Chapter 7
Theo
“Dad, I’m boooooorrrrrred.”
Chloe’s voice carries from the dining room into my office at Harbor & Ash, and she drags out the word like she’s physically dying from understimulation.
I glance through the doorway. She’s sprawled across the booth closest to my office like she’s melting into the vinyl, surrounded by abandoned coloring books and what looks like an entire box of sugar packets she’s been using to build and destroy tiny towers.
One arm hangs dramatically over the edge of the seat, fingers trailing on the floor.
“Twenty more minutes,” I call back, guilt twisting in my gut as I turn back to the supplier invoice on my screen.
Pacific Northwest Provisions delivered yesterday and somehow charged us for three cases of heirloom tomatoes we didn’t order.
I need to sort it out before Monday or we’ll be paying for produce we never received.
“Daaaaaaaaaaad.” She stretches the word into about fourteen syllables. “That’s what you said twenty minutes ago.”
She’s not wrong. I promised her we’d have a fun day doing whatever she wanted once I finished work, but we’ve been here for three hours and she’s going stir crazy. Chloe has countless wonderful qualities, but sitting still has never been one of them.
“I’m sorry, kiddo. Just a few more things to wrap up,” I call back, hating myself a little.
She sighs, loud and theatrical enough to be heard across the restaurant. “Fine. I’m going to go get some dessert then.” A pause. “Please.”
I smile at the add-on. “Okay. Alex left some chocolate mousse in the walk-in.”
She hops off the booth and heads past my office toward the kitchen, already on the hunt for sweets.
Normally I’d have her with family or my sitter while I work, but Calvin mentioned he was taking Maren on a date to another town today, and my sitter wasn’t available on short notice after Victoria canceled.
I put all my work off so I could get it done today while Chloe was supposed to be with her mom, and now I’m scrambling to catch up. I shove down the familiar irritation that bubbles up whenever I think about Victoria, along with the guilt for making Chloe sit around bored on a beautiful Saturday.
A nagging thought returns: I should have gone to the festival with Emma.
She invited me the other day at The Black Lantern, and I never texted or called her like I said I would.
Not because I forgot. Because she feels like a risk, and I’m doing my best to retain some semblance of control over my life.
The irony doesn’t escape me. Half the reason I’m keeping Emma at arm’s length is to protect Chloe from getting attached to someone who might not stick around.
And now my attempt at being responsible has resulted in Chloe spending her Saturday dying of boredom in an empty restaurant instead of having fun at a fall festival with a teacher she adores. .
Great parenting, Theo.
A knock at the front door pulls me out of my head. We’re not open for hours, and I’m not expecting anyone. Through the glass I can see red hair catching the morning light, a rust-colored sweater, and whatever I was thinking about two seconds ago is completely gone.
Emma.
She’s holding two cups of coffee and grinning at me through the window like she knows exactly what she’s about to do. I push back from my desk and walk through the dining room, past the empty tables set for tonight’s service, and unlock the door.
“I figured you’d still be here.” She holds out one of the coffees before I can say anything, and I take it automatically.
The cup is warm against my palm. “So I brought reinforcements. Also, I may have assumed you’d come to your senses overnight and decide to ditch the spreadsheets, so I’m here to pick you up and save the day. ”
“I’m still working on inventory,” I say, taking a sip of the coffee to hide how pleased I am to see her.
“I’m ignoring that,” she says breezily. “I can tell you’re happy I showed up.”
“You’re very confident for someone who just appeared unannounced at my place of business.”
“Confidence is one of my many excellent qualities.” She winks, and I’ll be damned if I’m not charmed by it. “Plus, you never texted me back. And when you didn’t text me, I chose to interpret that as ‘I want to go but I need someone to give me permission.’”
“That’s a very creative interpretation of radio silence.”
“I’m an optimist.” She takes a sip of her coffee, completely at ease, like showing up here was always the plan. “Also, I brought you coffee, so now you owe me.”
“That’s extortion,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
“I prefer to think of it as strategy.” Her eyes are bright with amusement, and she’s looking at me like she knows exactly what she’s doing and exactly how this is going to end.
“MISS HAYES!”
Chloe’s shriek cuts through whatever I was about to say. I turn to see her racing through the restaurant—only a small amount of chocolate mousse visible on her face—and she shoots past me like I don’t exist, launching herself into Emma’s arms.
