Chapter 13
thirteen
N oah wrenched open the door of the Chug a Mug and charged inside, chest tight. His adrenaline flowed, and he flexed his fingers as he gave the room a quick, frantic scan. A woman with two young kids sat near the chalkboard wall, typing on her phone as her children wrote with little white sticks. Two businessmen in suits sat on the couches with laptops, a newspaper spread across the table between them. The latest pop hit played via the speakers overhead, a tune that had Miley nodding her head to the beat as she snapped a lid on a to-go cup of coffee.
All was well.
No fire.
No masked robbers.
No armed criminals.
Delia sat at a window table with Elisa, a calm smile on her face, her arms folded across her middle. He rushed toward them, ignoring the cheerful chatter aimed his way from Miley, and towered over their table.
“What’s wrong?” He scanned Delia, who seemed completely fine minus the fact she was in a wheelchair. Elisa was next—who also seemed fine as she blinked up at him…minus the fact his heartbeat was sliding into a completely different kind of acceleration. “What’s going on?”
“Good to see you, Noah.” Delia gestured toward an empty chair at a nearby table. “Why don’t you join us?”
“I don’t get it.” He grabbed the chair and straddled it backwards, resting his wrists on the top of the curved back. “You said there was trouble.”
“I did?” Delia tilted her head. “I don’t recall.”
Elisa’s eyes widened. “Delia, what did you say in your texts about the coffee?”
“Coffee?” Noah frowned. He pulled out his phone and pulled up the message. His hand still shook from the dozen what-if scenarios that had raced through his mind. “This isn’t about coffee.”
Elisa craned her neck to read over his shoulder. “Trouble at the coffee shop. Come quick.” And then the next text: “BTW this is Delia.” She shot the older woman a look.
“What?” The woman spread her hands wide. “You said to warn everyone.”
“About the coffee!” Elisa waved a hand toward the front counter and leaned in to whisper. “About Miley’s mood.”
“Wait. This is about the barista?” Noah pointed to his phone, his heart rate still several notches from calm. He narrowed his eyes. “I thought there was another fire—or worse.”
Delia hunched her shoulders up by her neck, her smile turning only slightly sheepish. “I guess I’m still learning proper text etiquette.”
“I guess so.” Noah briefly closed his eyes, then looked back at Delia. Her grin was much more cat-ate-the-canary now than regretful. “How’d you even get my number?”
“You doubt my powers?” She side-eyed him.
Delia wasn’t wearing a cape, but the woman had always possessed a superhero-type ability with people. His fight deflated, sagging his shoulders. “Mama D, I don’t think Wonder Woman would doubt your powers.”
“Good boy.” She patted his arm. “I’d offer to buy you a coffee for your trouble, but I think that defeats the whole point.”
Elisa offered him a sympathetic half smile. Now that his vision was clearing and his mind settling down from the adrenaline, Elisa’s proximity registered quick and hot on his bare arms. Like maybe there was a fire after all.
Noah cleared his throat, drawing his arms closer to his torso as he angled away from Elisa. If he couldn’t see her, he could pretend like last night didn’t happen. Pretend like he wasn’t still embarrassed about her rejection and desperate to finish what they’d almost started, all at the same time. He focused on Delia. “Are you going back to work today?”
“Waiting on the inspection to clear, then we’ll get all that sorted out.” She studied him, and her eyes narrowed. “Someone sure is looking fancy for a Friday. What have you been up to?”
Uh-oh. He shifted his stare slightly over her shoulder, out the window. From Delia’s position, she could easily see down the street to the bank…which he’d left roughly ten minutes ago.
There was no way she could know about his request for a loan, even if she saw him leaving the building. Still, his stomach knotted. “Just errands. Then rushed here to save the day.”
“You did that earlier in the week.” She dipped her head toward Elisa. “ Both of you took great care of me before they carted me off to the hospital and force-fed me cherry gelatin.”
Elisa ducked her chin and averted her eyes.
Yeah, Delia was up to something. They’d definitely been talking before he showed up.
Noah drummed his fingers on the table. “Mama D, is there a reason no one else is rushing into the Chug a Mug worried about an emergency?”
“You know what?” Delia snapped her fingers. “I just remembered I’m late to meet Sadie at Second Story. She’s been holding a few books for me to read while I’m under doctor’s orders to rest more.”
Elisa’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving?”
“It’s down the street, dear. I’ll manage.” She wheeled herself back from the table.
Elisa’s arm shot helplessly toward Delia. “But?—”
“After all, I’m sure you two have plenty to talk about.” Delia neatly dodged her grasp.
Noah nearly choked. Had Elisa told her about last night?
Delia kept rolling steadily around their table, twisting to speak over her shoulder. “You know, with trying to find the next clue and all.”
