by Zoe York
They grabbed coffee for the road, then fuelled up and hit the highway south. Twenty kilometres dragged by before either of them started a conversation. Catie finally glanced sideways at him and threw deft politeness out the window.
“Is the music okay?”
“Yep.”
“Are you mad at me?”
He choked on a laugh as heat crawled up his neck. “No. Maybe a little mad at myself.”
“Don’t be. Will’s a good guy, be kind to him.”
He rubbed his jaw. “Is that what you want to talk about?”
She shrugged. “No, I guess not.”
“Can we talk about your secret meetings to discuss the parking dilemma?”
“Who told you?” Even from the corner of his vision, he could tell she was indignant.
“Nobody you need to get mad at. January told Josh, and he mentioned it as an aside.”
“And you kept that to yourself.”
“So did you!”
Another shrug. “Yeah, well…”
“We’ve got nothing but time. Do you want to tell me about your options?”
She didn’t answer right away. First she fiddled with her phone, changing the music. Then she stared out the window.
But after a couple of minutes, she twisted in her seat to glare at him. It was a nice glare, as far as glares went. “You are sworn to secrecy. Don’t tell Josh yet.”
He crossed himself. “Got it.”
“We have a couple of options in the works. Basically, we think the municipal government isn’t thinking big enough. They see it as a problem to solve: parking gets out of control, so they need to hire security to enforce parking rules, and then charge for that parking to cover the cost of that monitoring. But that is a revenue neutral exercise at best. Sure, it doesn’t end up costing taxpayers anything, financially, but it costs them something in spirit. So is that actually revenue neutral if it quietly has a long-term impact on how Main Street businesses are thought of? I don’t want anyone to think it’s a hassle to come to my salon, you know?”
“Yep. That makes sense.”
“So we need a different plan to cover the cost of parking enforcement. Time limits, of varying length, make sense. Parking for an entire day, maybe we could have a small fee attached to that. But stopping on Main Street to run an errand shouldn’t cost anything. One option is to raise business taxes. I don’t love that, for selfish reasons, but it makes more sense to me than the negative vibe of passing it on to consumers.”
Will thought he could see where Catie was going. “But that’s still revenue neutral, right? Just coming from business tax base instead of parking meters?”
“Yes.” She gestured wildly. “Exactly. You get it. So what if parking was instead funded through…” Her face went all soft and dreamy. “Like a big event. We could leverage celebrity residents or something like that. Maybe tie it to the condition of hosting County Country next year—that weekend could generate more than enough money to pay for parking and more if we just chocked it full of fundraising.”
Will could see it. He nodded slowly. “Like you did with Pine Harbour Cares. And I have to admit, I didn’t see your vision for that, but it totally worked. If you put that forward as a proposal, you have an example of it already being more effective when tied to another event.”
“Oh my God.” She fumbled with her phone, stopping the music. “That’s so smart.”
“It’s your idea. I just reframed it back to you.”
But she wasn’t listening to him. She was buried in text messages. And because her phone was synched to his truck, he saw the replies fire back. From Olivia Minelli, and January, and Will’s sister-in-law Kerry.
That was quite the crew Catie had secretly convening to make the town better, right under their noses.
Then her phone rang. He didn’t notice who the caller was before she accepted it, and disconnected the Bluetooth so she could just talk directly into the phone. “I know. We’ve successfully merged multiple fundraisers into one focused weekend. Let’s do it again and layer in municipal parking enforcement, right? Except we won’t call it that. That’s not sexy in the slightest. Right. I know. Oh, the hayrides. Yes! And also— That makes me think about hayrides for County Country. What if we had a designated parking area, like a farmer’s field? Is that doable? Okay, we’ll think about options. But then people could pay for a hayride into town. That’s sexy. Perfect. I’ll be back in town by eight, I think?”
Will nodded when she glanced at him for confirmation.
“Yes, eight. I know. Will gets some of the credit. Ugh, I know, they can’t keep a secret. But it’s okay, I think he’s on our side.”
He’d prefer if she didn’t leave any room for doubt there—because he was on her side so much it hurt—but the vote of some confidence was better than none.
As she kept talking, he replayed their conversation earlier.
“And what if we can’t forget this?”
“I don’t ever want to forget…”
She’d said that in the same soft, dreamy voice she’d talked about radical parking funding options. He didn’t understand what she was thinking in needing to shut down the idea of them. But that little thread of hope…and then her subsequent display of trust, albeit guarded…that meant a lot to him.
What happened was their secret. It had brought them closer together.
And when they got back to Pine Harbour? He could figure out what her fear was and tackle that as a separate problem.
It was afternoon by the time they made it back onto Manitoulin Island and into the queue for the ferry.
Re-joining with the team for the passage across the mouth of Georgian Bay to Tobermory was bittersweet. Getting back in his truck for the last leg home, the sun hanging low in the sky to their right, even harder.
