Chapter 28
28
This had been the flight from hell.
Noah pulled his carry-on suitcase from the overhead bin and surged down the aisle toward the door of the plane.
Weather delay. Mechanical delay. A passenger who’d passed out in the airless cabin on the tarmac and had to be taken off by paramedics, resulting in further delays.
What else could have gone wrong on the first leg of this journey?
And unless the gods suddenly took pity on him, he wasn’t going to make his connection.
Barreling down the jetway, Noah tried not to jostle the other deplaning passengers, but if he didn’t catch his next flight, he’d be taking a red-eye to tomorrow’s meeting in Cheyenne.
How could a major city like St. Louis offer so few direct flights?
He exited the jetway and took off at a gallop for his next gate—but despite his all-out sprint through the terminal, his plane was taxiing away from the gate when he arrived.
He skidded to a stop.
Blast, blast, blast, blast, blast.
Now he’d be at the mercy of the airlines to get him on a flight to Cheyenne in time for his meeting.
Twenty minutes later, after an intense, bordering-on-heated exchange with the agent behind the counter at the gate, he secured a flight in five hours. One with yet another connection, which wouldn’t get him to his destination until after midnight.
Meaning there was no way he was going to be bright and chipper for tomorrow’s eight o’clock meeting.
Grimacing, he tightened his grip on the handle of his suitcase and trekked to his new gate, located at the end of the concourse.
Naturally.
After claiming an empty seat in the departure lounge, he pulled out his phone. Switched off airplane mode. Began checking messages.
He dispensed with the handful of voicemails first, returning the calls that required a response. Moved on to emails.
Good grief.
How could twenty messages have come in while his plane was parked on the tarmac in delay mode and during the flight?
Forty-five minutes later, he finished the last response and dived into the texts. Most were short and easy to respond to, thank goodness. He ought to be able to get through these in—
Wait.
There was a message from Bren? Despite their moratorium on communication?
Pulse picking up, he clicked on it.
Sorry to bother you, but Emma has an offer to buy Sweet Dreams. She needs someone to review the financial piece of the deal and examine the shop’s books. She asked me to reach out and see if you’d be willing. I warned her you were super busy. Don’t feel any obligation to get involved.
His spirits dipped.
Bren was texting about a professional matter. Asking him to do a job. Her tone was businesslike and impersonal.
Nevertheless, she’d opened a line of communication. And he’d take whatever contact with her he could get, even if he wasn’t ready to pull the trigger on a major life change.
Yet.
He filled his lungs. Exhaled.
That three-letter word said it all.
The truth was, he was getting closer to taking the leap. Especially after a day like today. Because he wasn’t loving his job anymore, if he ever had. In hindsight, it was clear it had been a means to an end ... and that end was looking less and less appealing with every late night at the office, too-short deadline, and stressful travel woe.
And the appeal continued to decline day by day, since it appeared his current career path would give him limited in-person opportunities to find out if Bren could be The One.
So maybe this was an opening to start talking to her again—although how someone in Emma’s financial straits could swing such a deal was beyond him.
He put his thumbs to work.
Happy to help. Sounds like a great opportunity for her. Shall I call you to discuss?
Her response was prompt.
Not necessary. I’ll send you her contact information and let her know you’ll be in touch. Thanks.
Thirty seconds later, Emma’s phone number and email appeared in a follow-up text without any further message.
He hesitated, thumbs poised over the keypad.
Sighed.
They’d agreed to wait six weeks to resume personal communication. He’d honor that.
Much as he’d prefer not to.
May as well call Emma now, since he’d be sitting around twiddling his thumbs for the next four hours.
She answered on the first ring, sounding both apologetic and a bit nervous as she greeted him.
After reassuring her she wasn’t imposing, he got down to business. “Once you have the agreement in hand, forward me a copy and I’ll review the terms. But I have to ask, Emma. My understanding was that your finances were ... slim. I’m not clear how you’re going to buy Sweet Dreams. Bren didn’t provide any details.”
He listened as she explained the arrangement.
“So this will be a gradual buy-in.” As she concluded, her excitement crackled over the line.
The setup she’d outlined made sense. It would also be advantageous from a tax standpoint for the current owners to receive payment over time versus in one lump sum.
“Got it. Seems like a mutually beneficial deal. During my review, I’ll also want to touch base with the accountant for Sweet Dreams and examine the books. Do you have their contact information?”
“No, but I can get it. Alice said she’s a CPA. Her name is Tracy, and she runs a cranberry farm outside of town.”
That had to be the same woman Bev had mentioned. The one the bookshop owner had suggested was getting out of the accounting business to concentrate on her farm.
Hmm.
The conversation he was going to have with her might end up serving a dual purpose.
“Why don’t you forward her information to me as soon as you have it? I should be able to give you my assessment of the financial strength of the business within a few days. You’ll want to factor that into the price they’re asking. I don’t imagine the shop is a huge moneymaker.”
“I don’t, either. But I’m not trying to get rich. It would be a dream come true if I could run my own bakery, as long as I can earn enough to cover my expenses.”
“You do intend to have an attorney review the contract, don’t you?”
“Yes. A man named Eric Nash, here in town.”
“If you want to give him my phone number, I’ll be glad to talk with him too. I’ve been involved in a number of deals that include equity arrangements and buyouts.”
“Thank you. I’ll pass on your contact information. Do you want my address for billing purposes, or do you prefer to email an invoice?”
“There won’t be a charge, Emma.”
Silence.
“I can’t take charity, Mr. Ward.”
Mister?
He wasn’t that much older than she was.
Well, okay, he was almost twice her age—but that didn’t make him old.
“Noah is fine. And consider this my apology for being suspicious of you when you arrived in town. I’m sure the attorney will charge you enough for both of us.”
