by Olivia Miles
Lucy considered the question. “I don’t think they were surprised,” she said simply. She turned to the oven and bent down to check on the status of a meringue.
A tight knot formed in Emily’s stomach and she set her whisk down on the counter, staring into the thick peaks of whipped cream. If Scott couldn’t even handle being in town after all this time, what made her think he would even consider staying in Maple Woods a day longer than he had to?
All the more reason to get out of town herself, she decided, her mouth thinning to a grim line as she began crushing chocolate cookies for the crust with the back of a rolling pin. Today’s special was Chocolate Truffle and so help her, she would pound her emotions out on the cookie crust if it took all day.
The phone trilled and Lucy walked over to the counter to answer it. Emily bit back the wave of disappointment that their conversation had been interrupted. All for the better, she knew deep down. The more she thought about Scott, talked about Scott, schemed about Scott, dreamed about Scott, spent time with Scott...well, the bigger this rut would get. It was time to start living her own life and stop worrying about what Scott did with his. He had chosen his own path for reasons she might never understand but would simply have to accept.
From behind the wall, Lucy murmured a few words and then set down the receiver. “They’re short staffed at the diner,” she explained. And then, before Emily could comment, her expression collapsed. “I don’t think I can handle going over there today,” she admitted, her eyes pleading.
Emily searched her friend’s face in bewilderment. “Of course not,” she said, realizing that Lucy’s Place required too much energy and pep when you were feeling as low as Lucy was this morning. She set down her rolling pin. “Why don’t I cover the diner today and you can stay put? It’s quieter here, and baking is therapeutic.”
Lucy managed a smile and placed a hand on Emily’s arm in affection. “Thank you.” The intensity of her tone struck Emily and she frowned as she wordlessly untied her apron and placed it back on the hook. The diner was one of Lucy’s favorite places to be—she usually loved chatting with the regulars that stopped in. If the thought of going there was this unbearable, then things with Mr. Collins must be very bad indeed.
How, then, could Scott still be so hardened to it all?
* * *
It was nearly eleven o’clock by the time Scott looked up from the pile of papers he’d been studying all morning. The large, polished mahogany desk in his father’s office was strewn with blueprints and spreadsheets. Scott had been staring at them for hours, and he still didn’t feel any closer to knowing how best to handle the information in front of him.
Collins Construction had been around for generations, serving as one of the largest businesses in Maple Woods, and it had always been a sound and financially secure company—his father had made sure of that, Scott thought bitterly. Judging from the books, business was now at a standstill, and the company had downsized in the past twelve years, resulting in two sets of layoffs already. Scott knew that the local economy hadn’t been strong, and of course there was only so much building a town like Maple Woods required, but the surrounding towns that had once called on Collins Construction to bid seemed to be opting for larger, more modern companies, and the only project even scheduled was the rebuilding of the town library.
Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube of antacids. Popping one into his mouth, he couldn’t help but reflect on the irony of the situation before him. This was exactly the situation his father had wanted to avoid—financial ruin of his beloved company. Everything he had done—or failed to do—had been in a vain effort to avoid this exact scenario.
What a waste.
As darkening thoughts encroached, Scott rolled up the blueprints and tucked some papers into a file folder, opting to take the back door to his car to avoid any potential exchange with the staff. The last thing he needed was someone inquiring about the health of his father, or wanting to engage in a conversation about how it felt to be back in town after all this time. It felt lousy. And confusing as hell. But try telling them that.
He grinned wryly as he imagined the shock of his father’s white-haired assistant if he gave her such a retort, and with a newfound smile on his face, he slipped into the red convertible and revved the engine. The familiar sound eased his mind, reminding him of the life he had waiting for him back in Seattle.
Even if it was a lonely life.
The drive to town was short—less than eight minutes—and he forced his attention on the road as he drove down Main Street, doing his best to ignore the ogling from the townsfolk strolling past. Let them think what they would. They’d probably already come up with some tantalizing speculation for what had kept him away and what had brought him back. He smiled grimly. Their wildest imaginations would never beat reality.
Or so he hoped.
After parking the car in a spot behind the diner, he pulled open the door of the establishment and glanced around. In a brief phone call with Max Hamilton that morning, they’d agreed to meet at noon, but he hadn’t thought to ask for a description. He’d assumed he’d notice an unfamiliar face, but his recollection of the locals had faded. He struggled to remember names, and a dozen years had turned old neighbors into strangers. He swept his eyes to the back of the room, interest causing his pulse to take speed as he spotted Emily cheerfully chatting with a customer. The man was laughing at something she was saying, and he reached out and patted her hand in a friendly way. Too friendly, Scott thought, frowning.
“Emily. Hi.” His abrupt tone forced her attention from the other man and Emily’s sharp gaze darted to his, brightening as he closed the distance between them. He broke her stare to size up the man who was casually sitting on the barstool as if he owned the place. The man’s familiarity with Lucy’s diner and with Emily unnerved him, and he clenched his teeth at the sudden disadvantage.
Regret, he realized, owning the emotion. But then, neither his sister nor Emily were his to be so possessive over. He’d given up that right twelve years ago.
