Chapter 18
eighteen
T he Magnolia Blossom on a Saturday morning was, as Grandpa used to say, “busier than a church fan in July.”
Noah hesitated in the doorway of the crowded diner, giving the yellow tables and shiny countertops a quick scan. It was hard to tell a fire or flood had ever happened. If anything, the place just seemed cleaner.
He wove around the clustered tables toward the serving counter, where he assumed Elisa would be helping pour coffee or any other task that wasn’t in her job description. But she was nowhere in sight. Maybe the kitchen? He wanted pancakes, but more than that, he wanted the conversation that had yet to occur between them.
After August’s phone call, Noah had driven Elisa back to her car at the park, and neither had discussed the elephant between them. Granted, it was hard to focus with the new ticking time bomb looming. That had taken precedent.
But the longer they stared at the clue in the pool of light provided by the lamppost, the more Elisa rubbed her red-rimmed eyes, and the more he’d raked his fingers through his hair until it stood on end like he’d been electrocuted. They finally agreed to sleep on it and Elisa drove away, leaving Noah kicking himself for not initiating the much-needed conversation.
Now, he rerouted toward the kitchen, lifting one hand in a reluctant wave to Peggy, August’s secretary, who waved back so big she almost knocked over her water glass. Farmer Branson was back at his usual spot, frowning at a folded newspaper next to his plate of bacon. Owen’s father, Pastor Todd, sat at a table in the corner, hunched over his Bible and a mug of coffee, while Peter devoured a cinnamon roll at the counter, pants still stained with slate blue paint splatters. The clank of silverware and the hum of conversation washed over Noah as he continued on his path…until suddenly it didn’t.
He reached the kitchen door and paused, glancing over one shoulder. A dozen pair of eyes stared back, some accompanied by grins half-hidden behind coffee mugs and others accompanied by furrowed brows.
Oh, boy.
Before he could escape inside the kitchen, Trish sidled up, hair tied back with a ribbon. She cast him a searching look as she cocked one hip to the side. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” But he already knew. And judging by the pointed gazes directed his way, so did the rest of the town.
“That kiss everyone is talking about.” She arched a brow. “You guys stayed in the courthouse all night?”
Noah’s eyes widened. “Definitely not.” Was that what people thought? He released a tense breath. With him being a Hebert—no, more than that, with him being Russell Hebert’s son —that wasn’t going to look good.
Trish prattled on. “I know you and Elisa used to be together once upon a time, or something.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, her eyes curious. “But she also said all that was in the past…”
A burning sensation filled Noah’s throat. “Is that right?” It wasn’t like Elisa to be gossiping with co-workers. But if the kiss last night hadn’t meant anything, if it was all in the past…
Maybe that was the cause of the awkwardness last night in the parking lot—Elisa regretted kissing him and didn’t know how to say so. After all, she’d kissed him , after having been the one to go on and on about her “shoes.” Of course it’d be hard to tell him she had messed up by launching herself into his arms.
And launched she had.
“There are a lot of rumors this morning.” Trish shifted the coffee carafe to her other hand. “No one knows what to think.”
Including him. He glanced between the kitchen and the front door, debating his options.
Trish flashed him a flirty grin. “Can I get an exclusive?”
He blinked at her. “A what?”
“An exclusive. You know, be the first to know the scoop. That is, if there’s anything to tell…”
Noah shifted his weight against the unpleasant emotions tumbling through him—namely, disappointment. It pressed hard against his shoulders, despite the small, inner voice attempting to console with reason. It was better for Elisa to dismiss last night, wasn’t it? Less complicated.
Less painful for them both when he inevitably left a mess behind , as he was destined to do, according to Sheriff Rubart.
He cleared his throat. “Listen—I’m not a story.” And it sounded like if Elisa had her way, there wouldn’t be one between them at all. “I’d appreciate it if you could try to toss some water on those rumors and not gasoline, okay?”
Trish pressed her lips together. “Fair enough.” Then she paused. “To be clear—does that mean there’s nothing to the rumors, or that you don’t want the truth spreading?”
Oh, brother. He didn’t have time for this.
Apparently the look on his face told Trish what she needed to know, because she quickly took the coffee pot to a nearby table, leaving him with a dozen questions he didn’t think either of them could answer.
But there was one person who could.
He pushed his way through the swinging doors into the kitchen. “Looks like word got out before the morning paper did.”
