Chapter 25
25
A very was exhausted by the time she filled her cases at Finley’s Market with fresh desserts. She might have gotten a top-of-the-world jump start on her afternoon, thanks to Trace’s midday delight earlier, but now at 6:00 p.m., after hours of fielding gossip over the events at the café earlier, she felt annoyed and oddly blue. Avery kept her head down, hoping everyone could read the don’t-even-think-about-bringing-it-up tension in her expression.
She knew chatter over the search would die down in a day or two. And she knew the truth about Trace. But the looks in people’s eyes when they asked her about the incident—their doubt in Trace, their concern for Avery’s well-being in his presence, and their twisted excitement over something “else” bad happening at the “The Bad Seed,” as if the building would forever be the dive that drew trouble—was testing her patience and her good will.
“What did you bring us today?” Shannon’s voice turned Avery’s attention to one of the store’s owners, who was also one of Avery’s good friends from high school. Her bright smile put a little sparkle back in Avery’s day.
“Nothing but the best sugary goodness ever, and some exclusive new recipes.”
“Oooh,” Shannon cooed, eyeing the case. “Tell.”
Avery piled the last of the brownies just so, creating the most attractive display when viewed from the front. “This is my trifecta of brownies.” She pressed her finger to the top shelf. “These are my milky way caramel fantasy chews?—”
“Oh my God.” Shannon rested one hand on her pregnant belly, her big dark eyes glazing over.
Avery grinned and moved her hand down a tray. “These are my pumpkin-kissed cheesecake bites.”
“Oh dear.”
“And these”—she pointed to the last shelf—“are my Bailey’s Irish Cream truffle twists.”
“Oh.” The hand Shannon had resting on her belly jumped, and she started laughing. “He really liked the sound of those. Must take after his daddy. Oh!” Another jump. “Jeez, kid.”
She grabbed Avery’s hand, laid it in the same spot, and covered it with hers. As if his mother had orchestrated it, the baby kicked again. Avery sucked a breath and laughed, an airy, fluttery, slightly uneasy laugh, not quite sure how she felt about the whole baby thing.
“Wow,” she said, pulling her hand away. “He’s strong.”
“My ribs and my back are none too happy about that.”
But no one would know. Shannon was glowing from the inside out.
A pang of mixed emotions kept Avery’s belly floating for an uncomfortable stretch, while Shannon chattered about the pregnancy, then about business at the store. Avery listened with one ear while her mind drifted to the sweet bundle of love growing inside Shannon and how desperately Avery had wanted a baby once upon a time. In the early years, when she’d believed she and David would be married forever and those long deployments had become the loneliest stretches of her life.
As soon as she’d realized their marriage needed real work, the idea of a baby drifted to the farthest reaches of her mind. After her childhood, bringing a baby into a turbulent world had been the very last thing she wanted to do.
But now she thought of Trace, of how patient and gentle he was with his father. Of how he’d sacrificed his own freedom, his very life, for the love of his family. How he continued to sacrifice, all without ever complaining. And Avery realized he was exactly the kind of man who deserved to be a father the most. He was exactly the kind of man she would want as a father to her child.
And... whoa . Whoa, whoa, whoa . A spinning burst of sparks lit off inside her, like a pinwheel sparkler at a Fourth of July parade.
No, wrong direction, Avery.
Talk about turbulence. If today was any indication, Trace’s life was far more turbulent than Avery had ever imagined.
But even as she tried to beat her mind back into alignment with her goals as a single businesswoman, her thoughts were as ethereal as ghosts and kept drifting toward different scenarios. Scenarios she had no business dreaming about.
Shannon waved a paper in front of her, and Avery was grateful for the distraction. “Your sales are through the roof,” Shannon was saying. “I can’t keep your products in stock. Anytime you want to increase your deliveries, or mass-produce or incorporate or go IPO or something, let me know.”
