by Drea Stein
Darby checked the pot of water she had set to boil. “He’s not that type of guy. At least I don’t think he is. He told me that he used to be that guy, but he hasn’t had a fight in many years. And you know the guy he punched? That was Will Green.”
“Will Green . . . stealer of family recipes and salter of spinach?” Caitlyn said, her voice dripping in mock horror.
“Well, I know violence is never the answer, but if there’s one person who ever deserved a fist in the face, it would be Will Green. And it wouldn’t surprise me if he started it, pushed Sean into punching him first to make Sean look bad.” Darby wondered why she felt the need to defend Sean, then decided she would think more about that later.
“Well,” Caitlyn said, “I would say you’re a pretty good judge of character, but you did date Will. And just for the record, I never liked him. Just, you know, be careful. Chase told me that Sean was eager to come out here, get a chance to do his own thing, start over. I just hope he’s not looking to use Chase as a stepping stone to get back to his former glory.”
“Using Chase?” Darby stopped. “Why would he be doing that?”
“Well, apparently no one else wanted to hire him in the city. Chase had already tried to get him to come out here, be a partner in the restaurant a while ago, but Sean said no. Until, of course, he didn’t have any other options. Chase is a good guy, so he told Sean the offer still stood.”
“Oh.” Darby hadn’t been quite aware of all of the details of what had happened. The Sean Callahan she had known about had seemed to live for the glory of being in the fast-paced kitchens of restaurants that were more theatrical productions than places to get a good meal. The Osprey Arms was and would never be anything more than a charming small town restaurant.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. I mean, he seems like he’s settling in. The Osprey’s doing great, Chase is happy, and they just got a great review in the paper. So, perhaps Sean’s given up the bright lights of the big city for our quieter way of life.”
Caitlyn took a sip of her wine, and Darby was aware that her friend was eyeing her.
“Well, look, it’s the summer time, and a girl’s entitled to have a little fun, especially if a certain Chef Sexy is also looking to have some fun too.”
“Amen to that.” Caitlyn raised her glass and saluted Darby. A summer fling, really that’s all she could expect, right, especially if Sean was thinking of going back to his life in the city. Darby decided not to get ahead of herself. She had other things to think about.
Darby took the skillet, dumped the contents onto a platter, and set it back on the range. She poured some wine into the pan, hoping that Caitlyn would stop talking about Sean.
“So, enough about him. Why are you here?” Caitlyn asked.
“I thought we were going to drink wine and watch bad movies,” Darby said.
“Well, we can do that, but I would much rather plan your takeover of The Dory,” Caitlyn said.
“Takeover? Caitlyn, I can’t just take over my father’s restaurant.”
“Can’t you?”
Darby continued to stir the wine and butter in the pan, watching as they swirled together. Caitlyn’s silence forced her into an answer. Sighing, she said, “I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what, Darby? What you want to do with your life?”
“Exactly,” Darby said, and she tried to shake the misery out of her voice. “I mean, I should just shut up. I had a good job, a career and yet . . . .”
“All you want to do is bake cookies,” Caitlyn finished for her.
“Not quite. It’s just that you know the way some girls dream about their weddings, with all the details?”
Caitlyn nodded. “Who hasn’t?”
“Well, for me, I would go into The Dory and would make it over in my head. From the time I was a little girl. How the floor would be gleaming wood and the walls would be bright and the whole place would be light and airy. It would be filled with people, sitting with friends, drinking good coffee or hot chocolate, enjoying a little something that would make them, even if it was only temporary, forget about everything else out there.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Caitlyn said. “We’re allowed our dreams. That’s what makes life exciting.”
Darby sighed. This dream had seemed so farfetched she’d never really shared it with anyone. “But that wasn’t all. It wasn’t enough. Before I knew it, I was dreaming that there would be ten of them, all along the coast. I even came up with a name: The Golden Pear Cafe.”
Caitlyn threw back her head and laughed. “And that’s what I’m talking about. Go big or go home.”
When Darby didn’t speak for a moment, Caitlyn asked, “Why do you seem so miserable over it?”
“It seems like it’s asking a lot. Here I am, a lawyer. I went to every school on a scholarship, I did everything I was supposed to do, and now I’m throwing it all away to bake cookies.”
Caitlyn’s face turned serious. “You’re dreaming of starting a business. Sure, the product may be cookies, but that’s not the point. Stop thinking of yourself as some girl who likes to make cookies trapped inside a lawyer’s skin.”
“And do what?” Darby asked, fascinated. Caitlyn seemed to have changed before her eyes. She had pushed herself up tall from the counter, and her eyes gleamed with excitement as she brandished her wine glass like a sword from some epic quest.
“Become the cookie queen of New England, the lawyer turned chef, turned entrepreneur, the women who wants to remake the cookie in America—you name it, you claim it. Claim a strong story, and you’ll be it. At least that’s half the battle. If you want to remake The Dory into the first in a chain of lunch cafes, then go for it. Stop hemming and hawing, and kick some butt. Show your dad what it could be. Give The Dory a complete makeover. Show him your dream and get him to buy into it. That will get his attention.”
