by Meg Tilly
Fifty
“UNLIKE THE PREVIOUS possibilities I showed you, this one,” their Realtor, Leslie Farnsworth, said as she swung her silver Range Rover into a parking spot, “is going to require a little imagination.” She switched off the engine and got out.
How Leslie was able to gracefully navigate her way from the vehicle in her pencil skirt and four-inch heels was a mystery that Maggie would never solve. Apparently, some women had that innate ability and some women didn’t.
Maggie and Eve got out of the SUV and flipped through the various property information sheets in their folder. “Which one is this?” Maggie asked.
Leslie cleared her throat. “I didn’t give you the flyer for this one. I wanted you to have an unbiased viewing of the property first.”
Maggie glanced at Eve.
Expensive, Eve mouthed, then rolled her eyes skyward.
“If it’s over our budget—”
“The property is over the price range you gave me,” Leslie said, opening her binder. “However”—she handed a flyer to them—“I felt I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t bring it to your attention.”
“We can’t afford more,” Eve said. Maggie could tell she was getting grouchy.
“Just take a quick peek,” Leslie said. “I know it looks unappealing, but the space is good—”
“There’s no point. It’s a waste of our time,” Eve said. She opened the Range Rover door, got in the backseat, and crossed her arms over her chest.
Maggie glanced at the building. The windows looked like they hadn’t been washed in years and one was broken and boarded up, but they were large and faced the street. If she replaced the industrial-looking glass door with an antique-wood-and-glass one, it would warm the place up. Apply a fresh coat of paint and add black wooden shutters?
Maggie nodded. Yes, it would add character and soften the place up. She could see it in her mind’s eye. Her Spidey senses were tingling and she hadn’t even gotten inside the structure yet. “Eve,” she said, taking a step toward the building, “I really think we should look at this place. We’re already here, and maybe the owner would be flexible on the price?” She heard her sister sigh heavily, the Range Rover door open and shut. She could feel Eve’s presence as she stepped beside her. Maggie tucked her hand through her sister’s arm. “We could spray-paint these bricks white. Replace that door with a repurposed antique wooden one. Maybe a Victorian French door with nine or twelve glass panes.”
“Sounds costly,” Eve muttered. She was trying to sound grumpy, but Maggie could feel that Eve was starting to visualize it, too.
“Are you kidding me? Old doors are easy to find and super cheap on eBay or at a salvage junkyard.”
“But—according to Leslie—the price of this puppy is not.”
“Not what?”
“Super cheap,” Eve replied. “Maggie, what’s the point of giving ourselves a budget for the purchase of this place if we don’t adhere to it?”
The Realtor unlocked the front door.
“There’s a small five-car parking lot at the side of the building,” Leslie Farnsworth said. “Upstairs there is a nice-sized apartment that you could rent out, which would counteract the additional mortgage payment.”
“That’s an added bonus. You hear that, Eve?” Maggie nudged her sister. “That’s what the extra cost was—the apartment upstairs is included. You could live here—”
“Not if I hate it.” The teasing smile on her sister’s face negated her words.
“If you hate it, we can rent it out. Either way, it will help keep the costs in check.”
Leslie’s phone binged. She glanced at the screen. “Sorry. I’ve got to take this. I’ll let you two wander. Let me know if you have any questions.” She stepped toward her vehicle, lifting her phone to her ear. “Hello?”
Maggie tugged her sister toward the front door. “We’ll get rid of this horrible overhead light and install Colonial Three-Light wall lanterns to flank the door. Black shutters alongside the windows—”
Eve shook her head. “Uh-uh,” she said. “Light blue. Periwinkle, or maybe cornflower with a wash of white, and window boxes to match with flowers and delicate greenery tumbling out—”
“All right. Light blue it is.” Maggie could feel a huge grin spreading across her face. “Far be it from me to ever argue color with you, and the window boxes are a fabulous idea!”
This was the property for their café. She knew it. Could feel it in her bones.
Epilogue
“HAVE A LOVELY afternoon, and thanks for coming,” Maggie said, unlocking the door and letting the last two straggling customers out.
“This is going to be our daily hotspot,” one of them said. “I’m already having withdrawal symptoms.”
“Lois.” The other woman laughed, shaking her head. “How is that possible? You devoured a slice of that delectable chocolate cake, a wedge of the rhubarb-strawberry pie, and a toasted ham and cheese sandwich with a bowl of fresh tomato soup.”
“I’m coming back tomorrow. Don’t try to stop me.” The woman also laughed as they stepped off the porch and onto the sidewalk.
“Well, I am so glad you liked it,” Maggie said. “See you tomorrow.” She closed the door, flipped the sign in the window to CLOSED, and flung her arms over her head. “The first day of the Intrepid Café is over!”