Attached to the paper was a check. A nice check that eased the perpetual tension across Avery’s shoulders. “Wow.” She frowned, thinking back over the month. “Is this really what you owe me?”
“Don’t you keep your own books?”
“Uh, well, yeah. Sort of. I mean, I do, but, God, I’m so busy. When I’m dealing with someone like you, who I trust, I have to admit, I let the daily numbers slide. I just don’t have time.”
Shannon pushed the paper with all the accounting details of Avery’s sales into her hand. “Well, hire my bookkeeper with part of this.” She tugged a length of tape from the register and wrote down a name and a number, then offered that to Avery, too. “She’s fabulous and she’s affordable. Don’t leave your finances to chance or trust, no matter how much you like someone. You never know anyone as well as you think you do, especially not when money or emotions are involved.”
“Thanks.” She folded the paper and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Guess I should know better, right?”
“Oh,” Shannon said, frowning. “Honey, I didn’t mean you and David. I was talking about business.”
“It’s okay. I think it applies across the board.” Avery smiled. “I’ll call your bookkeeper and sit down with Delaney to talk about ways to increase production. Guess I need to hire even more people than I thought. Keep your eyes open for me, will you?”
“Sure thing. I may have a couple of leads. I’ll text you.”
She hugged Shannon. “Thanks.” Pulling back, Avery told Shannon’s belly, “Behave, young man,” making Shannon laugh.
Avery said good-bye to Rita and greeted several regular customers on her way out. She was thinking about where to reinvest the extra money burning a hole in her back pocket when she heard her name.
And cringed inside.
She stopped and turned to MaryAnn Holmes waving from her car.
“Ah, shit ,” she whispered. And as the other woman hurried toward her, the worst kind of dread pooled in Avery’s stomach.
MaryAnn pulled her aside near the line of newspaper racks outside the store. Avery forced an easy smile as if she didn’t know what this was about. As if she could evade the inevitable by pretending it wasn’t going to happen.
“I’m glad I ran into you.” MaryAnn spoke quietly, her expression too intense for small talk.
“I hope everything is fine with Willow.”
“Yes, yes. Fine. But that’s why I stopped you.” She was already shaking her head, and tears of frustration and futility were already clogging her throat. “What happened at the café this morning—it’s a deep concern.”
“MaryAnn, it was all a mistake,” Avery said, using her best voice of compassion. “A rumor that was nothing but a lie. The police came, they looked around, they found nothing, and they left. End of story.”
Oh, but no. That was not the end of the story—not for MaryAnn. Her eyes flashed with anger. “Just because they didn’t find anything didn’t mean it was a mistake or a lie. And I don’t want Willow anywhere near that. What if she’d been there and the police had found something? What if she’d somehow gotten caught up in the blame?”
“MaryAnn—”
“I’m sorry, Avery. I know how much you need her, and I know how much she was looking forward to working for you, but she’s applying for colleges soon, and with all the cutbacks and how difficult it is to get in now, I can’t take any risks. Willow won’t be working for you.”
No, no, no. Avery felt the ground shift beneath her feet. She closed a hand on the other woman’s arm. “MaryAnn, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. I don’t need Willow to start for a couple of weeks. We can postpone training if that would make you feel more comfortable.”
“What would make me feel comfortable is having her work somewhere where the other employees are not ex-convicts.”
“Trace isn’t going to be there when Willow?—”
But MaryAnn turned and walked toward the store’s entrance, leaving Avery standing there with her mouth hanging open and a knife in her back.
Avery took a breath and waited for the sting of hurt to subside.
Then she took another to control the wave of fear that rose in the wake of pain.
When both emotions rushed back in a moment later and tears blurred her vision, Avery walked past her car and continued down Main Street until she reached Wildcard Brews.
She pushed through the front door and saw Delaney toward the back of the open space, talking to someone on a ladder beside a huge metal tank in the pilot brew room. She glanced toward Avery with concerned curiosity instead of her normal cheerful greeting. Her sister had called earlier to check on her after word of what happened at the café circulated around town.
