“I don’t have time for this. Not to mention the money. I have a lot to do; I open in three days.”
“And what are you going to do when this happens in the middle of dinner rush?”
Her hands trembled as she lowered them. She pressed her lips together, and her chin wobbled. “Fine.” She unfastened her belt and maneuvered to the other seat.
He slid into the car, buckled her belt and then his own, and pulled from the gas station. Riverview General was just a few miles outside of town. PJ was quiet until they pulled into the lot.
“They’re not going to find anything. I’m always working myself up over nothing. Just ask my family.”
“How about we ask the doctor instead. Want me to call someone?”
“No.”
Someone came to the curb and helped her inside while Cole parked the car.
Three hours later, PJ gathered her things and left the triage room. She was still shaky but now just from missing supper. The deductible was going to hurt her wallet, but at least she had answers.
Walking down the sterile hall, she rooted through her purse for her keys, then remembered Cole had driven her car here. She’d have to call him or call her family—neither option was appealing.
She felt for her phone, then remembered she’d left it charging in her car. Great. Entering the lobby, she was headed toward the counter when a movement from the lobby drew her attention.
Cole was walking her way. “All done?”
“I didn’t expect you to wait.”
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah.”
He ushered her out the door, leading her to the car. She started for the driver’s side.
“I’ll drive,” he said.
“It’s my car.”
“You just left the ER.” He held up the keys. “And I have the keys.”
She scowled at him as he led her to the passenger side and opened the door.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?”
“You’re the youngest of five; you should be used to it.”
Unfortunately, she was too used to it. She tried to be angry with him, but it was hard when he’d just wasted three hours in an ER lobby for her.
“So what’d you find out?” he asked as he pulled onto the street.
She hesitated at sharing private information. They weren’t exactly best buds. But he had brought her here and waited on her. “Apparently my thyroid is high. I guess that can cause panic attacks.”
“I wondered if that’s what they were. My mom used to have them.”
He’d never referred to his family before, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass. “What happened to her?”
The Main Street lamps washed over his face as they rode through downtown. His mouth tightened, and a haunted look settled over his features. She was suddenly sorry she’d asked.
“Car accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
She wanted to know more. What about his dad? Where had his grandparents been? Why did he end up in foster care, and how old was he when it happened? But she didn’t exactly deserve answers to her personal questions. She’d accused him of sabotage, had barely spoken to him in the past five weeks.
“So did they give you meds or something?” he asked.
“I have to make an appointment with an endocrinologist.” And she was opening in three days. Three days. She still had to purchase food, pick up her menus, finish training the staff, and proof the ad for Friday’s paper. “I don’t have time for this.”
“You don’t have time to ignore it.”
“I know. It’s just bad timing.” They passed the gas station. “Hey, your truck.”
“I’ll get it tomorrow.”
When they reached the house, she followed him up the path. A cricket chirped nearby, going silent as they passed. The porch was dark, and the door creaked as Cole opened it. The big old house was quiet. The smells of paint and polish lingered in the air. He flipped on the light while she locked up behind them.
“Night,” he said, heading toward the stairs.
“Good night.” PJ watched him go, his loose gait now familiar and somehow reassuring. “Hey,” she called quietly.
He turned halfway up, his hand resting on the mahogany rail.
“Thanks for taking me tonight.”
He studied her a minute, his eyes dark and unfathomable in the shadows. There was so much she didn’t know about him. Despite her initial plan to draw him out, he was more of an enigma now than when he’d moved in.
“No problem.”
He turned and continued climbing, leaving PJ to wonder what secrets those eyes held and if she would ever get to the bottom of them.
Cole turned over in bed, staring at the darkened ceiling. PJ’s question had stirred memories better forgotten. And no matter how much he tried to push them back down, they surfaced relentlessly.
Some people lost their memory of the moments leading up to an accident. He only wished his mind had been so generous. No, he remembered every detail. Every word. Every expression that had ghosted over his mom’s face. And he remembered everything leading up to that awful night.
It had been a bad week all the way around. On Monday his baseball game had been rained out halfway through the third inning. He’d been pitching so well, and they’d been in the lead 4–0 against their biggest rival. His mom was on a business trip and his dad was working, so he’d had to walk home in the pouring rain. At twelve he was old enough now.
When he rounded the bend he was glad to see his dad’s car in the drive. Cole could tell him how well he’d pitched. His dad liked it when he played well, even if he always did see some way Cole could’ve done better. Cole told himself that was why he’d improved so much. Why he’d made the All-Star team three years running. Why he’d been drafted up early this season.
The lights were off when he entered the house. The TV light flickered, but a scan of the living room told him his dad wasn’t watching the ESPN highlights on the screen. He heard a woman’s laughter down the hallway.
His mom was home early. He hadn’t seen her car, but she parked in the garage. Noelle must still be at daycare because if she were home, she’d be wrapped around his rain-soaked leg, begging for a pony ride.
He followed the voices into the hallway. He hadn’t seen his mom in three days and was surprised she hadn’t gone straight to his game. She was always in the stands cheering for him.
