Chapter Twenty-One
The bell above the door jingled as Jack and Cora stepped into the café, still carrying the scent of honeysuckle and the warmth of their first kiss.
Cora’s heart hadn’t quite worked out how to stop fluttering, and standing next to Jack was like standing next to a live wire.
But the last thing she expected when they walked in was a full welcoming committee.
Winston, Aggie, and Bea were perched at one of the front tables, wide smiles plastered on their faces. The moment they walked in, the trio exchanged knowing glances, and Cora had a sinking feeling that she and Jack were the main news story of the day.
“Look who finally decided to show up. What’ve you two been up to, hmm?” Aggie drawled, her gaze flicking back and forth between Jack and Cora.
Jack leaned casually against the counter, looking far too relaxed for someone who’d just been caught post-hike—and post-kiss. “Oh, you know, we were hiking.”
“Hiking, huh?” Bea leaned in, her eyes sparkling. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Winston chuckled. “Hiking, sure. So, Jack, how’s that trail looking?”
Jack crossed his arms, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s just say we managed to cover a lot of ground.”
Cora shot Jack a glare, heat rising to her cheeks. Could he be any more obvious? “Okay, can we not?” she said, her voice a little higher than she intended. “What are you three doing here, anyway?”
Aggie exchanged another knowing look with Bea before turning back to Cora, her lips twitching. “We’re keeping an eye on things.”
“On things?” Cora asked. “Is that what we are now? Things?”
“Of course not,” Bea chimed in, all innocence. “We’re just . . . invested in the well-being of the café. And its owner. And her hiking partner.”
Cora groaned, but Jack looked like he was enjoying every second. He gave Aggie a mock salute.
“Well, you can rest easy. The trail was tough, but we made it through.”
“I’ll bet you did,” Winston added, clearly savoring the moment.
Aggie’s smile softened, though, as she reached into her oversized bag and pulled out a folded calendar. The mood shifted as she slid it across the table toward them. Cora picked it up and flipped it open to find a big red circle around the end of the month staring back at her.
“The loan’s due,” Aggie said, her voice quieter now. “We’ve only got a week left, and the money we’ve raised . . . well, you know it’s not enough.”
Cora’s eyes landed on the calendar again. The truth was hard to swallow. They didn’t just need more money. They needed a miracle.
She stared at the table, disappointment tightening her chest. “I thought maybe if we kept pushing, we’d figure out a way to save The Spoon. But we’re not going to make it, are we?”
Jack’s hand landed on her shoulder, warm and steady. His touch made things feel less impossible.
“We’ve still got a little bit of time,” he said. “Maybe we haven’t hit on the right idea yet.”
Aggie sighed, rubbing her temples. “Unless someone’s sitting on a secret stash of gold or a millionaire benefactor, I don’t see what else we can do.”
Cora walked over to the specials board they’d repurposed to track their fundraising progress. The number scrawled in chalk glared back at her: $6,327. It wasn’t even close. She squinted, hoping it might grow a few more zeros. Unfortunately, it didn’t.
“Well,” she said, trying to muster up some optimism, “six thousand, three hundred and twenty-seven dollars is something. Look at it sideways, and it almost looks like a million.”
Aggie snorted, the sunlight catching the silver strands in her hair. “Sure does,” she said. “It’s about six thousand, three hundred and twenty-six dollars more than I thought we’d make when we started selling dog biscuits.”
Jack leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his muscles on full display. Not that Cora noticed.
“We’ve still got a week. Plenty of time to, what, quadruple our money?”
“Discover buried pirate treasure?” Bea chimed in.
“Rob a bank?” Winston added with a pointed look in Jack’s direction.
Jack shot Cora a sideways glance, that annoying dimple appearing in his cheek. “Don’t look at me. There’s a real bank robber among us.”
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “I take one folder, one time, and suddenly I’m a criminal mastermind?”
Winston stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “You know, I might have another idea . . .”
