Love Inspired June 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Patricia Johns

  And she relished the opportunity to form some female friendships. Though she was still trying to work through the sometimes tangled, small-town roots of how everyone was connected.

  Callie’s toddler son batted around an ice cube on the high chair tray. She and Amber had been best friends since high school. The auburn-haired woman smiled at Kara. “We’re brainstorming ideas for Lila’s wedding to Sam in a few months.”

  Happiness shone out of ginger-haired Lila’s green eyes. Lila was a gifted artist, who ran an arts program at a nearby college. Sam’s little girl would also make Lila a new mother as well as a bride. “I love your food, Kara.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you do any catering?” Lila rested her arms on the tabletop. “We thought we’d found the perfect caterer, but when he found out Truelove was so off the beaten path, he canceled on us.”

  “That’s terrible.” She tilted her head. “I haven’t really thought about catering, but I suppose I could. Maybe.”

  An interesting sideline to supplement the Mason Jar’s bottom line?

  “Oh, that would be great.” Lila shifted in the booth toward AnnaBeth. “Perhaps with my wedding director extraordinaire, the three of us could meet tomorrow afternoon when you’re less busy to discuss the details.”

  Flame-haired AnnaBeth whipped out her phone. “That sounds terrific.” She consulted her calendar. “What about twoish? I could get my mother-in-law to pick up Hunter from school.”

  AnnaBeth was married to a handsome cowboy, and their son was a pint-size lasso champion. Kara was slightly in awe of her for several reasons. A social media influencer, AnnaBeth wrote the enormously popular Heart’s Home blog. She was an incomer like Kara. And the only one in the group who’d actually been to Paris.

  Which was more than Kara had ever managed, but a girl could dream, right?

  They were finalizing plans when the front bell jangled again. Maggie, the police chief’s wife, swept in with three small preschool boys in tow. One of whom had already stolen Kara’s heart.

  Seeing her, Maddox rushed forward, grabbing her around her knees. “Miss Karwa!”

  Not even trying to hide her smile, she picked him up. “Hey, sweetie pie. Have you had a good day so far?”

  Maddox proceeded to give Kara a blow-by-blow description of his ninja warrior class that morning. And a progress report on his latest visit with Soufflé.

  She felt rather than saw Will get off the counter stool and come closer. It was like there were extra electrical charges that moved in the air depending on his proximity to her.

  AnnaBeth and Lila scooted out from their side of the booth. “Take our seat, Maggie.”

  The slim, very fit exercise trainer shook her head. “I just came to drop off Maddox with his grandfather.” She waved at Pops in the corner booth. “I don’t mean to run y’all off.”

  “Nonsense.” AnnaBeth helped Austin scramble into the booth. “Lila and I have to get in line for car pool.”

  With Will standing beside Kara, goose bumps frolicked like ladybugs across her skin.

  “Hey, son.”

  Maddox gave his dad a brief smile before continuing his monologue to Kara about fishing in the creek that afternoon with Maggie’s father and his two best amigos, Austin and Logan.

  “Dey have dere own poles and ever-wee-ding, Miss Karwa.”

  Will rubbed his chin. “I guess dear old dad is nothing but chopped liver when it comes to Miss Kara.”

  “It’s not really me.” She fluttered her lashes. “It’s my pastry.”

  He laughed.

  Warmth tinged her face. But she’d discovered she adored making him laugh. Most days, due to the cloud hanging over the TFD, he came inside the café looking glum.

  The fire chief held out his arms to Maddox. And this time, his son, having ended his tale of today’s high adventure, went to his dad.

  She’d heard through the Mason Jar customer grapevine that a big town council meeting had happened earlier today. She was guessing it hadn’t gone well. His shoulders were broad, but considering the pressure he was under right now, they needed to be broader.

  Kara flushed. She shouldn’t be thinking of how broad Chief Will MacKenzie’s shoulders were or were not.

