by Amberlee Day
As she approached the main building, a noise in the alley caught her attention. She put her head around the corner, where a boy and a dog were playing some kind of game kicking around the fallen hickory nuts. Kate smiled. She’d done the same thing in that very spot growing up. “Whatcha doing there?”
“Trying to get the dog to chase the nuts,” the boy said without looking up.
“That’s going to be hard with it on a leash, but it looks like fun.” On closer inspection, she realized the boy looked familiar. She’d seen him helping out at Harold’s Market. “Hey, aren’t you one of Pruny Filmore’s kids?”
“Yeah, I’m Stu.”
“Hi, Stu, I’m Kate. What’s your dog’s name?” Like half the dogs in town, this one was a labradoodle. In fact, it had the same coloring as Pumpkin, which gave Kate’s heartbreak another pang.
“Don’t know. It’s not my dog.”
Kate frowned. “Then why do you have it?”
“Man paid me ten dollars to stand here and watch it for half an hour.”
“Where’d he go for half an hour?”
“Business meeting, he said. He went inside.” Little Stu Filmore pointed toward the front of the inn.
Could it be the person she was supposed to meet with? “Alright. Well, nice to meet you, Stu.”
“You too.” He was a well-mannered boy, probably used to working with the public at his parents’ grocery store.
As she headed inside the lobby, she realized she’d learned similar skills working here at the inn. She might not have stuck with some of her past career attempts—especially not Tupperware sales; that was just a weird phase to begin with—but she knew how to run an inn. And she loved it. She’d been gone fourteen years and had dozens of jobs in between, just to come home and do the thing she’d started out doing. At least that she had that part of her life figured out.
She expected to see someone waiting for her in the newly remodeled lobby, but only Vanna was there, seated behind the tall front desk. Kate didn’t bother approaching her. Like Dora said, the woman got positively spooky if she thought anybody but a guest was heading her way, so Kate reserved those times for when she really needed to. “Hey, Vanna. I’m expecting someone. Have you seen ...?”
“In there,” Vanna said, pointing toward the breakfast room. Her eyes were large like those of an angry, startled owl, but Kate had practically stopped noticing when that happened.
“Thanks.”
Sure enough, the door was open, not normal for this time of day. She put a smile on her face, prepared to tell whoever this person was that she wasn’t interested in changing the breakfast nook, thank you very much. After she listened to their pitch, that is.
“Hello,” she began as she stepped over the threshold, but she immediately managed to trip over her own feet as well as her own tongue upon discovering Freddie Prescott standing in her breakfast room. He turned a non-smarmy, highly attentive smile on her, and her brain went kittywampus. “Yuh ...! Wha ... aye ... No ... dee ...”
She shut her mouth. No good—her brain had forgotten how words worked. She took a breath and stopped trying. It really was Freddie, and he looked so, so good.
“Hi, Kate.”
Every cell in her body had apparently been asleep, and now they just woke up. Even her eyelashes seemed to buzz. “Hi.”
“I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here.”
“I bet ... I ...” She swallowed. “Yes.”
He gestured to the table, a questioning lift to his eyebrow. She nodded, and they sat down. How many times had they sat at this table in the nine days he’d spent at the inn, not counting the last two when they hadn’t spoken to each other? She folded her hands in her lap. So far, talking had failed her. She would wait.
“Kate. You look ... great.”
She made some sort of trilling noise acknowledging him, but her heart pounded faster.
“I am so, so sorry I accused you of leaking the story. That was completely out of line, wrong. I would tell McGee I’m sorry too, but since I never accused him to his face, I’ll just extend that apology to you as well. Unless he does know?”
“N ... eye ... d ...” She shook her head.
“It’s you I owe an apology to, anyway.”
Kate’s breath caught in her chest like a rabbit was hopping in there. She thought she’d been pushing her feelings for Freddie away. Turned out they were still there, just waiting for her to pay attention. She nodded for him to continue.
“I wasn’t thinking about you at that point, or even McGee. Not really. I was thinking New York thoughts, not Harvest Ranch thoughts.”
She ventured words, and thankfully, this time they came. “What’s the difference?”
“The difference? There’s a whole world of difference in there. In New York, everyone’s about getting ahead and taking their shot—or at least in the New York circles I’m from. No way would someone miss their chance to get that story out there. It would be sold to the highest bidder, and no one would ever look back to see who got hurt in the process.”
“That’s pretty cynical, and cold,” she said slowly, proud to have mastered cohesive syllables. Her discombobulated feeling dissolved the longer she looked at him. “Remember, I’ve lived in cities, Freddie. Those weren’t the kind of people I met.” Except for Steven, but that wasn’t going to help her argument or her confidence, so she pushed him out of her head. It wasn’t hard.
“Totally true, but you haven’t met my family yet,” Freddie said, his voice low and humble. That surprised her more than anything. “I’m not exaggerating when I say they revere status, success, and money. Those were the principles I was raised on, and anything of true value I found in life came in bits and pieces. Most from my friends and teachers, a very few from my parents, and then a whole truckload from a certain innkeeper when I spent a week in Harvest Ranch, Virginia.”