“Whoo-hoo!” Eve cheered, grabbing Maggie by the hands and pulling her into a jig. Apron strings flew as they whirled past wooden tables and white slat-back chairs, pale cream hydrangeas in square silver vases, and Eve’s spectacular art adorning the walls.
“We did it!” Maggie sang out. “We really did it!”
“And what a success!” Eve crowed. “We’re going to be rich!”
There was a knock on the door.
“Go away,” Eve called loudly. “Business hours are eight to three. Come back tooomorrrrow!”
“Eve.” Maggie laughed, slowing to a halt. “That’s no way to treat potential customers.” She turned toward the door, and her heart leaped.
There was Luke, bending over and looking in through the window, with Nathan at his side.
“Hello,” Luke said, shading his eyes to cut the glare from the sun on the glass.
Maggie ran over, opened the door, and threw herself into Luke’s arms. “It went really, really, really well!”
“So I heard,” Luke said, smiling down at her.
“No, but really well!” Maggie said. “I know you were here earlier, but right after you left, we were flooded with customers and lots of advance orders, too. It was wonderful! Just wonderful, and my feet are tired!”
Luke laughed. “What’s so wonderful about sore feet?”
“It’s proof of how busy we were,” Maggie explained. “There wasn’t a spare second to sit down. We’re going to have to hire additional staff, because there is no way . . .” Her voice faded. She looked from Luke to Nathan and back to Luke, suddenly realizing they were both in full black-tie regalia. “Why are you guys so dressed up?” she asked. Her eyes widened. “Did we have something fancy on the calendar and I forgot?”
The strains of Albinoni’s Adagio came to her, filling the café, the street, with glorious sound. Maggie peeked around Luke and saw a string quartet and an accordion player, all in black tie.
Her gaze flew back to Luke. “Oh my,” she whispered, as Nathan pulled a fragrant bouquet of cream and pale purple lilacs from behind his back and put them into her trembling hands.
Luke dropped to bended knee and held out an opened black velvet ring box with the most gorgeous engagement ring she had ever seen in her life.
“Maggie, my love,” Luke said, “from the moment you leaped into my arms, red long johns wrapped around your neck, I was lost. You’ve filled my life with love and laughter, made my house a home— Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry.”
�
�It’s a happy thing,” Nathan said, tugging on her arm, looking concerned. “He’s asking you to marry him. Please say you will. He’s been practicing all day.”
“Say you’ll marry me,” Luke said, laughing, reaching down and giving Nathan’s hair an affectionate ruffle, his warm, twinkling gaze locked on hers, “and put us both out of our misery.”
“Yes!” Maggie cried, bending down and flinging her arms around the two of them. “Yes! A hundred million times, yes!”
Laughter and tears intermingled. Applause broke out from the crowd that had gathered outside the café. The musicians broke into a joyous rendition of the Ruslan and Ludmilla Overture.
Luke slid the stunning oval diamond ring onto Maggie’s trembling finger.
“I love you so, so much,” Maggie said, looking into his beloved face.
Eve was dancing around them, waving her apron over her head like a flag, an enormous smile on her face.
“Hey, Nathan,” Eve said, stopping to catch her breath, gazing at Maggie with joy-filled eyes. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen, see if we can find a spare sugar cookie or two? Give these two lovebirds some alone time.”
“Or maybe an apple tart?” Nathan said hopefully, slipping his hand into Eve’s as the two of them disappeared through the swinging doors.
The music from outside was swirling around them as Maggie lifted her face. Her lips met his. Her heart so full. Full and overflowing.
“I love you, Luke Benson,” she murmured, her arms entwined around his neck, hands fisted in his hair, “so very, very much.”
He leaned back slightly, slid his hands forward to frame her face. The warmth and love in his gaze made her knees feel wobbly.
“And I love you,” he said, as if he were making a sacred vow, “and will love you, to forever and beyond.”
Acknowledgments
Three years ago, my friend Ken Freeman decided to publish his novel online. He has been after me ever since to join in on the fun.
“Sure, Ken,” I’d say. “Hmm . . . Yeah, sounds like it really makes sense, but . . .”
“You have all these manuscripts you’ve written that you’ve never sent out,” he’d say, his face and entire body animated. “Novels where the rights have reverted back to you. Throw them online! I’m telling you, it’s amazing!”
“Maybe someday,” I’d say soothingly. I had no intention of doing it. Had been traditionally published for years; had other streams of income so didn’t require the small advance I would receive in order to pay my bills. I was happy puttering along, writing my little books and sending them out there into the world.
