A Place for Us (Blue Harbor Book 1)

by Olivia Miles

  That she wasn’t as strong as all of them were.

  That being here hurt almost as much as it hurt to stay away.

  “I didn’t know he was back in town.”

  “Well, now, he came back about a year ago, after his wife passed,” Dennis said, and Britt felt her composure slip.

  She knew, of course, that he had gotten married. It had slipped out the one time she’d visited for Brooke’s wedding, when her father had consumed a little too much wine at the table and the talk was all about weddings, of course. Her sisters knew better, and had danced upon the subject, waiting for Britt to bring it up, and she’d heard Amelia reprimanding him out on the dance floor later that evening, when they thought she couldn’t hear.

  Married with a baby, that was the last she knew. Living in Boston. Beyond that, she had chosen to exist in a bubble, hadn’t even gone on social media. Had confirmed her belief that it was best to put Blue Harbor, and her past, behind her for good.

  Only now Robbie was back. And he was single.

  “I had no idea,” she said. Her mouth was dry as she tried to process this information.

  “He doesn’t talk about it much,” Dennis said gruffly. “But I can sympathize with the man. Raising that little girl on his own. It isn’t easy, and he needed the work, not just for the money, but to keep busy. He has a strong business background. And he knows the business. He practically grew up in those fields.”

  That he had. Right at her side.

  “Well, when you put it like that, I don’t suppose there’s much I can say,” she said a little reluctantly.

  “Besides,” Dennis said. “I thought you were dating someone.”

  Dating was a stretch. A big one. Every now and then a coworker set her up, but nothing that ever seemed to stick. Nothing that she particularly wanted to stick, perhaps. She was better on her own, focused on her career, bouncing from city to city, and dropping back to her home base in Chicago for about a week out of every month.

  Except now she had no career. And the last few weeks she had spent in her apartment had made her realize just how little she had invested into it. It was temporary, in many ways. Like everything else.

  There was a rustling at the open doorway, and Candy appeared with two plates of steaming food. “Knock, knock!” she said cheerfully, using her hip to push the door open wider. She’d removed the apron, at least, only now she revealed skin-tight leggings in a bright turquoise that left very little to the imagination. “I hope you have an appetite this morning, Denny! Made you your favorite. Bacon, eggs, and Candy’s famous cheese biscuits.” She laughed loudly and gave Britt a big wink.

  Britt glowered at her father, but when she saw the delight in his face, she decided it was time to leave. Now wasn’t the time to be lecturing him about his cholesterol. Or telling him to close his eyes as Candy bent over him, her ample chest in prime view as she set the tray on his lap.

  “Well, I should go,” Britt said, standing stiffly.

  “I have plenty if you’d like me to fix you a plate!” Candy grinned as she tucked a napkin into the neckline of Britt’s father’s shirt and patted his chest in a way that could only be called unprofessional.

  Britt stared in silence, wondering if she should ask for Candy’s credentials, or if her sisters had bothered to check any old references, but again, her father was pink-cheeked and alert, eating a homemade breakfast that she hadn’t prepared for him. Who was she to talk?

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll have a quick shower and then stop by the café, visit with Amelia before things get too busy.” She managed a tight smile, but it immediately slipped when she watched Candy pick up a fork and spoon-feed her father.

  Last she had checked, his right arm was perfectly intact. But he didn’t protest. And from the distracted wave he gave her as she walked toward the door, she had a bad feeling that he would be milking this injury long after she’d left Blue Harbor.

  Which was exactly why he couldn’t know she had no good reason to leave.

  Other than Robbie Bradford being back in town.

  *

  Because the weather was so nice, and because Britt’s gym membership back in Chicago was paused until she had gainful employment again, she went to the garage behind the house, hoping to find her bicycle still in working order and happy to see that it was right where she’d left it. Her sisters’ bikes were gone; no doubt put to daily use. There was something to be said for living in a town small enough that you didn’t always need a car to get around.