Elisa turned from the open oven, wearing a cloth mitt on each hand. “Noah.” Surprise lit her face as she deposited a cookie tray onto a waiting cooling rack. Then she nudged the oven door up with one foot. “What are you doing here?”
He was no expert in body language, but she seemed stressed. Over his sudden appearance? Regardless, it didn’t look like there’d be any launching today. “We need to talk—because apparently everyone else is.”
“What do you mean?” She finished shutting the oven door with her hip, then reached to stir something in a steel pot.
“The diner is buzzing with gossip. Everyone is staring. Trish asked me for an exclusive story like a rogue journalist. And—” He cut himself off as the scene before him registered. “You’re cooking.”
Elisa let out a strangled laugh, using the back of her oven mitt to swipe a tendril of hair from her face. “If you want to call it that.”
The kitchen doors opened and a young waiter rushed inside. His eyes were frenzied. “Table four?”
“Warmer.” Elisa pointed to the dishes waiting under a row of lights. “Can you take this one to twelve?” She handed off another plate, and the anxious kid left as quickly as he’d appeared.
Noah crossed his arms. “What’s going on?”
“Lucius is gone.” Elisa kept stirring the contents of the pot, even as she craned her neck to check the time on the wall clock.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s…missing. Didn’t show up to cook today.” She waved one mitt in the air.
Noah frowned. “But he was so invested in the Blossom after the fire. That doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes a lot more sense when you consider there’s also a substantial amount of petty cash and an expensive collection of cookware missing.”
Oh, man. Noah closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “So, you’re cooking.”
“I’m cooking.” She swallowed, her voice tight. “We’re shorthanded on waitstaff again today, and I can’t help because I’m back here. And Delia is out because the kitchen isn’t wheelchair accessible, and if she knew about any of this, she’d roll in here anyway and hurt herself worse.” Elisa’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat, then squared her shoulders. “But I’m fine. It’ll be fine.”
Noah fought the urge to wrap her in his arms, elephant and all. But he didn’t know what she wanted, and after Trish’s update, he definitely didn’t want to assume it was physical comfort from him.
But he did know what she needed.
He headed for the industrial sink and started washing his hands. “Where are the extra aprons?”
Elisa sniffed as she stared at him. “The what?”
Noah spied them hanging on a rack by the walk-in freezer, and grabbed one before she could protest. He quickly knotted it around his waist before heading for the warmers. “Where does this go?” He nodded to the waiting omelet.
“Table seven.”
That part was going to be a problem.
As if reading his mind, Elisa pointed. “The table closest to the back hallway, on the left.”
“Got it.” He grabbed a carafe for good measure and started for the doors, plate in hand.
“Noah?”
He turned, pressing backward into the door, and raised an eyebrow.
Her eyes shone. “Thank you.”
He nodded, avoiding her gaze so he wouldn’t be tempted to go for that hug again, and spun to face the café.
There might still be an elephant between him and Elisa, but he was heading straight into a diner full of piranhas.
* * *
Elisa rested one hip against the kitchen island, untying her apron with stiff fingers. Her feet hurt. Her lower back ached. But the kitchen smelled delicious, the Blossom’s customers were happy, and Delia, to the best of her knowledge, had no idea Lucius was a thief. She’d have to tell her so she could file a police report and an insurance claim.
But for a moment—just one—Elisa could take a deep breath and feel like maybe she’d accomplished something this morning. She’d cooked at the Blossom for the first time since her mom had passed.
And she hadn’t hated it.
It was a lot to process.
She took a bite of the cinnamon bun she’d nibbled on throughout the breakfast rush. Of course, this recent theft might clinch Delia’s decision to sell the café and that was an even harder thought to process, so for now, she simply chose not to.
The door swung open and Noah breezed through, brown tub full of dirty dishes braced against one hip. She set down her dessert and brushed off her hands. Speaking of a lot to process. Not only had Noah been filling in as a waiter for the past two hours, he’d started bussing tables when he saw the need.
A rush of appreciation swelled in her chest, and she checked her watch. The breakfast rush was over, and lunch wouldn’t start for another hour. They had a brief lull, and she planned to take full advantage.
She smiled. “Didn’t you say something earlier about us needing to talk?”
So much was left hanging from last night, and this morning’s discovery of the missing cash and cookware had sent her on an anxiety detour she’d had a hard time hiding from her employees. But now that the emergency had passed…
“I did.” Noah set the tub of dishes in the sink, then turned on the water, drowning out any chance of conversation.