But last April Ken came for a visit, and he seemed older, more frail. Of course, my husband and I have known Ken for eighteen years; during that time, I’ve put on some weight, my hair has gone gray, and my husband’s hair . . . well, a good portion of that is gone for good. But you notice it more when a friend ages. It’s like when your friends’ children are suddenly grown. You aren’t there for the day to day, and the realization that time is passing hits you harder.
I got scared that night, lying in bed with my husband. Realized that Ken is twenty years older than me and that someday he won’t be there when we want to reach out by phone, e-mail, or Skype. That we won’t always be able to sit around the living room on big comfy sofas, drinking red wine, reading our new pieces, critiquing, sometimes laughing so hard that we have to clutch our bellies and wipe away the tears running down our faces.
“I want Ken to live forever,” I said.
“Me, too,” Don said.
“I’m glad he’s so healthy, exercises, and eats good food,” I said, snuggled into my husband’s furry chest, hoping that he would live forever, too.
“Mm . . .” Don said. He was falling asleep.
And as I lay there in our darkened bedroom, listening to my husband gently snore, I made a decision. I was going to write a book under a different name and put it up online. No literary tome: a romance novel. My guilty pleasure. My sister introduced me to my first one when I was sixteen, and I’ve been devouring them ever since.
The next morning at breakfast, I told Ken and Don my plan. Ken was super excited, his face aglow, and I knew that this was something I would never regret.
I didn’t regret it, but it was A LOT of work! For every hour spent writing, I spent at least four or five dealing with the multitude of nuts and bolts required to publish and promote my own work.
I am glad I did it, but I seriously doubt I will ever attempt to self-publish again!
I feel truly blessed that my books found a home with the talented editors Cindy Hwang and Kerry Donovan at Berkley. I am so thrilled that Cindy and Kerry are now overseeing all those time-consuming and pesky details that plagued me and kept me awake at night. Thank you so much for removing that burden from my shoulders and for your thoughtful editing. I am so happy you invited me and my books to join your roster.
I am extremely grateful to Jayne Ann Krentz, not only for the joy her books have given me over the years, but also for her advice and gentle nudging. Without her random acts of generosity and kindness, none of this would have happened.
I’d also like to thank:
Ken Freeman, for being our dear friend and for all the reasons above.
Don, as always, was my first reader and, even more impressive, Solace Island was his first foray into the . . . ahem . . . pleasures of the romance novel! The biggest surprise of all was . . . he enjoyed it!
My old friends Dawna, who brainstormed with me on our triweekly walks, and kc dyer, of Finding Fraser fame, for our walks and talks and excellent advice over the years.
My three grown children, who were bemusedly cheering me on from the sidelines.
My friend Mary Bly, who gave me courage to stand proudly in my love for a well-written romance.
Nancy Berland, for all of her help. For going above and beyond. For her passion and dedication to not only me but the world of romance writers and readers as well.
Erin Galloway and her fantastic marketing team for all of their efforts and ideas in promoting this book.
Katie Anderson for designing a gorgeous cover, and Tiffany Estreicher for the lovely interior design.
I’d also like to thank Cissy Hartley. I am grateful beyond words for what you did for me. Also, thank you for designing the beautiful MegTillyAuthor.com website; thank you to the team at Writerspace and the Writerspace community.
And lastly, my thanks to my agent, Kim Witherspoon, for helping me land my Solace Island novels at Berkley, my dream publishing house.
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
In spring 2019, Meg Tilly returns with Cliff’s Edge, the second gripping contemporary romance set on idyllic Solace Island.
Eve Harris is all ready to house-sit and run the bakery she shares with her sister while Maggie goes on her honeymoon, but there’s one problem—the home is already occupied. By a movie star. He claims to be her brother-in-law’s friend, and he insists on staying. Playing house has never been so tempting . . .
Rhys Thomas is looking for a place to lie low after wrapping up his latest film, so when Luke offers up his house as a safe haven, Rhys sees the perfect opportunity for a little R & R. But rest is the last thing on his mind as he and Eve test deliciously sinful new boundaries.
But Eve and Rhys are not as alone as they think. Danger stalks ever closer to Eve. If Rhys wants to save the woman he loves, he will have to go from pretending to be an action hero to being one in real life.
About the Author
Meg Tilly may be best known for her acclaimed Golden Globe-winning performance in the movie Agnes of God. Other screen credits include The Big Chill, Valmont, and, more recently, Bomb Girls and the Netflix movie War Machine, starring Brad Pitt. After publishing six standout young adult and literary women's fiction novels, the award-winning author/actress decided to write the kind of boo
ks she loves to read: romance novels. Tilly has three grown children and resides with her husband in the Pacific Northwest. She is currently at work writing the second Solace Island novel.
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