  She climbed on it, wobbling only a little as she took off down the street, grinning to herself at what a simple pleasure it was to ride a bike, to feel the wind in her face, and the fresh air in her lungs. Back in the city, she took public transit everywhere, and she only even owned a car because she’d needed one for all her work travel.

  Travel that made staying in a relationship difficult, not that she was looking for commitment anytime soon. If ever. After all, nothing lasted forever, even if you thought it would. Or said it would.

  She arrived in town quickly, and hopped off the seat so she could walk her bike the rest of the way. The sidewalks were heavy with tourists who flocked to the area on the weekend year-round, but especially in the summertime, and the numerous inns that lined Main Street all boasted a No Vacancy sign.

  The Firefly Café was just off Main, right along the beachfront and not far from the harbor, where sailboats docked, and ferries came in and out to Evening Island. Amelia had just taken over the café from its former owner before Britt had been here five years ago, and she was eager to see how it had come along.

  But first, she needed to have a word with her sister.

  Amelia was behind the counter when Britt pushed open the blue painted door. The room was filled and smelled of blueberries and cinnamon. On the blackboard that hung over the counter was the daily menu of various egg dishes for breakfast, and soups, salads, and gourmet sandwiches for lunch all sourced from local farms and artisans. Two younger women that Britt didn’t recognize were taking orders, each wearing a blue-striped apron that coordinated with the café’s logo.

  Amelia was icing a tray of fresh cinnamon rolls. The smell was so good that Britt almost forgot her reason for being here, and she was starting to regret not at least grabbing a cheddar biscuit from the kitchen before she’d left home, even if Candy had made them.

  “Hey you!” Amelia’s cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes were bright. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun that showed no signs of coming undone.

  “Those look amazing,” Britt blurted, as Amelia dropped another dollop of icing onto the rolls and the sugar immediately started to melt. Her sister hadn’t gone to school for cooking, but she clearly knew everything she needed.

  “Tell Maddie that,” Amelia said, motioning to the window pass to the kitchen. “She makes me two pans of these every morning, and they sell out faster than I can finish icing them. I’m not complaining, though. The demand gets people in my door earlier than usual.”

  “I got the impression that she was upset with me last night,” Britt confided quietly. When dinner was over, Maddie had been the first to leave, and something told Britt that it had nothing to do with Candy’s storytelling about her brief stint on her high school diving team. (“Just rolled into the water like an egg!” she’d hooted, much to Dennis’s delight).

  “She’s just worried about Dad,” Amelia said distractedly.

  Maybe, Britt thought. Still, she wasn’t convinced. “That pie was good. I tried to compliment her.”

  Amelia met her eyes and smiled. “As good as Mom’s.”

  Britt swallowed hard.

  “Is she still making pies for the market?” Once, they had always sold her mother’s pies, but Maddie had taken over that responsibility as soon as she was old enough to handle the job—when their mother was too weak from her treatments to continue the task that she had loved.

  “Oh, yes,” Amelia said, moving the tray of cinnamon rolls to the
side. She glanced at one of her helpers and sighed. “I think these will be gone before I can even cut you one.”

  Britt grinned. “How’d you know?”

  “Because I know you. And because I doubt that you stuck around the house long enough to eat one of Candy’s deep-fried meals.”

  Britt laughed, despite herself. “Why didn’t you guys tell me she was staying at the house?”

  “I assumed you knew.” Amelia looked at her quizzically. “Dad can’t move around on his own.”

  “But Cora said that you’re bringing meals over to the house!”

  Amelia gave her a knowing look. “Someone has to give that man some healthy food. If it were up to Candy, every meal would be comfort food.” She slid a cinnamon roll across the counter and cocked an eyebrow. “Not that I have room to comment.”

  “She sings,” Britt said.

  Amelia’s brow knitted briefly. “Who sings?”

  “Candy. She sings while she cooks. In Mom’s apron.”