The clues. Not the kiss. Noah relaxed slightly. Elisa must have told Delia about the treasure hunt, which was fine. Delia made pretty much every “need-to-know” list in the south.
But what neither of them knew was that if Owen got him this loan, he didn’t plan to finish the hunt.
“Be careful!” Elisa called after Delia, who was already rapidly progressing toward the front door. A college-aged student with headphones draped around his neck stopped to hold it open for her, then lingered in the doorway as he stared toward the counter.
Noah twisted in his seat to follow the young man’s gaze right to Miley, who was unabashedly dancing to the song playing overhead while singing into a bottle of creamer. The guy quickly replaced his headphones and made an about-face, the door drifting shut behind him.
He sighed as he turned back to face Elisa. “I guess word spreads quickly.”
“I’m telling you—the weather report matters.” Elisa nudged her cup toward him. “Try it if you don’t believe us.”
“Weather report is a much better phrase than ‘danger.’” Noah shook his head. “Only Delia. What do you bet I’m the only text she even sent?”
Elisa smirked a little. “Last time I made a bet you got mad.”
“Not mad, remember?” Oh no, they were headed back into flirty waters already. He cleared his throat, stifling the urge to pick up where they’d left off last night. “Well, I’m glad Mama D is feeling good enough to stir up trouble.”
“Speaking of trouble.” Elisa tugged the latest clue card from her purse. “We never got to brainstorm last night.”
“Right. We were…interrupted.”
“Right.”
They stared at each other, Elisa nibbling on her lower lip while Noah battled every instinct in his body. They’d almost let history repeat itself. But then Elisa did let history repeat itself, by not standing up for him with her dad. It shouldn’t matter as much as it had a decade plus ago. He was an adult now, not a college kid with an unstable childhood looking for security. He’d grown up, and so had she.
So why did he care?
Noah drew a deep breath, breaking eye contact. If he told her about the possibility of his quitting the hunt now, and the loan didn’t come through, he’d be in a bind. Working together would be even more awkward at that point. He needed to fake it until he heard back from Owen.
But sitting here, pretending to care about this clue while fighting a dozen conflicting feelings roiling through his stomach, sounded about as pleasant as a big gulp of whatever was in Elisa’s cup.
He abruptly stood. “I can’t look at this right now. I need to get back to the inn.” He felt like a heel but what else was new? He was a Hebert, and she was a Bergeron. The expectation was low.
Besides, she’d made her position clear last night.
Elisa’s gaze flickered with hurt before she slowly stood too, pausing to loop her purse over her shoulder. “Okay. I should go meet Lucius at the Magnolia Blossom, anyway. The inspection is this afternoon.”
They turned simultaneously toward the exit, crossing the coffee-scented room in silence as Miley continued her one-woman concert from behind the counter. Noah pushed open the door and let Elisa walk through first, trying not to inhale her vanilla and honey scent as she slipped past him.
He was almost clear to go back to the inn, finish his list, and focus on this mold problem. Surely Owen would come through, and then Noah could get back on his feet and pay off the debt after a promising tourist season. Easy. Drama-free.
But to do so, he’d be quitting the hunt.
His stomach clenched. Wasn’t the whole purpose of restoring the inn to prove he wasn’t a quitter? To break the generational curse? If he quit on Elisa now, he was no better than Russell Hebert. And no closer to proving Elisa’s father wrong.
“Wait.” Noah shot his hand out before he could change his mind, grazing Elisa’s shoulder with his fingers.
She twisted to face him in surprise, the morning sun staining her hair with streaks of light. “What?”
“Let’s meet up later and go over the clue. When we can both get free.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You sure?”
He hated the wariness in her eyes, hated that he’d put it there, and hated that no, he wasn’t sure at all. But he couldn’t quit. “Yeah.” He forced a smile. “I mean, the last time we researched a clue here, the café caught on fire. Better not risk it.”
Her genuine grin made his own start to feel a little more authentic. “Seems wise. So…you’ll text me?”
“I’ll text you.” He lifted one hand in a wave, watching as she sauntered across the street to the Blossom while willing his gaze to go in any other direction.
Definitely nothing wise about it.
* * *
She’d knocked out one convo Delia had suggested—might as well get the other one over with.
A soft ding announced Elisa’s arrival to the second floor, and she took a deep breath as she exited the elevators and strode down the beige-carpeted hallway. Bergeron Inspections filled the plaque holder on the third door to the left. She pushed through it before she could lose her nerve.
Her father had only ever kept part-time employees, and sure enough, Melissa’s desk sat empty in the front of the office, across from two fraying upholstered chairs. She probably took Fridays off.
“Dad?” Elisa wandered past the coffee station that boasted a sink, overflowing trash can, and a stale-smelling Keurig, and wrinkled her nose before turning toward her father’s office. “It’s me.”