“I don’t think we’ve met.” He stared grim-faced at the man beside him, disturbed by the easy grin his opponent wore.
“Max Hamilton,” the man said, extending a hand.
His shoulders relaxed. “Scott Collins,” he said. He gave a firm shake. “Good to meet you.”
“Emily and I were just talking about the Spring Fling this Saturday,” Max explained. “Apparently they need a few volunteers for the pie-eating contest.”
“You up for the challenge?” Emily asked from across the counter. She shared a grin with Max, clearly a good friend, and then drifted her gaze suggestively to Scott.
“I think I’ve had enough of pie contests for one week,” he bantered, and Emily’s cheeks grew pink.
“Ah, yes,” Max chuckled. “I heard you stood in for the mayor this week. Made you a bit of a town hero, from what I gathered.”
Some town hero all right. Even after his disappearing act, somehow he was still the football champ in the eyes of the locals. Still the kid who had put Maple Woods on the map.
If they only knew.
“Needless to say, I think I’ll stick to watching from the sidelines from now on.” He grinned, and catching Emily’s eyes, gave her a wink.
Emily’s face flushed. She turned to Max, refusing to meet Scott’s eye again. “Well, Max, it looks like it’s all you, then.”
“What can I say? I think I’m as in love with Lucy’s pies as I am with my own fiancée,” Max joked. Then turning to Scott he explained, “It was actually right at this very counter that I first realized I was in love with Holly.”
“Let me guess,” Emily said, “you were eating a slice of pie while you were at it?”
Max lifted his hands helplessly. “I was smitten.”
“You know, I probably made that pie,�
� Emily said. “Lucy and I always share the task.”
“Well, then I’ll give a toast to you at our wedding,” Max said gallantly. Elbowing Scott he said in a loud whisper, “Clearly, the woman knows her way to a man’s heart.”
That she does, Scott thought as his chest tightened. He shifted his gaze to Emily, whose face showed no sign of losing its pink glow anytime soon. He smiled to himself, looking down at his feet to spare her further attention. She hadn’t outgrown it, in all these years. He used to love to tease her in school until she blushed, until he knew he’d gotten to her.
“Or at least the way to his stomach.” Emily refilled Max’s coffee and poured a fresh mug for him.
“Is Lucy at the bakery?” Scott asked, glancing around the crowded diner for his sister.
Emily’s face took on a worried expression. “She felt like avoiding the hustle and bustle, and they were short-staffed here today.”
Scott felt his brow furrow with concern, and he peered out the far window, hoping for a glimpse of his sister in the storefront across the road, wishing he could make things better. She was probably upset about their father, and why shouldn’t she be? She didn’t know who he was, not like Scott did.
Scott swallowed a swig of coffee. He was the last person to be comforting Lucy.
Lifting his chin, Max said, “Ready to talk about the project?”
“I’ll let you two chat,” Emily said, already backing away to take an order from a couple at the other side of the counter.
“I’ll see you at the Spring Fling,” Max said to her before her attention had fully faded. He turned to Scott and suggested, “You’ll be there, too, right? We can all grab a drink or something.”
Scott felt Emily’s wide eyes lock with his. A shadow passed over her pale gray irises and a question sparked in her large pupils. Despite himself, he said, “That sounds great!”
Because it did. It sounded really, really great.
* * *
Emily watched from the corner of her eye as Scott and Max settled into a corner booth, a stack of rolled blueprints and paperwork spread between them. Her mind on anything but the job, she stopped herself just seconds before she overflowed Mr. Hawkins’s coffee cup. His eyes narrowed with judgment when they met hers and she bit back an exasperated sigh. Mr. Hawkins was a regular at Lucy’s Place. The diner wouldn’t be the same without his familiar presence, but seriously, how much coffee could one old man consume?
“Can I get you anything to go with that, Mr. Hawkins?” She forced a pleasant smile and held his dark gaze patiently.
“Just another bowl of creamers,” he grumbled.
Emily pinched her lips and nodded before sliding a fresh bowl of creamers to the side of his coffee mug. “Anything else?”
Mr. Hawkins held her gaze with challenge, and she straightened her spine. They both knew he didn’t plan to order anything—he never did—but she couldn’t help herself. Once or twice a week, she liked to encourage him to eat something, if not for Lucy and George, then for himself. He was painfully thin and she knew that since his wife had died, all hope of a hot meal had probably disappeared with her. She smiled, relaxing her shoulders, and made a mental note to bring a pie over to him one day. He’d enjoy it. Even if he’d never admit it.
The sandwiches Max and Scott had ordered were up, and she slid them off the hot plate and balanced them on her palm and forearm, grabbing a fresh pot of coffee with her free hand. It still amazed her that she could do this—ten years ago when she started working at Lucy’s Place she often came home in tears. Lucy and George had been patient with her, despite the chaos she caused. “Waitressing is underrated!” Lucy would quip with an encouraging smile, and sure enough, Emily had gotten the knack after awhile. Now and then, Lucy still broke out into random laughter when she recalled Emily sitting on the floor, broken plates surrounding her, covered in three customers’ orders and a butter knife stuck in her hair.