  Amelia did her best to compose her features, but Britt could tell that she was far less offended by this than Britt was. Maybe because she hadn’t been subjected to it firsthand.

  “I’ll bring her over one of our aprons today when I drop off lunch. Chicken salad. With fruit. If Dad won’t eat it, help yourself.”

  “Thanks,” Britt said, feeling better. Still, she’d feel better after tasting this cinnamon roll. She reached for a fork while Amelia poured her a coffee. “I’m going to need to reinstate my gym membership if I keep eating this way,” she said.

  “Why’d you cancel it?” Amelia asked, and Britt felt her face flare.

  “Oh.” She stumbled for the best excuse. Really, she could tell Amelia anything, she knew, but somehow, the thought of leaving again, when she didn’t have to, made things overly complicated. Overly personal. And she didn’t want to hurt her family, even if they understood here reasons for staying away. “I didn’t see a point in paying for the month if I’m here for three weeks.”

  “Think you can survive three weeks of Candy’s singing?” Amelia grinned, and Britt gave her a dark look.

  “More than I can handle three weeks of Robbie Bradford,” Britt said. She shoved another bite of the cinnamon roll into her mouth and sliced off another piece before she had finished chewing. Wow, this was good. “Nice warning, of course. Though I suppose if I’d known that he was back in town, I would have stayed away.”

  “Britt, um—”

  Amelia’s face flushed as a low laughter filled the room. Britt stopped chewing the cinnamon roll. She gripped the fork in her hand. She knew that laugh. Knew it too well. So well that it had taken more than a few years to get the sound out of her head, and even more years to stop wishing she could hear it again.

  She swiveled on her stool to see Robbie put down the newspaper that had been shielding his face, a grin spreading all the way up to his eyes.

  “Glad to know you still care, Britt,” he said, casually leaning back in his chair.

  She stiffened. Did her best to finish chewing the roll in the most dignified manner possible, which wasn’t easy, considering the piece she had shoveled in was on the large side. Very large. After much struggle, and with the horrifying awareness that Robbie was watching her the entire time with a glint in his eyes, she swallowed, feeling it move painfully slow down the length of her throat.

  “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it isn’t polite to eavesdrop?” she finally said.

  “Oh, I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Robbie said with an open smile. “Your sister knew I was here the entire time. Can I help it that my ears started burning?” He stood, folded the paper, and dropped a bill into the tip jar on the counter.

  “Thanks for the coffee, Amelia,” he said. He slanted her a glance, when she had just started to think he might leave without saying anything more to her at all. “I’ll see you soon, Britt. If I haven’t scared you straight out of town.”

  He was still laughing as he pushed out the door, and Britt turned to give her sister a glare that she had mastered a good twenty-five years back.

  Amelia just gave a helpless shrug in return. “I tried to warn you.”

  Yes, Britt supposed she had. But it was too little too late.

  For a lot of things.

  4

  Unless it was picking season, the orchard’s operations were closed on the weekends, but Sunday, rain, snow, or sun, the market was open for business, and Britt arrived early to help out—and escape Candy’s morning serenade.

  After leaving the café, hot with embarrassment, she’d spent most of yesterday in the quiet solitude of her father’s office, a cup of coffee on the desk, going over her father’s books and getting reacquainted with the business. From her job as a management consultant, she liked to take the time to familiarize herself with a business on her own, before getting employees involved, and any chance she had to distance herself from Robbie, the better. From what she’d reviewed so far, she had some concerns about the business’s longevity, but one thing was clear from the invoices she’d looked over, and that was that Maddie’s pies were a big seller at the market, just as their mother’s had been. Back then, people used to line up outside the barn doors, hoping that they had arrived early enough to snag a pie before they were sold out. For many in town, this was the dessert for their Sunday night dinners. It was a treat they looked forward to after a long, hard week, and Britt’s mother prided herself on the fact that she was able to bring a little cheer to everyone’s household.

