“I don’t want to.” She whined and hated it when she whined. But it was how she was feeling.
“I swear you missed your calling in life.”
“What does that mean?”
“You should’ve been a nun.”
“Oh, please.”
“Well, you live like one. Alex, please. Do this for me. I already promised. I went to New Orleans with you.”
She knew Kellie had to play that card eventually. “I gave you a chance to back out.”
“Yes, but I didn’t. One dinner date and we’ll call it even.”
Alex sighed. She knew when she was beaten. “Oh, all right. But if he turns out to be an obnoxious, overbearing, self-absorbed jerk who detests animals, I will never let you live it down.”
Kellie grinned. “Well, you sure know what you’re not looking for in a man. He’s a nice guy. I promise. Give him a chance. Heck, give yourself a chance. You deserve a nice guy. Look at you. A beautiful Sunday and how did you spend it? Picking up dog poop.”
“For your information, I spent the afternoon helping a friend. I got here a short time ago.”
“Really? What friend?”
She hesitated. “Evan.”
“Evan Whiting?” Kellie’s face lit up. “You’re friends?”
“Don’t get so excited. I was helping him sort some of Amy’s antiques and photos for display at his restaurant.”
“So, you only did it for Amy.”
Alex bit the inside of her cheek to keep from talking about Tiffany. Because if she did, she’d be whining again. “Exactly. Enough about Evan. Tell me more about this blind date.”
Why, oh why did she think she was going to live to regret this? Kellie was right, though. It would do her good to meet someone new. She’d ended things with Howard and managed not to start things with Evan.
His name brought back the memory of the kiss they’d shared and heat infused her. Had they shared it? He kissed her. She had not kissed him back. She wanted to, almost fell into him. But she’d stopped herself. He was still married, for heaven’s sake. That was a big no-no in her book.
“The idea of a ‘blind’ date is that you don’t know anything until you meet the guy.” Kellie headed for the door, stopping first to ruffle Lambchop’s ears as he lay on the sofa in the reception area.
“You like Lambie. Why don’t you take him home with you?”
“Oh, no. As far as I’m concerned, dogs are like babies. They’re cute when they belong to someone else.” She gave Alex a backward wave. “See ya’.”
Alex sat on the sofa beside the dog and hugged him. “Maybe I should take you home with me. You could be my guy. Of course, Sippi and General Lee might not be as accepting.” She pressed her cheek into the dog’s soft, curly fur. “At least you’d be loyal and honest. Of course, you’ve been neutered.”
She returned the dog to his kennel. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she’d skipped lunch and it was now time for supper. She glanced at the parking lot next door as she headed to her car. No sign of Evan’s SUV. He was probably at home, cooking up something special for Tiffany. Alex wasn’t scheduled to work today, but the Sunday special at the grill would give her what she needed—sustenance and the comfort of home.
Alex sat at the bar while she ate beef pot roast and chatted with her uncle. “Are you at all worried that the new restaurant will hurt our business here?”
He shook his head. “Not really. And so what if it does. People have a right to their choices.” His gaze met hers and, for the first time, she saw weariness on his face. “Ever think it might be time to do something different?”
Her heart stuttered. “What? Are you thinking of shutting down the Out Back?”
“Now don’t go startin’ rumors. I just asked the question. What if we did?”
“But, it’s your livelihood.” It’s my livelihood, too. Then she remembered her inheritance and realized she could manage quite well without her income from the grill. But the grill meant so much more than a source of income. “What would you do?”
He shrugged. “Maybe Evan’ll hire me.” He dragged a towel along the bar to wipe up a few wet rings from glasses. “Don’t you want more for yourself, Alex? I know you have the shelter but….” He leaned on the bar. “You used to talk about becoming a veterinarian.”
“The town has a veterinarian. I’m content with the shelter.”
“Yeah, so. I’m just sayin’ maybe you should think about what you want to do with your life before so much of it passes you by.”
