Chapter 2
2
SIX WEEKS LATER
“I thought global warming meant it didn’t snow anymore.”
“ Mom ,” Ben replied in the tone of someone who has felt he’s had to say it a million times, “it’s climate change, not global warming, and it means the weather is variable .”
“Right.” Maggie had meant it as a joke but clearly it had sounded like a grumble, which, truth be told, it probably was. Driving her ten-year-old station wagon through six inches of slushy snow wasn’t high on her bucket list, but here she was. They were finally moving to Starr’s Fall.
The last six weeks had been a blur of getting things organized for the sale of the house, the move to Starr’s Fall, and the start of their business… as well as freaking out internally while trying to remain manically upbeat for the sake of her son. She didn’t think she’d fooled Ben, and certainly not her sister Lynn.
“You don’t have to move, you know,” Lynn had told her over Christmas when Ben had been in the basement gaming and Lynn had broken out the bottle of Baileys Irish Cream. “You can unwind all of this, if you want to. It’s still possible.”
Maggie had taken a slug of Baileys, trying not to be insulted by her sister’s canny intuition. Now that their move was getting close, she had been experiencing a tiny frisson of cold feet. “What makes you think I don’t want to move?” she’d asked, a bit truculently.
“I just mean… it seemed kind of sudden,” Lynn replied, which was more diplomacy than she’d exhibited in some time.
Maggie had stared into the depths of her drink; one gulp of Baileys had sent her head spinning. “You know I have to do this for Ben,” she’d said quietly.
Lynn had been silent for a long time. She’d been on the receiving end of Maggie’s angst and worry for long enough to take her time with her reply. “Yes, but you know,” she’d finally said, gentling her voice, “this isn’t necessarily going to be a magic bullet for Ben, or for you.”
Maggie had taken another slug of Baileys. “I know,” she’d replied, but the fact remained that she wanted it to be a magic bullet, a fix-all for all that was wrong with her—and Ben’s—lives. She needed it to be that, because life had been too hard for too long, and she wasn’t sure she could keep slogging through, day by grueling day.
“So, you’re still going to do it?” Lynn had asked, sounding a mix of incredulous and resigned.
Maggie had felt as if she were teetering on the edge of an abyss, about to freefall, windmilling her arms as she hurtled through empty space—to land where? “Yes,” she’d stated firmly as she’d drained her glass. “We are.”
And so here they were, driving to Starr’s Fall, the moving truck approximately half an hour behind them. In the end, they’d taken only a handful of the furniture from the house in Greenwich—so much of it had been custom-made pieces, too big and brash for the humble apartment. Maggie had tried to rouse Ben’s enthusiasm by promising to buy some new things, but, surprise, surprise, her son hadn’t been all that interested in home decorating.
Still, Maggie herself felt a flicker of interest at the prospect. When they’d moved into that behemoth of a house back in Greenwich three years ago, she’d been given free rein, but it had all felt so overwhelming and enormous, and then Matt’s mother-in-law had swept in, insisting that Maggie could never manage such a “serious responsibility” as decorating her own home, and so she’d gone with the interior decorator her mother-in-law had recommended, and she’d agreed with every single suggestion the bossy, stick-thin woman with talon-like nails had given.
Thankfully, those days were behind her.
That thought sent a flash of guilt like a blaze of lightning through her. How could she ever, ever be glad that her life had changed? Basically, be glad that Matt was dead , because one pretty much equaled the other. She was a horrible person for letting such a thought flit across her mind for so much as a second, no matter how challenging things had become in their marriage, and she vowed never to think that way again. Ever.
“Mom,” Ben exclaimed in exasperation, “you almost missed the turn again .”
“Sorry, sorry.” Just like the last time, at Thanksgiving, Maggie was forced to put on the brakes before making a hard right. She let out a shaky breath and glanced at Ben with a smile. “I was distracted by thinking about everything we need to do.”
“We don’t need to do that much, do we?” Ben replied. “Just buy some games and tables and stuff. It’ll be easy.”
As if. Her son had no idea of the reams and reams of red tape that went into opening a business, especially one that offered food. The number of licenses, inspections, criterion, and guidelines she had to meet… She had a three-ring binder full of printouts of such stuff. She hadn’t looked at any of it very closely yet, but she would. Soon.
“There’s a little more to it than that,” she replied lightly, “but we’ll get there.” Eventually. Maybe. No, they would. They would .
Starr’s Fall was coming into view, and this time the Main Street looked like a snowy wonderland, the sidewalks heaped with the stuff, icicles dripping down from the eaves—apparently the snowplow hadn’t been through the town yet, even though it was nearly noon and the snow had fallen last night. Well, it was off the beaten track, Maggie told herself. And the snow was pretty, even if it was already starting to melt.
