Chapter 26
Finally. It’s done.
I sit back in Winona’s desk chair and press a hand to my chest, cock my head. Allow myself to feel.
Is it possible? I think I do feel lighter. Like I can breathe. Because The Green Robin business plan is complete.
Well, it’s ready for Blake’s perusal, anyway. He offered to take a look weeks ago, but I wanted it as perfect as possible first. And while I don’t think it’s a masterpiece by any means, it’s the best I’m capable of doing on my own.
And that’s enough.
Elisse’s words from last week drift back to me: “You’re taking way too much on yourself with the restaurant.” Ever since she said that, I’ve been processing why keeping the restaurant thriving has felt so important. Whether it’s more about Winona…or me.
And when I decided to remove the burden of proving something to myself—and to the whole town—then I was able to do it from a purely selfless place. The pressure went away. And now, I can do my best for my friend and know that it’s enough.
I smile, and my stomach gurgles. Patting it, I close the laptop lid and stand, stretching. “Time to celebrate with some good food,” I say aloud to myself. And who wants to celebrate alone?
I know just where to go.
Heading to The Green Robin’s kitchen, I find Tiny cleaning up from a decently successful night. “You save me anything good?” I peek over his massive shoulder to find him wrapping up a few roast beef sandwiches.
Grunting, he turns and pushes them into my hand. “Knew you’d be hungry when you finally emerged.”
I laugh and press a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “Thank you, Tiny.”
He rubs the spot I kissed, and I swear the guy actually blushes. Then he turns me by the shoulders and gives me a little push out the door. “Get outta here.”
“Night!” I yell as I scurry out of the kitchen toward the front.
Jenny and Jake are holding onto broom handles and flirting in the dining room. They straighten when they see me and wave. “Night, Boss!”
For once, I don’t bristle at the title. Maybe because I know I won’t be the boss for much longer—just a month until Winona and her daughter return. Or maybe I’ve just realized that I’m not solely responsible for the rise or fall of this place. It’s a team effort, and like my friends said, whether it succeeds or fails doesn’t have any bearing on my own identity.
As I head out the door and down the front steps, I can’t help but frown at the darkened food truck sitting on the edge of the Robin’s property. Blake is back in L.A. for the night—a single, measly night—and I miss him already. When he was dropping me off at my bedroom door last night after our date, he told me about this quick jaunt he has to take up to L.A. for some meetings and restaurant business.
I hated the reminder that there’s another life waiting for him. Away from me.
How am I ever going to survive it when he leaves for good? I mean, at least I still have a little over month before that happens. Maybe things will be different between us by then. Maybe we will somehow discover the answer during that time. All I know is that last night’s date set a new tone to our relationship.
And yes, I’m calling it a relationship. I know Blake hasn’t promised me anything, but the look in his eyes when he said “You’re everything”?
I’m pretty sure that man is as gone for me as I am for him.
Still don’t know where that leaves us once he has to move back to Los Angeles, but we have weeks to figure it out. In the meantime, I have to tell his sister about us. I’m sure my best friend suspects something is up—what with our behavior at the beach party three nights ago—but I didn’t want to say anything until after our date.
I cross Main Street, but it’s mostly deserted at this hour. The only place still open is The Black Hole, where the occasional hyped-up tourist scurries inside for some dancing.
As for me, I head for The Blackberry Muffin just south of the bar.
When I get there, I go around to the back and knock on the door that leads into the kitchen. Marilee pops it open, and her eyes widen in surprise. “Hey!” Not surprisingly, her purple apron is splattered with flour, and there’s frosting on the tip of her nose. “What are you doing here?”
“Just came to chat.” I hold up the bag of sandwiches. “And I figured you hadn’t taken the time to eat.”
“I’ve been busy.” Even though her shoulders are drooping, there’s a brightness to her eyes, which can only mean one thing—she’s decorating cakes. I already knew this, because she told me she’d be working late, and she doesn’t ever bake the normal stuff at this hour. Marla Thompkins, the owner, doesn’t want the specialty orders to interfere with Marilee’s normal duties during the day, so she’s limited the number of orders Marilee can take.
Marilee’s turned away a lot of customers.
“Business is good, huh?” I pop through the door and shut it with my foot, then deposit the food in the only free space on the large yellow island made of swirly slabs of granite. The rest is taken up by Marilee’s tools of the trade: bowls, flour, sugar, food coloring, spatulas, and a three-tiered cake that’s frosted white and half decorated with iced roses. A piping bag with a bit of red icing is lying on its side next to the cake. “Wow, that’s looking great.” And as one who’s been the happy recipient of Marilee’s baking before, I’m sure it tastes even better.
“You think?” She’s worrying her bottom lip, and her hair starts to fall from the bun shoved on top of her head like an afterthought. “I’m not sure I like how it’s turning out.”
“Here, take a break and eat with me.” I slide onto one of the three black stools sitting under the island’s lip. “Then you can let it percolate.”
“Okay.” She agrees so easily, and that’s when I notice the bags under her eyes. The slowness of her smile.
The woman is running herself ragged.
“Mare, you look like you’re about to pass out. I’m not sure burning the candles at both ends is good for you.”
“Look who’s talking, lady. You’ve been working just as hard.”
“But that’s temporary.” I toss her a sandwich. “How long do you think you can keep taking cake orders and doing your normal job too?”
