Chapter 16
Grace stood at the kitchen window and watched the lake go from pewter to silver as the eastern sky gradually won its argument with the dark. The coffee pot on the counter was hot and fresh, and she loved starting each day with this small kindness she hadn’t asked for.
Reno’d started grinding beans and setting the coffeemaker’s timer each night before he went to bed, along with folding the throw blanket on the back of the porch couch and taking out the trash if the kitchen bin was full.
It had been a long time since anyone did little things for her to let her know she mattered.
She’d spent the past five years telling herself she was done having anyone in her life pay close attention to her and show her affection in the small, every day ways that added up to being well and truly loved.
Last night he’d called her babe. Liam had never called her that. It was the first term of endearment that was purely Reno’s for her, and she’d gone to sleep still smiling about it.
A thin orange line lit the mountains in the east. She drank the coffee Reno’d made for her and listened to the cottage wake up around her. The fridge hummed, the maple in the side yard fussed with itself in a small wind, and Reno’s bedroom door gave its familiar squeak.
He came into the kitchen a minute later with wet hair and his brace on under his jeans. “Morning,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep, which made it sound even more attractive than usual.
“Good morning,” she replied with a smile.
He poured himself a coffee and stood beside her at the window. His hand wasn’t six inches from hers on the counter. Neither of them moved their hand.
“You’re up early,” he said. “Sleep okay?”
“Better than I expected,” she said.
“Mm.”
The Steele mm was a thing Tessa had warned her about. It meant I heard you, I have an opinion, I am not going to share my opinion, please continue.
“What’s on your agenda today?” she asked.
“I expect the papers from Tara’s lawsuit to be served to you, today.”
Alarm shot through her and she tensed beside him.
He must’ve sensed it because he said quickly, “A person you’ve probably never seen before will walk into the bakery and ask if you’re there.
When you come out, he or she will step forward quickly, and possibly aggressively, and shove the papers at you.
He or she will say something like, ‘you’ve been served’ and then leave immediately.
Process servers tend to be rude and aggressive because habitual criminals tend to hide from them or physically run away. ”
“Sounds delightful,” she replied dryly.
“Maybe have Mary work the front counter today and tell her to send anyone who asks for you into the kitchen to see you. At least that way you won’t get served in front of customers.”
“Good idea.” She sighed, hating everything about it, though.
“Never fear. Then I’m going to make Tara and her lawyer’s morning interesting.”
“You sound like you’re looking forward to it.”
“I haven’t looked forward to ruining someone’s morning this much in years,” he said pleasantly, as if he were commenting on the weather.
She looked at him and he looked at her. She smiled first, and he followed suit.
“You’re very good at ruining people’s morning, aren’t you?”
His smiled widened. “You have no idea.”
“Tell me,” she said softly. “How good a lawyer are you?”
“I was named one of the top ten litigators in the country four years in a row by a top legal magazine. Made it up to number three on the list the last year I was practicing law.”
“In the country?” she echoed, shocked.
He merely shrugged and asked. “Lily up yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Good.” He set his mug down. “I want you to know what all I’m filing today.”
“All right.”
He told her. Countersuit for filing a frivolous lawsuit.
Countersuit for libel, pending Cooper tracing the dead-fly email to a computer owned by Tara Marchand.
Countersuit for slander, predicated on a deposition of Mary’s sister, which he believed he could break under cross.
Three more countersuits for harassment, stalking, and criminal mischief.
She set her coffee down. “That’s six lawsuits.”
“I’m holding two more in reserve in case I need them.”
“Will the judge let you file six lawsuits?”
“He has no choice. He won’t be pleased, that’s for sure.
” He picked up his mug again. “Tara’s lawyer is going to look at his caseload this afternoon and ask his secretary to clear his calendar for the next two weeks.
By tomorrow, he’ll have read all my filings, and he’ll call Tara to ask her if she really wants to do this.
He may even resign as her counsel. If he doesn’t resign, he’s going to try to convince her to settle her lawsuit with you. ”
“And you don’t want her to settle.”
“I do not.”
She studied him. His voice was cold and certain again. Not unkind. She could not even, honestly, call it unfriendly. But she wouldn’t want to be on the other side if a courtroom from him .
“You’re scary,” she said.
“Only on Thursdays.”
