by Donna Alward
“They are.” He took a sip of coffee and then put down his mug. “How about yours?”
She smiled again. Lord, the woman smiled all the time. How on earth did she manage that?
“Oh, I’m pretty much on my own. My mom moved away when I was twenty, and lives in Connecticut. I’m not used to a big family like yours. But I have Laurel. We both moved back here after years away, and now we’re best friends. She and Hannah keep me from being too much of a hermit.” She winked at him. “Hannah more recently. I miss Laurel, but between the business and being a newlywed … I understand.”
He nodded. “Yeah. We don’t see Aiden very much either, lately. The lovebirds are holed up in their nest.”
The observation made her cheeks color prettily. He looked away, took a napkin, and wiped Ronan’s hands, then handed him his milk. In no time flat the little boy had an adorable milk mustache.
“So you’re really committed to this place,” he said.
She nodded. “It’s like a dream come true. I love it. I love the work, and the people, and what it stands for.”
“And what about down the road? Do you think you’ll open another, or expand or something?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll figure that out when the time comes. There are some possibilities, but nothing’s really in the works yet. I kind of like letting life happen, and not planning everything out. It feels like more of an adventure that way.”
Ethan frowned. It was strange. He’d always planned out his life, what he wanted to do and a time frame to do it in. Become a firefighter. Get married by twenty-five. Kids before thirty. Check, check, check.
Live happily ever after. Maybe that was where he’d gone wrong. Maybe he’d planned so much that he’d considered everything a done deal. And then God or fate or whatever decided nope! You’re a little too smug, Gallagher. Real life doesn’t have guarantees.
“Doesn’t it bother you? Not having a plan?”
“Not really. I just trust that things will work out as they’re meant to. Right now I’m enjoying where I am. This is a beautiful town, it’s summer, and I have a dream job. Life doesn’t get much better.”
She made it sound so simple.
“Dad,” whispered Connor. “I need to go.”
Willow smiled. “I’ll show you were the bathroom is, Connor.”
“You can go alone?” Ethan asked.
“I’m not a baby, Dad.”
Willow met his gaze. “It’s a private bathroom. He’ll be the only one there, and you can see it from the table. But I’ll wait for him if you like.”
“It’ll be okay,” he said, knowing he couldn’t baby them forever. He leaned over to Connor and whispered in his ear. “Don’t make a mess, and wash your hands.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
When they left together, he noticed that Connor took Willow’s hand, in a way that he’d refused to when they’d been walking to the café together.
His sons missed having a mother. Perhaps Connor more than Ronan, because Connor actually still had memories. His offhand comment today reminded Ethan of that.
But Willow wasn’t the kind of female figure he imagined them having in their lives. He imagined someone more mature and … well, less flighty.
Kids needed structure and stability. Someone like Willow would have them meditating somewhere and eating organic kale, or putting stripes in their hair and taking them for tattoos. He sure couldn’t imagine her being a PTA mom baking cookies for a class event or volunteering for field trips or being field-side watching soccer games.
It was a shame, then, that he couldn’t get the shape of her lips out of his mind. Or the way her eyes seemed to see right through the walls he’d built around himself.
Connor came back to the table by himself, his hands still damp from washing them, and Willow was back behind the counter, serving a customer. Ethan finished his brownie, Ronan washed down the last of his carob-chip cookie with his milk, and Connor managed all but a few bites of his blueberry cake. Ethan stacked the plates and glasses and took them back to the counter.
“Oh,” she said, taking them from his hands and putting them in a dishpan. “Thanks, Ethan.”
“Thank you, Willow. The boys enjoyed it.”
“Just the boys?” she asked, lifting one eyebrow. “Seems to me you finished every last crumb.” Her eyes sparkled at him.
She was surprising. Just so real and honest. And so not in the same place he was. But the brownie had been good and the whole thing had been nicer than he’d expected. He also appreciated how easy she was to talk to. Even when he was being a gruff jerk, she just smiled that serene smile and didn’t try to pry into his feelings. Not a lot of people would have done that. He knew that for a fact. He still got the long looks and quiet voices from people around town. He wished people would stop tiptoeing around him about it.
Lisa was gone. She wasn’t coming back.
“I concede the point to the brownie-baker. It was delicious.”
She rested her hips against the back counter. “Wow. High praise. Thanks.”
“You made them?”
“At nine this morning.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m usually down here by six, six-thirty, and get the baking going for the day. Muffins and scones first, and then the sweeter stuff.”
“Dad, come on. I want to go on the swings.” Ronan tugged at his hand again, and Connor waited impatiently, shifting from foot to foot.
“Better go,” he said, stepping away.
Willow looked at the kids. “Have fun, guys. Come back again soon.”
They waved at her, looking happy. Once they were outside, Connor piped up, “I like Willow. And she said that earring in her nose doesn’t even hurt.”
Ethan let out a big breath. “Don’t get any ideas,” he warned.
“Ew, only girls get things pierced.”
Ethan didn’t correct him; Connor would figure it out soon enough. Though he wouldn’t be disappointed if his boys kept themselves pierce-free.