Bea waved him off. “Not the vintage lunch boxes again, Winston.”
He looked wounded, but Aggie cut in. “Let’s focus.”
As their banter continued, the weight of reality crept back.
Cora wandered to the counter, her eyes drifting over the familiar, well-worn details of the café—the chipped mugs, the wobbly ceiling fan, the mismatched chairs.
Every part of this place was tied to Lolly, tied to the life Cora didn’t know she’d need to fight so hard for.
Her gaze landed on Jack, leaning there like he belonged, and her heart did a little flip.
Before she could dwell on the thought, the café door swung open with a force that rattled the windows. The sudden noise snapped all of them to attention, and Bea nearly spilled her tea in the process.
“Oh, no.” Cora’s stomach twisted. Standing in the doorway, framed by the stifling summer air, was the last person she ever wanted to see again.
Brad-slash-Alex-the-Jerk had come to Sunrise.
He stood in the doorway, looking every inch the New York cliché, complete with overpriced designer jeans and a polo shirt stretched just a little too tightly across his decidedly average build.
His hair was “artfully tousled” in that calculated, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-but-not-really kind of way, the kind that probably required more product than a salon used in a week.
Cora had no idea what she’d ever seen in him.
Was it his glossy charm, or had she temporarily lost her mind?
And those shoes. Canvas boat shoes. The kind that screamed, I’ve never broken a sweat in my life. Or been on a boat.
Bea sidled up to him, smoothing the front of her paisley dress. “Who do we have here?”
Cora opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her brain was still trying to decide if this was a stress-induced hallucination or if the universe really did hate her this much.
Alex’s eyes locked on hers, and he had the nerve to flash that smug, overconfident smile of his. “Cora. I tried texting, but you didn’t respond. You’re a hard woman to track down.”
“Not hard enough, apparently,” she muttered. “How did you know I was here?”
Alex shrugged. “I went by your apartment. Your neighbor . . . I think her name was Mrs. Davenport, gave me your forwarding address. Of course, it took me some time to wrap up in New York to come down and see you. Things have been really happening for me since the latest Food Trends Monthly issue came out.”
Before she could respond, Aggie, who was always on the lookout for a new face, bustled over with a smile so bright you’d think she was welcoming a celebrity. “Well, hello there, handsome stranger. And who might you be?”
Cora bit back the urge to correct her. Handsome was generous. Maybe “presentable in dim lighting” would’ve been more accurate.
Alex turned his too-white grin on Aggie, soaking in the attention. “Alex Jameson. I’m an old friend of Cora’s.”
Jack, who was standing beside Cora, stiffened, his easy smile faltering as his gaze locked onto the man in front of them. He leaned down, voice low. “Wait. Is this him?”
Cora gave a barely perceptible nod. “Yes, that’s him. The guy who borrowed my forecast and forgot to return my job.”
Jack straightened, brows lifted in mock surprise as he turned back to Alex. “Huh. Wow. I was expecting someone taller.” He stepped in front of Cora just enough to make it clear whose side he was on, his tone light but laced with something firmer underneath. “Can we help you with something, Alex?”
The way Jack said “Alex,” as if it was a medical condition that required immediate antibiotics, made Cora want to applaud. She decided she enjoyed it. She might even ask him to say it again later, just for the entertainment value.
Alex’s smile faltered. “Actually, I was hoping to speak with Cora. Privately.”
All eyes turned to her.
Cora stiffened. The audacity of him, just showing up like he hadn’t torched her career and walked away whistling. Whatever he wanted, it couldn’t be good. But she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of looking rattled.
She sighed, weighing her options. Unless she faked a sudden fainting spell, which was tempting, there was no getting out of it. And with her luck, Alex would perform mouth-to-mouth if she suddenly dropped to the ground.
“Fine,” she said, her tone clipped. “Back porch. Five minutes.”
