by Olivia Miles
“There is one thing I’d like to ask you to consider,” the mayor said, deflating Matt’s spirits. “The location has never been an easy sell, and several have tried. We like our green space, and that particular spot is slated to become designated park land. Would you be willing to consider an alternate location?”
Matt hadn’t known there would be another option, and racked his brain to think of where along the shoreline he could find enough space.
“There’s a spot behind Main Street, in between the harbor and the beach,” the mayor was saying.
Matt nodded along, trying to pull up a visual image of the location the mayor was referring to. His mouth went dry.
“You mean, where the Firefly Café is located?”
The mayor nodded. “Strange location for a café, if you ask me. Would be better suited for Main Street, really. The businesses back there are off the path, unnoticed by many tourists, and the tenant that shares the building with Amelia Conway closed nearly a year ago. One of those over-priced paper shops,” he added, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. “We have a couple of other boutiques back there, and I’ve been encouraging their owners to relocate to Main Street for years now, especially with a couple of the storefronts on that stretch vacant. I just haven’t had a convincing argument until now.”
Until now. Meaning until Matt came back to town and presented the mayor with a better idea. And one that would put Amelia out of her café for good.
“I do think the clientele we’re targeting for this sort of resort would prefer something more secluded, away from the traffic of Main Street,” Matt said honestly. Still, the appeal of being so close to shops and restaurants could appeal to them, as well. He could picture the rear lined with tall arbor vitae, creating a natural fence around the great building.
“I understand, but that might not be an option,” Mayor Hudson continued. He looked at Matt frankly. “It wouldn’t take much to sway most of those businesses to relocate. And for anyone who puts up resistance, well, this might be a case of eminent domain. Like you said, a project like this could really boost our local economy.”
Meaning they could force Amelia to sell if she didn’t go quietly. Matt felt his mouth go dry.
“We’ll see what the council says.” The mayor stood, signaling the end of the meeting.
Matt shook the man’s hand and walked out the door, his heart pounding as he pushed down the long hallway and out into the late afternoon sunshine. Main Street was bustling, with tourists and locals, and Matt wondered if maybe the mayor was right. If shops that were off the beaten path, without the same exposure and signage, would benefit from a new location. Maybe, it was just what Amelia needed to bolster her through the lean winter months.
He decided to drop by her café. Just to feel that theory out.
*
Amelia passed another order to Rachel, who raised her eyebrows. “Looks like we have a clear favorite for your contest entry,” she remarked.
It was still early into dinner service, but it was true that the flatbread was wildly popular; enough so that Amelia made a mental note to include it on the menu again tomorrow, if not permanently.
“It’s a full house,” Sonia remarked, coming through the kitchen door with a flushed face that meant she was overworked, or had spent too much time out on the patio when the sun was still strong.
Rachel had the kitchen covered for now, and Amelia said to Sonia, “Take a ten-minute break. I’ll take over the patio.”
“Maddie’s got the front room covered,” Sonia said. Her smile was grateful. It was her first season at the café and Amelia hoped that it wouldn’t be her last. “Thanks.”
Amelia was happy to be out of the hot kitchen. Sure, she loved to cook, but she also loved interacting with her customers, tending to the counter, and of course, watching everyone enjoy their experience—and their food. There were the occasional complaints, but it was all part of running a business, and she’d learned over time to settle things, take the heat, and move on. The customer was always right, as the saying went.
Except when the customer was Matt Bradford.
She stopped in her tracks when she stepped out onto the patio. She felt her cheeks flush and she had the overwhelming urge to turn, walk around, back inside, and not leave the kitchen for the rest of the night, but then of course, that wouldn’t exactly be professional. And she had sent Sonia off on a break. Damn it!
With a pounding heart, she put on a pleasant smile as she approached his table, where he was studying the menu with interest. He was at her place of business, after all. Meaning, he had sought her out.
Memories of their evening the other night made her breath catch. He’d almost kissed her. She was sure of it. And she’d almost let him.
She couldn’t be sure she’d be able to resist next time.
She stiffened, remembering that he’d met with the mayor today. Was he coming to tell her news? She didn’t even want to know. What would be the better outcome at this point?
“Good evening,” she said, coming to stand beside his table.
It was a beautiful evening, with the boats bobbing in the water and the sound of the crickets just beginning to chirp. But was it a good evening? Time would tell.
He smiled up at her, as casually as if the other day had never happened, and she wondered if maybe she’d read too far into it; if things didn’t need to be as awkward as they felt.
She waited to see if he would mention the meeting, but he said nothing, just looked up at her with that irresistible grin that made her stomach roll over.
She swallowed hard. Getting personal down at the docks had been one thing. But now she was at work. And she was on a mission.
And it really didn’t matter that she could still recall the touch of his hand on hers, or the heat of his body, so close. What mattered was that he intended to either ruin her town or leave it. And neither option boded well for a potential romance.
“Have you been helped yet?” There, see, this wasn’t so bad. She would keep things breezy, stay professional. She was on the clock, after all, even if she was the boss.
