. Nodded. But the softness had hardened again. “Funny, all this time I thought it was my fault. You blamed me.”
And it was back—the terrible words, her hurt. “I never really blamed you—it wasn’t your fault that…well, that I got caught up in the idea of us.”
She flinched. “Sure seemed like it when you said you should have listened to your family and never gotten involved with ‘someone like me.’ When you shut the door in my face and left me crying in the rain outside your house.”
“Grandpa was missing—I needed to help find him. But you’re right, it wasn’t your fault. It was mine.” His voice softened. “I owe you an apology, Lil. I was grieving and my family blamed me. Still blames me.” He reached out for her, but she took a step back.
He dropped his hand. “After you left, I did call to apologize, but you ghosted me.”
She said nothing but her eyes misted. “You destroyed my reputation.”
He hadn’t thought about that, how she’d lost her home, her legacy. “I’m sorry. But there were consequences to our actions. I shouldn’t have left Grandpa.”
She said nothing.
He sighed. “And it’s the same now. We both have responsibilities, things we are trying to do here. I recognize your position and respect your reason for doing this. Hopefully now, you can respect mine. So, what do you say? Can we call a truce?”
She considered him, and a tear dropped onto her cheek.
Shoot, and once again he wanted to reach out, pull her to himself…
He reached for his jacket instead.
“Fine,” she said quietly. “A truce. For now. But that’s all, Declan. Don’t start thinking we’re going to be friends—or anything else—again.” She said it without softness, void of emotion.
Right. “Of course not, Lily. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Then he pulled on his jacket, straightened his tie, and headed for the door.