“It would, wouldn’t it? What’s that they say: ‘It’s better to beg for forgiveness than ask permission’?”
“Now you’re talking,” Caitlyn said, raising her wineglass. Together they clinked glasses, the wine sloshing a bit.
All of a sudden Darby remembered she had food cooking.
“Dinner,” she said, turning her attention back to the stove top. Luckily, it was salvageable.
“Hope you didn’t ruin it. I haven’t had a real meal in weeks.”
Darby shook her head and stirred the ingredients in the pan. “Well then, you’re in for a treat.”
#
Darby shook herself awake and reached for her watch. The luminous numbers glowed faintly. Just about four thirty in the morning. She had taken Caitlyn up on her offer to stay over, both of them agreeing that drinking more wine was a better idea than having to call it a night.
Still, they’d both switched to water before it got too late, snuggling up on the den’s couch watching a classic John Cusack movie they’d found on TV. Somewhere along the way, Darby must have fallen asleep and Caitlyn had covered her with another blanket and then disappeared up to her own room.
Darby stretched and then sat up. She was wide awake now and craving coffee. Besides, she had to open The Dory soon, and her mind was racing with ideas, plans for what to do next. There was no question of sneaking in another thirty minutes of sleep.
She gathered up her shoes and the light sweater she’d worn, collected the rest of her things, set up the coffee maker, and wrote Caitlyn a note of thanks before stealing quietly out the door.
Dawn had begun, the sun pushing up above the bluffs in the east, suffusing the sky with a pinkish glow. It was a good time of morning. She breathed in, catching the faint tang of salt water and dried seaweed. A curious blend of smells that meant Queensbay to her. No matter how glorious it had been to wake up in the concrete canyons of Manhattan, there was nothing that could compare to the subtle awakening of the world around the harbor. A gull circled overhead, letting out one loud caw, and a lonely boat, likely that of a fisherman, chugged out across the harbo
r’s channel toward the open water of the Sound.
As she slid behind the wheel of her car, she smiled to herself. The cookie queen, a bakery entrepreneur. That was how she was going to think about herself, how she was going to attack the rest of the day. It was the first day of her new life, her new Golden Pear.
Chapter 17
Darby went in through the front door, pausing to assess the deli. She took in the big glass windows and the slightly chipped paint on the façade. The morning sun was just rising, and she’d have the regulars here before she knew it. Still, she looked. It was a perfect location, right in the middle of downtown, a walk up from the harbor and the marina, nestled amongst the stores and shops that made Main Street a destination.
She pushed open the door, the bell jingling. The floors were cracked and tired linoleum, but that could easily be changed out. The space was large. Her dad kept only a few booths, but if she took those out, there was plenty of room for several more café tables. The glass display counters were fine. The walls were a nondescript beige, but again, nothing a coat of paint and a few pieces of art couldn’t revitalize.
She closed her eyes, imagining the place filled with cheerful, upbeat music, couples sharing coffee, young mothers having lunch and gossiping, people breezing in and out to order coffees and soups to go. She could smell cinnamon, vanilla, and spicy chili, and she could even hear the laughter and the happiness.
Taking a deep breath, she decided. Sure, the ideas had been racing through her mind for years, but they had started to take shape after Quentin told her that her dad was ready to sell. And then Caitlyn’s pep talk had been the final thing she needed: a call to action. It was time to shake things up, no more doing things the slow and steady way. If her dad wanted to sell The Dory, he didn’t need to do it Quentin Tate. He’d have a buyer right in front of him.
She finished her quick survey. Floors redone, a paint job, new furniture and display cabinets, but that was all. She turned and leaned her back against the cool glass. It would be another hot day, and there was a vat of iced coffee that needed to be made, but she took a moment to visualize it once more. She could see the people sitting at the tables, savoring a scone or a brownie, sipping coffee. Mothers and kids during the day. Business lunches, regulars, and tourists all coming in.
Yes, this was what she wanted. And it had been here all along.
Chapter 18
It had been almost two days since she had seen Sean. Not that she was counting, and she’d had plenty to keep her occupied. But even busy with her plans, her mind kept wandering, and she found herself touching her lips as if she could still feel the heat from his kiss.
She sighed. She was beginning to think that the kiss had been a figment of her imagination. At least she had acted cool about it, not falling into his arms and moaning, like she had the first time it had happened.
Maybe she’d been too cool about it, and he had gotten the impression that she wasn’t interested. Of course, not being interested was the smart thing to be, right? Sure, he told her that he wasn’t the temperamental chef he’d used to be, that he was trying to be a different type of person. But could people really change? She had had enough of temperamental with Will Green.
She wiped clean the counter she had already cleaned and checked the clock. It was the mid-morning lull at The Dory and everything was prepped for the lunch rush. It left a lot of room for her thoughts to race.
Her phone vibrated against her hip, and she pulled it from her pocket. She knew it wouldn’t be Sean, of course. She knew that because she had never given him her number. But he was a smart guy, right, he should be able to find it if he wanted to?
Nope, it was her dad, with another one of his reminder texts. Something about checking on the supply of corn starch.