A sniff came over the line. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe how much kindness has been shown to me in Hope Harbor.”
“I’m not in Hope Harbor.”
“You were, for a while. And honestly, it feels like you belong there.”
It did to him too. More and more every day.
Until he was certain of his plans, though, it was best not to respond to comments like that. Besides, if he did decide to move, Bren should be the first to know.
“I wish I was there now. It would be far more pleasant than the airport I’m stuck in. I’ll watch for emails and texts from you with the deal documents and contact information.”
“I’ll get it all to you ASAP. Thank you again. You’ll never know how much I appreciate this.”
Once they rang off, Noah dug around in his suitcase for a couple of aspirin. The headache that had kicked in as he watched his connecting flight take off was threatening to go full throttle unless he curbed it fast.
The pain meds weren’t in his usual spot for such supplies. Not surprising, seeing how this trip had landed in his lap with almost no warning and he’d had mere minutes to throw a few essentials into his luggage before rushing to the airport.
He rotated the case and felt in the outside pocket.
Frowned.
What was that oblong item?
He unzipped the compartment, dug deep, and pulled out a bag.
Ah.
The book Bev had given him the day he’d stopped by to discuss her contribution to the 5K. The one he’d shoved in his suitcase as soon as he returned to Dad’s without ever opening it and promptly forgotten about.
He opened the stapled top of the bag, pulled the book out, and read the title.
Leap of Faith .
From the cover art, it appeared to be a suspense novel.
He weighed it in his hand.
With nothing else to do for the next four hours, why not dive in?
Once he located the aspirin and downed them with a swig from his water bottle, he settled back and began to read.
The opening hostage scene hooked him, and the hovering life-and-death danger kept him reading—even after he realized the story also featured a romance.
That wasn’t his cup of tea, but the suspense plot was riveting. And there were several uncanny similarities between the romance in the book and his early stage romance with Bren.
Like, the hero and heroine seemed to be totally different at the beginning but found common ground as the story progressed. The heroine loved her work and was a people person, but she had trust issues because of her past. The hero was a workaholic who’d logged several failed relationships, thanks to his job. The two of them lived in different parts of the country, so the only way for them to get together was for one of them to radically change their life.
Of course the story had a happy ending. The guy realized he loved the heroine more than his career, and she realized her soul would be better fed by his love than by her job. Their solution? Relocate and start over together in a new place.
That wasn’t going to happen with him and Bren—but had Bev given him this particular book to suggest there might be a solution he hadn’t yet found to his dilemma with Bren? To encourage him not to lose hope?
Who knew?
Whatever her motive, the simple truth was that happy endings in novels didn’t always reflect reality. That’s why books like this were called fiction. They were a pleasant way to pass a few idle hours and—
“Is that seat taken?”
Noah looked up.
An older man was standing beside him, in front of one of the last empty seats in the area now that departure was drawing near.
“No.”
The man claimed it, setting his carry-on at his feet. “How was the book?” He nodded to the novel.
Uh-oh.
The guy could be a talker—and garrulous people on planes and in airport waiting areas were the bane of seasoned travelers.
“Entertaining.” He tucked it back into his suitcase, angling slightly away to discourage further conversation.
Didn’t work.
“My wife always took books with her when we traveled. I never got in the habit, but she said reading helped pass the time in the airport and on long flights. We did a lot of traveling in our day.”
The past tense suggested the man could be a widower.
Noah zipped the compartment closed, guilt pricking his conscience.
He ought to cut the guy some slack. Let him talk a little if he needed a friendly ear.
“Where did you travel?”
“Europe, for the most part. She had family in Ireland. But we went to Asia too, and Africa. Spent our fiftieth anniversary last year in Tahiti, at one of those ritzy places with rooms built on stilts over the water so you could watch the sea life from your deck. It was a bucket list trip, and worth every penny.” He adjusted his glasses. Cleared his throat. “She passed away real sudden a month after we got home. Here one day, gone the next.”
“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough, but no words were adequate when someone was grieving.
“Me too. She was one in a million. I knew that from day one. Took me a while to win her over, though, but what a life we had after I did.” A wistful smile touched his lips. “Even though the good Lord gave us fifty years together, I wasn’t ready to let her go.”
“Do you have children?”
“One daughter. I’m off to visit her and the grandkids now. I think they’re going to try to convince me to move closer. And you know what? I don’t plan to put up a fight. It’s lonely without Clair, and being close to people you love is everything.” He cocked his head. “Are you married, young man?”
“Not yet.”
“Someone in the wings?”
“Maybe.”
“Glad to hear it. I thought I was happy with my work and my outside interests until I met Clair, but after she came into my life, I saw the world through a different lens. One that was brighter and happier. Love can do that for you.”
The PA clicked on, and the gate attendant announced their flight.
“I’m in the first boarding group.” Noah rose.
The other man stood too. Extended his hand. “Thanks for listening to me ramble, and best of luck with your young lady. If she’s the right one, don’t let her get away.”
Noah shook his hand. “I’ll keep that in mind. Enjoy your visit with your daughter.”
“I always do. Safe travels, and happy landing.”
After joining the queue, Noah lost track of the older man. Nor did he see him board. But the widower could have gotten on while the attendant was taking drink orders in first class.
Nevertheless, the chance encounter had given him food for thought. As had the novel from Bev.
Both had supported everything that already seemed to be pointing him in the direction of making a drastic change in his life.
Before he took such a major step, though, he had some research to do. And he and Bren also needed to have another in-person visit.
So as the plane geared up for takeoff, he focused all his energies on formulating a plan that would allow him to wing back to the Oregon coast as soon as their six-week moratorium was over.
And perhaps find the happy landing the older man had wished for him.