“Okay.” She pulled over in front of the store, the tires squelching through the slush, and parked the car. “Here we are.” She let out a deep breath and turned to smile at Ben, and amazingly, wonderfully, he gave a small, shy smile back. It was enough to have her exclaiming, “Let’s do this!” as she slapped the steering wheel for emphasis and Ben let out a groan and rolled his eyes. Way to ruin a moment, she thought wryly. Well, she’d been there before.
Maggie got out of the car, the air cold and crisp as she stretched her arms briefly above her head and surveyed their new abode. It was a lot smaller than the imposing McMansion they’d left behind, but it was quaint and cozy and she thought she’d like living on the Main Street, everything they needed just a stroll away.
She took the key out of her pocket and unlocked the front door, stepping inside to the store. It looked just as it had six weeks ago, on Thanksgiving, only dustier and colder. She needed to figure out how to turn the heating on, and quick.
“The moving truck should be here soon,” she called to Ben. He was standing in the doorway, his backpack slung over one shoulder. “Do you want to close the door?”
“Yeah…” He hesitated, sliding his backpack from his shoulder. “By the way, I made this.”
“You made something?” Maggie turned around, smiling in surprised expectation. Her son was not a crafty person, so she was curious as well as heartened that he’d had the urge to make anything at all. He unzipped his backpack and took out a long, silvery sheet of paper. As he unfolded it, she saw it was a banner, complete with glittery writing.
Grand Opening Coming Soon! Your Turn Next Boardgame Café!
He’d even designed a little logo underneath, with a pawn, a die, and an elven figure that Maggie knew was from his beloved RainQuest.
“What do you think?” he asked, a wobble of uncertainty in his voice.
Maggie’s heart melted, expanded, and twisted all at once. “I love it,” she said firmly. “Let’s put it up right now.”
Ben’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes! Why not?” Of course, she could answer that very easily—because she had no idea when they’d actually get this place up and running, and the thought of all the work that lay ahead of her was truly daunting. She didn’t want to make promises to the public that she couldn’t keep, but neither was she about to rain on her son’s parade. She didn’t even want to drizzle . “Let’s do it,” she said again, with the same slightly manic excitement that had had him rolling his eyes before.
“Okay, Mom, chill. Anyway, we don’t have any tape.”
“I think there’s some in the car.” She’d packed a box of emergency supplies for when the movers came—scissors, tape, coffee mugs, kettle. “Hold on one sec,” she said, and headed back outside.
A few minutes later, she was back with the promised tape, and she and Ben unrolled the banner to position it diagonally across the window.
“Maybe it’s too much,” he said, the self-doubt that had so often dogged him creeping back once more.
“It’s not,” Maggie insisted. “We want people to know what we’re doing. Why not make a little bit of a splash?”
“I guess.” But his brief moment of buoyancy had clearly gone flat, and Maggie knew that trying to jolly her son back into any sort of enthusiasm would backfire bigtime. She focused instead on simply getting the banner up, and by the time they’d done that, the moving truck was pulling up in front of the store. Their life here really was beginning.
* * *
The next few hours were a blur of boxes, as Maggie told the movers where she wanted the furniture, made them endless cups of coffee, and discovered that the big armoire she’d brought from her bedroom did not fit up the second set of stairs.
“Just put it in the living room,” she said, determined to be pragmatic. “We can keep books in it, I guess.”
A headache was thrumming at her temples and her shoulders had been creeping up toward her ears all afternoon. She didn’t want to be stressed, but she was. Every box or piece of furniture that the movers brought in made her realize yet again that this was really happening. She had moved, at the age of forty-one, to a place where she knew absolutely no one, to run a business she had absolutely no experience of. Her sister was right. This was insane.
Her mother had thought she was crazy as well. Widowed herself three years ago, she’d made herself indispensable to her community in Pennsylvania—baking for charity, delivering Meals on Wheels, volunteering at the local preschool. Just hearing about her mother’s schedule exhausted her.
“You should stay in Greenwich, Maggie,” she’d said when Maggie had first floated the idea of moving to Starr’s Fall. “Where you know people. Get involved in things. Keeping busy helps, trust me.”
Maggie had definitely not kept busy. She couldn’t count the number of days she’d lain in bed till noon or binge-watched Is It Cake? until her eyeballs ached. She could tell a real cake from fifty paces, however, or so she liked to believe. As for the people she knew? A lot of them hadn’t wanted to know her, after Matt’s death, and her friends from college or high school had slumped into yearly Christmas cards and the occasional well-meant text.
