by Olivia Miles
Amelia forced a smile. Her sisters were trying. The least she could do was show her appreciation.
“I wish I could enjoy it all, but I have to get started on breakfast,” she said. For today, at least, she thought darkly.
Maddie caught her frown and said loudly, “No need! I’ve already prepped everything, and the quiches just need to be popped in the oven. And one glass of wine won’t kill you, even at this hour. You practically grew up on this stuff.”
Amelia had to laugh at that. “Grew up around it,” she said, but it was true that her father did let them taste test as they got older—small mouthfuls, but still. She could hold her own.
“One glass,” she said. Yes, it was barely past sunrise, and she had a long day ahead of her, on her feet no less, but she could use a little something to take the edge off. And like Maddie said, one glass wouldn’t kill her.
But losing this café just might.
“Wine before coffee.” Britt uncorked a bottle. “Maybe I could do something with this…” Her eyes narrowed in thought.
The rest of them laughed. Some things would never change. Amelia supposed that there was comfort in that.
Maddie sliced the pie and doled it out and then Britt held up her glass in toast.
“Oh…” Amelia shook her head. “There’s nothing to toast, Britt. I’m going to lose my café. “
“All thanks to Matt Bradford,” Cora said scathingly. “I still can’t even believe it.”
None of them could. Maddie had been the one Amelia told, when she’d run home from the library, and it was Maddie who had told everyone else—that was, the ones that Candy hadn’t already gotten to, and that was half the town.
“I’m disappointed,” Britt said. “I can understand wanting to have a successful business, but this isn’t the way. Matt isn’t thinking of the town at all. He’s just thinking of himself.”
“Well, he certainly isn’t thinking about me,” Amelia said.
Britt looked at her sadly. “And here I thought something might be developing between you two again. At the concert, you seemed so connected. I thought something was still there.”
“Me too,” said Maddie.
“Me too,” admitted Amelia.
The room fell silent. Then, Britt lifted her glass again, and despite Amelia’s protests, insisted, “One toast. For this café. And for hope, that there is still a chance for it after all. A second chance. Because we all deserve one of those, even if it’s not meant to be in the romance department.”
She winked at Amelia, and despite her reservations, Amelia felt her shoulders relax. “I can toast to that.”
“We all can,” said Cora.
They clinked glasses, and each took a long sip.
“I think I’ll make coffee too,” Maddie said slowly, and they all started to laugh.
Still, there was a heaviness to the air as they each ate their pie and waited for the coffee to finish percolating.
“Well, in brighter news, the contest winner is revealed tomorrow!” Maddie looked around with wide eyes, trying to drum up some excitement.
Amelia had remembered that, somewhere in the back of her mind, like a grain of hope that hadn’t yet been pulled out by the tide.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said, dragging her fork through the pie filling.
“It certainly does matter!” Britt said. “Besides, if the winner is announced before the town council meeting, it will only reinforce your case.”
Amelia knew her sisters were trying to give her hope, but now was the time for reality. She shook her head and pushed the plate away.
“It won’t matter. The space next door has been vacant for months. The other stores along this path have been struggling for ages and will happily sell. And the bike shop has wanted to move to Main Street forever, they just couldn’t afford it before. Do you really think they’ll let me stay here just because I win some contest?” She shook her head. “Matt was right. That resort will bring a lot of business to the town. A lot of revenue. And what do I bring?”
Cora reached out a hand and set it over Amelia’s. “You bring people together, Amelia. More than any of those pubs or restaurants on Main Street. This is a local place. This is a family place. And we’re not letting it go without a fight.”
Amelia felt the tears begin to burn the back of her eyes, and she sniffed against them. She wasn’t sure if she was crying about the café or the disappointment that Matt had been the one to take it from her.
But it was more than that, she knew. She loved him. Then. Now. She loved him. She just didn’t know him anymore.
“How could he do this?” She stared at her sisters, looking for answers that she knew none of them could give.
It was Britt who spoke. “Robbie isn’t happy about it, either. Or Jackson. I guess they’ve been arguing.”
Amelia didn’t want to infer meaning that wasn’t there. “Arguing must mean that Matt is holding firm.”
Britt shook her head, looking dismayed. “He’s changed, Amelia. Everyone’s disappointed.”
“But not everyone will lose their business,” Amelia replied.
“We’ll rebuild,” Britt announced. “We’ll make a fresh start. We’ve had a lot of experience with those.”
“A lot of setbacks, you mean,” Amelia said. She frowned, deeply.
“And we’ve always come out on top,” Maddie said. She elbowed her gently, giving her a little smile. “It’s going to be okay, Amelia. You still have us.”
It was true. She still had her sisters. And she could still have a café. And this building, this view, these tables and windows and layout, and floorboards—they were just a structure. A house of memories. She had many of those.
“I’m just tired of losing things,” she said softly.
“Are you talking about the café, or are you talking about Matt?” Britt was watching her, her face expressionless, free of judgment.
“Both,” she admitted.