“Nuh-uh.” Elisa ambled over to him as fast as her cramping calves would allow, and tugged at his sleeve. “You’ve done enough. Someone else can load the washer. Let’s talk.”
He didn’t face her, only remained standing at the sink with arms braced as he stared at the running water. “It can wait.”
Elisa frowned at his hardened profile. “It seemed pretty important earlier.”
Wasn’t it? Wasn’t she ? She fought the urge to give into the fear of rejection. She shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
But good gravy, he was making it hard.
“It’s not a big deal.” A muscle in his jaw flexed. “You’ve got a lot going on today. Speaking of, you should call Delia and file a police report. Lucius needs to be stopped.”
“I’ll get to that.” Was he stalling, or trying to be selfless? She inched closer to his braced arm and angled to face him.
He kept staring at the running water.
Definitely stalling. Her stomach clenched. “What did you want to tell me?” She’d gone from looking forward to this conversation to dreading it in a matter of seconds.
Noah finally shut off the faucet and turned to face her, one hip leaning against the sink. “It might be irrelevant now.”
For a man who hated riddles, he sure was puzzling. “Why?”
He let out a sigh. “Call me crazy, but I thought that kiss last night was pretty good.”
Elisa blinked. “Then I’m crazy too.”
“But Trish said that you said that we…that this…” he gestured listlessly between them “…was all in the past.”
Trish ? Why was he talking to her co-worker about them? Elisa struggled to keep up. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either.” Noah shrugged, his face drawn tight. “Because, not sure about you, but last night feels pretty recent to me.”
Frustration and confusion waged a battle to take over. She struggled to keep her feelings off her face. “Noah…”
Then it clicked. Her words to Trish and Delia in the diner’s kitchen that day Noah met with her dad for the inspection report. What were the exact expressions she’d used about her and Noah? Once upon a time…past tense .
Elisa groaned. “I said that to Trish when you first showed up here with my dad last week.” She lifted her brow. “I was referring to our actual past.”
His lips pressed together, his gaze narrowing then widening as understanding registered. “Oh.”
“Big oh .” Elisa tilted her head. “You’re telling me that all morning, you thought I regretted what happened last night?”
He lifted one shoulder, eyes averted. “I suppose so.”
“And you still helped me?” Her heart cracked a little. She reached for his arm, and this time, it relaxed under her touch.
“I suppose so.” He met her gaze, eyes cautious.
She traced a design on his arm with her finger, her pulse racing. “You still hauled away soggy waffles and cold eggs?”
A grin tilted his lips. “I suppose so.”
“I want to say something very not nice about Trish right now.” Elisa trailed her fingers down his arm until their hands joined. His fingers threaded with hers and her stomach flipped. “But I won’t.” Trish must have been confused, at best, or speaking from jealousy, at worst.
“I think we’ve given her way too much consideration already.” Noah moved their joined hands behind Elisa’s back and pulled her closer. Her free hand rested on his chest, his heart beating a runaway rhythm that matched her own. “There was something I really wanted to tell you.”
Elisa lifted her face toward his, their gazes tangling. “Yeah?”
His brown eyes deepened from morning blend to dark roast as they dropped to her lips and back up. “Yeah.”
Him looking at her like that…oh, bless it. The stress of the morning melted away under his gaze until theft didn’t exist anymore. Betrayal, worry over the hunt and the café and the future…it faded into black. There was just Noah, and the scent of his cinnamon gum and her cinnamon buns surrounding them, and the assuring weight of his hands on her waist as he studied her up close.
He felt like coming home. Which was sort of silly, considering how he’d left home once.
Left her…
No. She shook away the thought, searching his gaze, seeing no remnant of the young man who once hurt her. This time was different. He was different now.
Right?
Noah was going to kiss her again. Her back arched, ready. Her toes twitched, eager to propel her up and closer to his lips. Her fingers gripped his arms, steadying her as his gaze threatened to sweep her away.
But this kiss would be different, wouldn’t it? Every fiber in her tingling body knew it, and despite the urge to launch forward, logic kept her grounded. The kiss at the courthouse had been an impulsive chemical reaction, an inevitable simmering over of mutual desire and shared history.
This one would be intentional. No one could blame this time on hormones or familiarity or the past. If he kissed her this time, it would be full of promise…a whisper of a promise they hadn’t dared yet voice.
Memories of their time together lapped like the bay against the dock. Her shoulders stiffened. He had voiced it once, hadn’t he? Promised her forever.
And then quit.
