Chapter Six
Five pairs of eyes snapped in Jack’s direction, and a mix of surprise, suspicion, and outright hostility stared back at him.
For a second, he wanted to spin on his heels and bolt, but he held his ground, squaring his shoulders as he stepped farther in.
The old floorboards groaned under the weight of his boots.
Cora stood there, frozen, her green eyes wide as she absently twisted the delicate chain around her neck. Man, she was beautiful. But from the way her gaze hardened as she stared at him, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him. Story of his life.
He tore his eyes away from Cora and forced himself to look at the others. Aggie, Bea, and Winston—Lolly’s crew—stood shoulder to shoulder, watching him with quiet suspicion.
Cora stepped toward him, clearly rattled, reaching for her coffee as she moved. Her hand bumped the edge of the table, and the mug tipped, sloshing a generous splash across his shirt.
“Oh, no. Jack, I’m so sorry!” she gasped, grabbing a bar towel and stepping toward him.
He held up a hand to stop her, forcing a tight smile. “It’s fine,” he said, even as the coffee seeped through the fabric. A dark stain bloomed across his chest, one more reminder of how far he’d fallen from the days of crisp chef’s whites and polished kitchens.
A jittery guy in a too-tight suit clutching a briefcase stood off to the side, watching the exchange with wide eyes. Lawyer, he guessed. His stomach twisted.
“So,” Jack said, leaning against the counter like he wasn’t on the edge of losing it, “what’s with the long faces? Or are you just super happy to see me?”
Cora lifted her chin in that stubborn way he remembered all too well from last night. “Jack Harlow, this is Leonard Hathaway, my grandmother’s lawyer. And whatever we were discussing is none of your business.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A lawyer, huh? Let me guess. You’re here to help Little Miss New York sell off The Salty Spoon?”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Cora’s eyes flared with anger, and for a split second, he almost regretted the jab. Almost.
Leonard cleared his throat, the movement jerky. “Actually, Mr. Harlow, we’ve encountered a complication with the property.”
Jack straightened. “What kind of complication?”
Leonard shifted from foot to foot. “There’s a private loan against the café. The holder of that loan has called in the debt.”
Bea’s voice was tight with worry. “We were just discussing what that means.”
“It means,” Jack said, the reality clicking into place like the pieces of a puzzle he didn’t want to solve, “that if the loan isn’t paid off, they’ll foreclose on the place.
And who knows what they’ll do with it.” The words were sour on his tongue.
This was a nightmare he knew too well. He turned back to Leonard, his gut sinking. “How long?”
The lawyer swallowed. “Less than thirty days.”
“How much?” Jack asked.
“A hundred grand,” Aggie said, casting a pointed look at the back pocket of his jeans where his worn wallet rested. “Got that kind of cash hidden away anywhere?”
He ignored her, his attention laser-focused on Leonard. “Who?” His fists clenched at his sides, the muscles in his arms straining to keep his anger in check. “Who holds the loan?” He had a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer.
Leonard’s eyes darted nervously around the room and finally landed on him. “Nathaniel Worthington. Privately, not through the bank.”
The name hit him like a sledgehammer. Worthington. Of course. It had to be a blasted Worthington. A lifetime of bad blood between their families rushed back, and all he felt was bitter fury rising in his chest. His jaw was clenched so tight he felt the pressure in his teeth.
Winston leaned forward, hands steepled on the table. “Now, Jack, let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”
“Reasonable?” He barked out a laugh. “There’s nothing reasonable about the Worthingtons. They’ve been trying to buy up every inch of Sunrise for years. And now they’ve got their sights set on Lolly’s place? We need to stop them.”
He glanced at Cora. Confusion and worry shadowed her face. She didn’t know the half of it—the feud between their families, the power struggles, the dirty games. To her, this was just business. But to him, it was personal.
“Jack,” Cora said softly.
Something in her voice pulled him back. Their eyes met, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of vulnerability there.
“This isn’t your fight,” she said.
But it was. The Salty Spoon was more than a café. It was a chance to honor Lolly’s memory and to prove he wasn’t the screw-up everyone thought he was. To finally change how this town saw him.
“Lolly was my friend. Her fight is my fight. We need to figure out what’s really going on,” he said, his voice low. “And we need to do it fast.”
Aggie let out a quiet huff, her glasses slipping down her nose. “I’m still trying to figure out where you fit into the picture. Did Lolly have some dirt on you or something?”
Her words stung, dredging up why he’d kept his distance from Lolly’s friends since he’d been back in Sunrise. Their judgment hung in the air, thick as the ham and pea soup Lolly used to make on Wednesdays. But he held his ground.
“People change, Aggie. Sometimes they don’t have a choice.”
Cora shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, Jack, but I can handle this on my own. It’s my grandmother’s estate. It’s my responsibility.”
The stubborn set to her jaw told him arguing would be as effective as asking the tide to go out on command, but he wanted to tell her she didn’t have to do it alone. That Lolly would have wanted him to help.
Before he could even try, Cora’s resolve broke. A sob escaped, and she bolted through the screen door to the café’s back porch, leaving the rest of them staring after her in stunned silence.