Chapter 7
Woof!
Caleb glanced over just in time to catch Ranger’s nose practically glued to the passenger window. It was a perfect day. A clear powder-blue sky. A few puffy white clouds sweeping by. The green trees rippled in the soft breeze.
They rolled past a couple of small farms, and the dog stared at the cows grazing in the pasture as if they were the most fascinating creatures on earth. They’d spent yesterday getting to know each other, and somehow, they’d clicked fast. Faster than Caleb expected, faster than he deserved.
Ranger was curious and smart, the kind of dog who watched everything and missed nothing. He barely left Caleb’s side, shadowing him almost as if he was afraid Caleb would return him to the shelter.
Not a chance in hell.
Today, Caleb planned to stop at Mia Whitmore’s place and figure out exactly what she wanted. The Whitmore property was just outside town, a few miles from the Brotherhood campus.
He eased by the old Creek church tucked beneath a pair of old oaks along Whisper Creek, its bell tower catching the early light. He followed Fox Hollow Road and turned in when the red barn and a white farmhouse came into view. There were no cars in sight.
A long gravel driveway followed the bend, then cut through the open land toward the shimmering pond. An old green truck was parked down by the water, and a man crouched beside the half-finished line of pavers. Caleb shut the engine and didn’t move right away.
For a second, he wondered if the guy was more than just hired help.
Mia always kept her distance, and he spent more time than he wanted admitting he had a crush on her. Maybe this was why. She already had someone. It would explain the polite smiles, the quick exits, the way she always stepped back when he found himself stepping forward.
He didn’t want to walk into a mess or step on another man’s toes before the job even started.
Caleb parked. “Stay.”
Ranger huffed, not at all happy he couldn’t get out and sniff around.
Caleb headed toward the man, giving him a slight chin lift. “I’m looking for Mia. Is she around?”
The man nudged a paver into place and shook his head. “Haven’t seen her. She took off earlier.”
Okay then. Not exactly Mr. Sunshine.
Caleb offered his hand anyway. “Caleb Jennings.”
The man hesitated, then wiped his hands on his jeans before shaking. “Roy Spencer.”
Caleb glanced at the half-finished path stretching around the pond. “Looks like a big project.”
Ray snorted. “Ridiculous waste of time if you ask me. But Mia wanted it done, so here I am.”
Caleb nodded, filed that little flare of attitude away for later. No sense pushing. The guy radiated irritation. He thanked Roy and told him he’d check back later, hopefully catching Mia when Roy wasn’t around and the air felt a little less prickly.
He headed toward his truck, and Ranger perked up the second he opened the door.
“Yeah, buddy,” he murmured, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “She’s not here. I’ll try again later.”
He backed out of the driveway, filing away the uneasy feeling in his gut.
Roy certainly wasn’t a husband or boyfriend.
Something about the guy rubbed him the wrong way.
Could be that laying the pavers was a big job or …
whatever. But Caleb had learned to trust his instincts, the quiet warnings.
The ones that didn’t shout just pressed.
And right now? It was pressing.
One thing for sure, Roy wasn’t a fan of Mia’s.
Mia stepped into the Red Rooster Diner and waved to Margie, the vivacious owner.
She’d only been here a couple of times but loved the 1950s vibe, the red leather booths, chrome trim, and knickknacks placed around from defunct diners that Walter, Margie’s husband and chef, collected. And the pie! Dear Lord, the pie.
Walter made a perfect, flaky crust and a rotating lineup of fillings.
Mia was in heaven. It reminded her of her mother, who also had a light hand when it came to pastry and made a pie for her dad every Sunday without fail.
Mia still pictured her mother at the counter, humming softly, fingers dusted with flour.
She had taken on that responsibility, and while her dad appreciated it, it wasn’t the same. They both missed her mother.
She scanned the room, spotting her reason for being here.
Heather Pierce sat in a booth by the window, tapping away on her tablet, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail.
Heather wrote the Taste of Haywood blog and had stopped Mia on Saturday at the farmers’ market, insisting she wanted an interview.
Heather was friendly, eager, but a little too observant.
Mia shoved the flicker of unease aside. Journalists and bloggers asked questions—that was their job. Still, Heather’s interest felt just a touch sharper than plain curiosity.
“Heather?” She headed over. “Thanks for meeting me.”
