by Marie Landry
When I reach Gwen’s office, she has a cell phone pressed to her ear and is typing one-handed on another. This is a regular sight with Gwen. The glittery silver phone at her ear is her personal cell, while the other is the one she uses for Village business. She sends me a frazzled smile when she sees me, and jerks her chin toward the bistro table and chairs in the corner.
With a hurried ‘thank you, goodbye’ Gwen ends the call. She continues tapping away on her work phone as she makes her way over to the table where I’ve laid out our lunch. I don’t know how she does it. The extent of my multi-tasking skills is being able to shake my booty to loud music while baking.
She gives me an absentminded one-armed hug before dropping into her chair. “You’re the greatest.” She sets the phone face down on the table and reaches for her sandwich. Cravings doesn’t have much of a lunch menu—we decided early on we didn’t want to be seen as competition to the Village’s diner—but we offer a small selection of rotating lunch choices. Despite being an experiment of sorts, the eggplant parmesan sandwich with pesto was such a hit it earned a permanent spot on our daily menu.
After loading extra pesto onto her sandwich, Gwen takes a giant bite. Her eyes slip closed and she releases a moan of pleasure that makes me snicker.
“What’s the latest news?” I ask, taking a sip of my cappuccino.
She lets out a muffled noise and takes another bite of her sandwich. With her free hand, she flips her phone over and taps it to wake up the screen. “I’m loving your Insta posts today,” she says around a mouthful of food. “That sign you made is beautiful. Maybe I should have you hand-letter the menus for the wedding.”
“I could do that. That could be my gift to you.”
She gives me a squinty side-eye. “Haven’t we been over this?”
I make a non-committal noise and bite into my sandwich. When Gwen and her fiancé Evan set their wedding date, they made several announcements to their family and friends. The first was they didn’t want gifts; they’ve already been living together for over a year, so they have everything they need. Gwen said she was sure we’ve all been to weddings where you’re certain the pile of expensive gifts will get stuck in cupboards and closets to collect dust, and she didn’t want that to be the case with them.
The second announcement: they wouldn’t be having a traditional wedding party, and therefore no bachelor or bachelorette parties. They decided it would be too difficult—and potentially awkward—trying to choose from their small group of friends, plus Evan’s four siblings. Instead, they’ve planned a few group outings that will fit the theme of their autumn wedding next month.
As much as I adore Gwen and Evan, I was relieved by both announcements, mostly because all my savings went into Cravings, leaving me a bit cash poor. Actually, make that a lot cash poor. There have been days when I wouldn’t have eaten if I hadn’t snagged leftovers from the café. Making your dreams a reality doesn’t always come cheap. While I would have loved to be one of Gwen’s bridesmaids, the thought of having to buy a pricey dress I’d likely never wear again nearly gave me hives.
I offered to cater the dessert buffet as my wedding gift, but Gwen said that was too much and insisted on hiring Marisol and me instead. I only resisted for about half a minute before giving in and offering them our friends and family discount. I didn’t relish the idea of living off canned soup and boxed macaroni and cheese for the next few months. As it is, I’ll have to take several days off work to attend all the events they have planned. I can’t complain about that, though, because autumn is my favorite time of year and I haven’t had a chance to enjoy it properly for ages.
“Okay, fine,” I say. “But in this case it wouldn’t cost me anything. It wouldn’t take me long to make one menu and then you could have copies made. Just think about it.” I can see her gearing up to argue, so I change the subject. “Why were you in crisis mode earlier?”
Gwen waves a dismissive hand. “We’re supposed to be talking about your marketing plan, not my latest dilemma.”
Now it’s my turn to shoot her some squinty side-eye. “Work can wait. You already said my Instagram posts today were great. I had five people come in and tell me they saw my post about the discount. Last time I did that, not a single person mentioned it, so I’m clearly doing something right.”
“You definitely are, but I have a few ideas of how you can really maximize—”
“Gwen.”