Maggie knew that all of that was at least partly her fault. When Matt had got his mega promotion, she hadn’t really gelled with the new group of hedge fund managers and their blonde, Botoxed wives that had become their social circle. To be fair, she hadn’t really tried, and she should have. Blonde hair and Botox did not disqualify someone from being a kindred spirit. It just meant they were starting from a different place.
But because of Ben, she’d chosen to leave it—and them—all behind. Sometimes a fresh start was what you needed.
“No regrets,” Maggie muttered under her breath, and Ben gave her a sharp look.
“What did you say?”
She tried for a sunny smile. “Just talking to myself. I think the movers are almost done. How about pizza for dinner?”
He gave a little shrug. “Okay.”
“Great.” Maggie went in search of her wallet to tip the movers and get her credit card out. She really hoped Starr’s Fall had Door Dash or Uber Eats. Surely they weren’t that far off the beaten track.
They were. After the movers had left, happy with their generous tip, she tried four different delivery services, only to be informed that they did not deliver to her zip code. Never mind. There had to be a pizza place in Starr’s Fall, right?
“Did we get pizza when we had that vacation here?” she asked Ben, and he looked at her blankly.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
Of course he didn’t remember. It had been two and a half years ago. In fact, Maggie reflected, both her and Ben’s memories of those two vacations were probably very hazy indeed… and yet they’d based their whole life plan on returning to a place they barely remembered and had only been to for two weeks in total.
Why, again?
No regrets .
“Slice of Heaven is five minutes outside of town,” Ben ventured, scrolling on his phone. “No delivery, but they take phone orders.”
“Great.” Maggie made the call, ordering their usual—a large cheese pizza with black olives and pineapple—and then turned to her son. “You want to come with me to pick it up?”
Ben’s gaze slid sideways as he shook his head. “No, I’m good. I think I’ll unpack some stuff in my room.”
“Okay.” Her heart gave a painful little twist at the thought of leaving him alone, which was kind of ridiculous, because he was fourteen years old, fifteen in April. But still… “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“And you can always call me if you need to. Or text?—”
“ Mom .” Ben gave her a look that was half hurt, half exasperation. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” She nodded mechanically. After everything he’d been through, it was hard not to be overprotective. She was in a constant battle with herself not to swoop in and hover over him, protecting him from so much as a paper cut. Like Ben had said earlier, she needed to chill. “Okay,” she said again, and headed outside.
Starr’s Fall at five-thirty on a January evening was, Maggie discovered, both dark and freezing. The wrought-iron streetlamps lining the street were like something out of Narnia but only half of them were working, and the air was cold enough to freeze the inside of her nose, which was not a pleasant feeling.
She climbed into her station wagon, praying it would start in this cold, half-wishing she’d taken up Matt’s offer of a Porsche SUV when he’d got his promotion. She’d refused, both out of pique and a deep-seated desire not to be that kind of person. When she’d tried to explain it to Matt, he’d been exasperated as well as a little hurt.
“What kind of person?” he’d demanded. “The kind of person who drives a Porsche?”
“Yes,” she’d cried. “Exactly.”
“But I drive a Porsche,” he’d reminded her, to which Maggie had not been able to think of a suitable reply. Matt had been so proud of his sports convertible, bought with one of his bonuses. She hadn’t had the heart to say she didn’t like that car, either.
Okay, she really needed to stop thinking this way. “Only good memories,” she muttered under her breath, a necessary reminder, and started the car.
Slice of Heaven was in a small, sad-looking strip mall on the far side of town that had exactly three storefronts, two of which were empty and clearly had been for a while. It was a depressing and salient reminder that Starr’s Fall had hit on some hard times since they’d come here five years ago.
Back then, Maggie recalled seeing a few more cute boutiques and shops, as well as a Michelin-starred restaurant somewhere on the outskirts where she and Matt had eaten dinner. During her and Ben’s brief visits over the last few months, she’d noticed quite a few empty stores, the for-rent or for-sale signs looking like they’d been out for a while. There had certainly been plenty to choose from when they’d made their purchase. And this was the place they’d decided to set up a new business? Her sister didn’t even know the half of her insanity.
Still, she told herself as she headed into the pizza place, there were a few thriving businesses around. Laurie Ellis, who had so kindly introduced herself at Thanksgiving, clearly was managing to keep her pet store Max’s Place going. And her boyfriend, Joshua, had the bookstore across the street, which looked inviting. Plus, on the way into town, they’d driven by a bakery, an ice cream parlor, and a diner. And now, as she headed toward the pizza place, she saw a “Now Open” sign plastered in the window, so she and Ben weren’t the only ones starting a business here.