The bedroom door was cracked open, and he was glad because if it were shut, he’d have to go away. He knew what his parents were doing when they locked the door. Jared Parker had filled him in two years ago. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but his other friends had confirmed it. Now every time his parents shut the door, he wished Jared Parker had kept his big fat mouth shut.
He heard his dad’s laughter now, his voice rumbling low. He was in a good mood. Cole smiled as he approached the door. It had been awhile since he’d seen Dad smile, much less laugh. It was a good time to tell him about the game.
Cole pushed the door, and it fell silently open. His eyes settled on the bed, where two figures were tangled beneath the sheets. He stopped in his tracks as his mom’s laughter drifted to him, and he thought belatedly that he should close his eyes. Quick.
But then he saw the black hair spread across the pillow. Saw the long, tapered fingers running up his dad’s bare back. The bright red nails curling into Dad’s short hair.
He spun and hurried down the hall, careful not to make a sound. His skin felt hot and tight, and his stomach felt like it did on Halloween when he plowed through his bucket of candy.
He went out the front door, into the drizzle, and around back where no one would see him. He scrambled behind the air-conditioning unit and slid down the wall until he was tucked into a ball. Tugging his ball cap lower, he closed his eyes and went someplace else. To the ball diamond where he was on the mound, where his mom was in the stands watching him pitc
h, and his dad was at work, exactly where he was supposed to be.
Chapter Fifteen
“WHY AREN’T YOU PLAYING?” JADE SETTLED NEXT TO PJ AT the picnic table and began picking at the leftover brownies.
“I’m saving my energy for tomorrow.” PJ pulled Ava closer, breathing in her sweet baby scent.
On the court nearby the game of two-on-two grew louder as Madison protested Ryan’s block.
Joanne McKinley stopped by the table, arms out for baby Ava. “You’ve had her long enough. Come here, sugars.”
“Say hi to Grammy.” PJ handed off the baby.
The eight-month-old gave a gummy smile and kicked excitedly. “Ga, ga, ga!”
“Where’s Mia?” PJ asked Jade as their mom made off with her Ava.
“Daniel’s changing her diaper. She had apple juice today . . .”
“That’s a bad thing?”
“Let’s just say he might be awhile. So, I saw in the paper that Brad Wilshire was arrested yesterday. Isn’t he the guy who did your renovations?”
“He was arrested? What for?”
“He was doing some work for Bernadette Perkins, and she caught him stealing her antique jewelry. You’re lucky he didn’t rob you blind. Not that you had much to take.”
The cookware. Brad had stolen her cookware. She was sure it was long gone. It had been a month and a half. “I guess you’re right.”
“So, no more Fiona’s Fudge Shoppe, huh?”
“Yesterday was my last day. At least I hope it was. If things get slow over the winter, I’ll have to take a part-time job.”
“Are you ready for the grand opening? Mom said everything looks great.”
“Layla did an amazing job. I loaded up on fresh produce from the farmers market. The walk-in’s full of quality meat, and the staff is trained and scheduled. I just hope people show up.”
“Well, you know the family’s coming. And that ad in today’s paper should attract a lot of customers. It was awesome.”
“It should’ve been—talk about expensive. Did you see the Grand Opening banner?”
“You can’t miss it. The community will support you. I’m sure it’ll be great . . .” There was something in her tone. Something about the way Jade’s green eyes darted away, toward the court, then down to her fingers as she laced them, her rings clinking together.
“But . . .”
“There’s no but.” Jade brushed the brownie crumbs from the checkered tablecloth. The bench squawked as she shifted.
PJ might not be a mind reader, but she knew when her sister was hiding something. “Out with it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Does it have something to do with my opening?”
“Yes.”
“Then spill.”
Jade’s shoulders sank as she exhaled. “It’s not a bad thing. I just didn’t want to make you nervous . . . You sure you want to know?”
PJ shot her a look.
“Daniel had an interview with the paper today. He found out they’re sending Maeve Daughtry to your grand opening.”
Dread congealed in PJ’s stomach like refrigerated chicken stock. “The restaurant reviewer?”
“So that’s great, right? She’ll be majorly impressed, write an awesome review, and people will come by the droves.”
“Or she’ll get bad service, overcooked steak, write a terrible review, and people will go to the Burger Barn.”
Jade elbowed PJ. “What has happened to our little Tigger?”
“She’s been cooped up in a dusty old mansion with her adversary.”
Jade tipped her head back, her eyes lighting knowingly. “Ahhhh . . .”
“Don’t ah me. It’s not like that.”
“That’s not what Madison said.”
PJ glared across the court at her oldest sister as she dodged Dad and put up a shot. “Seriously? Why don’t you two focus your romantic energies on Ryan? Cole’s got a girlfriend. He’s the last man I’d ever consider.” She’d learned her lesson about taken men.
“He’s awfully cute.”
Not the word PJ would’ve used. Hot, maybe. Appealing, definitely. Infuriating, sometimes. But he was kind, too, she thought, as she remembered the way he’d checked on her at the gas station and taken her to the hospital.
And now she knew he definitely hadn’t taken her cookware. Or flooded her dining room. She must’ve forgotten to close the window. It wouldn’t be the first absentminded thing she’d ever done. She shook the thoughts from her head. She didn’t want to remember the way she’d accused him so boldly.
