Chapter Seven #2
His lips tightened in response, but he shifted his attention to Cora. “How wonderful to see you back in Sunrise, Cora.” He took another step closer. “Lolly’s passing has been such a loss to the community, but seeing you here reminds us of better days.”
Cora forced a smile, channeling every drop of New York cool she’d worked so hard to cultivate.
She hadn’t forgotten how Nathaniel had taken a phone call in the middle of Lolly’s memorial service.
She’d wanted to punch him then, and she still wanted to punch him now.
And from the way the muscle ticked in Jack’s jaw as he stepped between them, she wasn’t the only one.
“What can I help you with, Nathaniel?” she asked.
His gaze swept over her, a quick appraising flick. “I wanted to drop by to say hello and to discuss the small matter of the loan. I trust Mr. Hathaway has filled you in on all the details.”
The tension in the café was palpable, and Cora noticed Bea’s hand shake as she set her coffee cup on the table.
“Now see here,” Bea said. “You can’t just barge in here like you own the place.”
“But that’s precisely the point. I will own this place soon.” Nathaniel’s eyes gleamed, cold satisfaction oozing from every word. He was enjoying this, like a cat toying with its prey before the kill.
Cora recognized that look. It was the same one he’d had in high school when he’d “accidentally” spilled a grape Slushie on her science fair project and convinced the teacher it had been her fault for leaving it unattended.
Nathaniel didn’t throw punches. He chipped away at you with smug smiles, while the adults patted him on the back for being such a respectable young man.
Some people outgrew high school. Nathaniel Worthington just got better tailoring.
“We’re still trying to figure out what’s going on,” Cora said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the tremor of fear running through her.
“Why would Lolly have taken out a loan from you? There must be some kind of mistake.” It was infuriating how easily he could still rattle her.
Just being near him stirred up the same helpless frustration she’d felt as a teenager.
And now, here he was again, standing between her and something that mattered.
“I assure you, there’s no mistake.” Nathaniel pulled a folded document from his breast pocket with a flourish.
“As your attorney should have informed you, the terms are quite clear. The loan is due in full in thirty days, or the property will be foreclosed on.” He glanced at his watch, clearly savoring the moment. “Make that twenty-nine.”
Jack stepped forward, his expression hardening. “Convenient timing, don’t you think? With Lolly gone and unable to contest this?”
Nathaniel’s smile remained unfazed. “Jack. Always a pleasure. Still pretending to be a chef?”
“Still pretending to be a decent human being?” Jack shot back.
The air between them practically sparked with hostility.
“Gentlemen.” Winston’s calm voice sliced through the rising tension. “Perhaps we can discuss this civilly?”
Cora nodded, grateful for Winston’s attempt to de-escalate things. “Winston’s right. Nathaniel, surely we can find a way to negotiate. Thirty days isn’t nearly enough time to—”
“The terms are non-negotiable,” Nathaniel said. “But don’t worry, Cora. If paying off the loan proves difficult, I’m sure we can reach another mutually beneficial arrangement.”
Jack stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on her back in a show of support. The warmth of his touch was the opposite of the icy chill Nathaniel’s words had sent racing down her spine.
“Now listen here, Nate,” Aggie said, brandishing a wooden spoon she’d fished out of her purse instead of the fabled Taser.
“You might think you’re hot stuff now, but I remember when you were five and decided to give yourself a haircut with your mama’s garden shears.
You looked like a plucked chicken for months. ”
Nathaniel’s face turned crimson. “Mrs. Palmer, I hardly think that’s relevant.”
“Oh, it’s plenty relevant,” Aggie continued, clearly enjoying herself.
“Shows you’ve always had more ambition than sense.
Now, are you going to play nice, or should I start sharing photos from the third-grade talent show?
I seem to recall a certain someone thinking he had a knack for juggling raw eggs . . .”
For a moment, Nathaniel looked like he might stamp his foot in frustration, but he regained control, taking a steadying breath.
“You have a month, Cora. Until the Honeysuckle Festival. I look forward to seeing more of you now that you’re back in town.
” And with that, he spun on his heel and exited, the café door closing behind him with a firm click.
The room seemed to deflate in his absence, and Cora sagged against the counter, her legs turning to jelly. Jack’s hand remained on her back, a steady presence she wasn’t quite ready to let go of.
“Well,” Aggie huffed, adjusting her glasses and tucking the wooden spoon back into her purse. “I haven’t wanted to smack someone upside the head that badly since Alfie Peterson tried to get handsy at the senior citizen’s pickleball tournament.”
If only their problems could be solved with a good swing of Aggie’s wooden spoon.
“What are we going to do?” Cora whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
To her surprise, it was Jack who answered. “We’re going to fight.”
She looked up at him, caught off guard by the fire in his eyes and the determination in the set of his jaw. For the first time all day, she felt a glimmer of hope.
Winston cleared his throat, his eyes flashing as he geared up for one of his infamous stories. “You know, back in the eighties, I ran a very successful fundraising campaign for the—”
“How about a bake sale?” Aggie asked, cutting him off and scribbling notes on a pad she pulled from her bag.
Bea nodded in agreement. “And we can reach out to some of Lolly’s old contacts in the restaurant world. She knew so many people, and I’m sure they’d love to help you keep the café open.”
Their excitement was contagious, but the weight of reality crashed down on Cora. She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I appreciate it,” she said, her voice cracking. “But I’m not staying in Sunrise. I was always going to sell the café. This loan . . . it doesn’t change that.”
The warmth in Jack’s eyes cooled instantly, like a door slamming shut. “You’re still going to sell? So even if we find a way to save the place, we still lose it?”
“I have a life back in the city,” she said, sounding more defensive than she intended. “This was never meant to be permanent.”
At least that had been the plan. Go back, start job hunting again, maybe even claw her way back into the industry—if anyone would take her calls.
Even her old friends at Morsel seemed to be missing in action since she’d left the city.
They used to toast her with their fancy cocktails and call her Queen on Instagram, but not one of them had checked in since she’d hopped on the plane to North Carolina.
Apparently, proximity had been the only thing holding those friendships together.
She shrugged, trying to keep her voice light. “A plan’s a plan, right?”
Jack’s hand dropped from her back, and the sudden loss left her feeling off balance.
“Right,” he said flatly. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your important city life.
” He turned and strode toward the door. “Good luck with the sale,” he tossed over his shoulder, and then he was gone, the bell above the door jingling in his wake.