More than that, though, was that he couldn’t get Willow off his mind. She was the exact opposite of what Lisa had been like. And yet there’d been a moment when she’d put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed that he felt something. A … communion of sorts. Like she understood. How could she, though?
They walked over to the park and Ethan sat on a bench while the boys ran for the slide. All around him were moms with their kids, watching them play, shouting out cautions and warnings.
Connor went down the slide and then waited at the bottom, ready to help his little brother with the landing.
They were his world. Them and no one else. And if he did ever marry again, he’d be damned sure it was a woman his sons deserved. One that would stay.
CHAPTER 4
Willow took the time to settle into Pigeon pose, one of her favorites. She brought her right knee forward out of Downward Facing Dog, keeping her shin parallel with the front of the mat as she stretched her left leg behind her. The pose opened her hips and she inhaled deeply, her ribs expanding as she arched her back. A few more moments and she leaned forward, collapsing over her front leg with a long exhale, sinking into the stretch.
Her practice this morning wasn’t her usual routine. She’d started with an invigorating flow practice and then had found she needed more quiet in her mind, and she’d switched to holding her poses longer, paying more attention to her breath. She wasn’t holding on to stress so much as distraction.
She gently unfolded and repeated the pose on the opposite side. This hip was a little stiffer, and she eased into it slowly. Soft music played in the background, with the sound of a waterfall behind it, and she opened her eyes and focused on the light green lotus flower painted on her wall.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Release.
She unwound herself and moved into Savasana, flat on her back in a prone position. Her body melted into the mat and she envisioned the remaining tension in her muscles exiting through her finge
rtips and feet. She deepened her breath and remained there for a while, until she was so relaxed she was in a quasi-sleep state.
The sound of a car alarm down the street pulled her back into the present, and she released a calm sigh. Nothing restored her like a good yoga practice. This morning her mind had been too busy. Now she was centered and ready to face the day.
After a shower and a breakfast of yogurt and fresh berries, Willow made her way downstairs to the café. Emily was already there, taking the first pans of muffins out of the oven. Steven was there too, filling napkin dispensers, readying the coffee machines, and taking care of anything to do with the front end. He’d already scrubbed the floor and it was nearly dry. She’d bet any money he’d cleaned the washrooms, too. He’d admitted on day one that he was an early riser, so she often put him on the schedule to open. Tina and Mary would be in later.
“Morning, boss,” Emily said, going back into the kitchen. “I’m going to put some steel cut oats on for the breakfast menu today. That okay?”
“Sounds perfect.” Even though it was July, the day was cool and a bit gray, with a fine drizzle. They’d go through more soup than sandwiches today, and lots of coffee. She made a mental note to add a third soup if the weather didn’t clear by ten or so.
The minutes flew until she unlocked the door and turned over the open sign. Then the morning passed in a blur. Instead of the rain slowing business, it seemed as if everyone in Darling was looking to warm up with a cup of coffee or tea and some sort of carb. Scones, muffins, coffee cake … it all disappeared like lightning, and Willow did nothing but bake while Em and Steven waited on customers. No one had time for a break until nine-thirty, and even then it was five minutes for each of them to catch their breath and grab something to drink to keep them going. Then the coffee-break rush started at ten and they were in the thick of it again.
She loved every minute.
The pace wasn’t very zen, but that didn’t matter. There was something comforting about the smells, and Willow loved the hands-on task of baking, of nourishing. She liked the sound of someone wishing someone else a good morning; the odd laugh, or even the weary customer who ended up leaving with a smile. She took a few precious seconds to look out over the packed coffee shop, and her heart was full. This … this was her family. This town had welcomed her back, even with her quirkiness that was so different from the Type A teenager she’d been. Not all of those characteristics had disappeared, and she liked to think they served her well as a business owner. But she liked to feel as if she’d balanced her inner perfectionist with acceptance and calm.
The most important thing she’d learned during her time away was that taking care of other people was the best way to take care of herself. When she focused on others, and tried to make their day better, her day got better, too. Call it karma, call it whatever, but she knew that giving of herself made it possible to receive good things in return. She was a nurturer at heart, which was a huge surprise considering her upbringing.
Hannah popped in, though Willow didn’t bother to check the clock. She didn’t have time to stop to chat for long, but Hannah scooted around the counter and darted into the kitchen for a moment anyway. Only Hannah would do such a thing and look utterly comfortable about it.
“Holy cats. Look at the mess in here.”
Willow laughed and efficiently rolled out cheese scone dough, then cut them in triangles with a metal cutter. Her hands flew as she placed them on a metal sheet and then put them in the oven.
“Busy day,” Willow offered. “A little bit of rain and the tourists want coffee and carbs and to stay inside.”
“I guess. I’ve got to get back, but I wanted to tell you that I spoke to Billy.”
Billy Robertson was the owner of the building, and he rented the space to both Hannah and Willow.
“About the space in between us?”
“Yep. He agreed to let me know if anyone else offers. He likes having you as a tenant. He said your sugar-free cookies are the only sweets his wife will let him eat.”