She sighs. “Okay, okay. Malcolm and Sherée decided they wanted to come for the weekend since they won’t be able to do any of the group wedding fun with the baby coming soon,” she says, referring to Evan’s older brother and his wife. “I’m not overjoyed at having to host people on such short notice—especially someone who’s almost nine months pregnant and could go into labor at any moment—but I feel bad they’ll be missing out on all the stuff leading up to the wedding, so I said they could come.”
“I can help entertain them this weekend if that’s what you’re worried about,” I tell her.
“I’ll probably take you up on that, although that’s not currently the issue. When Jasper found out Malcolm and Sherée were coming, he asked if he could come along too.”
Evan’s siblings all live in Toronto. Out of the four of them, I’ve only properly met his younger sister, Hadley. His older sister is a semi-famous author, who I briefly met at a book signing in Toronto last year. I’ve heard plenty about the Perrys, though, especially Evan’s oldest brother Jasper, who Gwen lovingly refers to as ‘allergic to displays of emotion and affection’.
Gwen met the entire Perry clan for the first time last December when they all spent a week together in a rented house for the holidays. Until then, the Perry siblings—whose parents died years ago in an accident—only saw each other at Christmas. Even then it was out of familial obligation and tradition, rather than any real desire to spend time together.
“Good ol’ Jasper,” I say, watching as Gwen adds more pesto to her sandwich. I feel like I should hand her a spoon and let her eat it straight out of the container.
Gwen’s lips twitch. “Yeah, good ol’ Jasper. I actually don’t mind that he wanted to come. He’s still kind of stiff and overly formal at times, but I’m slowly wearing him down, and I’ve genuinely grown to love him like a brother. The problem is our couch; it popped a spring this week and we haven’t had time to fix it, so there’s nowhere for Jasper to sleep.”
“Ahh, gotcha. Tell him to come some other time then. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
My suggestion is met with a grimace. “They’re already here. The three of them arrived a couple of hours ago and came straight to the Village. Evan left work early so he could keep them occupied while I wrap up some things before the weekend. Ivy and Hugh are still away, but Ivy said Jasper can stay with them tomorrow when they get back to town. That still leaves tonight, though.”
“How do you think he’d feel about sleeping on my couch?” I ask.
Gwen freezes with the last of her sandwich halfway to her mouth. “No. No, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve never even met Jasper. I’ll figure something out. Evan and I could give him our bed and camp out in the living room. It could be fun.”
“While I wouldn’t normally offer to let a strange man sleep on my couch, we’re talking about Evan's brother here. From what you’ve told me, the only danger I’d be in is from rolling my eyes too hard at the things he says.”
Gwen tries to hide her amusement behind her take-out coffee cup, but her sparkling eyes give her away. “Are you sure? He could stay with us until late in the evening and then we’d send him to your place to sleep. That way you wouldn’t feel like you have to entertain him or anything.”
“Whatever works for you. And whatever makes this—” I lean forward and smooth the crease between her brow with two of my fingers—“go away. At this rate you’re going to need botox before your wedding.”
Gwen chuckles, running her thumb over her forehead where my fingers were. “You’re a li
fesaver. I’ll message Evan and see where they are. If they’re not nearby, I’ll make sure he takes Jasper by the café later so you guys can meet before he ends up on your doorstep tonight.” She taps out a quick text on her phone, then reaches for the bag of cookies I brought. “I’m hoping to finalize the schedule for all the pre-wedding fun this weekend. I know it was our decision not to have a traditional wedding party, but if we had, you know you and Ivy would have been my bridesmaids. I want you by my side for as many activities as possible.”
“Nothing could stop me,” I tell her. “Marisol knows I’ll be taking time off here and there, and I’m sure our few employees will be happy about picking up some extra shifts, especially with the holidays coming.”
The crease returns between Gwen’s brows. “Can you…will you…” She blows out a breath and straightens in her chair. “Can you afford to take the time off?”
Gwen knows I’ve poured all my money into Cravings. When I first moved back to Bellevue, I thought I might have to stay with my mom for a while, but her busy social life—including the fact she dates far more than I do—forced me to dig deeper into my already over-extended savings to find a place of my own. It’s approximately the size of a postage stamp, the pipes are old and creaky, and the fridge is often empty, but it’s mine and I love it.