Then Avery had assured Delaney she was fine.
Now . . .
“Do you have a minute?” Avery asked.
Without hesitation, Delaney started toward her. Avery must have looked as bad as she felt because her sister slid her arm around her and pulled her into the office. After she closed the door, Delaney dragged Avery into a hug.
The unconditional show of support and love gave Avery the safety net she needed to let go, and once the tears started, they kept falling and falling.
Delaney held her tight, stroked her hair, and whispered reassurances with the confidence of a goddamned bullfighter entering the ring, just like she had when their mother left.
“I know how hard this is, but you’re strong, Avery. You’re so strong. So much stronger than I am.” Like she had all those nights Avery woke to nightmares. “Whether this is about Trace or the café or David, whatever it is, we’ll work it out together.” Like she had when the kids at school made fun of her. “I promise you everything’s going to work out.” Like she had when their father yelled or hit them. “You’re not alone, Avery.”
And just when she’d cried herself out, a soft knock sounded on the door.
Avery didn’t look up. She covered her face and wiped at the mess with both hands.
“Do I need to kick someone’s ass?” Ethan’s low, steely voice, laced with just the right amount of this-is-becoming-a-regular-thing made Avery burst out laughing.
But her exhaustion sucked away the relief like a vacuum. “MaryAnn Holmes,” she said, pulling in a shaky breath and cutting a look at Ethan. “Think you can take her?”
His handsome face went deadly serious. Eyes narrowed, mouth tight in a contemplative frown. His light eyes darted toward Delaney, who gave him a yeah-probably nod and shrug.
To which Ethan said, “She doesn’t drink beer anyway. Consider it done.”
And he left, closing the door.
Avery started laughing again, and only when Delaney gave him a thumbs-up through the glass did Ethan wander away to give the sisters privacy.
“God, he’s a dream,” Avery said.
“He is. And it took me a damn long time to find him.” Delaney reached out and tucked Avery’s hair behind her ear. “Want to tell me what happened with MaryAnn?”
That almost unbearable weight came down on Avery again, and she grabbed a box of Kleenex off the bookcase nearby to wipe her face and blow her nose. Then heaved a stuttering sigh and said, “She doesn’t want Willow working at the café because of what happened this morning.”
Delaney frowned, shaking her head. “Because . . . ?”
Avery explained and Delaney made a that’s-ridiculous sound. “I’m sorry.” She propped her elbow on her desk and propped her chin in her hand. “We’ll have to put our heads together and come up with some alternatives. You might just have to train someone from scratch. Is that really all this breakdown was about?”
“I think it was just the straw. Everything’s been building.” She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms. “Why’d you hire Trace?” When Delaney frowned, Avery clarified, “You seemed to know he had good character even though he’d been to prison. How did you know you could trust him? Everyone is so ready to jump to the worst possible conclusion.”
Delaney thought about it for a second. “I first met Trace back when I was dating Chip. He was the one who?—”
“Got in the fight at the bar and killed Ian.”
“Right.” Her smoky-blue eyes grew even darker. “But he was also a very successful drug dealer. And there were several times when Trace bought from him while Chip and I were together.”
Avery sat forward, frowning. “Then how could you?—”
“One, because he was buying prescription drugs. You don’t have to hang around drug dealers long to figure out that men Trace’s age don’t buy prescription drugs for themselves. They buy them to sell or they buy them for someone else.”
“And two?”
“He didn’t buy enough to sell.”
“Is there a three?”
“His father was always waiting in the car.”
Yes, Avery could see it. She nodded.
“You don’t look surprised,” Delaney said.
“I figured it out on my own. Why didn’t you tell me this?”
Delaney lifted a shoulder. “Because it was really neither here nor there. He bought drugs illegally and went to prison for buying drugs illegally. He knew it was wrong, but he still did it. I’m not saying I don’t feel for the guy—I mean, who would understand more than us, right?”