There was one customer waiting for his pizza in Slice of Heaven, his back to Maggie as he leaned against the counter. She’d just taken her place behind him in line when he turned around and she sucked in a startled breath, which caused her to choke, which was hugely embarrassing, because the only reason she’d been surprised at all was that the man in front of her was so ridiculously good-looking.
“Are you okay?” he asked in concern as he lifted a hand to pat her back, but then held back, no doubt wondering about the propriety of such an action.
“I’m fine,” Maggie assured him, refusing to cough even though her eyes were watering with the desperate need to. “Fine. Just… swallowed the wrong way.” The effort of speaking had her erupting into coughs she couldn’t contain, so for a few seconds she choked and spluttered, feeling ridiculous. The man decided to pat her back, gently, his palm warm even through her coat. “Sorry,” she wheezed, and then dragged another breath into her lungs, willing herself to stop hacking.
“It’s okay. It happens.” He smiled, flashing a full set of straight, white teeth, and Maggie stared at him, mesmerized. He was like a combination of all the gorgeous movie actors she’d swooned over through the years—dirty blond hair that was artfully disheveled, swept back from blue-green eyes that were so vivid they simply had to be contact lenses, except Maggie was pretty sure they weren’t. A chiseled jaw glinting with golden stubble, and as for the rest of him… well, she could see the definition of his six-pack through his sweater . “Sorry,” she murmured again, and took a step back for good measure, because besides looking good, he smelled nice too, like a pine forest. And, she told herself sternly, she was a widow and he looked to be about twenty years old, so ew .
“Zach?” A man emerged from the kitchen, holding a pizza box. “Extra spicy chorizo and pepperoni pizza?”
“That’s me.”
“Wow,” Maggie said, and then could have cursed herself for being the nosiest, most awkward person imaginable.
The man—Zach—turned around, one golden eyebrow arched. “You have a problem with my pizza?” he asked, and to her mortification, his tone was flirtatious. Oh, heaven help her, to be the object of such pity, that a stunningly good-looking guy like him would flirt with her, the way you might toss a bone to an old, sad dog.
“Well, I certainly couldn’t eat it,” she replied, and to her further mortification, she sounded flirtatious. What on earth was wrong with her? She was a widow, for heaven’s sake. She was a middle-aged, libido-less, desiccated widow . Flirting with a kid who looked young enough to almost be her son.
“No?” His mouth—and a very nice mouth it was—quirked into a smile. “Why not?”
“All that pepperoni? It would give me gas.” Which was, Maggie realized as her cheeks turned scarlet, the verbal equivalent of farting in public. Which was basically what she’d just said she would be doing. So much for flirting; she was now being awkward and weird. Thank God Ben hadn’t come with her. Although if he had, maybe she would not have acted like this. Clearly she could not be trusted in public on her own. After a year of watching and rewatching episodes of Is It Cake? by herself, she had no idea how to relate to other people in a vaguely normal way.
Zach, however, laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t worth eating,” he pointed out. “You just have to take the consequences.”
Maggie only shook her head. Her whole face was hot, and she wanted nothing more than to escape to her car so she could privately melt into a puddle of pure mortification.
The guy behind the counter was looking bemused by their whole exchange. Hanging her head, Maggie stepped forward to receive her own order. “Large black olive and pineapple pizza,” she whispered.
“Black olive and pineapple ?” Zach exclaimed from behind her. “Okay, now I think we need to have a serious discussion about pizza topping choices.”
“It’s a weird one,” she managed to admit in a voice that she hoped sounded somewhat normal. “My son picked it so nobody else would ever ask to share his pizza.”
If she thought he might be fazed by the fact she had a son—although why would he? She had no idea, since obviously there was absolutely nothing going on here at all —he wasn’t. “Sounds like a smart kid,” he remarked.
“He is,” she agreed firmly. She took the pizza box with a murmured thanks and then, without meeting Zach’s eye, started to sidle from the store.
“Are you new here?” he called just as she’d reached the door.
Maggie hesitated. Part of her wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard his question and sprint for her car. The more rational part realized you couldn’t do that sort of thing when you lived in a small town, which she now did.
“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. “Just moved onto Main Street.”
“Oh, right.” Zach leaned against the counter, his pizza box balanced on one well-muscled arm, like he had all the time in the world. “Well,” he said with a grin that made his eyes sparkle, “welcome to the neighborhood.”