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell her. “Business is better than we ever could have hoped. Money is tight, but there’s no way I’d miss out on any of the fall fun you have planned.” Gwen still looks concerned, so I barrel on, wanting to get off the topic of money and make her smile again. “I hope everyone who’s invited to the pre-wedding festivities appreciates fall more than the guy who came into the café this morning. He turned up his nose at my decor and told me autumn wasn’t officially until next week. He was so stuffy, I kind of wish I’d had a bit more fun with him, although I’m sure any teasing would have gone right over his head. Flirting too, which is a shame because he was cute.”
“Cute, eh? You haven’t talked about a single guy, even in passing, since you got back to Bellevue. Does this by any chance mean you’re ready to start dating again?”
I’m about to tell her I’m not sure how she got ‘dating’ from ‘flirting’ when there’s a knock on the door, and Gwen calls for whoever it is to come in. Shifting in my seat to see who’s at the door causes my napkin to flutter to the floor. I have a second to catch a glimpse of Evan before I lean over to scoop it up. As I’m straightening, my gaze snags on a pair of legs encased in dark jeans. Dark, ironed jeans attached to long legs, a green pullover sweater, and…yep, rich brown eyes. It’s Mr. Decaffeinated Autumn Hater himself.
Neither of the men has noticed me yet, so I take a minute to study Evan’s companion. Within seconds, it hits me why he looked so familiar in the café: he’s a slightly older version of Evan. Everything Gwen has told me about Evan’s oldest brother clicks into place like a completed puzzle. Stiff, overly formal, matter of fact, socially awkward. The man from the café is Jasper Perry. And I just told Gwen I thought he was cute.
Evan strides into the room and goes straight for Gwen, giving her a quick hug and kiss. He comes around the table to hug me next. “I see you’re keeping my fiancée fed, as usual.” He peers over my shoulder at the bistro table and snags the half-eaten cookie on Gwen’s napkin before waving a hand behind him. “Willow, this is my oldest brother, Jasper. Jasper, this is a good friend of ours, Willow Stewart. She co-owns the café here in the Village.”
Jasper steps forward with his hand outstretched. I’m not sure if the way his brows are pinched is his normal expression or if he’s putting together the fact we met this morning. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Willow. Officially, that is.” His warm hand engulfs mine and he gives it a firm shake.
“Officially?” Gwen asks.
“Sherée wanted coffee as soon as we arrived, so I stopped at the café while she and Malcolm went into the shop next door,” Jasper explains. His diligence over the decaffeinated coffee makes sense now, seeing as his sister-in-law is pregnant.
“Huh.” The absent way Gwen says it, paired with the way her eyes are currently boring into me, tells me she’s put together what I said earlier with what Jasper just told her. I stare back at her, trying to keep my expression placid, even though I can feel heat creeping into my cheeks. After an endless moment, she turns back to Jasper and asks where Sherée and Malcolm are.
I listen to his response with half an ear as I tidy up Gwen’s and my lunch things. I tune back in when Jasper says he doesn’t want to be a bother and would be fine staying in a hotel for the night.
“It’s no bother,” I say. “My apartment is tiny, but my couch is comfortable, and it’s only for one night. We’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the next few weeks for wedding stuff, so we might as well get a head start. I promise my apartment doesn’t have any autumn decor.”
A tiny hint of movement flits around Jasper’s mouth. Gwen has told me getting him to smile is sometimes like pulling teeth, although apparently he’s improved over the last year. The way amusement lights his brown eyes makes me curious to see his smile. And when I get curious about something, I tend to make it my mission to find out.
“That’s settled then,” Gwen says. “Jasper, you’ll come to our place for the evening, then you can head over to Willow’s later tonight.”
Jasper nods in my direction. “I’m much obliged.”