“What do you recommend?” he asked, leaning back and hooking his ankle over his knee, as if he intended to get comfortable and stay a while.
She chewed her lip, thinking that they weren’t really getting anywhere by dancing around the topic like this, unless of course, there was nothing to discuss. They were just two people who used to date. Half a lifetime ago.
“We have a few specials tonight. The flatbread is very popular. It’s topped with fresh arugula from my own garden. We also have a lovely tomato tart with goat cheese from Trotter’s Farm. Everything on the menu is seasonal.”
He nodded approvingly. “Interesting strategy.”
She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not a strategy. I like to keep things fresh. And I like to give business to the local farms, including my own family’s orchard.”
“That’s a sensible approach. Businesses helping businesses.” He hesitated for a moment. “Do you ever think you’d be better off with a location on Main Street?”
Her mouth slacked. But then, she supposed that she had given him a hard time about his work. Maybe he was just giving her a taste of how it felt to be on the defense.
“I’m only one block off from Main Street,” she replied. “Besides! Who can beat this waterfront location?”
She attributed the patio to her biggest driver from spring through early fall, when she put heat lamps on the deck to keep people outdoors for a few weeks longer.
“Just wondering,” he said, but he didn’t meet her eye.
She could feel the question build up inside her, bursting to come out, needing to know. It was evening by now, meaning his meeting with the mayor had come and gone. And what had come of it?
She decided that it didn’t matter. Matt Bradford was someone she had cared about an awful lot, once. But he was part of her past. And now, she had to focus on her future. And that meant getting through
this shift and putting the finishing touches on her contest recipe.
Besides, she had a sneaking suspicion that Matt hadn’t come here to gloat. From the weary look in his eyes, she had the unsettling impression that he had come to apologize.
She licked her lips before something could be said that would lead to another argument between them. “Can I bring you a beer?”
He nodded. “And I’ll try that flatbread,” he said. “You really sold me on it.”
She could only hope he wasn’t the only one.
“Amelia—”
She had just started to go back into the building, but now she turned to him, her heart pounding. “Yes?”
He stared at her for what felt like minutes, his expression one of clear regret. And she knew, the way she knew what her sisters meant when they said nothing, but simply met her eye, that the mayor had approved his design.
“Just…don’t rush on my behalf. I can see you’re busy, and I’m happy to sit here and take in the view. It really is a lovely view.”
She nodded, and with a heavy heart went into the café and straight to the kitchen.
She passed the ticket to Sonia as soon as she returned from her break. “This is for the man at table four,” she replied.
One perk of being the owner, she thought. She didn’t have to face Matt again tonight if she didn’t want to, and right now, she didn’t think she could.
10
Amelia knew that she didn’t have to bring any food to Britt’s birthday party, but it didn’t stop her. Maddie swung by the café after the market and together they made two dozen of the strawberries and cream cupcakes that their mother used to make for Britt each year on her birthday while Rachel and Sonia handled the dwindling lunch crowd. Maddie even remembered exactly how their mother decorated them—with pink sprinkles and a sliced strawberry in the center of the buttercream frosting, so everyone had a hint of what was inside.
“Perfectly fit for a ten-year-old girl,” Amelia laughed, but it warmed her heart to look at them just the same. She could still picture Britt as a young girl, grinning broadly when their mother lit the candles on her cupcakes and they all broke into song.
These were the happy memories that she’d tried to cling to over the years, even when the images of more difficult times tried to push to the forefront. These were the reasons she had stayed. All these memories were a part of her. And of this town.
Maddie looked out the window of the café. “I could use some fresh air. Want to walk home?”
Home. Amelia still liked the sound of that, even though the house in town they shared was technically home now.
“Sure,” she said. There would be plenty of chilly autumn nights and winter snowfalls to warrant the car, and like most people who lived in the region, when the warm weather finally came, they were careful to make the most of it—flinging open windows, eating outside, and stretching out the evening long past sunset. Normally, they might have biked it, but Amelia didn’t want to risk putting the cupcake containers in her bicycle basket.
“It feels nice to keep Mom’s recipes going,” she said to Maddie as they packed up the cupcakes and headed out into the warm sunshine. It was the first time they’d be celebrating Britt’s birthday together since she’d gone away to college and then settled in Chicago, and Amelia hoped that she would appreciate the gesture. There was a time when just the mention of their mother would bring Britt to tears, leave her distant and silent and cut off for weeks. Now that she was back in town, that had changed. Like the rest of them, she’d learned that it was better to keep the memories alive rather than banish them.
Amelia wondered if eventually Matt might feel the same. If he’d come to remember what he loved about this town before it was too late.
“It’s why I make my pies each week,” Maddie said. “I sold out this morning again.”
“You sell out every Sunday morning at the market,” Amelia teased.
Amelia had been waiting for an opportunity to ask Maddie about her long-term plans. She’d been helping out at the café for years, but Amelia had never expected her to stay forever. It was a good experience for Maddie, and Amelia appreciated the help, not to mention that she saw it as her responsibility to give Maddie a place to come to every day until she figured out exactly what it was she wanted to do with her life. She hated to see her sister leave the café, but at the same time, she knew that Maddie had grown up, that she was ready to do something on her own.