“Hey, you!” Emma laughs, somehow managing not to spill either coffee despite my daughter’s full-body assault. She crouches down to Chloe’s level, eyes warm. “Ooh, I love your sparkly shoes. Are those new?”
Chloe pulls back just enough to show them off, lifting one foot then the other to display the purple glitter sneakers I bought her yesterday.
A shameless attempt to distract her from the fact that her mom canceled.
Again. “Daddy got them for me! Watch!” She takes a few running steps, the soles blinking pink and purple in rapid succession.
“Very fashionable,” Emma says approvingly. “I’m obsessed.”
“Thanks.” Chloe beams, bouncing on her toes. “What are you doing here?”
Emma glances up at me, one eyebrow raised, clearly waiting for permission before she mentions the festival. But there’s a gleam in her eyes that says she’s already won and we both know it.
I sigh, unable to stop myself from smiling, and nod.
“Well,” she says to Chloe, “I’m here to steal you and your dad away from boring work to come to a fall festival. What do you think about that?”
“REALLY?!” Chloe shrieks, jumping up and down hard enough that I’m surprised she doesn’t go through the floor.
“Yes, but go wash your face first and then we’ll hit the road, okay?” I crouch down to her level. “This means you have to be good tonight because I’ll need to wrap up some work at home after dinner. Deal?”
“YES OKAY I’LL BE THE BEST!” She’s already racing toward the bathroom, wiping furiously at her face with her sleeve.
Emma stands, watching her go with this soft smile that does something complicated to my chest. Then she turns back to me, triumphant and not even trying to hide it. “I knew you’d come around.”
“Don’t gloat,” I say.
“I’m not gloating.” She’s absolutely gloating. “I’m just pleased that my excellent powers of persuasion continue to work exactly as intended.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling. Can’t seem to stop, actually. Emma showed up at my restaurant on a Saturday morning with coffee and a plan to rescue my daughter from boredom, and I’m supposed to, what, resist that?
“Let me grab my jacket,” I say.
The smile she gives me could power the entire restaurant. “That’s the spirit.”
The parking lot at Cedarbrook Farm is packed by the time we pull in, cars lined up in neat rows across what looks like it used to be a hay field.
I find a spot near the back and kill the engine.
Through the windshield I can see the entrance gates decorated with corn stalks and those big inflatable pumpkins, and beyond that what looks like half a carnival.
Music drifts over from somewhere inside, something upbeat mixing with the distant screams from a ride and the general chaos of a crowd having a good time.
“Okay, so they do have go-karts,” Emma says from the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone.
“Plus a corn maze, which could be fun. Some kind of mini roller coaster that looks like it’s for kids, though I bet parents can ride too.
Carnival games, pie eating contest at two, and approximately a million food vendors. ”
“Pie eating contest?” I glance at her, amused.
“Man, now I’m hungry for pie,” she says before looking back out the window. “Wow, this place is so much bigger than I expected.”
Chloe’s already unbuckled and halfway out the door. “Can we do go-karts first? Please?”
“That’s what I was thinking too,” Emma says, climbing out and stretching her arms over her head. Her sweater rides up slightly and I force myself to look away. “Go-karts are non-negotiable.”
We walk through the entrance gates and I’m hit immediately with the smell of kettle corn and funnel cake, mixed with hay and diesel exhaust from the rides.
It’s more carnival than harvest festival—there’s a Ferris wheel turning slowly against the bright blue sky, game booths lining the walkways with oversized stuffed animals hanging from the awnings, kids screaming on some spinning ride that looks specifically designed to make you lose your lunch.
Families are everywhere, parents chasing toddlers, teenagers clustered in groups, older couples walking hand in hand through the chaos.
“This place is amazing,” Chloe breathes, her head swiveling in every direction at once, trying to take it all in.
“Right?” Emma grins down at her. “So, Chloe, I’m guessing based on your love of racing that you’re a bit of a daredevil. Am I right?”
Chloe looks up at her with a grin that could rival my brother Jack’s most confident smirk. “Yes. I love anything fast and scary.”
Emma actually squeals, grabbing Chloe’s hand. “See, I’m the same way. Which means we are definitely going on the roller coaster later.”
Chloe’s face lights up even more, and I laugh, shaking my head at both of them. “Oh god. I don’t know if I can keep up with you two.”
“That’s what the coffee was for,” Emma says, turning that bright smile on me. “Don’t tell me you don’t like carnival rides?”