She hesitated in his arms. “Noah, I don’t…we can’t make another mistake.”
* * *
Noah had been wrong—about a lot of things, and especially about whatever mess Trish had tried to create. But holding Elisa felt like righting every wrong he’d ever made.
Yet her comment about a mistake rang true.
Noah loosened his grip, struggling to decide who had just rejected whom even as he kept his hands on her waist. He couldn’t reel her in, but couldn’t let her go.
And hadn’t that been the case for twelve years?
Elisa allowed a few inches of space between them as her eyes searched his. What did his gaze reflect back? Did his face match the worry sketched across hers?
“I guess we still haven’t technically talked.” He eased back another inch and Elisa didn’t protest, gently sliding free of his arms until she rested both hands against the sink.
The moment had officially passed.
“Guess not.” She grinned half-heartedly, and his eyes followed the movement, a piece of him already missing the imagined contact with her lips.
But he had no business going there again with Elisa. The sheriff had a point about Hebert men. Wasn’t Noah living up to his lineage already? Now there were inappropriate rumors circulating around town, and while in this case they weren’t true, people wouldn’t notice that. They’d only remember how they were true about his father.
“I’ll start.” He drew a breath. “The kiss at the courthouse…” He shook his head. “Maybe I don’t have the words.”
“I’ll agree with that.” A shy, cautious smile edged across her lips.
“But the facts are…” He swallowed. “You’re probably right. Anything else would be a mistake. I’ve got my hands full with the inn, and I live in Shreveport now.”
Her smile sobered.
“I don’t want history to repeat itself.” If it did, he couldn’t blame anything on being a na?ve teenager.
He could only blame his legacy.
“You mean, the part where you left? Where summer ended as you walked away from me with a sunburned neck?”
“Yeah, that part.” Noah released a sigh. “We were kids.”
“We were in—” Elisa rolled in her lip.
“There’s more to that ending scene than my sunburn.” Noah crossed his arms over his chest.
“Maybe so. But it doesn’t matter, if you’re still moving back to Shreveport, does it?” Her eyes glistened. “When you finish fixing the inn, you’re leaving. Right?”
“That’s the plan.” He hesitated. “I don’t know that I could do anything differently.”
“I understand.” She offered a stiff nod. “I guess neither of us are in a good place for anything more than what it was. Just a kiss for old times’ sake.”
That landed like a gut punch. It was way more than that to him, but how could he express that to her without getting her hopes up for more?
He didn’t deserve her, and Magnolia Bay reminded him of that at every turn.
Noah’s phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn’t dare wrench his eyes from Elisa’s to check it. He reached to touch her hand, then thought better of it. “Do you need to say anything else?”
“No. I didn’t want to fight, anyway.” She pressed her fingers against her temples and massaged, and his arms ached to wrap her back up. To fight the reality they both knew was true. “But I will say thanks again for helping out. You’re quite the hero lately.”
“I don’t know about that.” Her words, obviously meant to encourage, to put them on calmer waters, only shone a light on the dark corners of himself he wanted to keep secret. “And for the record, I don’t want to fight either.”
His phone buzzed again, then twice more. He reached for his pocket. “I’m sorry, I really need to check this.”
“Of course.” Elisa waved him off, relief pouring off her delicate features. “I’ll head to the floor, see if anyone needs anything.” She pushed through the swinging doors and was gone before Noah could protest.
That hadn’t exactly gone as he’d hoped. But had anything between them?
With a sigh, he pulled his phone free and checked the display of missed messages. All from Owen. His hopes lifted. Finally, news about his loan request. Maybe this day could be salvaged after all. He eagerly clicked the message box.
Owen
Sorry, bad news.
Or not.
Owen
The bank is spread too thin. Your request was rejected.
He wasn’t surprised. But this, along with the deadline August had sprung on them, put a lot more pressure on finding the last few clues.
Noah closed his eyes. What was he going to do if they couldn’t pull it off in time? At this point, he couldn’t cover the cost of the mold mitigation crew coming to work on the Blue Pirogue Monday. The deposit was already on his personal credit card.
Dad couldn’t have been right when he warned him about the inn and Grandpa’s will. Noah refused to believe Russell Hebert was right about anything , but especially this. He opened his eyes and read the next message.
Owen
Approvals are like catching unicorns right now.
Noah shook his head. They should wrangle Owen in with the emoji usage.
Owen
I used every connection I had and could only get you approved for a grand. $
He winced. A thousand bucks was something, but not enough to make a dent. Not enough to make it worth the additional hit to Noah’s credit.
