Chapter Forty-seven
The moment Maggie walked inside The Chowder House, she saw the entire staff gathered in a half-circle near the counter, clapping and grinning at none other than Waldo Duggan.
The grizzled old cook, looking a little thinner but no less ornery, stood with his arms folded across his chest, trying to look as if he didn’t appreciate the attention. But Maggie could see it—the slight quirk of his mouth, the way his eyes softened just a little.
Waldo cleared his throat gruffly. “All right, all right. Enough of this nonsense. It’s just my first day. No need to make such a fuss.”
Ethel, standing beside Audrey and Isabella, smirked. “Well, to be fair, Waldo, I’ve been wanting to steal you away from the Seaview for years. I’ve been just waiting for the right opportunity.”
The Seaview had been slow in bringing back Waldo after his name was cleared in the Chips Hogan murder, so Ethel stepped in, hiring him on the spot.
The kitchen crew cheered, and Ethel wiped her hands on her apron, stepping forward. “I always knew the only thing you could murder was a medium rare steak, Duggan. And you know damn well you love the attention.”
Waldo grumbled something unintelligible but didn’t argue.
Maggie walked over to the group, her presence immediately drawing Waldo’s attention. He gave her a slow nod, his way of acknowledging what she’d done for him without getting too sentimental about it.
Maggie tilted her head. “Welcome to The Chowder House, Waldo.”
“Didn’t have much of a choice,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Figured it was better than sitting at home, listening to my neighbor yammer on about lobster quotas.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd, but Maggie’s focus shifted to Ethel, who looked more worn-out than usual.
As Waldo shook hands with a few of the kitchen staff greeting him, Maggie walked over to Ethel and lowered her voice. “You okay?”
Ethel sighed, rubbing her temples. “I don’t know, Maggie. The past few weeks have been a nightmare. Waldo getting arrested. And that poison scare? Half the regulars who did show up here wouldn’t touch the chowder for a while. Every time I turned around, someone was whispering about it.”
Maggie nodded. She’d seen firsthand how much of a toll it had taken.
Ethel exhaled deeply, as if finally admitting it to herself. “I’m tired, Maggie. I’ve been thinking … maybe it’s time to step away.”
Maggie studied her friend carefully. This wasn’t just a passing thought. Ethel was really considering retirement.
She placed a hand on Ethel’s arm. “Let’s talk later. I’ve got a few ideas.”
Ethel nodded, looking relieved.
Maggie turned back to Waldo. “How about a cup of coffee?”
Waldo gave her a wary look. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” Maggie said innocently. “Just a little chat.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Waldo muttered, “I haven’t even started yet, and you want me to take a break already?”
“I’m sure Ethel won’t mind.”
Waldo sighed. “Fine. Ten minutes.”
Maggie and Waldo slid into a corner booth, as Isabella placed two mugs of hot coffee in front of them.
Waldo stirred in a spoonful of sugar, eyeing Maggie suspiciously. “All right, Maggie. What’s this about?”
Maggie took her time, blowing lightly on her coffee before taking a sip.
“I wanted to talk about the Holbrook–Duggan feud,” she said finally.
Waldo snorted. “Feud’s over. You proved I wasn’t guilty. I’m grateful, even if I don’t say it.”
Maggie smirked. “You just said it.”
Waldo grumbled into his coffee.
Maggie reached into her purse, pulling out a few old recipe cards, yellowed with age.
“I’ve been going through some old family records,” she said, spreading the cards out on the table. “Turns out, the Holbrook and Duggan chowder recipes? Almost the same—just a few different spices here and there. Close enough that most folks would never know the difference.”
Maggie gave a small, knowing smile. “I could still taste it, of course. But to everyone else? It might as well be the same bowl of chowder.”
Waldo bristled, his jaw tightening. “Maybe to some people,” he muttered. “But mine’s still better.”
Maggie chuckled. “Waldo, it’s ridiculous that we’ve spent all these years pretending there was some big secret between them when they’re practically the same.”
Waldo rubbed his jaw, looking conflicted. “You saying your husband and my father were fighting over nothing?”
Maggie leaned back, giving him a knowing look. “I’m saying it was never about the chowder.”
Waldo was silent, staring at the recipe cards. “So what now? You want me to admit the Duggan chowder’s not as special as we always thought?”
Maggie laughed. “Not at all. I want us to work together.”
Waldo narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I’m offering you a stake in the Holbrook chowder business.”
Waldo’s mouth fell open slightly before he snapped it shut. “You’re joking.”
“I don’t joke about chowder,” Maggie said seriously.
Waldo sat back, his fingers drumming against the tabletop. “You really want me to partner with you? After all these years?”
Maggie nodded. “It’s time we put all this behind us. We can have the best damn chowder in all of Maine—Holbrook and Duggan, together.”
Waldo shook his head, a slow grin creeping onto his face. “You Holbrooks. Always gotta make everything a big deal.”
“Damn right,” Maggie said cheerfully.
Maggie stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs off her skirt.
“Now,” she said, grinning mischievously, “since we’re doing this, we’re going to celebrate properly.”
Waldo groaned. “Oh, hell. What are you planning?”
“A big event,” Maggie declared. “The whole town. A celebration of our new partnership.”
Waldo held up a hand. “No big speeches. No banners. No fancy nonsense.”
Maggie pretended to consider. “Fine. Minimal banners.”
“Maggie,” Waldo said warningly.
Maggie laughed. “Relax. It’ll be great for business. And besides,” she added, nudging his arm, “it’s about time people saw us working together instead of against each other.”
Waldo sighed. “If I say yes, will you stop pestering me?”
“Absolutely not,” Maggie said cheerfully.
Waldo shook his head, but Maggie could see it—the small smile, the acceptance.
It had taken decades, but finally, the feud was over.
And in its place?
A brand-new beginning.