Heather flashed a bright smile. “Oh, no problem. This is my favorite diner in the morning.” She closed her tablet cover as Mia slid into the booth across from her. The leather squeaked faintly beneath Mia. Her nerves did, too.
“So, a short history. I try to do a special ‘women building their own businesses’ once a month. I know you’ve been in town for about a year, and you’ve built quite a following already, but you also grew up here.
Tell me why you came back? You had a thriving business in New York City; it must be difficult adjusting to small-town life again. ”
Mia gave her a small smile. “Well, I came back for my father, who had a stroke. My mom passed a while ago, and he had no one to take care of him.”
“Family first, right?”
“Right. However, it really isn’t a hardship. Haywood Lake is becoming more cosmopolitan as we speak, and I’ve always loved it here.”
“Still.” Heather weighed each hand. “Big city excitement. Small-town simplicity? Charm? Depends on who you ask.”
Mia laughed. “Big city competition. Small-town gossip. Not much different.”
“True,” Heather replied. “What made you jump into catering? Did you do that here before you moved away?”
“I love creating, and I love food. So, going to culinary school fit.” Mia laughed. “No, and I didn’t do it here. I worked at my father’s hardware store until I graduated high school and left.”
Heather nodded, jotting a note. “Your business has grown fast. Faster than some of the more established caterers in town. How has that been going?”
“Going?”
“Well, food folks can be territorial.” She lowered her voice. “The whispers at the farmers’ market were pretty interesting.”
Mia’s stomach tightened. “Whispers?”
“Oh, you know how markets are. Vendors overhear clients switching caterers. Someone saying a new business is ‘stealing accounts.’” She shrugged. “It’s probably nonsense. But I figured if anyone could clear it up, it’d be you.”
The words hit harder than Mia expected. She kept her smile in place even though her pulse was racing. People were saying she stole clients. Her?
The market had always felt safe. Now, the memory of Saturday morning flickered differently. The quick glances. The half-whispered conversations. She chalked it up to exhaustion, but maybe she shouldn’t have.
Mia took a moment to collect her thoughts. Who could be suggesting she was stealing accounts? Outside of Dana and now Sabrina, she hadn’t paid any attention to other caterers. People came to her; she didn’t solicit business. Still, the accusation stung, baseless or not.
“I don’t steal clients.”
“I didn’t think so,” Heather said quickly. “People love you. They love your food. Honestly, that’s why I reached out. A woman like you balancing ambition, caregiving, community ties—yours is exactly the kind of story I want to highlight.”
Some of the tension eased from Mia’s shoulders but her unease lingered. Rumors had a way of getting out of hand without any help. “Well … thank you.”
“Of course. So, let’s talk signature dishes.” She took a sip of coffee, put the cup down. “What dish started all this for you?”
Mia relaxed a little. “My most requested dish is red-wine-braised short ribs with truffle polenta and cipollini onions. I’ve been experimenting with other seasonal savory items.”
“That sounds delicious.” Heather leaned in. “You’ve been working with Will Blake. He speaks highly of you.”
Mia nodded. “Will’s great. His produce is top-notch.”
“And it was mentioned you might be catering something for Isabelle’s friend’s engagement party.” Heather smiled. “Word gets around.”
“I didn’t know that had gotten around.” Mia’s stomach clenched.
She hadn’t told anyone, and she was quite sure Isabelle hadn’t since this was a surprise party.
Which meant someone had overheard it and opened their mouth.
Maybe Sabrina. Maybe someone wandering past the farmstand who heard the wrong snippet and filled in the blanks.
Either way, it didn’t take much for a whisper to snowball in this town. Just her luck.
Heather laughed. “It all gets around. Haywood Lake may be growing, but it’s still a quintessential small town. Everyone knows everything about you.”
The way she said it took a little of the edge off. But not all. Curiosity could be harmless, or it could be something else entirely. And not for the first time, Mia wondered which version she was sitting across from.
“Well, that’s about all I have,” Heather said. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“Not that I can think of offhand,” she replied. “I look forward to the article.” Mia stood. “Thanks again.”
As she walked out of the diner, the bell over the door jingled. It was a cheerful sound that didn’t match the tension in her chest. But she couldn’t help feeling that Heather wasn’t just writing a profile.
She was looking for something. Digging even.
And when Mia thought back to Roy’s clipped tone that morning, the unease twisted tighter. Two very different conversations but both left her unsettled.
She just hoped it was nothing and not the first hint of something she should’ve seen coming.