But none of that was Owen’s fault.
Noah typed back his response.
Noah
I appreciate it, bro. Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something else out.
He pocketed his phone and headed for the mostly deserted café floor. There was nothing to tell Elisa—she didn’t know about the loan request, about his previous temptation to ditch the hunt, or how much pressure all of this added. Elisa had too much on her own plate to worry about.
But now they really needed to find clue four—even if that meant combing all of the local churches from top to bottom. Hopefully, they could still work together after the awkward conversation just now. Maybe tomorrow afternoon they could meet up and get started. Maybe once they started looking, something would magically click for Elisa like it had before.
Funny how fast she’d become his only hope.
Noah spotted her standing by a table in the corner. He headed that way, hoping to further clear the air between them, then realized about two footsteps too late it was Pastor Dubois’s table. Had the pastor heard the courthouse rumors about him and Elisa, too?
A rush of shame worked its way up Noah’s chest. But that was ridiculous. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe they wouldn’t see?—
“Noah!” Pastor Dubois rose from his chair, tucking his Bible under his arm. “I thought I saw you swoop past me earlier with a tray. Are you working here?”
Noah approached, intentionally keeping his head lifted. Maybe if he thought of the man as Owen’s father and not as the pastor whose church he’d been avoiding… “No, sir. Just helping out while Delia is laid up.”
Elisa’s smile was genuine as she beamed up at the reverend. “Pastor here is one of the Blossom’s best booth warmers. He’ll stay from one rush to another every Saturday and give me a reason to keep the coffee on.”
“Well, He-brews is my favorite book in the Bible.” Pastor Dubois winked, and extended his hand to Noah. A smattering of gray sprinkled his otherwise dark goatee. He was fit, with close-cut salt and pepper hair, and laugh lines that hinted his age was a bit higher than he looked. “It’s good to see you. You’re friends with Owen, right?”
Noah nodded as he returned the firm shake. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll grab that to-go cup for you, Pastor.” Elisa darted off before Noah could figure out a facial expression that would ask her not to leave him alone.
Mr. Dubois rocked back on his heels, arms crossed over his dry-fit polo as he surveyed Noah. “I hear things aren’t going very well over at the Blue Pirogue.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Was that too negative? Noah was rusty. How was one supposed to talk to a pastor? He quickly added, “But I’m sure it’ll all work out. God’s plan and all.”
The pastor’s assessing gaze never left Noah’s face. “I’ve been praying for just that.”
“You have?” Noah stilled. He wasn’t sure why that surprised him, but it did. Had Owen asked his dad to pray when Noah requested the loan? “Thank you.”
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for—and to talk about anything bothering any of my parishioners.” He clapped one hand on Noah’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Anything at all.”
His eyes, wise and discerning, implied something specific, but what, Noah wasn’t sure. His rotten family tree? The recent rumors with Elisa? The inn’s financial woes?
Noah dipped his chin. “I appreciate that.” Not that he’d take him up on it. But the gesture was friendly—not at all judging.
It was a nice change.
Elisa returned, to-go cup in hand. “Here you go, Pastor.”
“Great, thanks.” The older man smiled as he took the coffee. “So, I’ll see you two in church tomorrow?”
Noah stiffened. The pastor hadn’t seemed like he was church-hunting during their conversation, though. He’d seemed authentic. Noah felt certain he could say no and the man wouldn’t think less of him.
Elisa’s gaze darted to Noah’s, as if seeking permission before answering. He appreciated that, too. But it also added to the pressure.
Then her words spoken from the library courtyard echoed in his head. Maybe you should try again…
He decided to listen to that voice and not to the one taunting him, reminding him that he would never be worthy of Elisa. She’d all but rejected him again in the kitchen. But this wasn’t about them.
This was about something bigger.
Something about him .
Noah swallowed. And to add to the growing list of shocking things happening that Saturday morning, he nodded slowly. “I’ll be there.”
Elisa and Mr. Dubois turned matching surprised expressions in his direction, ones that mirrored how Noah felt. He offered a little shrug.
“Glad to hear it!” The older man recovered quickly, saluting Noah with his coffee cup. “I think you’ll be glad you did.”
Noah averted his eyes from Elisa’s curious assessment as they told the reverend goodbye. They had to look for the next clue anyway, right? Maybe they’d find it at Pastor Dubois’s church.
And he had the sudden sense that maybe, just maybe, he’d find a little something else.