by Shirley Jump
“Well…yeah.”
“Ghostwriter isn’t some fancy code for ‘miracle worker,’ you know.” She blew her bangs out of her face and dropped into the chair. She rummaged through the box more, hoping for a diary, a journal, anything with actual words she could use. She’d have better luck panning for gold in the bathtub. “You’ve got printed PowerPoints here about the company with notes scribbled on them. Is that a…keychain? Some kind of hand-carved pencil? How am I supposed to create a book in five weeks out of this?”
“The gems are there, KitKat. It’s just going to take some digging.”
The nickname whispered a memory, but Kate ignored it for now. If she let the past intrude, she’d never get anything done. Focus on the book, the deadline. Not him. “Trent, this isn’t digging. It’s mining from the center of the earth. I’m not Jules Verne—”
Trent gave her a blank look.
“The guy who wrote Journey to the Center of…” She waved it off. In college, Trent had teased her about how much trivia she remembered about books, while he could name nearly every tree and plant on the side of a mountain. Opposites, in every sense of the word, something she needed to remember. “Never mind. It’s not important.” She gathered up her laptop and began putting it back into her tote bag. “I’m going to need more than that, Trent. Much more. We don’t have enough time, and you don’t have enough material. I don’t think I can do this.”
“You have to, Kate. I don’t have another option.”
She scoffed. “Gee, thanks for making me feel wanted.”
“I didn’t mean that.” He ran a hand through his hair. If anything, the displaced sandy brown waves made him even more attractive. Her resolve softened and she lowered back into the seat, clutching her bag in her lap. “I meant you’re good at your job and you know how to do this, and I don’t.”
Trent had always been reluctant to admit he was out of his depth. The fact that he’d acknowledged it now was endearing. Well, it would be endearing if she still cared about him, which she didn’t. Not even a little.
His admission didn’t change the dearth of material she had to work with, though. Even Gerard had had a stack of newspaper and magazine articles to help her get started before he’d launched into his self-celebrating monologue. Trent had a shoe box and a keychain.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. All she saw before her was countless hours of work. Hours spent with Trent, which only filled her with what-ifs and regrets. The deadline was so tight, and barely manageable, even if Trent was at her beck and call and she wrote like a crazy person. In all reality, Kate could probably make it work, but did she want to? All that time with Trent and her indecisive heart? “This is a much bigger project than I anticipated.”
“What’s it going to take to get you to stay?” He narrowed the distance between them, and a smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. “How about if I throw in a guacamole grilled chicken club?”
Her stomach growled, a Pavlovian response to one of her all-time favorite sandwiches. He remembered that? Remembered “their” restaurant? Okay, so maybe that did make him even more endearing and warm a little of the icy wall she was having trouble keeping between them. “From Chick and Cheese?”
He grinned. “Yup. If I remember right, that was your favorite. We can grab a bite to eat there, and I’m sure it will trigger some memories for me.”
Of their first date? Of the first time he’d made her laugh? The first time she’d fallen in love?
The man knew her weaknesses, that was for sure. Just the mention of the sandwich made Kate’s own memories tumble back in a rush. That night, sitting in a booth at Chick and Cheese, talking and laughing until the restaurant had shut down for the night. They’d gone back many times, so many the owner knew their names. Chick and Cheese had become their Sunday night staple for dinner when they were cramming for finals and no one wanted to cook. A picnic on the water, when Trent had picked up all the dishes she loved and surprised her for her birthday.
“I love that place.”
“I know.” His gaze met hers and held for a moment. She could see the depths in his dark blue eyes, the parts of Trent he never showed to anyone, certainly not her and maybe not even himself.
She knew this man. She knew his history, how hard he worked, and how his story should be told. Her heart softened, and her resolve to leave melted. Maybe she could help him. For old times’ sake, if nothing else.
“Make sure you order a slice of Tres Leches cake too,” she said. “You know me and dessert.”
His grin widened. “I’ll order ten slices if that’s what it takes to keep you here.”
She knew he meant something other than her being with him, but her silly, traitorous heart skipped a quick beat before reality crashed. She was here to work on a book, to earn money for the repairs on her grandmother’s house and her own bills, not to fall in love.
Especially not that.
Five
The spicy scent of chipotle filled the air of the small, cozy dining room of Chick and Cheese. The restaurant was tiny, tucked between a bank and a law firm and decorated in bright oranges and yellows. A steady crowd of college students and millennials filled the place and kept the register ringing. Every so often, a bike messenger would hurry in, grab an order from the kitchen, then pedal off to his next delivery destination.
Trent had ordered them almost everything off the menu, plus an extra slice of cake, just in case, but he wasn’t sure either of them had any room left for dessert. The table was crowded with colorful dishes and heaping bowls of Spanish rice. Trent and Kate passed the dishes around, trying a bite of this, a bite of that, some spicy, some savory, some sweet.
“Verdict’s in,” she said as she put down her fork and sat against the bench, a hand on her belly. “This sandwich is the best thing on this menu.”