This was the final leg. As he drove past the sign for The Grotto, one of his favourite spots on the peninsula, he was hit by a powerful fantasy to suggest they pull off. Go camping. Go skinny dipping. We’re not home yet. What happens on the road trip, stays on the road trip…
He probably had enough camping gear in the bed of his truck. They’d share a sleeping pad…
“Will?”
“Mmm?”
“You slowed down. I asked if you forgot something.”
His mind, maybe. “No.” He gripped the steering wheel and stepped on the gas again. “Should be home in thirty minutes.”
While she might not forget what happened this weekend, he would have to pretend he did.
Lock it down. That was the only way to survive being around her now that he knew what she sounded like when he had her in his arms, how she felt on his lap, and what it did to him inside as he watched her sleep, curled up in his sheets.
At her house, he waited until she was inside, the lights on and the door closed, before he headed across town to his own home.
It was dark, and as he pulled into the garage, he noticed a big package leaning against the front door.
After dragging his kit inside and dumping it in the laundry room, he went back to the front door.
The baby gates for Becca and Charlie’s visit had arrived while he was gone. He dragged those boxes inside. The thud of the box against the wall in his foyer echoed through the house.
Thanks for the fucking reminder that I’m all alone tonight, he thought bitterly.
Well, he wouldn’t be alone for long. Soon he’d have a toddler racing through the place, so he had some work ahead of him.
That was a project for the morning.
For tonight… He texted his brother.
Will: Want to get drunk and talk about women breaking our hearts?
Josh: I’ll be there in five.
Chapter Seventeen
Even though Catie was only gone for three days, it felt like she had a week of work to catch up on Monday morning. Isla’s bakery was closed on Mondays, so she went to Mac’s for breakfast and filled Frank in on the official parts of the weekend.
&nbs
p; Then she spent the entire morning returning messages Sam had collected.
One of them was a real bummer. She texted Bailey and Dilip on a group message, letting them know there had been an update on the motel.
Bailey showed up at the salon twenty minutes later. “Dil is in court,” she said. “But he said I didn’t have to wait until tonight to find out what the problem is.”
Catie pointed to the seat next to her desk. “Well, it turns out the owner is a young person, and they aren’t interested in selling it. There is a small chance they might be willing to have an investor, but selling it is off the table.”
Bailey perched her elbows on the desk and planted her chin in her hands. “Interesting.”
“You aren’t too disappointed?”
Her friend shook her head. “Nope. If it’s not meant to be, that’s fine. There are other business opportunities. But tell me more about this mystery owner.”
“That’s all I know. They have owned it for ten years, and it’s been held in trust. Now they’re ready to take possession of it, so when someone shows up in town…we’ll be able to piece it together at that point.”
“Huh.” Bailey’s eyes sparkled. “Now, how was your weekend?”
“You saw we came in second?”
“I did. But like…how was the drive up with Will?”
“Yeah, fine.” Catie busied herself with stuff on her desk. “He likes country music, but it turns out he likes other music, too.” She told Bailey about Lore texting and Will seeing it. “So that was kind of awkward, but he was gracious.”
“Is that why you can’t look at me?”
Catie jerked her head up. “I’m looking at you.”
Bailey nodded slowly. “Now don’t look away.” She gave Catie an unblinking stare. “What else happened.”
“Nothing,” Catie squeaked. Then she groaned. “Something. But it’s messy and private.”
“Will?”
“Yes.”
“Enough said.” Bailey zipped her mouth shut and threw away the key. “He’ll get there eventually. Sorry that he was a jerk.”
Oh, but it was Catie who had been the jerk. That was the problem. “It was me, actually.”
“Then he deserved it.”
She sighed. “No. I dunno. But no.”
“You know who rarely gets taken down a peg or two? Will Kincaid. Whatever your reasons, it will be a reflection on his character if he can handle you being a bit extra.”
“Wait, why do you think I was extra?”
Bailey grimaced. “Too far?”
Catie waved it off. “Let’s get back to real estate talk.”
But that night, after she did a grocery run, she was consumed with the aside comment. Was she extra? She should have settled in for some good ole fashioned girlfriend truth instead of changing the subject.
She thought about calling Bailey and asking about it again.
Except she didn’t want to talk about Will with anyone yet. So she put on music. The same playlist she and Will had listened to on the drive home from the competition.
The juxtaposition of the upbeat, retro pop music and the hollow, empty feeling inside her made her reflective in a bittersweet way as she tidied her house. As she prepped food for the week.
And then, once she was done with her chores, she drifted down the hall toward the bedrooms. Her room was on the left, overlooking the garden in the back. It had been her room when she was a girl, too. Across the hall, at the front of the house, was her home office, which had once been her mother's bedroom. Catie had an oversized armchair in the corner where her mother's pillow would have once been. Now she curled up there and pulled a blanket over herself, trying to think about what her mother would say, what advice she might have if she were here now.
She wasn’t good at introspection. Wasn’t patient enough, or strong enough, to dig deep into these feelings. The sadness overwhelmed her too easily, and she gave in racking sobs.
Grief, it turned out, was not actually avoidable.
