Chapter Sixteen
The next morning was annoyingly perfect.
Sunshine, blue skies, the kind of day that would normally have Cora feeling halfway optimistic.
But that day it felt as if the universe was mocking her.
She’d barely slept, her mind spinning all night with thoughts of Lolly, the Worthingtons, and the looming question of what would happen to the café.
Jack pulled up outside The Salty Spoon in his old truck, the engine grumbling. His hair was casually tousled, and the faint stubble on his jaw added to the rugged look that somehow managed to be more attractive than scruffy. She hated to admit it, but it kind of worked for him.
“Morning,” he said. “You look like you had a rough night.”
She shot him a glare as she climbed into the passenger seat, the worn leather creaking beneath her. “Gee, thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
Jack just grinned, completely unrepentant, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that maddeningly irresistible way. Some girls were into men who offered them flowers and poetry. Cora apparently got the hots for a man with an ancient truck that smelled faintly of old fries.
“Coffee?” he asked, holding out a takeout cup from her favorite coffee shop.
Coffee. Now, that was better than flowers and poetry. Maybe he actually did know what he was doing.
She took the cup gratefully, the warmth seeping into her fingers as she inhaled deeply, letting the rich aroma work its magic. One sip, and the bitterness cut through the fog in her brain. “You’re forgiven.”
Jack kept the windows open, letting the morning breeze swirl through the truck as they rolled down Main Street.
The air was thick with humidity, but that didn’t seem to bother the people out enjoying the day before the afternoon heat set in.
Jack drove slowly, tapping the brakes as kids chased after runaway balls and each other’s shadows.
Her old dental hygienist power-walked by with her tiny chihuahua trotting beside her.
She was chatting animatedly, her voice slicing through the morning buzz as she spread the latest gossip to anyone within earshot.
Cora took another sip of coffee, letting the comforting rhythm of Sunrise life wrap around her. For a moment, the worries about the café, Lolly, and Nathaniel Worthington faded into the background.
But as they drove down the street, she couldn’t help but notice that every other building seemed to bear the Worthington name: Worthington Library, Worthington Community Center, and Worthington General Store.
Even the dog park had a shiny plaque proclaiming it the Worthington Canine Recreation Area.
“Geez,” she muttered, eyeing the Worthington Municipal Parking Lot. “Did the Worthingtons build this town with their bare hands or something?”
Jack snorted, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, one arm slung over the seat behind her. “Old money can buy a lot of dog parks.”
She tried to focus on what he was saying, but all she could think about was how ridiculously attractive he looked driving.
What is it about a guy driving one-handed that’s so sexy?
It made him look so casual, so confident, as if he had everything under control.
Meanwhile, she could barely keep her life from veering off into a ditch.
Jack shifted into reverse and backed into a parking space in front of Worthington Bank as if he’d done it a thousand times, the palm of one hand resting lightly on the steering wheel.
She watched, mesmerized by how smooth and effortless it looked.
How does he make something as simple as parking look like a power move?
The whole casual confidence thing was really starting to get on her nerves in the most irritatingly attractive way possible.
The bank was a grand antebellum mansion that loomed over the town.
Tall columns rose up from the ground, supporting a wide veranda that wrapped around the front, with intricate iron railings casting shadows across the stone steps.
The double front doors were a deep, polished black, standing out against the bright white of the building.
Symmetrical windows, framed by dark green shutters, added a veneer of Southern charm, but there was an unsettling coldness to the place.
“Well,” Cora said, smoothing the front of her sundress as she climbed out of the truck, “I feel underdressed. Should I have worn my tiara?”
Jack laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Nah, your natural royal attitude will do just fine.”
She swatted his arm. “Watch it, peasant. I can have you beheaded.”
He stifled a laugh as they made their way through the double doors, a cool blast of air greeting them as they stepped into the building. A receptionist with a snooty expression sat behind a sleek glass desk, her gaze sweeping over them as if she thought they might be lost.
“May I help you?” she asked, her tone suggesting she’d rather be doing anything else.
“Cora Lockwood and Jack Harlow to see Nathaniel Worthington,” Cora said, trying to match her chilly demeanor.
The receptionist’s eyes widened slightly at Jack’s name, recognition crossing her face before it was replaced with disdain. “Of course,” she said, forcing a tight smile. “Mr. Worthington is expecting you. Take the first hallway, and his office is at the end.”