  She did catch Lila exchanging an amused glance with AnnaBeth. “Is it just me or am I wrong in thinking it’s a good thing Aunt IdaLee isn’t here?”

  Was it Kara or had the temperatures inside the café suddenly become like an oven? She fanned her face, grateful Will and Maddox had moved to salivate over the pastry case.

  Amber arched her brow. “ErmaJean, too.”

  Maggie plopped down in the booth. “And especially Aunt GeorgeAnne.”

  Kara resisted the impulse to grimace. Not a fan of GeorgeAnne Allen. And from what she could gather, the old woman reciprocated her feelings.

  But it left a cold, hard knot sitting in the pit of her belly. Most people liked her. Liked her food, too. She wasn’t sure how to handle the older woman’s unexpected animosity.

  Callie eased the tray off the high chair and unbuckled her son. “I need to get going, too.”

  Amber inched her way out of the seat. “My belly is growing so big, before long I’m not going to be able to get in the booth at all.”

  Kara signaled Trudy to take Maggie’s order and followed the other moms to the cash register. After they left, she went behind the pastry case.

  Using tongs, she removed a chocolate-dipped madeleine from the glass shelf and handed it to Maddox. “A sweet treat for a sweet boy.”

  Pops ambled over. “Wouldn’t mind one of those myself.”

  Will shook his head, but a smile played about his mouth. “You are spoiling them.”

  “You want one, too, Chief MacKenzie?” She smirked.

  He grinned. “Well, since you’re offering...”

  Maddox bit into the soft, spongy cookie. “Dank you, Miss Karwa.”

  Coming around, Kara handed Will a cookie and gave his dear child a hug. Munching his own madeleine, Pops paid his tab. “See you at dinner, son.” He departed with Maddox.

  Other than Maggie and her boys, the café had emptied out. Only a few more minutes until closing time.

  “I don’t want to keep you.” Still, Will lingered. “I’m sure you have a lot to do.”

  She could think of nothing she’d rather do than spend all day talking to the fire chief. The prep for tomorrow’s specials could wait.

  “It’s fine.” She leaned her hip against the register. “I like talking to you.” She went crimson. Had she actually said that out loud?

  But a warm light gleamed in his gaze. “I like talking to you, too.”

  He smiled, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners. And her knees to wobble. Making her glad she had the counter to lean upon for support.

  Will touched the tip of his finger to the silver metal miniature Eiffel Tower she kept beside the register. “Where did this love of all things French come from?”

  “From my dad originally.” She picked up the mini tower. “We never had much, even when he was alive, although both he and my mom were hard workers. But he always seemed to find enough money for books. The Madeline series was a particular favorite of mine.”

  She glanced over to where she’d last seen Glorieta, but Mama G had wandered back into the kitchen.

  Kara bit her lip. “I don’t have a lot of material things from my childhood, but I treasure those books. Mama G has them stored at her house in Durham until I get a permanent address in Truelove.”

  “May I?” He held out his hand for the metal structure. “I’m not familiar with those children’s books.”

  Placing the miniature into his palm, her mouth quirked. “And why would you be? The Madeline stories tend to be kind of a girl thing.”

  He examined the silver tower. “I think Madd
ox’s current favorite involves dinosaurs.”

  “My mother gave me this pint-size version of the Eiffel Tower after my father died in an accident.” Kara blew out a breath. “It represented a dream. That better days would come. That one day we’d see Paris.”

  His gaze caught hers. Her heart dropped to her toes.

  “And have you?”

  “No, not yet,” she whispered.

  He handed back the miniature. “One day...” he rasped in his delicious, gravelly voice.

  Clutching the tower, she gulped. “One day...”

  The bell jangled, and they jolted.

  GeorgeAnne stomped inside. “You’re a hard man to track down, Chief MacKenzie.”

  Curiously, his face, normally a healthy tan, paled. “Miss GeorgeAnne.”

  Determined to be hospitable, Kara plastered a welcoming smile across her features. GeorgeAnne placed the clipboard on top of the pastry case with a flourish.