She rubs between her eyes, just above the bridge of her glasses. “I don’t want to stop decorating cakes.” Then she sighs. “But maybe you’re right.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. Why don’t you quit your job and start your own business? You’re talented enough, and clearly there’s a demand for it.”
Marilee frowns and doesn’t answer me. She needs time. Silently, we each unwrap a sandwich and take a bite. Mmm. The tangy mayo jives so well with the crisp lettuce and the savory beef. Maybe could use a touch of mustard…
And that makes me think once again of Blake. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Sweet macaroni, I’m ridiculous. But I still can’t help a small smile from creeping across my face.
“What?” Marilee studies me, her tired eyes still observant.
“Nothing.”
“I thought you came to chat.”
“But we were chatting about you, not me.”
“You’re not going to tell me why you really came over here tonight?”
Ha. The irony. “I’ll tell you if you tell me what you’re thinking.”
She chews, and something beeps over the oven. Maybe the clock. Finally, she sighs. “While I’d like to start my own business, I can’t.”
“Because of the debt?”
“Yeah. And because…Lucy, I’ve already made a mess of my life. This job…I don’t have anything else.”
“Thanks a lot.” I stick out my tongue. “I’m sure Blake and Jordan and all of our other friends would love knowing that you consider us nothing.”
Despite my teasing, she grabs my arm, her eyes wide with regret. “You know that’s not what I meant. You all mean the world to me. But baking helps me feel close to my mom. And what if I give up the only job in this town that allows me to bake for a living to pursue something that might not pay the bills? That might utterly fail?”
I pat her hand. “If that happened—and I’m sure that it wouldn’t—then we would all be there for you. We’d help you get back on your feet.”
“I’m sure you’d do what you could.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
She smiles, but it’s wobbly. “I can’t rely on you all to fix my messes, friend. Blake’s got his own thing going on, and even though I know he’d help pay off the debts, I would never let him. And Jordan’s got enough on his plate trying to run his own business and juggle being a good dad to Ryder, who misses his mom more every day.” Then she swallows. “And someday, you’re all going to have your own families. Even Jordan will get married, and you know that whoever he marries is not going to be okay with him helping out his old pal Marilee.”
I don’t say what I’m thinking—that if Jordan were to marry anyone, it would be Marilee. The guy’s clearly crazy for her, and she’s the only one who doesn’t see it. “All of that may be true, but you know we will never be too busy for you.”
“Not intentionally. But it won’t be the same if you don’t live here anymore.”
The words are ice to my heart. “What? Who says I’m going anywhere?”
She blanches. “I guess I just assumed.”
Wha—? Oh. “You mean because…”
And that makes her laugh, which is a lovely sound. If only it didn’t come at my expense. “Because I assume you and my brother are an item after the way you snuck off to make out like high schoolers on Friday night. And snuck out of the house yesterday morning and were gone all day.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I could hear the flirting through the walls.” She shakes her head at me. “Was that what you were coming over here to chat about?”
“Yes! I didn’t want you hearing it from someone else. Or to feel like I was keeping things from you.” I tilt my head. Now for the question of the hour. “Do you…mind?”
“Why would I mind two of my favorite people finding love together?”
“Oh. Well, I don’t know about love.” Or do I?
Marilee rolls her eyes. “Girl, I’ve seen the way you look at him. The way he looks at you. And I’d love nothing more than for you to be legally my sister someday—even though you’re already the sister of my heart.”
Ugh, this woman. I bring it in for a fierce hug around her neck before pulling back. I rub the edge of my sandwich wrapper between my fingers. “I’m scared, Mare. What you said about me not living here anymore…well, we haven’t even discussed that at all. Like, I don’t know where his head is at. What if he just plans to leave again, no matter what?”
“Are you thinking he’ll change his mind or something?” Mare pushes her glasses up her nose. “You knew from the beginning he was leaving at the end of the summer. Is it really fair to assume he’ll change all his plans? This is his dream, Lucy.” Her tone is soft, her eyes filled with love. In only the way that Mare can, she speaks truth without being harsh.
“I know, but…does he just think I’ll up and move away from the only place that’s ever felt like home? Because that doesn’t seem fair either.”
“Maybe he’s just thinking you’ll do long distance for a bit.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” But long distance is only a temporary solution. We both know that. And I’m not a planner by any means, but I am excellent at keeping those low expectations. At creating situations that will result in the least amount of hurt later.
Is it who I am, or a learned behavior after the upheavals in my childhood and teenage years? Either way, I’m not sure I like this particular personality trait.
“It sounds like you guys need to have a really open discussion about all of this,” Marilee says.
“You’re right.” I know she is. “But what if we find out we really can’t work it out? That we want different things? Because that’s terrifying.” The idea that I’ve finally found the man of my dreams…and might lose him in one fell swoop.
“Better to find out now that you want different things than after you’ve been married for six years.” Her words are soft, but sure. “And, yes, it’s scary to take a chance on love. But Lucy Reynolds, you’re one of the bravest people I know.”
There she goes again with the irony. “I don’t feel very brave.”
“That’s the thing about bravery. You’re scared…and do what scares you anyway.”
Okay, then. Looks like I’m having a conversation with Blake about the future.
And soon, before I lose my nerve.