Catie spent most of her time in denial about that fact. She thought she could mind-over-matter a process everyone dealt with in one way or another.
When the wave passed, she took a sobering breath, and decided that was enough for one night. Time to lose herself in HGTV for a few hours.
The next morning, Catie's alarm went off at six because it was garbage day. Bleary-eyed, she rushed outside to get her recycling to the curb. Across the street, Frances's bins were neatly in a row and her neighbour was sitting on the porch, drinking a cup of coffee, watching Catie be a complete mess.
She waved with enough jaunty energy she hoped it landed as the Bruce County equivalent of a middle finger.
It was moments like this that really made Catie wonder what her mother had seen in this town when she first moved them there. Why was this the place she chose to settle down? Which, of course, then led to the next question of why on earth was Catie here now?
She'd left once, but she'd come back inexplicably. And now sort-of loved it. Okay, really loved it. Everyone except Frances and the gossip network.
She'd learned to stop fighting herself and her natural impulses. They hadn't ever really led her astray. Sometimes they took her in unexpected places—like Will’s bed, for example.
Which was not something she needed to think about right now.
Hustling back inside, she got ready for the day, then headed to work by way of Bake Sale!
The bakery smelled like pumpkin spice and hot apple cider, and Catie’s mouth watered as she greeted her friend. “I went away for the weekend and I come back to fall vibes? Not that I’m complaining. Bring on sweater weather.”
Isla tapped the menu for the day. “I couldn’t resist. I have a new pumpkin muffin recipe that is just perfect. Couldn’t hold it back until the start of school.”
Which was just a week away. Not that Catie needed the reminder that in a week, she’d be spending even that much more time with Will.
Stop thinking about him.
But it wasn’t quite sweater weather yet, as evidenced by the next customer being a teenage girl wearing a bikini top and cropped shorts.
“Welcome to Bake Sale! What can I get you?” Isla asked.
“What are the chances you have oat milk?”
She pointed to the plant-based milk options sign on the wall. “Pretty good. These are your options for vegan lattes.”
“Are you kidding me? How cute is that? I’ll take an oat milk PSL.”
“Sure thing.” Isla started steaming the milk and pressed the espresso as Catie tried not to laugh out loud at the assumption that the bakery wouldn’t have anything other than dairy. “Are you visiting for the day, or up here for a while?”
“Just the day. We’re going to the Grotto.” She put a big emphasis on the location.
“Fun.” Isla slid the latte across the counter. “Just up the road from there is a taco truck that has the best vegan tacos north of the 401.”
The girl’s mouth dropped open. “Shut up.”
“Okay.” Isla said it so dryly, Catie started snickering, and had to cover it with a cough—which reminded her of Will’s embarrassed, choking laughs.
He needed to get out of her head.
When the girl had paid and left, Isla sighed and leaned against the counter. “We were never that exhausting when we moved here, right?”
“No. Never.” Catie paused for a moment. “I may have been that exhausting when I was eighteen and desperately wanted to leave here, though. I think that whole attitude is a layered mood, and not necessarily tethered to reality.”
“Good point.”
Catie cringed. “I’ve signed up to work with people that age every week for the entire school year.”
Isla nodded sympathetically. “Sorry about your luck.”
“You told me I should do it!”
“And you’re going to be great.” She put a pumpkin muffin in a paper bag. “Here’s a thank you gift for your sacrifice and community servi
ce.”
On Thursday, she breezed into the office of the Pine Harbour Community School and brightly introduced herself to the secretary at the desk. “I’m Catie Berton. Here to meet January Howe about the Junior Business Leaders Club.”
She didn’t look in the direction of the open door at the back of the office, the one marked Principal. She didn’t try to figure out where Will’s desk was, and if he was in there. The light was on, which probably meant he was.
All she could see was a plant and the corner of a chair.
Nice ficus, she observed.
Then she gave another bright smile to the secretary, who was telling her how to get to the library, like she hadn’t attended this school herself a bajillion years ago.
In the library, January was meeting with another teacher, so Catie roamed the space, noticing how different it was from when she’d attended—because a bajillion years had passed. The wide window seats were still there, though, and she smiled as she remembered curling up in them with a book.
“Looking for something to read?”
She jumped at the sound of Will’s voice. When she turned around, it was hard to look at him full on. He looks good.
He always looked good, that wasn’t new. He was dressed down today, in school prep mode, wearing a cheery motivational poster t-shirt and faded jeans.
He looked guarded, too. But he’d approached her, and they were teammates and friends and now colleagues of a sort. So she tried not to notice the way his shirt stretched across his chest and how his jeans fit his thighs perfectly—were those the same ones he’d worn the night they slept together?
Instead, she lifted her chin and fixed her gaze on his face. “Reminiscing about my study periods spent hiding in this back corner.”
“I did that, too.” He held her attention for another moment, without saying anything, then glanced over his shoulder. January was just finishing up. “I’m heading into a meeting, but I just wanted to say it’s good to have you on board for the business club.”
“Thanks.” Since he was being nice and mature, she decided to do the same. “See you at training tonight?”