Willow laughed and wiped her hands on a towel. “Well, that’s good.”
Hannah’s face was all business, though. “I meant what I said about expansion. That’s prime real estate and you’re already crowded in here. If it’s the money, we can talk about that, too. I can help.”
Laurel had said the same thing about funding an expansion, even though Willow knew Laurel had her hands full with the garden center and keeping her business in the black. “I’ll keep it in mind. Promise.” In fact she had been thinking about it, a lot. It was part of the reason why she’d been a little edgier than normal lately.
She didn’t want to grow too fast, or too big, and add additional stress to her life. She’d worked very hard to find inner acceptance and a balance of doing what she loved and having enough quiet time to keep herself on an even keel. To double the size of the café would mean hiring a full-time baker and more staff, not to mention more overhead. More everything, including risk.
“Let me think about it, Han.” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s a big step. I don’t want to rush into anything. Right now I have time to do some things I enjoy. I don’t want to end up married to my business, and if The Purple Pig expands, that could happen.”
Hannah shook her head. “Nah. You’re the most well-balanced person I know. But agreed, you shouldn’t rush into anything. If you want, we can run some numbers sometime…”
Hannah looked so hopeful that Willow laughed again. “You’re wasted doing real estate, you know.”
“That’s what you think. I love the wheel and deal and I do my share of number crunching. Anyway, I’ll scoot and let you get back to work.”
Before she could dart out the door, Willow called out to her. “Hey, Hannah?”
“Hmm?”
“Ethan was in here with the boys. Connor mentioned his mom, and Ethan clammed up.”
“Yeah. It’s been really hard for him. They were longtime sweethearts.”
Willow’s heart ached for him, and his cute little boys. “What was she like?”
Hannah smiled, and Willow saw sadness in it. It looked like the family had loved Ethan’s wife, too.
“Lisa was perfect for him. She was sweet but no pushover, and she ran a tight ship. Always organized, always taking the boys on little outings, making sure they did things as a family. For a long time it seemed as though she had limitless energy. Maybe that’s when we first realized something was wrong. She lost that crazy spark.”
“Connor mentioned blueberry cake.”
Hannah laughed. “She was a good cook. Ethan didn’t eat nearly as much of mom’s cooking as he does now. And she always made me feel like I was all thumbs. She knew how to knit and sew and all that stuff.”
It sounded like Lisa Gallagher had been an absolute paragon. For some reason, the glowing description annoyed Willow. She figured it was because she was so flawed and it made her feel inferior.
Those feelings didn’t happen very often, not anymore. But today they snuck in and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Thanks for telling me,” she murmured. “Now scoot. I’ve got muffins to make.”
Hannah disappeared, but Willow’s fingers rested on the edge of the counter and she frowned. Why did it matter about Lisa? It wasn’t as if she even liked Ethan.
Except she sort of did. And if it wasn’t exactly “like,” it was an understanding of what it was like to deal with daily pain and hide it from the world. Her teen years had been fraught with struggle, and it had taken years and a lot of therapy to deal with the eating disorder she’d hidden from everyone. She was a strong person now. A whole person. But when she looked at Ethan, she saw a man who had a part of himself missing, and she knew how that felt.
She remembered how he’d looked, taking the boys out of the café to go to the park and her heart softened. He was there for them. And she knew his family was supportive, but she’d bet a million dollars that he’d never allow himself to be a burden on h
is family.
Which meant there was no one there for him.
And lonely was a terrible place to live.
CHAPTER 5
Ethan sat on the back of the ambulance, the smell of smoke clinging to him like a second skin, and wiped his forearm across his sweaty forehead. His other arm rested by his side, the pain at a minimum as long as he kept still.
From his perch waiting for the paramedics to care for the people with smoke inhalation, he could see the other firefighters milling about near what remained of the old food bank. The red brick building was stained black from where the fire had broken out just a few hours earlier, which thankfully had been contained before anyone was seriously injured. Now, there was just paperwork, cleanup, and the assessment of the attached homeless shelter for possible smoke and structural damage.
Christine Palmer, one of the paramedics, made her way over to the ambulance. “What happened to you?” she asked, frowning. “You doing okay? You didn’t mention being hurt earlier.”
“Shelving unit came down. I guess my reflexes are slowing.” He sent her a grin, but inside he was feeling rather grim.
“Right arm?”
“Yep. My guess is it’s broken, but I’ll need an X-ray. Figured if you had room, I could hitch a ride to the hospital.” His injury wasn’t serious, though if he were honest, it hurt like a sonofabitch. Still, he could wait until the ambulance wasn’t needed. Right now he was just wondering what the hell he’d do if he couldn’t work for a while.
“There’s nothing major here,” Christine replied. “I don’t think there’ll be a problem with giving you a lift. You doing okay for pain?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Though if you happened to give me a sling or something, I think the support would be welcome.”
In no time she had him trussed up in a sling and the shooting pains lessened. Of all the goddamn things to happen today. His mother would have a fit, even though he hadn’t been in any mortal danger. It was a stupid steel shelving unit. She wouldn’t see it that way. And now he’d be off work.
