“So,” Cassie pressed. “What did he want to talk about?”
“He… wanted to apologize. For showing up at the picnic unannounced.”
“That’s thoughtful of him. Especially since you were the one who dumped him, right?”
Eliza winced. She hated the expression dumped, as if ending their four-year relationship equated to tossing a used cupcake liner in the trash. “It was very thoughtful. He also…” She hesitated to share the news, knowing once she said it out loud, there was no going back. “He also offered to build us a website. For free.”
Cassie’s eyes widened, and the swing came to an abrupt halt as she planted her feet on the ground. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“Liza, that’s amazing!” Cassie squealed.
“What’s amazing?” Frank pushed through the screen door, followed by Beverly. He set a tray of coffee mugs on the small wicker table, steam curling from their rims.
Beverly placed a plate of tea sandwiches beside the tray before settling in one of the rocking chairs with a worn copy of Northanger Abbey.
“Grant Parker is going to build us a website for the café,” Cassie announced. “Isn’t that fantastic?”
“Oh, how exciting!” Beverly beamed, removing a delicately embroidered bookmark.
“A website?” Frank grunted, handing Cassie one of the stoneware mugs. “What do you need one of those for?”
Cassie smiled as she eagerly accepted the cup of coffee, drawing it close to her face to inhale the aroma. “For exposure, mostly. Plus, websites can offer a lot of nice features. Like making it easier for people to place custom orders for weddings, birthdays, and anniversaries. What if you wanted to request a heart-shaped cookie with Beverly’s name on it? With a website, you could do it in two clicks.”
Frank flushed as he handed the second mug to Eliza. “Or I could pick up the phone and call you.”
Eliza giggled. “Give up, Cass. Frank isn’t your target market.”
“I think you’re right,” Cassie chuckled, bringing the rim to her lips. “What are we tasting today?”
“This is the new blend we roasted yesterday.”
Cassie’s eyes brightened. “The blend of Central American coffees?”
Frank nodded, passing a delicate floral teacup to Beverly. Eliza didn’t miss the small smile on Frank’s lips as their fingers grazed.
“Oh, my goodness,” Cassie gushed after swallowing her first sip. “Frank, you’re a genius. You’ve really brought out the rich cocoa undertones. It’ll go beautifully in Eliza’s coffee-infused recipes.”
“Careful, Cassie,” Beverly chided with a teasing lilt. “He already has a big head. Don’t go giving him too much praise.”
Frank turned to Beverly with an affectionate gaze. “How can I have a big head when you won’t touch a drop of my coffee?” Glancing at Cassie and Eliza, he added, “But she’ll drink her weight in fancy teas. You’d think a head librarian would’ve heard of a little something called the Boston Tea Party.”
Beverly tipped her head back, her twinkling laugh lighting her pale-blue eyes. “My, you’re ornery today.”
“When isn’t he?” Cassie smirked.
“I’ll keep that comment in mind when you ask for seconds,” Frank grumbled playfully, easing himself into the other rocking chair.
“Eliza, how’s Ben doing in school?” Beverly asked, switching topics. “Your mother mentioned he’s been having some trouble lately.”
“He has,” Eliza sighed. “Which is strange, because he does so well when we’re studying at home. But Daphne says when she calls on him in class, he just stares blankly at the board and refuses to answer. It’s not like Ben to be stubborn or uncooperative.”
“Hmm… that is curious. I checked out some books for him at the library that might help. Let me go get them for you.” Beverly rose and set the teacup back on the tray.
“I’ll come with you,” Cassie offered, popping up from the porch swing. “I’m ready for my refill and I don’t dare ask you know who.”
Eliza suppressed another giggle as Frank dragged himself out of the rocking chair, his steel-gray eyes twinkling. “Sit down. I’ll get it. The last thing I need is you rummaging around the house without supervision.”
“Yes, because who knows what I’d find,” Cassie teased. “Another best-selling book you wrote and didn’t tell me about?”
Frank’s robust laughter followed him and Beverly through the screen door.