Daniel appeared, straddling the bench across from them, Mia balanced on his thick arm.
The baby held her arms out to Jade. “Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma!”
Jade reached across the table, taking her daughter. She kissed the girl’s chubby cheek.
Daniel scowled playfully at Jade. “You owe me for that one.”
“I’m not the one who fed her apple juice,” she said smugly.
Daniel swung his leg over the bench, facing them. “I heard you ended up at the ER this week. Feeling better?”
“They gave me Ativan for the panic attacks, but it makes me feel zoned out. I can’t afford that right now.”
“It’s a thyroid issue though?”
“Yeah, but they can’t really make the thyroid produce less hormone without killing the gland. We’re hoping it sorts itself out. Until then, I just have to deal. So Jade told me about Maeve Daughtry. Any tips on impressing her?”
“I hear she’s a sucker for great presentation and hates a long wait.”
“All right then. So fast and beautiful. If I can add scrumptious to that, it’ll be a home run.”
“It’ll be all that and more,” Jade said. “If there’s anything you can do, it’s cook.”
“Ga, ga, ga!”
“See, Mia agrees.”
PJ only hoped Maeve Daughtry felt the same.
Chapter Sixteen
PJ DRIZZLED THE GARLIC BUTTER OVER THE RIB EYE, SPRINKLED chopped parsley over it, and set it in the window. “Order’s up! Callie, how’s the risotto coming?”
“Perfect, Chef. Where’s Ronda? The tenderloins are dying.”
Ronda appeared at the window and grabbed the plates. “Sorry, I’m in the weeds. I need a baked potato on the fly.” And she was off.
“How long on the fettuccine?” PJ asked Nate.
“Two minutes, Chef.”
PJ turned to the next order. Filet, brisket, and tilapia. She worked on automatic, in her element. They were a good three hours into the opening, and she was running high on adrenaline. Everything was going like clockwork. Well, almost everything. She’d overcooked a sirloin, Nate had gotten a minor cut using one of her new Wüsthof knives, and a server had spilled a tray of coffee—thankfully not on anyone.
But they’d had a full house all evening and nothing but compliments so far. Her family had come and gone, peeking into the kitchen only long enough to rave about the food and service.
She brushed the hair from her damp forehead with the back of her gloved hand. She’d informed her staff about Maeve Daughtry before the doors had opened. The reviewer had been seated fifteen minutes ago. She’d ordered the filet that was in the oven now.
“Coming through,” Callie said, whizzing past with a hot skillet.
A second later the kitchen went dark and quiet. The hum of the refrigeration unit, gone. The buzz of the heat lamps, silent. The grind of the blender, still.
“Chef?” Callie said.
A power outage? Oh please, not now.
“It’s not storming,” Nate said. “The lights are still on in the dining room.” The only light filtering in came from the next room.
“Thank God.” PJ removed her gloves. “Okay, it must be a fuse or something. You just flip a switch, and it comes back on, right?” She did not have time for this.
“Don’t ask me,” Nate said. “I live in an apartment.”
“I think there’s a box, right?” Callie s
aid. “Like in the basement or something?”
Heart pounding, PJ ran to the basement steps, only to find the lights down there were off too. She wasted precious time looking for a flashlight, all the while thinking of Maeve’s thick steak cooling in the oven.
She shone the light around the dank basement. “Come on, where are you?” If only her dad were still here. She would call him if she couldn’t figure it out quickly.
There in the corner. A big gray box. The door squeaked as she opened it. She frowned at the rows of black switches. Which one?
At a loss, she called her mom’s cell but there was no answer. The home phone went over to voicemail.
No.
She pocketed her phone, realizing her breath was coming too quickly. Panic rolled in like fog over the river. No. Not now. Please, not now. She tried to push it back.
Her heart raced, and her lungs worked to keep up. A sweat broke out on the back of her neck, despite the coolness of the basement. She bent over, planting her hands on her apron-covered knees. Why hadn’t she taken her meds?
Focus, PJ. You can do this. Breathe.
She drew in a breath, fighting back the overwhelming sense of panic. It would pass. She’d be fine. She focused on her breathing, tried to turn her attention to the switches, but she couldn’t even think past the panic.
Cole looked up from the board he was measuring as another set of car lights swooped across the shed. Things were hopping at PJ’s grand opening. The newly paved parking lot off the alley was full. He suspected cars lined the curb out front as well.
He felt conflicted about her success. She’d been so nervous—hadn’t been able to sit still for two days straight, never mind that everything looked like perfection inside. She was especially nervous about her family coming. That he understood. He’d never been more nervous as a pitcher than when his dad had been in the stands.
PJ had also been nervous about that reviewer from the paper. Cole had tried to stay out of her way tonight, working in the shed, but his eyes kept coming back to the kitchen window. He wondered how it was going. If her staff were doing their jobs. If her customers were being kind. Strangely, he felt protective of her. Surely people would understand any little glitches. It was to be expected on opening night.
The Wishing Season (A Chapel Springs Romance Book 3) Page 8