The two men were deep in conversation, hunched over the table, and oblivious to her presence as she rounded the counter and strode to their table. “Here you go,” she said cheerfully, her heart flip-flopping as she caught Scott’s eye. He smiled and looked down quickly, causing her chest to swell with sudden hope.
Nervous. He said she made him nervous.
Scott cleared some papers away to make room for the plates, and she set them down, squaring her shoulders as she stood again. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, eyeing their mugs. Max’s mug was still full and as she began to walk away, Scott tipped his own mug back, devouring the dregs.
“A refill would be great.”
Well, that was interesting. She paused and tightened her grip on the handle of the coffeepot, planning her next move. It was ridiculous to think this way, truly masochistic. The man had shattered her heart and fled town. He was just being friendly. Or thirsty. There was nothing to read into. The facts were what they were and the fact was that Scott Collins wasn’t going to be a regular in this place. No matter how badly she wished he would be. They were just two people who used to know each other. Two people who shared a moment in time. A moment that was long over.
“Are you going to be around the building later tonight?” he asked.
Her pulse stilled and she forced a breath before she replied evenly, “Probably...” She noted Max’s amused grin from the corner of her eye and gritted her teeth. Must be easy for him to find this funny now that he was living in domestic bliss with Holly. How soon he had forgotten what it was like to be single. “Guess it depends on what time I get out of here tonight,” she said briskly, forcing all her attention on Scott as she did her best to ignore the sparkle in Max’s electric blue eyes.
Why? she wanted to ask. Why does it matter if I will be home tonight? Why do you want to know?
“Why?” she blurted, unable to stop herself.
Scott’s expression froze. She waited, heart pounding, for his answer. “Just wondered,” he said, breaking her stare, and Emily bit back a fresh wave of fury. Great, so she looks eager and he’s just wondering!
“Well, enjoy your meal,” she said and turned her back to refill Mr. Hawkins’s coffee cup before he could start complaining.
* * *
Scott bit into his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully, trying his best to concentrate on the project details in front of him and not on the sight of Emily’s slim hips as they swayed ever so alluringly away from the table. He rubbed his jaw, agitated. He was getting too used to her presence. And no good could come from that. For either of them.
“You know Emily well?”
Scott met Max’s inquisitive gaze and shrugged. “We grew up together more or less. We went to school together. She was a year behind me.”
“High school sweethearts?”
Scott narrowed his eyes but detected no menace in Max’s expression. He was a decent guy. A guy’s guy. Someone he’d probably be good friends with outside this town. They were roughly the same age, and both had a straightforward head for business. And a weakness for the women of Maple Woods, it would seem.
Scott shook his head. “Nothing serious,” he lied.
Max nodded thoughtfully but something told Scott he wasn’t buying it. Was it that obvious? He set down his sandwich and focused on the blueprints. Emily’s presence was a distraction he couldn’t afford right now, or ever. Max had commissioned Collins Construction to rebuild the library—a project that was budgeted for enough money for Scott to sit up and take seriously.
A real estate tycoon by profession, it was evident that Max knew the ins and outs of a project this size. From the small bit of research Scott had done on Hamilton Properties, Max had more than ten years of experience with retail and commercial development projects of a much larger scale than the Maple Woods Library.
“So I have to ask,” Scott said. “Why invest in the rebuilding of the l
ibrary? It doesn’t seem to fit with the rest of your portfolio.”
“Interesting question.” Max chewed his club sandwich and sprinkled his fries with salt from the shaker. “I guess you could say my priorities have changed since I moved to Maple Woods. I came here to build a shopping mall, and ended up deciding I couldn’t ruin the integrity of the town.”
Integrity. A bitter taste filled Scott’s mouth and he coated it with a mouthful of fries when what he really wanted was a cooling slice of that lemon meringue that was perched on the counter over near Emily...Emily. He broke his stare, catching Max watching him, and took a swig of his coffee.
“I’m told you’re aware of my sister’s involvement in this,” he said, lowering his tone. “My nephew is a good kid.”
“I agree, and Lucy and George are like family,” Max added. Lightening the mood, he grinned. “It’s nice that we can partner up and make things right for this project.”
“About that—”
Across from him, Max’s brow pinched. “Something wrong?”
“I have my own construction business back in Seattle, and as you can imagine, they can’t operate without me for the duration this project will take.”
Max frowned. “What do you propose?”
“I’m sure you’re aware that my father is in poor health.” He gauged Max’s simple nod by way of response. “He’s not expected to recover.”
“I heard. I’m sorry.” Max didn’t feign surprise or overt emotion and Scott felt his shoulders ease, grateful to be able to keep the conversation focused.
“Yes, well...” He cleared his throat and shuffled through the papers until he found a printout of the plan he had compiled that morning in preparation for this meeting. He handed it to Max, who studied it carefully. “I’ve decided to take Collins Construction on as a subsidiary of my own company. This will allow me to hire the appropriate crew and overseers for the project.”
It would also allow him, he knew, to take responsibility for what had happened to Richard Porter—to own the mistakes his father had tried to bury, to repair what could be fixed, even though the broken life the Porters had lived at his hand could never be glued back together.