Kate hiccupped, not willing to let herself hope where he was going with this or consider what she’d do about it. Apologies and forgiveness were one thing, closure at least. But then what? Anything? For some reason, advice from her high school health class on interpersonal communication came to her lips. “I hear you, Freddie.”
He started to say something but stopped to laugh. It was a nervous laugh, and it made her smile, too. Good to know she wasn’t the only one who was nervous. “Thank you for hearing me, Kate. If I’d been paying attention to every single thing I already knew about you, I never would have jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
“And what was it you think you know about me?”
He looked at the table for a moment, and she could almost see him forming the words in his head. If only she could see what they were! She held her breath, waiting.
“When we met, I was a stranger in a pickle.”
“A stranger in a pickle with a dog who didn’t like me.”
“That’s true.”
She blinked, remembering her encounter with the Filmore boy in the alley. “Oh, was that Pumpkin outside?”
He chuckled. “Yes, somehow I got roped into watching Brenda Lee’s dog for a week while she and Lester go to a gambling addicts retreat.”
“Oof. Well, that’s good they’re getting him help.”
“Hopefully, it will make a difference. It’s also part of her save-the-brand strategy. She’s had thousands of people sending messages of support—including more pictures of labradoodles than I ever would have thought existed. She’s agreed to feature stories in pretty much all the major women’s magazines. Even a couple of national television appearances.”
“That’s ... great, then.”
His expression softened. “She’s working on that next book, too, Kate. The Cornucopia plays a big part in it. You should be noticing the boost by next summer when it comes out, if not sooner.”
“Thank you.” Suddenly humbled, she remembered that she indeed had a lot to thank Freddie for. “We have already seen an increase, and plans are underway to make the most of it.”
&nb
sp; His smile broadened, melting her knees. “I noticed. New furnishings in the lobby to go with the paint job, great new sign out front ...”
“Thanks, a local artist made it for us. I kind of miss the neon, but it was time for a change. We’re also working on the cabins.” She remembered where they were sitting, and why she’d come to meet him. “So was all this just an opportunity to talk, or were you really thinking we should make changes to the breakfast room?”
Freddie looked down at his hands before raising his eyes to her, looking up through his own dark lashes. That look gave her weak knees goose bumps. “More than a suggestion. I have a proposal for you.”
Well, that did it. Kate started to slip off her chair. “A proposal?”
Freddie laughed again, his warm hands grasping her arms in a way that made her think, He’s got me. Belonging and safety flooded through her, as if he’d made her a promise. He wasn’t just here to apologize. “A business proposal, for starters,” he said in a gentle voice.
“Oh? What kind of business proposal?”
“Remember that last conversation we had?”
“I try not to, but yes. Every word.” Every look, every feeling.
“You asked me if I even liked my job.”
She shook her head, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling and wanting to run from her own words. “Freddie, I’m sorry. That wasn’t my place to say.”
“No, you were absolutely right. The thing is, there are things I like about my job, and others I hate. And I’ve made enough working for my father to realize I have choices now. I don’t need to put up with ... harassment and threats from my own father. So I’ve made some changes.”
“Changes?”
He smirked, and she wanted to touch his lips, but she just listened. “One thing about working for the family business is that they never made me sign a contract. That means there’s nothing stopping me from taking away their biggest account—which is Brenda Lee Mitford—and starting my own agency.”
“Wow. And are you doing that?”
“No, but when they realized I could, I had leverage. I wrote my own contract, making me accountable to myself, basically. And I can take as many or as few clients as I want. For now, that means just Brenda.”
“Smart.”
“It works for me.”
“And that sounds like it will give you free time?”
“Yes, it will, though I’m hoping I’ve already thought of a way to spend it.”
Chills ran over Kate’s arms, but that was nothing compared to the hope welling up in her chest. “I’d love to hear about it.”
“How about a sum-up for now?”
“Sum-up works, for now.”
“Then here it is in a nutshell: a full-service breakfast with more seating—” He swept an arm out to indicate the small space they sat in. “—and a walk-up barbecue from the alley.”
She tilted her head. “Barbecue?”
“You pointed it out: it’s something I love. I really do love it, have since I was a teenager. I want to run my own barbecue business. Doesn’t need much seating, mostly a place to cook and sell from. And here’s something to think about—I’d like to do it here. At the Cornucopia. With you.”
Had she just gotten a business deal and a boyfriend in one move? Kate bounced forward in her seat, landing in Freddie’s arms. “Are you serious?”
“Never been more serious. That’s my proposal ...”
“I—”
“And I want you to think about it. Don’t just say yes.”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “You weren’t supposed to just say yes, it’s a business deal, and there are considerations—”
She didn’t want to hear about considerations at the moment, but she did want to kiss him. So she did. She slid her arms around his neck, as naturally as if they hadn’t been aching for him for weeks. He wouldn’t let her say yes, so she put her answer in her kiss. Could kisses convey words? She hadn’t though so before, but now it felt the most natural way to tell Freddie how she felt: soft, brushing touches, playful explorations at the corners of his lips, and pulling him close so she was ready when he kissed her in return, fuller and more passionate, full of answers, and promises, and feelings that tugged deep in her soul.