As they walked toward the office, Cora turned to Jack. “What was that about?”
He shrugged, feigning innocence. “What was what about?”
“That look she gave you. Like you’d robbed the place before or left her at the altar or something.”
Jack gave a quick, evasive smile. “Maybe I have one of those faces.”
Cora narrowed her eyes. “Jack . . .”
He sighed. “Fine. I might’ve dated her sister. And possibly her cousin. Not at the same time, but close enough that family reunions got weird.”
Cora stared at him. “Do you just collect restraining orders?”
“Hey,” he said, holding up his hands. “They both broke up with me. I’m just the emotionally unavailable middleman.”
“Uh-huh,” she muttered, unconvinced, but let it go as they approached Nathaniel’s office.
The hallway was lined with photos of generations of Worthingtons at ribbon cuttings, charity galas, and groundbreaking ceremonies. Every image showcased their wealth and influence, their polished smiles a reminder of who ran this town.
“I bet they practice these poses at home,” she muttered. “Like, Okay, everyone, let’s work on our I’m-better-than-you faces for the next ribbon cutting.”
Jack chuckled. “They probably have a trophy room in the mansion for all the oversized scissors.”
They reached the end of the hall and stood in front of Nathaniel’s door. Cora took a deep breath, knocked, and stepped inside.
His office was exactly what she expected from someone with a superiority complex.
There was dark wood, rich leather, and a desk so large it might as well have come with its own zip code.
Nathaniel sat behind it, wearing that same self-satisfied expression his ancestors had perfected in all those photos lining the hallway.
“Cora. Jack. Thank you for coming. I trust you found it okay.”
“It’s kind of hard to miss,” she said dryly, raising an eyebrow, “what with the giant sign out front.”
Nathaniel’s smile tightened, the polite mask slipping for a moment to reveal the cold disdain underneath.
“We came here today to talk about the loan on The Salty Spoon,” she began, trying to figure out how to place her hands so she didn’t look as nervous as she felt.
“I understand that it might not seem like much from where you’re sitting.
But it’s more than a café, it’s a piece of this town’s heart. We need it to stay open.”
Nathaniel’s expression remained neutral. “I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he said smoothly, “and I do understand the history of The Salty Spoon. But, as I’m sure you’re aware, change is inevitable.”
Jack, who had been quiet until now, shifted on his seat. “What kind of change are we talking about?”
Nathaniel’s gaze flicked over to Jack, and for a brief moment, the air between them thickened.
“Progress, Jack. Sometimes that means making tough decisions.”
“What kind of decisions?” Cora pressed.
Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, his eyes settling on Jack with a look that made Cora’s skin crawl.
“Like recognizing when something no longer contributes to the community. Sunrise is evolving. The Salty Spoon doesn’t belong in the future we’re building.”
Jack’s jaw tightened, and tension radiated off him. “And who decides that? You?”
Nathaniel’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “As one of the town’s leading benefactors, yes, that responsibility often falls to me.”
“You keep saying The Spoon doesn’t fit anymore, as if it’s a piece of furniture you’re planning to throw out,” Cora said, her voice rising. “But you helped Lolly. You gave her the loan. Why would you do that if you thought the café was such a waste?”
Nathaniel studied her for a long moment. “Because she asked.”
“That doesn’t make sense. She would’ve gone to the bank. She would have gone to anyone else.”
He leaned forward, tenting his hands on the gleaming desk. “She tried. They turned her down. I didn’t.”
Jack’s voice was a low growl. “You gave her money knowing you’d call in the favor later.”
Nathaniel didn’t deny it. Instead, he shifted his gaze to Cora. “It was a business deal. Maybe she knew the cost, and maybe she didn’t. But she took the deal, nonetheless.” He didn’t blink. Just smiled, all teeth and calculation.
And that’s when Cora knew he wasn’t going to tell her anything else, not unless it served him. She could see Jack had come to the same conclusion, and the conversation was veering toward dangerous territory—mainly Jack smashing Nathaniel’s face into the desk—so she pivoted.
“Nathaniel,” she said, softening her tone, “I recently found out that Lolly and Tobias were once engaged. Isn’t it interesting how our families were connected?”