  She suspected that Maddie’s reasons for continuing the tradition were slightly different, but one thing was clear, and that was that people in town couldn’t get enough of these pies.

  Britt managed to slip down the stairs early Sunday morning unnoticed. Candy was crooning too loudly in the kitchen to hear the front door open and close, and Britt rode away on her bike with a sense of relief. The orchard was only a couple miles outside of the center of town and she arrived quickly, happy to see that the market wasn’t scheduled to open for another twenty minutes, which should give her plenty of time to talk to her sister and glean some insight into the weekly event.

  Maddie was already setting up at a table near the front door with a few of the full-time staff when Britt walked into the converted space. The entire barn had been transformed into a store years ago when their grandfather had first bought the land. Back then, they were only selling fruit locally, but even after the sons took over, and their cider and wines were sold in local businesses and spread to surrounding townships, the market remained open on Sundays to support the community of Blue Harbor, though sometimes Britt suspected that her father only did it because Britt’s mother loved selling her pies there so much.

  Over the years, the market had grown. There were ciders and juices and jams and pies and baskets of fresh fruits and berries. In the fall, they hosted the Harvest Fest when the grapes were ready, and in the spring, they had the Blossom Barn Dance. A few weeks from now, come early July, would be the Cherry Festival, which had been Britt’s favorite as a kid—the height of summer.

  Today, Maddie was selling strawberry pie. She had at least a dozen white boxes stacked in front of her, and Britt knew from her cursory research that, much like the cinnamon rolls she made for Amelia’s café, they’d be gone all too soon.

  “Good morning, Maddie!” she said cheerfully. She was met with a tight smile in return, confirming her suspicions that something was definitely up with her youngest sister. She tried again, saying, “You must be busy, working at the café, and making all these pies.”

  Maddie shrugged away the compliment, saying, “It’s not a big deal. And I enjoy it.”

  Britt frowned at her, wondering where the hurt came from in Maddie’s eyes, and if she had somehow put it there. It had been months, she now realized, since she had spoken to Maddie or even texted with her. She’d felt caught up on all of Maddie’s news through Amelia and her father, but now she realized that this might not have been enough.

 
“Maybe we could meet for a drink one night this week,” she offered, but Maddie just shook her head.

  “Summer in the Square is next weekend and I’ll be working overtime at the café to help Amelia prepare. She’s enlisting all of our help on Saturday, by the way.”

  Britt hadn’t even thought of the festival in years, even though it once used to be a highlight of her childhood. Stores opened their doors and held a sidewalk sale, and on Saturday night, there was a big event on the lawn, with food stands, live music from local bands, and games for the children.

  Right now, the thought of facing the entire town of Blue Harbor in one sitting felt like too much, but if it gave her a chance to spend time with her sisters, she’d take it.

  “Count me in,” she said, and judging from the raise of Maddie’s eyebrows, she was beginning to question if she even had a choice.

  “I hear these are a big seller,” Britt tried again, motioning to the pies.

  “Well, it’s a good recipe.” Maddie struggled to meet her eye as she rearranged some pie boxes.

  Britt fell silent as she gave her sister a sad smile. “It’s the best.”

  Maddie nodded. “She was the best.”

  There was no arguing with that. And no replacing her either.

  Britt thought about what her father had said about Robbie’s wife and wondered if he felt the same. If, like her father, he would stay single, never date, never open his heart again.

  It didn’t matter, she told herself. Just like it didn’t matter that Robbie was back in town. What they had was ancient history, and clearly, it meant nothing at all. He was her high school boyfriend, and the last thing she needed to worry about right now, when she still had a job to find and her father to worry about—and not just because of his two broken limbs.

  Still, her heart tugged a little when she looked over and saw Robbie walk through the open door, looking just as handsome has he had back when they were teenagers, his wavy brown hair slipping over his forehead in a boyish way that made her stomach flip, despite knowing better.