Eliza waited until it swung shut behind them before asking, “How is the book coming along?”
“Really well, actually. Frank can be stubborn, but we make a pretty good team.”
Eliza’s heart swelled with happiness for her friend. When Frank had offered Cassie the opportunity to cowrite the revised edition of his coffee roasting manifesto, The Mariposa Method, he had inadvertently given Cassie the financial freedom to pursue her lifelong dream of opening a coffeehouse. Not to mention helping Eliza achieve her own entrepreneurial aspirations. But more than that, Frank had become like a surrogate grandfather to Cassie, and watching the two of them together made Eliza want to weep with joy.
“Speaking of Frank…” Eliza started, her throat constricting with emotion. “Have you asked him yet?”
Cassie shook her head. “No, the timing hasn’t been right. We’ve been so busy with the book and creating blends for the café that the wedding has barely come up.”
“What about your mom? Has she responded to any of your messages?”
“No.” Cassie bit her bottom lip, an anxious crease etched across her forehead. “And I’m starting to worry. She’s fallen off the map plenty of times before, but this time feels different. When I dropped her off at the rehab center right before Christmas, I honestly thought she wanted to turn her life around. There was this intense look in her eyes like…” With a heavy sigh, Cassie ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh, I don’t know how to explain it. But it felt… real. Like she wasn’t pretending this time. Then… well, you know the rest.”
Sadly, Eliza did know. After getting Cassie’s hopes up, Donna bailed on the program in less than forty-eight hours. The only silver lining in the ugly ordeal was that Cassie had received the huge $15,000 fee back, minus the thousand dollar deposit.
“I’ve thought about hiring a private investigator to find her,” Cassie admitted softly. “But then I wonder if that’s too extreme. What do you think? Have you ever thought about hiring someone to find Ben’s dad?”
Startled, Eliza flinched before quickly shaking her head. “No. Never.”
But then, Eliza didn’t need anyone to locate Ben’s father.
She already knew exactly where to find him.
Grant inhaled the stifling scent of out-of-date encyclopedias and lingering Old Spice, releasing the breath in a single, sharp exhale as he mentally prepared for the conversation ahead. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have arranged to have the video call with Landon Morris in his father’s office. The formidable walls lined with heavy oak bookcases closed in around him, and the pervasive ticking of the grandfather clock pounded in his ears. Grant hated everything about the imposing space, especially the massive mahogany desk and all the broken promises it represented.
“Hey, man. Long time no see.” Landon’s jovial grin filled Grant’s laptop screen.
Grant tried not to wince at Landon’s offhand comment. He realized skipping town at the beginning of the Morris Bio Tech project didn’t make the best impression. While he could pass off some of the more menial tasks to his team members, Landon expected Grant to work on the design personally. Grant couldn’t very well admit he’d barely even started.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I had to make a last-minute trip back home.”
“No worries. You can do your job anywhere, right? I trust you to get it done.”
Tugging on his collar, Grant forced a smile. “Great. I’ll have a preliminary design ready by the end of the week. I’ll send you a Google invite with the date and
time of our next call.”
“Looking forward to it.”
They discussed a few more project details, followed by casual chitchat before saying goodbye.
Closing his laptop, Grant struggled to breathe, guilt pressing on his chest. He should be prioritizing this account. By now, his portfolio should be filled with dozens of sketches and watercolor paintings, ready to dazzle Landon with his creative, outside-the-box ideas. After all, that’s why Landon hired him. No one else combined classical art with high-tech design, cultivating a unique look that set his clients apart from the rest of their industry. Days ago, Grant couldn’t stop thinking about the project, dreaming up concepts that had even surprised himself. Now his thoughts were consumed by something else.
Or rather, someone else.
“Oh, you’re still here.” Stan paused in the doorway, hesitating as though unsure if he should enter or retreat.
“I just finished. I’ll get out of your way.” Grant stood, collecting his things.
“Wait.” Stan cleared his throat, a look of discomfort shadowing his features.
Grant raised an eyebrow, waiting for his father to continue.