Much obliged! Oh, this guy. I give him a bright smile, which is met with another minuscule movement of his mouth. Operation Make Jasper Smile roots itself in my brain. After being all work and no play since returning to Bellevue, I think I’m going to have a little fun with Jasper Perry.
CHAPTER THREE
Needing an extra dose of humor and a hug after a long day, I head to my mom’s when I leave Cravings. I’m also hoping Mom will feed me dinner, despite the lunch leftovers Marisol insisted I take home with me.
My mom still lives in the house she and I moved into after my parents got divorced. The move happened at the beginning of the summer between elementary school and high school. Mom knew I was feeling the effects of the divorce, plus leaving the familiarity of my old school and having to move into a new house, so she took as much time off work that summer as she could to help me acclimate to our new life and home. When I think of the fact she was only thirty-two at the time—nearly three years younger than I am now—I wonder how she did it. We’ve had our differences over the years, but I’ve never for a second doubted her love or devotion to me, or forgotten all the things she’s done for me.
Which is why, when I arrive at the house and find her in a flurry of motion and a cloud of perfume, I swallow a sigh. She has a date. It’s Friday night—of course she has a date. I mentally wave goodbye to mother-daughter time and try not to think about the fact my fifty-four-year-old mother has more of a social life than I do.
“How’s my girl?” Mom asks, giving me a bone-crushing embrace. At least I got my hug. And bonus, now I smell like her fancy perfume I’ve never been able to afford. “Please tell me we didn’t have plans tonight and I forgot.”
“Nope, no plans, I just thought I’d drop by.”
When I first returned to Bellevue, I always texted before coming over because I personally hate when people show up at my door unannounced. That’s what cell phones are for, after all. Mom, however, insisted this was still my home even if I didn’t live here anymore, and said I should be able to come over whenever I want. Despite conceding, I draw the line at using my key to let myself in after the time I accidentally walked in on her and her date making out on the couch.
“Well, I’m glad you did. Now you can help me with something.” She motions for me to follow her to her bedroom, where she parts the sea of clothes on the bed to make room for me to sit. She rifles around in her closet and comes up holding two pairs of high heels. “Which shoes go better with this dress? I was thinking the black, but the silver are more FMPs, and I think that’s the vibe I’m going for.”
>
I try not to cringe. Not only does my mom have more of a social life than I do, she has more of a sex life too. She’s basically a modern day Blanche Devereux from Golden Girls, minus the selfishness, inappropriate comments, and fat-shaming. I’m extra grateful for that last one, considering I’ve been shopping in the plus-size section since I was twelve.
“Go with the silver then,” I tell her. “Who are you seeing tonight? Anyone I know?”
“Actually, yes. I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to jinx it, but this is my fifth date with Emilio. I really like him, Willow.” Her wide, almost girlish smile makes her hazel eyes glitter. She turns toward her vanity and picks through several tubes of lipstick before settling on one. “I’m going to talk to him tonight about being exclusive. I know I said I wasn’t really looking for that, but…”
“I think Emilio is a great choice,” I say, surprised to find I mean it. It took Mom nearly a decade to start dating after the divorce, despite the fact she was still young and beautiful, and had a successful career as an executive assistant at the biggest law firm in town. When she finally did start dating, I think she subconsciously set the bar too low because none of the guys were remotely right for her. Living in Toronto the last three years means I haven’t met many of Mom’s recent ‘paramours’ as she calls them, but I have met Emilio, who charmed me instantly. And not just because he bears a striking resemblance to Antonio Banderas, sexy Spanish accent and all.
Mom pauses in her lipstick application, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “You mean that?” At my nod, her broad smile returns. She finishes slicking on her lipstick—a bright red I can’t imagine attempting to pull off myself—and turns to me. “If things go well tonight, I’d like to make plans for the three of us to have dinner together.”
“I’m sure things will go great tonight. Emilio would be a fool not to want a woman like you in his life more permanently.” I rise from the bed and begin tidying the mess of clothes so she won’t have to do it when she gets back later. She shoos me away, but I still manage to get a few dresses on hangers before she ushers me from the room.