Was Uncle Jack having regrets? He’d sidelined his own plans to come back to Cade’s Point and help his father care for her and Kellie. He never left again. “It sounds like you’ve given this some thought.”
“A little. You and your sister are grown, you don’t need me the way you once did.”
Her throat tightened. “We’ll always need you, Uncle Jack. If this about money, if you want to remodel the Out Back, I can help.”
“It’s not about money. We’re doin’ okay here. But, let’s face it, this is a bar with a limited menu. You know what sells—local, cheap fare. Maybe I’d like to experiment a little. I’ve also been thinking of travel.”
“You should take a vacation. I could manage the grill while you’re gone. We’ll ask Ludean to pick up more hours.”
Someone at the end of the bar held up a glass for a refill and Jack left to tend to him. Alex was stunned. She’d never imagined a time when the Out Back wasn’t there, when she didn’t come in for her shift and laugh with the locals and smile and give directions to the folks who were passing through. This was all Evan Whiting’s fault. Until he came to town, Uncle Jack had never mentioned closing up the grill and moving on.
Uncle Jack returned and refilled her glass of sweet tea. “Let’s not discuss this now. You’ve had enough to think about this weekend. I’m sorry things went so poorly with your mother. How did Star seem?”
“She says she’s sick, that she has cancer. I don’t know what to believe. Her wanting to see me—it was all about money. I took care of that, so I doubt I’ll hear from her again.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean you ‘took care of that’?”
“I sent her a check.”
He shook his head. “Alex….”
“Before you say I don’t owe her anything, I didn’t do it for that reason. I want closure, and now I have it. I can get back to my life as I knew it before Lex showed up.”
“You’re done with him, too?”
“They deserve each other. I don’t want any part of either of them. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my father. You’ve been here for me through all the rough stuff. That’s what a real father is.”
His eyes shone. “Wasn’t exactly a chore, you know.”
She grinned. “It was at times. Admit it.” She slid from the stool and picked up her plates. “The cobbler was exceptional. Desserts are definitely your forte.”
“So the pot roast was nothin’ to write home about?”
“You know I love your pot roast.”
“I’m teasing. Here, give me those plates.”
“I’ll take them to the kitchen and do a little clean up back there.”
He called to her as she bumped open the door to the kitchen with her hip, “Alex, think about what I said. Okay?”
Emotion clogged her throat and all she could do was nod. She blinked back tears as she rinsed her plates and placed them in the wash sink. Everything was changing too fast, falling apart.
Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket and she dried her hands before answering. “Hey, Kellie. It’s late. What’s up?”
“I have some bad news. I wanted to be the one to tell you first.”
Chapter Nineteen
Evan was up, dressed and standing in front of Warren Pinkney’s office when the attorney arrived in the morning.
“Mr. Whiting. I apologize that I’ve not returned your call. I was in court all day yesterday.”
“I understa
nd. I was wondering if you have a few minutes now, before your day gets started.” He held up the wrapped plate he carried. “I brought breakfast—cinnamon rolls made fresh this morning.”
Warren sniffed and Evan was sure he saw the man’s mouth twitch. “I probably have a minute or two. Let’s hope Ginny already brewed coffee.” He ushered Evan into the office where the aroma of coffee met them.
“Give me two minutes, Mr. Whiting, and I’ll be with you. Ginny, would you give Mr. Whiting a cup of that sweet-smelling brew, please?”
Evan had prepared his coffee and set a fresh cinnamon roll on a plate for Ginny when Warren opened the door and invited him inside. Ginny followed with Warren’s coffee, two plates and a stack of napkins. Clearly, Warren Pinkney was taken care of by his administrative assistant. She seemed to anticipate his every need.
Evan set the plate of rolls on Warren’s desk and sat down. “I’m sorry to ambush you first thing in the morning, but I have a situation that requires immediate attention.” He explained about his divorce and the pending papers. “So, as you can see, I’m in a bit of a rush to finish off the process.”