*
Matt sat on the old swing on the back of his childhood home, listening to the creaking of the chain with each inch that he moved. He probably shouldn’t be here, but he doubted anyone would know, and those that might notice weren’t likely to say anything. He’d lived here for eighteen years. Fallen down those stairs to the yard more times than he could count. Still had a scar on his knee to prove it.
Amelia’s words echoed in his head, replaying over and over, like a song he couldn’t stop hearing. It taunted him, but he knew that wasn’t her intention. She was trying to show him that it didn’t have to be this way. Not now. Not then.
He didn’t need to call his parents to verify what she’d said. Amelia had always been true to her word, and she was a good person, free of bad intent. And that was why it hurt the most, he supposed. Because every word that she said had tapped into his worst fears.
And every word she had said was true.
Of course his aunt and uncle would have tried to help. Deep down, he’d known it, even heard snippets of conversations, arguments between his parents, pleas from his mother. And wasn’t that why his mother had shut out Bonnie? It wasn’t because she was jealous. It was because she was ashamed. Embarrassed. And not because they lost the business and the house, but because they’d turned their back on family.
On this town.
He hadn’t seen much of Robbie and Jackson’s parents since he’d been back in town, and now as he pushed himself off the swing he decided it was time for a formal visit. The drive to town was short—too short to allow for him to change his mind, not that he would have. He’d waited too damn long to come back to this town to leave with unanswered questions. Or any more regrets.
The carriage house behind the inn that was named for its very structure was where his aunt and uncle still lived, but despite taking a backseat to loyal staff at this phase of life, Matt knew that his aunt Bonnie would be in the inn, tending to the fire in the lobby or checking on guests.
Sure enough, he found her fluffing th
e throw pillows on the couch in the lobby, a warm and inviting space in rich wood tones and creamy, cottage-style furniture.
She looked up at him, surprised but pleased. “Matt!” She held her arms open wide, just as she had that first night he’d briefly seen her before going to the pub, after visiting Amelia in her kitchen. Was that only two weeks ago? It felt like a lifetime.
“Sorry that I’ve been so busy,” he said, even though he knew that was only half-true. He had kept away from his aunt because it made him think of his mother, and it made him feel bad. But now he felt bad for other reasons, too. And he was sick and tired of feeling bad.
But Bonnie just smiled and motioned for him to sit. Like so many others in this town, she welcomed him as if he had just been here yesterday, not gone for half a lifetime.
Like Amelia had.
“You’ve been busy with this new resort development,” Bonnie commented.
Matt nodded grimly. He had no doubts that his aunt knew every single detail. Word traveled fast, and Jackson was already aware of it before he’d had the chance to tell him directly. Needless to say, things were tense back on the home front. Might mean that was his cue to leave. To say goodbye to this town once and for all.
But everything he had done was to make sure that this time he could return and call it his own. Maybe, he thought, it had been there for him all along.
“Can I ask you a question, Bonnie?”
She nodded. “Anything.”
“When my father lost the store…” He stopped, seeing the compassion in her eyes. “Did he and his brother…argue?”
Bonnie looked down at her hands and folded them in her lap. When she looked back up at him, he had the distinct impression that she had been waiting a long time to share her side of the story.
“Your father was a very proud man. He was the older brother, and he grew up thinking that he had to help take care of the family. For a while, everything was fine, and then the dynamic began to shift. We’ve been fortunate; our business here at the inn has always been steady, and we have waiting lists every weekend of summer, some weekdays too. And the local shops, well, they don’t have that same sort of security.” She smiled sadly. “Your father always loved old things. He loved finding them, restoring them, refinishing furniture that most people would throw out.” She jutted her chin to the grand piano in the corner of the room. “He found that. Believe me, it didn’t look like that when he did. But he made it what it is today and he gave it to us when we took over this inn. It’s one of my most treasured possessions,” she said quietly.
Matt admired the piano. He’d never known that his father had given that to his brother. “It’s beautiful,” he said.
Bonnie sighed. “We tried to help him. We offered up a loan, so he wouldn’t think it was charity.”
“And he didn’t take it,” Matt finished for her.
Bonnie looked at him sadly. “No. And by then, he was angry. He’d lost his house, and the store, and more than that, he’d lost something he loved very, very much.”
“The antiques?” Matt asked.
“This town,” Bonnie said. “Those old things he found and poured love into were a part of this town. And I think…I think he thought it failed him. That what he loved most about Blue Harbor hadn’t been enough in the end.”
Matt nodded. He understood all too well.
“He’s a stubborn man,” Matt said ruefully.
“Well, never give up hope,” Bonnie sighed. “Life doesn’t always go as planned. But sometimes, it leads us on the path we were meant to take.”
Matt reached over and gave his aunt a hug. “Thank you, Bonnie. I’ve missed you, you know. I’ve missed all of you.”
“We’re right here. This is your home, too, Matt. You just have to remember that. There’s still hope.” Her last comment was more of a question, and she looked at him, as if she were searching his face for an answer.
One that he didn’t have the answer to yet. He wanted to believe that everything would work out, just as Bonnie said it would. And maybe, there was still a way that it could.
He left the inn and walked down Main Street, pausing at the road that led down to Amelia’s café. He knew she’d be inside, tending to the last few tables or prepping for tomorrow.