As she led Alex outside, she could practically feel the others scrambling to eavesdrop. Subtlety was not their strong suit. She half expected to see Aggie pop up with a stethoscope and a magnifying glass.
Governor Sam, lounging lazily on the porch swing, took one look at Alex and let out a low growl.
“Good boy,” Cora murmured, scratching behind his ears. Then she turned to Alex. “Guess you’re standing. Wouldn’t want to get dog hair on your expensive jeans.”
Alex cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. He leaned against the porch railing, and she silently hoped it would give him a big, painful splinter. One that required amputation.
“Cora, I . . . I owe you an apology.”
She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. Oh, this should be good. “Go on, then.”
“What happened wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have taken credit for your work.”
She blinked. “Wow. Did that hurt? Admitting you’re a lying, backstabbing jerk? Do you need to sit down? I’d offer you a cookie, but they might chip your perfect teeth.” Not to mention she didn’t have time to lace them with rat poison.
Alex winced. “I deserve that. But, Cora, I need your help.”
She blinked. And then, because his audacity was downright Olympic-level, she laughed. “You need my help? That’s rich. What’s next? Are you going to ask me to be your character reference the next time you scam someone?”
“They want me to write a follow-up article,” he continued, steamrolling over her sarcasm. “About upcoming food trends. But . . . I’m stuck. We were always better together, Cora. Your insight, my connections—”
“Your theft, my unemployment,” she finished for him. “Quite the dream team.”
But even as he kept talking, she stopped listening.
Her brain shifted into petty overdrive, thinking about all the ways she could make him regret making the trip to Sunrise.
She could spill scalding hot coffee in his lap or accidentally nudge him into a wasps’ nest. She scanned the porch for potential weapons.
Just hypothetically. Then her gaze flicked toward the café.
Jack was inside. He’d probably know how to bury a body or at least discreetly ruin a man’s tires.
A scraping sound near the window caught her attention. She glanced over to see Jack had joined Aggie in her not-so-subtle eavesdropping.
He mouthed, You okay?
And at that moment, she knew exactly what she needed to say. She held up her hand, cutting off Alex mid-sentence. “No.”
He blinked, thrown off his pitch. “No?”
“No.” Her voice got stronger with each word. “I’m not helping you. Not now, not ever. We weren’t ‘good together,’ Alex. You used me. So no, I’m not going to help you write an article about food trends. But I will give you one prediction for free: Karma’s not finished with you yet.”
The back door swung open, and the gang spilled out onto the porch, subtlety officially out the window.
“You tell him, honey!” Aggie crowed, wielding her wooden spoon like a weapon. “I don’t know what you did, but I’m not afraid to beat you first and ask questions later.”
Jack stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “Need help showing him to his car? I’ll be gentle. Mostly.”
Cora smiled. Her friends were loud and completely incapable of minding their own business, but she was thankful they had her back.
“Thanks, but I’ve got this.” She turned back to Alex, who looked like he’d swallowed something sour. “You heard them. Time to go.”
For a second, he stood there with his mouth open. But then he caught the way Jack had crossed his arms, putting his biceps on full display, and thought better of it. He forced a smile, his shoes shuffling against the porch steps as he slunk off.
Aggie, not missing a beat, waved her wooden spoon after him. “And I’d hurry up, sugar. Consequences travel fast in a town this small.”
There was a time Cora had dreamed of Brad-slash-Alex’s apology.
The chance that he’d make things right. But watching him walk out of The Spoon, the weight on her shoulders lifted.
She turned to her friends, lighter than she’d been in months, and clapped her hands.
“Who’s up for brainstorming some fundraising ideas that don’t involve breaking the law? ”
Winston looked genuinely disappointed. “Are you sure? Because I’ve got some brilliant plans involving the bank’s ventilation system . . .”
Laughter broke out as they headed back inside the café. Jack caught her hand as they walked in, turning to the others with a grin.
“Is anybody hungry?”