“I imagine you are. Is Mrs. Whiting aware of your inheritance?”
“Not all the details. I think she’s here on a fishing expedition. She’s assumed that, since I inherited my aunt’s house, I must have inherited a fortune with it.”
“Lucky for you she’d already filed the divorce papers. So you need me to file these with the court. Problem is, they have to be filed in New York, where the divorce proceedings were begun.”
“I understand that. How soon can you leave?”
Warren shoved the remainder of his cinnamon roll into his mouth and licked his fingers. After sipping coffee to wash down the roll, he said, “Wouldn’t it be cheaper and easier to contract the services of an attorney in New York? Who handled the divorce for you in the first place?”
“Uh…no one. That is, I agreed to Tiffany’s terms. She didn’t ask for much because, at the time, I didn’t have anything. Here, see for yourself.” He handed over the papers.
Warren Pinkney frowned. “Well, you don’t want to hire her attorney, that’s for sure. Must’ve gotten his license from a Cracker Jack box.”
“She got the New York apartment. That was about the only thing we had of any value. The value of my restaurant nose-dived after the lawsuits. Those got settled, but there was nothing left but a set of pots and a few utensils.” He pushed the plate closer to Warren and the man accepted a second cinnamon roll. “I’ll pay for your time and all travel expenses.”
“I have a better solution. I’ll call a friend who practices in New York and we can overnight the papers to him. It should be finalized by tomorrow afternoon, the next morning at the latest.”
Evan exhaled. “That would be fantastic. I’d like this settled before I open the new restaurant on Friday.”
“Get yourself a refill of coffee while I make a call.”
Evan stood and picked up Warren’s sticky mug with his own and went to the outer office. Ginny jumped to her feet and took both coffee mugs, rinsing them before refilling them. “That was about the best cinnamon roll I’ve ever tasted.”
“Really? I’ve been trying some of my great aunt’s recipes that I found at the house.”
“This one’s a winner.” She handed the mugs back to him.
“I’ll make sure Warren saves you another one.”
Warren ended his call as Evan returned. “You’re all set. Oh, by the way, he knows your wife’s attorney and says the guy’s an idiot. Your luck. Here….” Warren handed him a slip of paper with the name, address and phone number of Attorney Jeffrey Gold. “Send the papers to him with a check for two grand. Call and let him know it’s on the way.”
“Thank you. What do I owe you for your time?”
Warren’s gaze fell to the plate that still held six cinnamon rolls. “I’ll take those.”
Evan laughed. “I promised Ginny one more. Glad you enjoy them. Bring your wife to dinner some night at Amelia’s. It’ll be my treat.” He stood and extended a hand. “Thank you, Mr. Pinkney.”
The attorney stared at his sticky palm, then offered Evan a fist bump. “I’m sticky. And you can call me Warren.”
“Thank you, Warren.”
As he turned for the door, Warren stopped him with a question. “Are you sure your wife hasn’t withdrawn her filing since you never returned the signed papers?”
A chill rolled down Evan’s spine and perspiration beaded on his upper lip. “She could do that?”
“She could. And if she thought you’d come into money, she may have.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. She hasn’t said anything.”
“Would you?” Warren reached for a third cinnamon roll.
Evan felt sick. Not from the sugar, but from the last question raised by the attorney. What if Tiffany had withdrawn her divorce filing before coming down here? Did she know she could do that? Warren seemed to think her attorney was incompetent—exactly Evan’s impression of the man the few times they’d met. How could he find out without alerting Tiffany to the fact that she could stop the divorce?
His cell phone rang as he climbed into his SUV. “Yes?”
“Evan, it’s Kellie Ramsey. I have some good news for you.”
Good, he could use some good news. He waited.
“Mr. Hawthorne accepted your bid for the lot next to your restaurant.”
“That is good news.”
“Yes, so stop by my office. We’ll sign all the paperwork and settle the payment.”