He was so close, that he could be at the door in under a minute. See her, talk to her, try to get through to her. But he knew that now wasn’t the time.
It was late. The sun would be up before he knew it, if he didn’t beat it to it.
Best to get an early start if he intended to convince the mayor to put his plan into action.
14
Amelia awoke to a pounding on her door. A hard, deliberate, urgent sound that wouldn’t go away. Her heart sped up as she threw back the covers, realizing that it was still dark outside, and once glance at the clock on her bedside table confirmed that her alarm wasn’t scheduled to go off for another eleven minutes.
She grabbed her once-soft terrycloth robe that Maddie had threatened to throw away once, flung it on, and pushed into the hallway toward the door.
Maddie was standing there, grinning wildly, already dressed for work. Her smile only slipped when she raked her eyes over Amelia’s attire. “Still wearing that dingy thing? I thought I convinced you to get rid of it.”
Amelia was hardly in the mood to justify her comfortable clothes, or point out that recent events just proved that she had no real point in making much effort. Really, Maddie should be happy that Amelia hadn’t slipped on her ugly but oh so comfortable slippers. Yet.
“There isn’t a fire?” Amelia was breathless. She waited for her heart rate to resume a normal speed as she fought off her annoyance at being interrupted. As it was, she had struggled to fall asleep, knowing that today was the day of the council meeting, when all her worst fears would materialize. Even a marathon of her favorite show couldn’t calm her anxiety—or her dread.
And now she had been deprived eleven precious minutes of sleep, on a day she didn’t even want to face, because Maddie couldn’t wait to see what it brought?
“You won!” Maddie squealed, pushing past her into the house.
It took a moment for Amelia to register what Maddie even meant. But then it clicked. The contest. She’d actually done it.
They’d actually done it.
“That’s…great news,” she said, trying to picture how this would all play out. She’d have to find a new storefront soon. Her address would change. Should she be sure to tell the magazine that before they posted the information of her café for all to see? But she didn’t even know where she would end up. None of the vacant storefronts looked appealing, and none were equipped with a full kitchen. This transition could take a while.
“You don’t sound excited.” Maddie looked disappointed, but Amelia couldn’t bring herself to shake off the bad mood that had settled over her chest, weighing it down, landing with a heavy thud. This should be one of the happiest days she’d had in a long time. Just like that kiss should have been a happy day, too.
But how could she celebrate that her café was being recognized and honored when she might not even have a café much longer?
“I wish it was different,” she said, tightening the belt around her waist. “A few months ago, this would have all felt exciting, like we were on the up and up. Now it feels like it’s all just crashing down.”
Maddie grabbed her by the arms, giving her a little shake. “This might be what you need to convince the town that you have a real, solid business that deserves your current location.”
“And the empty space next door? And the other struggling boutiques behind Main Street?” She shook her head as she moved toward the kitchen in search of caffeine. “It’s a lot of land.”
Maddie closed the door behind her and followed her down the hall. “And I don’t think many people would want to see some giant building erected in its place! Come on, Amelia. Don’t let Matt take this from you too. You won the contest!”
“We won the co
ntest,” Amelia corrected, stopping at the kitchen counter. She managed a little smile, seeing how much this meant to her sister. She always knew that her family was her biggest cheerleader, but Maddie had been a special source of support over the years. Now, it was her turn to give back.
“I’m sharing the prize money with you,” she said, and she held up a finger when Maddie started to protest. “Or I don’t cash it at all.”
Maddie gave her a rueful smile. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“I learn from the best,” Amelia replied, but her heart tugged when she recalled how exciting it had been to borrow that dress for a day. It had been a nice day.
“No,” Maddie insisted. “I learned from the best.”
Amelia busied herself making the coffee, using the good beans today, the ones that she usually saved for her days off. Normally this was mindless work, but today she struggled to concentrate on measuring the scoops, and the entire process felt labor intensive, and difficult. She looked at the clock on the wall, the one shaped like a strawberry that had been a Christmas gift from Maddie in younger years. She now had ten minutes to drink the cup that she usually had at the café. She didn’t know how she would get through the breakfast service, much less the entire day. And a Friday, to boot, when they would be extra busy with all the summer tourists.
Once, that kind of work in the kitchen soothed her nerves and her worries, and grounded her. Now, it no longer felt like her center. That café was her center. And that café was not going to be hers much longer.
“What are we going to do, Maddie?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears. She set her mug down on the counter, not even sure she cared if she started with her morning cup or not.
Maddie’s smile dropped as they walked into the adjacent living room and dropped onto their favorite armchairs. On the mantle were framed family photos, most taken outside, all taken here in Blue Harbor. Amelia’s eyes fell on the photo of her mother. It was one of her favorites of all time, taken in the backyard on a hot summer day. The girls were of various ages. Amelia was around nine. They were disheveled looking. Maddie was wearing a bathing suit that had been Cora’s the year before. Britt was wearing cut-off shorts and a tank top. They were all barefoot, squinting in the sun. Their mother wore a big, floppy hat, but from under it, her smile was radiant. She had all her girls with her. All her little ones. That’s what she’d called them.