Shifting his feet, Stan scanned the room as if looking for a topic of conversation tucked between the stacks of accounting textbooks. His gaze settled on an antique chess set resting on an accent table near the bay window. “Care for a game?”
“Of chess?” Grant couldn’t remember his dad ever asking him to play chess. In fact, as a child, he’d been forbidden to touch the heavy marble pieces.
“I have backgammon, too,” Stan offered. “If you’d prefer that.”
Grant scratched his jawline. What exactly was happening?
For a brief moment, he considered saying yes. But instantly thought better of it. He’d waited his whole life for his dad to show interest in him. Grant wouldn’t get his hopes up now. “Maybe some other time.”
“Sure. Of course.” Stan stared at the floor, coughing into his hand. “I’ll, uh, just get my book. I think I left it… Ah, yes. There it is.” Crossing the room, Stan plucked an autobiography of George Washington off the side table by his armchair. “Don’t rush on my account. I’ll read in the den. I’m glad to see this place getting some use again.” Tipping his head, he shuffled out of the room, leaving Grant slightly winded.
The entire exchange baffled him, but Grant didn’t want to linger in the stuffy room any longer than necessary. He gathered his laptop and sketchbook before tucking his cell phone into his back pocket.
Taking one last glance around the space, Grant noticed the bookcases looked a little dustier than he remembered. He supposed now that his father was mostly retired, he didn’t have much use for them. Strange, considering Grant could hardly recall a time when his father wasn’t locked inside his office. True, it was much worse in New York when he handled the accounting for several prominent hedge fund managers. But even after relocating to Poppy Creek, Stan kept busy, splitting his time between tax preparation for locals and working remotely for a few of his previous clients.
Bitterness wriggled around Grant’s heart, and he shook his head, dismissing the toxic thoughts before they took hold.
Grant needed to start Landon’s project, but he would never be able to harness his creativity surrounded by so many painful memories.
Moving to the back porch, Grant arranged his laptop and sketchbook on the bistro table overlooking his mother’s magazine-worthy garden that abutted a thick grove of white pines and mountain hemlock. Grant relished the seclusion, but Harriet constantly complained about her battle with poison oak, a rash-inducing shrub that pervaded the area. Another way in which his mother had never learned to embrace their move.
Serenaded by two cardinals perched on the patio umbrella overhead, Grant opened his laptop and clicked the file for Morris Bio Tech. But after staring blankly at the screen for several minutes, Grant closed the lid and flipped open his sketchbook.
Over the next two hours, the ideas poured from his fingertips, creating magic on the page. Albeit for a completely different project. The desire to show Eliza his designs for her website and get her input consumed Grant, filling him with pure, unbridled excitement.
Her face flashed into his mind—the uncertain yet burning glint in her eyes from last night. For a moment, Grant thought he could put their troubled past behind him. Maybe he could forgive the way she’d broken his heart more than once. First, when she’d abruptly ended things, without so much as an explanation. Then, when he’d found out she was having someone else’s child. How had his mother put it? Some tourist passing through town.
The words had dripped from his mother’s lips like acid, eating away at his soul. At first, Grant hadn’t believed her. It didn’t sound like Eliza. She didn’t have flings. And she’d never wanted kids. Neither of them had. But if they’d ever changed their minds, Grant had assumed they would take that leap together.
But maybe he didn’t know Eliza as well as he thought he did.
Chapter 9
Bright streaks of light streamed through the bakery windows, reflecting off Grant’s laptop screen, making it difficult for Eliza to concentrate.
“What do you think?” Grant glanced in her direction, his intense blue eyes bright and expectant.
Eliza blinked, momentarily distracted by the wisp of hair draped across his forehead. To her dismay, she had an irresistible urge to brush it aside and run her fingers through his thick, unruly waves.
Biting her lip, Eliza forced her attention to the table where Grant had set up his laptop and laid out several sketches and watercolors of various logo designs and branding ideas.
“I think…” she began, then hesitated. His work was exquisite. But spending time together was starting to get… complicated.