“Well, that’s ...” he began when the kiss ended, the sappiest look touching his face.
“Breathe,” she commanded in a whisper, and after he did, she kissed him again. She knew there were no guarantees that all this would last, but she trusted Freddie enough to let herself hope that maybe the curse was broken. Maybe she could have love after all.
Chapter 18
One Year Later
Brenda Lee and Pumpkin posed for pictures outside the Cornucopia while McGee snapped pictures. Kate watched, chewing on her lip and hoping he was getting the sign in his pictures. On the other hand, this article was just for the Harvest Ranch Times. Anybody seeing it was going to know exactly what building that was.
“Maybe a close-up of me with the new book,” Brenda Lee said, smiling big enough to give that red lipstick a stretch but waving impatiently for Kate to hand her the book. “There we go. A nice close-up.”
McGee complied, and Brenda Lee tossed the book back. Kate almost dropped it. Even though she and Brenda Lee were friendly now, that wouldn’t have gone over well.
“Great,” McGee said. “Now how about a shot of you going through the door?”
“Oh, that’s not—” Kate began, but McGee ignored her.
“The Cornucopia’s revolving door is the only one like that around here for fifty miles,” McGee told Brenda Lee. “It’s an antique.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Brenda Lee asked with her killer smile and a sweet Southern voice. “I did enough research on this place that I probably know more about it than you.” She threw a look at Kate, who stood up straighter.
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Kate said. “I can tell just by reading the book.” And yes, by now she’d read all of them, some twice.
Brenda Lee nodded and stepped through the revolving door, Pumpkin’s leash still in her hand.
“No, you don’t want to ...” Kate began, but too late. Brenda Lee smiled at the camera and moved forward with the door. Pumpkin let out a whimper, but then, just as if she knew what Kate expected would happen and wanted to prove her wrong, the dog pranced forward. Kate watched as Pumpkin tiptoed through the door motion on nervous, high-stepping feet. In fact, when Brenda Lee pushed all the way around in a circle so she ended up outside again, Pumpkin followed right along.
“There, did you get that?” Brenda Lee asked McGee, and he said he had. Pumpkin, however, looked very pleased with herself, panting and smiling. When she briefly met Kate’s eye, the dog gave her a haughty look.
“Respect,” Kate mouthed to Pumpkin, thumping a fist on her chest. Turning around toward the alley, Kate held back her laughter until she was out of sight.
Freddie stood next to the barbecue pit he’d built, turning meat on the steaming grill.
“That smells delicious,” she said, letting her nose lead her closer.
“Why, thank you. This particular batch is already claimed, but I have some set aside for dinner tonight.”
“I’ll look forward to it. Cooking up something special for Brenda Lee?”
His gaze flicked away from the grill to meet hers for a moment, with that wicked look in his eyes that always made her knees go weak. “Nope, Brenda Lee’s dining with the festival committee. Tonight, I’m planning on just you and me having dinner together. Unless you want to put on your old costume for old time’s sake.”
“Um, no, but thank you.” One thing about those days impersonating Brenda that she didn’t miss was the wig and everything that went with it. “So you’re making a special dinner just for ... us?” Electricity sizzled between them, and she drew nearer as if he’d tugged on a string between them. He’d been teasing about a proposal for weeks. Was this finally it?
“Maybe. Do you have a prob
lem with that?” He kissed her softly on the lips, just enough to make her catch her breath and long for more.
She whispered, “No problem, Mr. Prescott. You’re the boss.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re the boss.”
“Of the Cornucopia, yes. Out here, with your heat and your sizzle,” she teased until she saw lights flickering in his eyes, “you’re the boss.” She pointed to the sign above their heads that read “Harvest Ranch Eats, Freddie’s Hickory-Smoked Barbecue,” and added, “See?”
He pretended surprise, which made her laugh. “You’re right! Look at that. I guess I am the boss out here.”
A timer dinged inside the building. He dropped a quick kiss on her lips and entered the building via the open side door, his business entrance.
She followed him in, looking around at the now-familiar changes they’d made to the Cornucopia’s old storage cranny, especially knocking out one wall so it connected with the breakfast room. It was clean, comforting, and popular with the guests for the hot breakfasts the inn paid him to serve as well as the tasty barbecue. Who would have guessed a year ago that this unused area would be turned into such a homey, profitable business?
She peeped over his shoulder. “What are you working on?”
“A marinade for tonight,” he said, turning off the burner. “Now it just has to cool.”
“Smells so good.” While he worked, she meandered around. A large bucket stood next to the door, mostly filled with wood chips. “Looks like you got your hickory branches back from the chipper.”
“Just in time. I was running low.”
“What are you going to do when the old tree doesn’t have any more low-hanging branches?”
Freddie grinned. “Walk through the alley without having to duck. No, old Pat Newel says he has plenty of his own hickories that need regular trimming. We should be covered for a good long time.”