She sighed. She didn’t think her father could change. In fact, looking around The Dory, she knew he was immune to it. This place hadn’t changed since before her grandmother had died, and now it was looking tired and dated. It did need a total makeover.
Another text buzzed through. This one was from her mom, begging her to tell her dad that everything was okay so that they could go on a tour of Florence.
Sighing, Darby looked at the phone, her mind racing. Carefully, she texted him: All fine here. Slow day, going to add a fresh coat of paint and new posters, OK?
She waited, holding her breath. Had she just asked permission to make changes to The Dory? Had she just found a way to put into action everything she had always dreamed of?
The reply wasn’t too long in coming. OK, do it at night so it doesn’t smell during the breakfast rush. And don’t forget the corn starch.
Darby smiled, texted back a smiley face, and shoved the phone back in her pocket. She couldn’t quite believe it, but she had just gotten permission from her dad to freshen the place up. And that was just the permission she needed to go through with her grand plan. Maybe change isn’t so hard after all, she thought as she bent down to straighten out some of the baskets in the display counter. There was the tinkle of the bell over the door and she called out, “Just a moment,” as she reset the little sign for her caramel truffle brownies.
“Fancy meeting you here.” Sean Callahan’s voice floated up and she jumped, hitting her head on the inside of the counter.
“It is my deli,” she said when she finally came up, resisting the urge to rub the back of her head where she had hit it. The look of amusement in Sean’s eye was enough to have her folding her hands across her chest and do her best to stare him down. Two days, she reminded herself. It had been two days since he had kissed her and nearly lifted her straight out of her socks.
“I have the afternoon off tomorrow,” he said, grinning at her. “I was thinking, since you’re a hometown girl, that perhaps we could go on a drive, that maybe you could show me around a bit.”
“Haven’t you already been here a couple of months?” she said. “Because this sounds like another one of your pick-up lines. Are you planning on running out of gas on Lover’s Lane?”
“Never heard of it,” he said quickly and in a deadpan voice. It earned him a smile. “But I’ve been living in the hotel since I got here and I realized that I haven’t really left it, since I was so busy getting everything up and running with the restaurant. But finally, things are where I want them and I feel like I can, actually should, step back a little, see what the team at the restaurant can do without me. So I thought an afternoon off, with you, might be a nice way to test the theory out.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
He shook his head. “If that’s what you want. Or,” he amended, before she could answer, “how about we call it me-asking-a-local-to-show-me-around outing. We can sit next to each other, in the car, and talk to each other, get to know one another.”
“I already know you,” she pointed out, moving down the counter to straighten her jar of homemade granola.
He followed. “True, but I was hoping we could start over. Pretend that all the stuff in the past didn’t happen.”
“All the stuff?” she asked, moving on to better arrange some napkins. She decided she was happy with this bit of verbal sparring they had going on.
“Well, most of the stuff,” he answered, his voice low and throaty.
She looked at him, trying to seem as if she had nothing more pressing on her mind than milk or sugar in her coffee. Finally, she said, “Ok, but not a drive.”
“No?”
“You’ve been here, what, a couple of months. Have you even been on the water?”
He shook his head. “Does it look bad if I say no?”
Darby shook her head. “Well, well, well then, a harbor virgin. We’re definitely going to have to fix that. Tomorrow afternoon, then, and I’ll play tour guide.”
“What can I do?” he managed to ask.
“Prepare to be impressed.”
He gave her a smile, and then said, “I think I already am.”
Chapter 19
Darby was on her w
ay home, feeling like she was floating on air. She’d gotten her father to agree to changes to The Dory and she and Sean were going on a date—okay, so not a “date” date—together. Things, while not too good to be true, were starting to move along nicely. Perhaps her crazy scheme of quitting her job so that her dad would have to let her work at The Dory hadn’t been so crazy after all.
The sun was burning fiercely in the sky and there was just the barest hint of a breeze whispering in from the sea. Perhaps she’d call Caitlyn and see if she wanted to come over and hang out after work. They could look over paint color samples for the interior of The Dory. She was so intent in her thoughts that she almost bumped into him before she saw him, managing to pull herself back just in time, before being bounced back halfway up the sidewalk.
“Jake,” she said in surprise, looking up into the familiar face topped with close-cropped blonde hair and light-blue eyes. The face was handsome enough, with well-placed brows and a straight nose. The chin was strong, marred only by a thin white line that was all that remained of a childhood bike accident.
“Darby . . . .” He looked down at her, his mouth curling into a smile. He pulled her close into him and she managed to turn just in time so that his lips brushed her cheek and not her lips. He still held her by both arms, not letting her go. She finally managed to take a step back, out of his arms, but still he blocked her path.
“I heard you were back in town.”
“Just for a bit,” Darby said and then smiled. Jake was just the person she needed, if only she could convince him to keep his mouth shut.
“Yeah, your mom said you were helping out while they were away. I’m a bit surprised you were able to get the time off from work.” He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation.
“Well, you know, I saved up a lot of vacation,” Darby said coolly. She had learned something from being on the debate team. A weak position could be enhanced by strenuously sticking to it.