  “What’s this?”

  GeorgeAnne’s mouth thinned. “This is a petition Chief MacKenzie was supposed to present to you earlier this week.” She gave Will a starched look. “But seems like it’s up to me.”

  Kara stiffened. “A petition about what?”

  Will’s Adam’s apple bobbed above the open collar of his white uniform shirt. “Kara...”

  Maggie got out of the booth. “Aunt GeorgeAnne, what’s going on? What have you done?”

  Kara looked from her to the old woman. “I’m still not—”

  “Signed by over one hundred concerned Truelove citizens.” GeorgeAnne tapped her bony finger on the clipboard lying between them. “We demand you put the apple pie back on the menu.”

  Maggie sucked in a breath. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  Kara rounded on Will. “You knew about this?”

  He raised his hands. “I—I—”

  GeorgeAnne snorted. “His department organized and circulated the petition. The citizens of Truelove are giving you exactly twelve hours to take that apple abomination off the menu and give us back our apple pie, or—”

  “Or what?” Crossing her arms, she narrowed her eyes at the old woman.

  Perhaps not used to being crossed, GeorgeAnne backed up a step. But a second later she rallied.

  “Or... Truelove is going to boycott the Mason Jar.” A steely look in her arctic-blue eyes, she jutted her jaw. “And then we’ll see how long you stay in business in this town, Miss Lockwood.”

  Will shook his head. “Can we all discuss this like rational adults?”

  She glared at the older woman. “How dare you!” Unfolding, Kara pointed toward the door. “I think you need to leave my restaurant. Now.”

  With a sniff, GeorgeAnne exited, head held high, nose in the air.

  “Kara, if you’d let me explain.”

  She glowered at him. “I don’t think we have anything left to say to each other, Chief MacKenzie.”

  “It’s not what it seems.”

  Kara put the pastry case between them. “Please just go.”

  Near the booths, Shayla and Trudy stood frozen. Maggie’s little boys stared wide-eyed at the loud, adult drama taking place in front of them. Leo poked his torso through the cut-out window to investigate the raised voices.

  Glorieta popped her head around the swinging porthole door. “Kara, what’s going on?” A puzzled frown creased the barbecue queen’s forehead.

  The bell jangled, an angry sound. She faced forward again as Will thrust open the door and stalked outside.

  With long strides, he headed toward the fire station on the opposite side of the green. Feeling ambushed, she watched him go until tears of anger and betrayal blurred her vision. She swiped at her cheeks.

  Her gaze swung toward the witnesses of her utter humiliation. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

  She realized she was still holding the mini tower in her hand. Gripping it so hard, it would probably leave marks on her palm. Forcing her fingers to relax, she returned the tower to its spot of honor.

  Then, shaken and overwhelmed, she sank into a nearby chair.

  She hadn’t felt this alone since her mother died. One hundred signatures. One hundred people hated her food. Hated what she’d done to the Mason Jar. Hated her?

  Coming here had been a terrible mistake.

  She wished she’d never set eyes on Truelove.

  And never met its fire chief.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Somehow, Kara managed to hold it together long enough to finish closing the restaurant.

  Buying a few colorful macarons for her sons and a caffè mocha to go, Maggie exited amid profuse apologies for her great-aunt’s behavior.

  Unusually subdued, Trudy retrieved her purse under the counter. Kara was glad when both waitresses and Leo left for the day. Soon, only she and Mama G remained.

  “Kara, honey...”

  Unable to trust herself to speak, she crossed the dining room. Smoothing her hands down the small white apron she’d worn over her skirt, she pushed through the door into the kitchen. She scrubbed her hands at the sink a little more forcefully than strictly necessary.

  This was her favorite time in the café. When for a few hours she had the kitchen all to herself. Switching from acting as hostess to what she really loved—cooking.

  Normally, she tallied receipts, tracked inventory and placed orders for additional supplies. She’d evaluate the success of today’s dishes. What had gone right. What had gone wrong. What she had missed. What missing ingredient could have made the difference.