“As always.” Trent groaned and shifted his position. He hadn’t eaten that much in forever. Maybe since he’d last been here with Kate. “I’d forgotten how awesome it is.”
When they’d been in college, they’d come to this restaurant almost every week. And every week, they’d try one new dish as a contest against their shared favorite. Hands-down, the grilled chicken sandwich with guacamole and bacon won every time, then and now.
It seemed as if no time at all had passed since they’d dated. As they ate and talked, laughed and teased, Trent couldn’t quite remember what it was about Kate that had led to their breakup. She was smart and witty, beautiful and thoughtful. An edge of shyness only added to her appeal and the whisper of mystery around her. He wanted to know everything that had happened in their years apart—every achievement, every loss, every heartbreak, every hope.
Might be a bit much to cover over one dinner, but he was going to try.
“How are your parents?” he asked. He’d met them once, when they’d come up to visit Kate at college on a rare weekend off. He knew they’d both worked a lot of hours, leaving Kate with her grandmother when she was young.
“Good. They retired to Arizona, because it’s sunny and dry there. They live in a little apartment in one of those retirement communities and are finally getting to do all the things they put off when they were working so much.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
“And yours?” she asked as she forked up a tiny morsel of chicken. Their plates had been, as usual, full of deliciousness that was enough to feed ten people. “Ugh, I really shouldn’t eat more but I can’t resist.”
“It’s addictive, isn’t it?” Trent said with a grin. “There’s nothing like this dish. I’ve eaten in some fancy restaurants and honestly can’t remember a meal as perfect as this one.”
Kate put down her fork and place a hand on her stomach again. “I am so full. I don’t know if I can move again, never mind write anything.”
“Then let’s just talk for a bit.” Trent liked how happy and li
ght Kate looked right now, like the girl he’d dated in college. Bringing business into the equation would change everything and erase the look in her eyes. A few minutes of lingering at the table wouldn’t make any difference in the work or the deadline. Would it? “We can talk,” he went on, “while we share a bit of cake, and get back to fleshing out the outline later.”
“Cake? Oh, I don’t think I have enough room. But it is dessert…” She flexed her arm. “I’m up to the challenge.”
He laughed. “A little sugar makes everything better. Afterward, we can get a little exercise while we let the food digest and then go to work.”
Kate arched a brow. “Please tell me you aren’t thinking of making me scale a mountain tonight.”
“Well, maybe not tonight. But in the daylight, it’s a great way to get the endorphins flowing, which should help creativity and all that.” He gave her a grin, but she let out a groan. “Still not much of an outdoors girl?”
“Let’s just say every time I’m outdoors, a disaster happens. Maybe because it rains here all the time and I never seem to remember my raincoat, but still…no I’m not much for the outdoors.”
Their two different lifestyles had been a large part of what had broken them up, because it had created a chasm that had only widened the more time they’d spent together—and apart. Trent couldn’t imagine a life spent indoors, and Kate didn’t want one spent outdoors. Now, ironically, Trent was behind a desk far more often than away from it. “There’s a beautiful world out there, Kate, if you explore it.”
She picked at her last bite of chicken. “Maybe. I’m pretty happy in my little apartment with Charlie.”
Trent’s attention perked at the name. “Charlie? Is that your boyfriend?” And why did he care? He wasn’t here to date Kate. The meal at Chick and Cheese had awakened some kind of odd sentimental feelings. That was all. Uh-huh. Right.
“Charlie’s not my boyfriend.” She laughed. “He’s my cat. He’s a rescue.”
The wave of relief that swept over Trent was ridiculously strong. It had to be due to returning to one of their favorite haunts, because he had no time for dating and no interest in revisiting the past.
Then why was he sitting in his favorite restaurant in college, with the woman he’d once loved—and whose heart he’d broken? For the book, he reminded himself. A mountain he couldn’t climb on his own. He didn’t have enough time or experience, and not for the first time, Trent was going to have to rely on Kate’s experience and expertise. It was the To Kill a Mockingbird test all over again, but with much bigger stakes.
“Why am I not surprised you have a rescue cat? You were always helping strays when I knew you.” There’d been a family of cats that had lived behind one of the buildings on campus, and Kate had fed them every day until they’d trusted her enough for her to bring them to a vet and then find them homes. He’d never met anyone with a heart as big as hers. If she wasn’t a writer, Trent had no doubt Kate would have become a vet or a shelter operator. She was the kind of girl who saw the need in others, even when they didn’t see it themselves.
“Including you.” She dipped her head. “I shouldn’t have said that. That’s all in the past, and right now, we’re in the present, working on the book. What happened between us has no bearing on that.”
He wanted to travel down that conversational path a little more. To ask her what she remembered, why she’d lumped him in with the strays she’d rescued. That conversation would undoubtedly lead to a recap of the breakup, which had been callous on his part, but necessary. They never would’ve been happy together in the long run, not this outdoorsman and the homebody with a rescued cat.
“Kate, can’t we—”
“So we had a few minutes to digest that excellent meal. Let’s get back to the book,” Kate said, cutting off the personal line of questions before they could restart. She shoved some of the dishes to the side, then pulled out a pen and pad of paper from her tote bag. “Start at the beginning. Tell me about your childhood.”