“I’m on my way.”
*
Alex walked Walter on his leash in the side yard of the shelter. She glared at the empty lot. She’d been so sure her bid for the property would have been accepted. Maybe this was the sign she’d been waiting for. She stared at the cement block building that housed Harley’s Haven. Despite an emotional attachment to the place, perhaps it was time to move. She had the money to build the facility she wanted, the one she’d envisioned. She even had her sketches to give to a contractor. All she needed was land.
Evan’s SUV pulled in beside the restaurant and stopped. He got out and turned to look at her. Alex focused her attention on Walter. But when the dog spied Evan, he pulled on his leash, tugging her along as he headed toward the fence, barking.
Evan walked across the vacant expanse and stopped at the fence. “He looks like he’s recovered.”
“He’s fine.”
“But you’re not.”
“Did you come by to gloat?”
“No. Alex, look, this was business, nothing more. I do want to talk to you about Friday, though. Are you sure you can’t make it? No one in this town seems as close my great aunt as you. You were more like family to Aunt Amelia than I was all those years. It would’ve meant a lot to her to have you speak at the restaurant named for her.”
He was playing dirty, testing her loyalty to Amy. “I’m sure Henrietta will do a fine job.”
“Are you backing out because you’re mad at me for getting this vacant lot?”
Walter jumped up at the fence and Evan reached over to scratch the dog’s ears.
“I’m not that petty. I have to be somewhere. I’m going to the fundraiser for the Veterinary Association in Jackson. With Howard.”
“I see.”
“Good.” She lifted her chin and tugged on Walter’s leash, but the dog resisted.
“Okay, well. So, when can I take Walter home?”
She frowned. “When you’ve completed the dog owner’s class with Dr. Dennis and he gives the okay.”
“Seriously? Hey, it wasn’t me that gave him the chicken carcass.”
“No, but it was someone in your home. A pet owner has to be able to provide a safe and nurturing environment.”
“That won’t be a problem. Tiffany will be gone by Sunday.” He practically shouted the words. Evan dragged a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.
Alex stared at him as she reached do
wn and slipped her fingers under Walter’s collar. “Come on, Walter. We have work to do.”
Evan had succeeded in what he’d attempted. Guilt plagued her over backing out of the ribbon cutting and having someone else talk about Amy. She did think the restaurant would be a wonderful tribute to Amelia Whiting and she knew she was the best person to talk about Amy and what she meant to the community. She punched Henrietta’s phone number into her phone and explained that her plans had changed. It would be simple—go for the ribbon cutting, give a speech about Amy, then go home.
She was going back over the sketches she’d made for the shelter when her phone dinged indicating a text message.
Plz come next door for 1 minute. Need ur help.
When had she applied for the position of Evan Whiting’s personal assistant? This was the last straw. She would go next door all right. And before she left, Evan Whiting would be very clear on the boundaries she was setting.
Alex walked back to the kennel area. “Hey, Susan, I’m stepping out for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”
“No problem,” came the response from deep within the recesses of the kennels amid a chorus of barking.
Alex stood tall, squared her shoulders and strode across the parking lot to the restaurant. The front door was open and she let herself in. She stopped short. The place was lovely. The antique pieces she’d chosen had been delivered and were placed along the outer walls around the dining area. The hardwood floor shone from a new finish and polishing.
Evan came through the door behind the bar. “Thank you for coming.”
“We need to get some things clear.” She sniffed. “What are you cooking?”
He grinned. “That’s why I asked you to come over. I’m experimenting with some of my aunt’s recipes, but I need a taster.”
“A taster?”
He put an arm behind her and ushered her toward the kitchen. “Yes. You probably know Amy’s cooking better than anyone. I think the dishes are excellent, but I want to make sure I have everything right.”
Empty bowls and plates lined the center island. Evan ladled gumbo into a bowl, slid it across to Alex and handed her a spoon. “Let me know honestly what you think.”
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