  Had its execution been on point? How might she have improved its taste and flavor for patrons?

  Or had it lain on the plate, flat and uninspiring to her diners? Kind of how she felt right now about the Mason Jar.

  What had she done wrong? What had she missed? What else could she have done to make the citizens of Truelove love her food versus hating it?

  She slipped into her chef whites and took out the ingredients for tomorrow’s baked goods. Flour. Butter. Cream. Eggs. At the prep counter, she felt a whoosh of air behind her. She should’ve known Mama G wouldn’t let this go.

  “We need to talk about what happened with GeorgeAnne Allen, sugar.”

  Her back still turned, she closed her eyes. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not. Not right now. I’ve got a ton of—”

  “What I mind is you stuffing your emotions down like you’d stuff a Christmas goose. You’ve got every right to feel angry. I’m angry, too.”

  Kara’s eyes flew open and she turned on her heel. “My galette is a signature dish. It’s won awards.”

  Mama G folded her arms over her massive bosom. “That old woman had no right to come into your establishment with her demands.” She wagged her finger. “Much less threaten your livelihood.”

  “Exactly.” Kara widened her stance. “How dare she?”

  “How dare she indeed.” Mama G bobbed her head. “But keeping it bottled up inside isn’t healthy. Don’t let the anger marinate. That only leads to bitterness.” Her foster mom arched her eyebrow. “And bitterness isn’t a flavor a chef of your caliber should cultivate.”

  As usual, Mama G was right.

  “I think the bigger question is, what do you plan to do about the petition? What will be your response?”

  Kara planted her hands on her hips. “A chef has the right to set the menu, especially in her own restaurant.”

  “That is entirely true.” Glorieta pursed her lips. “And customers also have the right not to eat it.”

  “So the customer is always right?” Kara gaped at her. “You think I should just give in? Drop the apple galette and reinstate the pie?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” Glorieta held Kara’s gaze. “Sometimes the customer doesn’t understand what would truly please them. They may n
ot know until you’ve shown it to them first. But it doesn’t hurt to examine the situation from GeorgeAnne’s point of view.”

  “Did you look at the names on the petition?” Kara threw up her hands. “Some of those people I believed to be new friends. And to think that Will MacKenzie—”

  “Yes, do let’s discuss the young fire chief.”

  But that was the last thing she wanted to do. Gritting her teeth, she got out a glass mixing bowl from the shelf below.

  Glorieta leaned against the stainless-steel counter. “I know that you’re hurt, but I think you should let him explain. He seemed as upset about the petition as you were.”

  Baring her teeth, Kara one-handed an egg and cracked it with a two-fingered, expert trick she’d learned from Mama G, not from culinary school. “I can promise you he’s not as upset as me.”

  The yolky contents fell into the bowl. Perfect every time. She tossed the crumpled, empty shell aside.

  Kara cracked another egg. “What would you do in this situation?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I’d do.” Glorieta took off her hat. “I don’t think that is for me to say.”

  “So now you decide to go all ‘silent partner’ on me?” Kara huffed. She reached for another egg.

  “I will say I think you need to seek the Lord’s counsel in how to proceed.”

  Kara’s hand convulsed around the egg, crushing it. Egg whites, yolk and shell fell into the bowl. She groaned.

  “Don’t give in to despair. All is not lost.” Glorieta handed her a clean dish towel. “You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs first. Hang in there, sugar.”

  Mama G headed back to the motel. Kara was grateful to be left alone to blow off some steam and ponder her next move.

  That night Will tried to call her. She guessed he’d begged her number off ErmaJean. Confined to his crate, Soufflé meowed.

  But each time her cell rang, she promptly hit Ignore. And she lay awake half the night fretting over what Friday morning would bring.

  She need not have worried. A steady stream of customers cycled in and out. And that afternoon an especially large crowd filled every seat as the apple pie deadline drew closer.