Avery nodded.
“But the biggest reason I didn’t bring it up,” Delaney said, looking a little sheepish, “is because from the first day you met him, I saw the spark between you two. And because I know you’ve got a heart the size of Asia . And because I knew you’d do what you’re doing right now.”
“And what’s that?”
“Discounting the fact that he was convicted of a crime because he did it for what he thought was the right reason.”
Avery propped her elbow on the desk and leaned her forehead into her hand, glad she was so tired. If she weren’t this would have started a fight. “And that would be bad because...”
“It’s a little hard to adequately put into words.”
Delaney took a deep breath and released it in a measured stream. She thought for a moment before speaking.
“Regardless of the reason Trace did what he did, regardless of the circumstances under which he did it, the bottom line is he ended up in prison. He spent three years in a maximum-security prison. For three years, one thousand days, twenty-four hours a day, Trace lived, ate, drank, slept, and breathed with real criminals. Men who murdered, raped, stole, conned, cheated, lied, and otherwise broke heavy-duty laws to get in there.
“Chip ran with guys like that. Hell, I’ve dated guys like that. And when I told you that Trace has scars, I meant that there is no way Trace could have lived through that and come out the same harmless kid who went in.”
Delaney heaved a breath, sat back, and leaned her temple against her fist. “I trust Trace with the business, with the building, with your opening date. But do I trust Trace with my baby sister?”
She made an I’m-not-so-sure face. “Do I trust Trace with my baby sister who loves all creatures great and small, and who just got out of a shitty marriage and deserves the world?”
She made another face, this one pained. “I would love to say yes, because I recognize the look in your eye when you’re with him. But...I can’t. I’m sorry, Avery. Your safety comes first for me.”
Avery’s head came up, and she gave her sister a disbelieving, “My safety?”
“You know what I mean. The safety of your heart. The safety of your future. The safety of the life you’re trying to build here. This incident with MaryAnn is the very problem that will forever plague Trace, the same way my past will, in some ways, forever plague me.” Delaney squeezed Avery’s hand and blew her own struggles off with, “I’ve tarnished the Hart name enough for three generations. I’d like you to have a life that’s bright and shiny.”
Avery laughed softly, torn between appreciation for Delaney’s love and frustration over...over what? Over the fact that Trace wasn’t all he should be for Avery to risk her heart?
Her phone chimed, and Avery closed her eyes with a groan. “Oh my God, if this is bad news, I seriously might go postal.”
Delaney offered her hand, palm up. “Let me look.”
Avery handed the phone over to her sister and covered her face. “If it’s bad, I don’t want to know.”
“Mmm, doesn’t sound bad.”
Avery took a cautious peek from beneath her lashes.
“Sounds like Trace has a surprise waiting back at the café.”
“Really?” Avery’s load instantly lightened. “Does it say what? Dare I hope it’s a finished roof?”
Delaney handed the phone back with a smirk. “Telling what the surprise is generally ruins said surprise. And he’s a man. I doubt his surprise has anything to do with a roof.”
Avery took the phone and tried not to seem like her whole day had turned around with one text from Trace, but...“If it’s not a roof, I hope it’s a clone of me. Or maybe five. One for baking. One for marketing. One for business. One for recipe development.”
“One for sex,” Delaney added in a smart-ass I-know-you’re-going-to-do-it-even-though-I-told-you-not-to tone.
Avery stood and matched Delaney’s playful smirk with an extra dose of attitude. “Oh, hell no. No freaking clone is going to take the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Delaney rolled her eyes. “So much for one night.”
Laughing, Avery hugged her sister. “Thank you. And I do hear you. I just...” She pulled back and met Delaney’s eyes.
Delaney shook her head and stroked a hand down Avery’s hair. “You don’t have to explain. I’ve got my own ‘I just’ right out there.” She hooked her thumb toward the door.