That she’d be okay. Just like their father. Just like Cora. And Britt.
And even her, Amelia thought. Sure, she may not have found love, but she had the café.
“How was the market today?” she asked, as they turned onto the street that led down to the waterfront. Their childhood house was at the far end, and even now, at the age of thirty, when she had her own apartment and business and furnishings, and life, this gabled Victorian that backed up to the lake was still home.
“Oh, you know how it’s always busy this time of the year,” Maddie said. “I feel bad. My pies were in such demand that I didn’t save one for dinner tonight.”
Amelia held up the cupcake tray. “We have these.”
Maddie nodded. They were quickly approaching the house. Amelia felt another opportunity slipping away.
“Have you given any more thought to Britt’s suggestions?” Amelia was aware that Britt had encouraged Maddie to do more with the pies, to sell them at the market in volume, and enlist the help of other staff to help. But she’d backed off when she realized that Maddie didn’t share her enthusiasm, and Amelia couldn’t say she blamed her. Their mother had made pies for the market each Sunday as a way of sharing her joy for baking with the members of town. And Maddie made the pies to carry on that tradition.
But Maddie was too talented to just help out around the café indefinitely. She had something to offer all on her own. Something, like their mother, to share.
“I don’t like the idea of mass producing pies for the orchard. It’s not about profit to me,” she said firmly. “Some things are better off just as they are, you know?”
Amelia stopped walking and grinned at her sister. “Well said, Maddie.”
Maddie gave her a little grin. “I learned from the best.”
Amelia didn’t know in that moment if Maddie meant their mother or her, but either way, she smiled against the tears that burned the back of her eyes and tipped her chin toward the house.
“Sunday night dinner.”
“Just like old times,” Maddie sighed.
If only, Amelia couldn’t help but think.
*
This Sunday night dinner was proving to be nothing like old times, Amelia quickly saw. For starters, the dinner that Candy had prepared was not dinner at all, at least not in the traditional sense of the word.
Amelia stood in dining room, staring at the buffet that had been assembled on the formal cherry wood table that had once belonged to her grandmother, and that her mother used to enlist them to polish, once a week. The chairs had been moved to the front living room so there would be more seating for the guests. The plates that were in a stack were made of plastic. Pink plastic. To match the pink plastic cups and the giant balloons that revealed Britt’s exact age. Seeing as she was only thirty-three, this probably wasn’t a total travesty, but still, Amelia made a mental note to not let Candy plan anything once they all neared forty.
If Candy was still around by then. Though, by the way things were going, that was likely.
Amelia pulled in a sigh, trying to suppress the emotions that were building inside her. Whoever said there was no place like home hadn’t met Candy. Yes, Amelia was in the very house where she had grown up, but the traditions that she and her sisters had worked to uphold were now replaced with Candy’s vision. Gone were the days of gathering around this very table with a roast and sides, or a giant lasagna, fresh from the oven, with Cora and Maddie arguing who would get the corner slice of garlic bread.
Amelia wasn’t even half s
ure what she was looking at, and she gingerly poked a ball of dough that sat in a basket with others, trying to determine if it was a sweet or a savory.
“Oh, goodie, you found my cheese biscuits!” Candy sang from where she stood in the entrance to the kitchen, her hair bigger and blonder than usual, her eyes shining. “Now don’t be shy! Go on, fill those plates! I have more coming! After all, it’s not every day I get to a host a party for one of Denny’s girls.”
Britt caught Amelia’s eye across the room, saying nothing, yet speaking everything.
Candy was trying her best. She cared. She wanted to do something nice for them. Britt saw it, even appreciated it.
But in that moment, Amelia had never missed her mother more.
She pushed the ache away, reminding herself that it was Britt’s day, and it was Britt who had perhaps handled their mother’s loss the hardest. She was the oldest. She’d known her the longest. This wasn’t easy for any of them, but she wasn’t going to make it any more difficult than it needed to be.
She watched as her cousins Gabby and Jenna exchanged a glance and then, gingerly, loaded their plates. It was what it was, she supposed. Her new reality. May as well try to make the most of it.
With a large gulp she took a bite of the “famous” cheese biscuit and, as much as she hated to admit, found that it was rather delicious. Unhealthy, yes, but…surprising. And oddly similar to one of Candy’s all-encompassing hugs. Soft. Warm. Even a little comforting.
She bypassed the multi-colored gelatin mold and the mini sausages wrapped in pastry, wishing she had brought a salad instead of the cupcakes. The tuna casserole was the only crowd pleaser, but the heavy hand of dark orange cheese made her pause, and she stepped away, deciding that she would opt instead for another…cheese biscuit.
“Told you you’d love ’em!” Candy’s carefully shaped eyebrows wiggled as she came into the room, setting another tray on the table. Cora was quick to slide a pot holder under the tray before it went down, and Amelia could practically hear all four sisters breathe a collective sigh of relief.