He admired her determination, but she wasn’t the only stubborn one sitting at the table. “On one condition.”
“What?”
“You share your story too.” Like who you’re dating. If you thought about us since college. If you’re happy.
Kate was already shaking her head. “You know me, Trent. We dated for almost a year.”
How well had he known her, though? He knew her favorite food, knew she’d tried to find the Big Dipper every night before she’d gone to bed, and knew she was close to her grandmother. But he’d be hard-pressed to name anything more about Kate’s history, or her dreams for the future. Had he really been that bad of a boyfriend? Or just a typical twenty-something, more self-involved than aware?
“True, but we were college students. Most of our conversations revolved around music and homework. Not each other. I want to know more about you.”
“Why?”
“You’re writing my memoir. I think it’s important to know the real author.” Right. That was his only reason.
Something flickered in her face, but she dropped her gaze to the notepad before he could figure out what that something was. “Where did you grow up?” she asked, ignoring his questions about her. “And you have a sister, right? I know all this, but want to be sure I have the details correct.”
Clearly, she didn’t agree with the quid-pro-quo information deal. Somehow, Trent would circle the conversation back around to her. The curiosity nagged at him, danced on the edges of his thoughts. “I do. She’s three years younger than me. We grew up in Hudson Falls, which is about an hour north of here.”
“I remember. It’s a gorgeous place.”
“You came to Sunday dinner once.” His mother had insisted, and Trent had finally caved. They’d made the trip north on a sunny spring day, and when they’d rounded the corner to the gardens, Kate had begged him to stop the car. I want a moment to take it all in, she’d said. He’d watched her gaze skip from the lilacs to the azaleas, over the thick evergreens and newly budding cherry blossoms bursting from the seams of the nursery. A cacophony of color and life that had never seemed so beautiful until he’d seen it through Kate’s eyes.
His parents had welcomed her warmly. In those days, Trent and his father had gotten along pretty well. Marla was out of high school but still trying to decide what she wanted to be and taking a few classes at the community college. Trent’s mother had been, and still was, the glue that held the entire family together. She’d welcomed Kate into the MacMillan home as if she’d always been part of the family.
“Your family was wonderful. And your mom is a really great cook.” She stopped writing and plopped her chin in her hand. “She made a roast chicken, remember? With those fingerling potatoes, tossed in an herb butter sauce. Oh, and a cherry pie that was still my very favorite dessert in the world.”
“Better than the Tres Leches cake?” Why was he jealous about his mother’s desserts? Maybe because he wanted to see Kate look at him like that, and for her to remember being with him in that same wistful, sweet tone. Trent hadn’t remembered the meal, but then again, he’d lived there for the first eighteen years of his life, which had made for a lot of awesome meals made by his mother. “That’s the pie she makes my dad for his birthday and, once in a while, a special occasion.”
Kate grinned. “So was meeting me a special occasion?”
For his parents, it had been, especially when they’d found out he and Kate had been dating for close to a year at that point. They’d expected him to bring a girl home, marry her in the church down the street, then take over the house and the gardens and continue the business for another generation. Trent had never intended to do that, but they’d seen the first long-term relationship he’d had as a prelude to a chapel and a preacher. “They thought so.”
“And you did not.”
Geez. Why had he gone down this road? “I
thought you were special. They wanted me to settle down, and they thought you were the one.”
“And I wasn’t.”
“I was twenty-one, Kate.” For a millisecond, he’d thought about marrying her, then had seen a future spent on the sofa instead of in the mountains, and he’d broken it off. They were like the proverbial bird and the fish, never destined to live in the same place. “I wasn’t thinking beyond my next pizza, never mind the next year.”
He’d said the words to soften the reminder about their breakup, but he could tell Kate wasn’t fooled. She nodded, but her hair had dropped in front of her eyes. The distance between them increased. “So did you ever settle down?”
Trent had dated over the years, but the time he’d spent working, and then on treks, had been detrimental to any relationship he tried to have. He’d dated outdoorsy girls and businesswomen, but none of them had had that special…something that would have encouraged him to linger instead of leave. “The only thing I ever married was the company. In the first couple of years, it was because I was doing almost everything myself. Then GOA exploded, and all of a sudden, I was juggling more than I knew how to.” He went on to explain how he had built global brand awareness for targeted, specific expansion of GOA.
If she was impressed by the growth of his business, she didn’t show it. This was work Kate—all business and no emotion. She took notes as he talked and used her phone as a backup recorder for the conversation.
“Tell me more about your childhood,” she said, as dispassionate as a stranger. “How that impacted you and your business model. Your parents are entrepreneurs. Surely you learned something from them.”
Trent bristled. How many times had a reporter asked him the same thing? Assuming that because his parents ran a mom-and-pop garden center that he’d learned everything he knew from them? If anyone asked Trent’s father, he’d say his eldest son had learned nothing from the family. It had been a long time since Trent had asked his father anything. “My business model is different.”