Filling Eliza’s pause, Cassie gushed, “They’re stunning! Truly gorgeous. In fact, I want to frame this one on the wall.” Cassie lifted a watercolor depicting a matching mug and saucer with a vibrant red poppy resting on the edge of the plate next to a French-style macaron. Based on the coloring, Eliza suspected the flavor might be café au lait—a tiny yet telling detail that made her emotions even more conflicted.
“I’m glad you like them.” Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Grant stole a glance at Eliza. “What do you think?”
I think… I think… Eliza furrowed her brow, trying to focus. What cologne was he wearing? It smelled spicy and faintly sweet, like gingerbread dipped in dark chocolate.
“Liza?” Cassie prompted, tugging Eliza from her scent-induced trance.
“Oh, um…” Flustered, she forced her attention to the design Cassie held in her hand. The striking red of the poppy paired beautifully with the soft, robin’s-egg blue of the mug and saucer. And as Eliza peered closer at the petals, she noticed brushstrokes of cerise and magenta, melding her favorite color with Cassie’s. “It’s perfect,” she murmured, a slight catch in her throat.
Her gaze met Grant’s, and a current of awareness rippled between them.
Grant removed his glasses, wiping them on the hem of his T-shirt. “Great. So, I was thinking the website layout could—”
“Mom! Mom! Guess what?” Ben barged through the front door, waving a piece of paper as though he’d found a treasure map.
Luke strolled into the bakery behind him, an affectionate grin on his face. “Someone has great news.”
Eliza cast a furtive glance in Grant’s direction before returning her focus to her son. “Oh, yeah? Let’s hear it.” She smiled, although her pulse skittered anxiously.
“Look! I got an A!” Ben shoved the paper into her hands, beaming from ear to ear.
Eliza’s heart swelled at the look of pure joy on his face. After months of poor grades and concerned letters from his teacher, this one A had brought the light back into his eyes. And it came as no surprise to Eliza that it was the result of an art project.
She gazed fondly at the forest of trees surrounding a large body of water in the center. “Willow Lake?�
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Ben nodded, his cheeks flushed with pride.
“It’s beautiful, Bug.” Eliza used his special nickname, and his grin grew even wider.
“Great composition.” Grant stood, peering at the painting over Eliza’s shoulder.
His nearness made the back of her neck tingle.
“You have an artistic eye,” Grant told Ben with a smile.
“Wow, Ben. That’s quite the compliment coming from Grant.” Luke nudged Ben on the shoulder. “Grant went to school for art. He knows his stuff.”
“Really?” Ben’s dark eyes doubled in size as he gazed at Grant with newfound interest.
“I majored in graphic design with a minor in fine art.”
Ben pointed at the artwork on the table. “Did you make these?”
“Yep. It’s some stuff I’m working on for your mom and Cassie. Want to see?”
“Yeah!” Ben dumped his backpack on the floor and scrambled onto the chair eagerly.
Luke slid an arm around Cassie’s waist, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Think I can get a licorice latte in exchange for hanging that mug rack?”
Cassie giggled. “Eliza might even throw in a couple cookies if you hang the menu board, too.”
“Is that so?” Luke chuckled. “You ladies drive a hard bargain.”
Eliza attempted a faint smile, but she couldn’t focus on their banter.
Not when Grant had all of his attention focused on her son.
A permanent smile adorned Grant’s face as he showed Ben how he diluted the red paint to make pink, then added a touch of blue to alter the hue. Seeing the way Ben’s eyes illuminated with excitement stirred something inside Grant…. A desire to pass on everything he knew to someone who shared the same passion for art. In some ways, Ben’s eagerness to learn reminded Grant of himself when he was that age.
As Grant hung out with Ben while Luke, Cassie, and Eliza worked on various projects around the bakery, he had no concept of the passage of time. Completely immersed in showing Ben various techniques, Grant rarely diverted his attention. And when he did, it was purely to sneak glimpses of Eliza.
The Truth in Tiramisu (A Poppy Creek Novel Book 2) Page 6