“Ha ha,” she replied. “Eat something. It takes a lot energy being that scary.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She put two pieces of bread in the toaster and pulled the butter out of the fridge. She set a plate at his elbow and he took it without comment. She was discovering that Reno didn’t argue about food. He took it when she gave it to him and he ate it without performance.
Liam had been a performance eater. Every meal had been an event. Honey, you outdid yourself this time. This is the best sandwich on Earth. Lily got that gene. Reno didn’t have it. Reno ate his toast and his quiet was its own kind of compliment.
She hadn’t expected to find that restful, but she did.
The rest of the morning routine was uneventful. Lily woke up somewhat less grumpy than usual, but by the time she’d finished breakfast was back to her usual sunny self. They all got ready for the day, and by the time she and Lily were ready to walk out, he was at the back door holding his keys.
It occurred to her that he had become part of their morning routine, now. She wasn’t going to know what to do without him when the stalker was caught and he returned to his own life. She was going to miss him. A lot.
Mary was already in the kitchen when Grace let herself in. That was the first wrong thing. Mary never got here before six.
Mary also had on yesterday’s shirt and her hair was up in a messy knot. Mary’s hair was never messy. She was kneading bread dough as if it was the problem in her life.
Grace tied on her apron and watched Mary. Her assistant didn’t look up. Didn’t speak at all. Mary put the dough in the proofing drawer and reached for the next round of dough without even looking at her boss.
“You all right?” Grace asked gently.
“I’m fine.”
“Mary.”
“I said I’m fine, Grace.”
She let it be. Mary would tell her in her own time.
By six-forty-five, the proof drawer was full and the front case had its first run of the day’s scones. Tessa came in with her tablet computer, complaining about a bride who’d wanted lavender lace and was now demanding ecru.
“I don’t even think she knows what ecru is,” Tessa declared. “She sent Charlotte three swatches, and none of them were ecru.”
“Sounds like it’s whatever color she wants it to be this week.”
“I swear, I should add an ecru surcharge.”
“Do it.” Grace handed her a scone.
“How are you?” Tessa said.
“I’m fine.”
“Mm-hmm. Is he in teddy bear mode or scary in lawyer mode?”
“Full scary lawyer. I would be terrified if I had to go up against him.”
“Excellent. If you have to bring a shark to a problem, you want your shark to be the biggest one in the room.”
Tara Marchand’s shark arrived at ten-twenty.
She was in the back, boxing six dozen sugar cookies for a baby shower, when the bell jingled. She heard men’s dress shoes crossing the shop floor and looked up sharply.
The man wore a tie that didn’t match his shirt, had a manila envelope under his arm, and slouched in an apologetic posture. He met her gaze and she immediately gestured for him to join her in the kitchen.
Thank God Reno had told her what to expect this morning.
As he stepped into the back, she casually moved the brick aside with her foot and closed the door between the shop and kitchen.
She wiped her hands on her apron as she said pleasantly, “I’m Grace O’Donnell. I believe you have something for me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He held out the envelope. He said kindly, “You’ve been served.”
She took it., and he looked at her with pity. She picked up a sugar cookie and held it out to him. “Have a cookie. You look like you could use it.”
He looked startled and took it. “Have a good morning,” he said warmly.
“You, too.”
He left, smiling and munching on the cookie. The two ladies who’d been deciding between the lemon and almond tea cakes didn’t look up. The baby-shower lady walked in, paid for her cookies, and left without registering that anything had happened.
She made a mental note to thank Reno for preparing her for that. As it was, there would be no gossip around town about her being taken to court. At least, not yet.
Grace turned to put the envelope in her bag on its hook by the back door, and Mary was standing in the pantry doorway holding a tray of buns, her face the color of new flour.
The woman blurted, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Mary opened her mouth. Closed it. Set the tray down, pressed a hand to her stomach, and shook her head, twice. “I—I should’ve said something. Should’ve spoken up a while ago. I’m sorry.”
“About your sister?”
Mary nodded.
Grace took a breath and held it and let it out slowly the way her grandmother had taught her to do when she needed to say the next thing right. “Mary. Look at me.”
Mary looked at her.
“We’re going to talk. Today. After we close. We’ll work through it together, all right?”
“All right.”
“And Mary? Whatever you tell me, you’ll still have a job tomorrow and a friend tomorrow. I just need to know what’s been going on.”