“Come on in.” His door was open and he sat at his desk, furiously typing on a laptop while a golf game played silently from a TV mounted on the wall.
Elisa perched on the edge of the single chair across from him, her back stiff as she waited to be acknowledged. The single framed photo on the bookshelf behind him was her senior portrait, taken many moons ago, nestled next to a row of dusty books and a crispy brown plant. Melissa had tried, at least.
There weren’t photos of Mom anymore.
Elisa looked away, folding her hands in her lap. “Bad time?”
“Nope.” Dad finished typing, hit the enter key with a flourish, and leaned back in his office chair, spinning to face her, his expression unreadable. “What’s up?”
And this was why these conversations were impossible. Delia didn’t seem to understand that Elisa wasn’t the only one wanting to avoid them. “Things got pretty tense last night.” She looked away, then forced herself to hold his gaze. “We never talked about it.”
Her father sat upright. “What’s there to talk about? Other than your entertaining that Hebert kid again.” His expression was no longer unreadable, except now Elisa very much didn’t like the message it conveyed.
“He’s not a kid, Dad.” She swallowed back her next words, which were to point out that neither was she. That point shouldn’t have to be made, though.
Even if she still felt like one.
Dad leaned forward, bracing his arms on the wooden table. The large desktop calendar page crinkled under his arms. “You know what I mean. I thought that stage in your life was over.”
So did she. And judging by how strange Noah acted today, maybe it was.
“We’re not starting anything back up. Like I said, we’re working on a project and were grabbing a pizza after.” The words felt sticky in her throat, and her father’s stare boring into her—clearly searching for any half-truths—made them even harder to release.
“You know how we feel about the Heberts. They’re thieves.”
She let out a huff. “I know, trust me.”
“Are you getting smart?” Her dad quirked a brow. “Maybe you’re an adult, but you’re not speaking like one.”
“Sorry.” Ugh, she was already caving. She straightened her shoulders. She could do this. For Delia, for herself. Maybe even for Noah. “With all respect, Noah isn’t a villain. This feud had merit back in the day, but it feels pointless now. Things are the way they are.”
“So we should stop fighting for justice?” Dad reared his head back to stare down his angular nose. “Just let things be, however unfair and illegal?”
She scratched her leg. “Well, no. But the inn is built. Whatever feud was going on over the rights to that property doesn’t matter now.”
“We could fix it if we buy it. Get the land back in the Bergeron name as it should have been from the beginning of this town—and reap those benefits.” He waved his hand around his office, with its worn carpet and tired furniture. “You think this is fair? You think it was fair for you to grow up the way you did?”
Elisa frowned. “Dad, we were hardly poor.”
“Well, we sure weren’t rich.” He shook his head. “Not like them.”
Who cared? None of that was the point. “We got by fine. I never wanted for anything.”
“Your mother sure did.”
“What?” Elisa’s gaze snapped to meet his. “What do you mean?”
“I know you two had all these expensive plans together—cooking abroad, culinary school, opening a restaurant.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “She clearly wanted more.”
“Dad, that’s crazy. Mom was happy with our life.” Sudden tears pressed the back of her eyelids. “We were having fun together. Making her southern teacakes and dreaming of serving them in our own restaurant one day. But she didn’t care about not ever having those things.”
“Well, maybe I wanted to give them to her.” Dad’s eyes filled with uncharacteristic emotion, and he turned back to his laptop. “I don’t have anything else to say about Noah or any other Hebert.”
Not fair. If he got to talk about Mom, she could talk about what she wanted to. Just stay calm . She clenched her hands into fists to control her surging emotions, digging her nails into her palms until the burn of tears vanished from her throat.
Now or never.
She slowly relaxed her fingers. “I’m going to be working with Noah until we finish this project, and I’m letting you know that as a courtesy.”
There. That wasn’t so bad.
Except her father wasn’t responding, only staring.
She shifted in her seat.
He continued to stare.
But she couldn’t be the one to break the stony silence first. Couldn’t show a drop of emotion, or he’d call her out. So she looked past him, counting the books on the shelf as she waited. Four. Five. Six.
The silence stretched.
She dropped her gaze to the shelf below and counted dried stalks on the fern. Five. Six. Seven?—
“So this is your position?”
She nodded soundlessly.
He tapped a pencil against his calendar. “Even though his family did what they did?”
“Dad, with all due respect, I’m not concerned about land rights from a hundred years ago.”
His eyes morphed to steel as he tossed the pencil into its holder. “What about Aunt Rhonda, huh? You concerned about her?”
Elisa clamped her mouth shut. She hadn’t prepared for him to play that card, which was foolish, because her dad always kept it tucked under his sleeve. She braced for the inevitable. Nothing short of another hurricane blowing through the bay was going to stop her father from saying his next sentence.
His words turned to ice. “You’re not concerned with the fact that the Heberts killed your aunt?”