A Place for Us (Blue Harbor Book 1)

by Olivia Miles

  “It was just a thought. What I want is for you to be happy. Like I said, I’m always here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She gave a watery smile as he leaned back in his chair and looked out over the lake.

  He’d always been here. And she hadn’t. And she wanted to believe his words and his promise. Almost as much as she wished she could give him the one thing he was asking her for.

  *

  Robbie told himself that he wasn’t dodging Britt, but when she slipped over to the office building after the market was over, he couldn’t postpone an interaction any longer. He stopped by his desk and gathered up the folders containing vendor information and details of last year’s Cherry Festival and walked down to the hall to Britt’s office. Make that Dennis’s office. In the week since she’d arrived, the space already felt different, more inviting, and not just because of the lingering scent of her perfume which brought him back to a time and a place when he was completely carefree and content.

  He reminded himself that in just two weeks it would be back to the way it was. Britt would be gone and all would return to normal.

  But more and more, normal was starting to feel lonely. Dennis was a good boss who treated his staff well, but he was a quiet man, and not one to discuss big ideas. He had a system, and everyone followed it. The work day was usually uneventful, but it kept Robbie busy enough, before he spent a few hours in the evening with Keira, and then lingered in his empty house, hoping the television would pass for company.

  He knocked on Britt’s open door, feeling his stomach tighten as she looked up from her paperwork and grinned at him. Her eyes were wide and alert, and despite the overly formal attire and fierce styling of her hair, for a moment, she looked as fresh faced and youthful as the girl he’d once loved, and he had to clear his throat and snap himself back to the present and the reason that he was here at all.

  “I thought that since it’s quiet and we’re both here that we’d better go over the plans for the Cherry Festival,” he said.

  She nodded and motioned for him to take a seat on the other side of the desk. Then, on second thought, she stood up. “It’s a weekend, and I didn’t stop for lunch. Want to discuss this over at the café? Company’s treat, since it’s a business meeting.”

  A business meeting. In other words, not a date. He supposed he should be relieved that she insisted on clarifying that, but it didn’t make him feel any less conflicted when he shrugged and said, “Sure.”

  Keira was spending the day at the inn today, helping his mother garden in the small backyard where guests could sit with a coffee under the big maple trees, and he could swing by and pick her up while he was in town. They took his truck; Britt explained that she was happy to walk back and take in the fresh air, and he kept the conversation light and on the topic of the Cherry Festival on the brief journey into town. His eyes were firmly on the road, not on the long bare legs that were poking out of her tight navy skirt, because despite the hair, she was hell-bent on dressing the part of a corporate executive, instead of remembering where she was. Who she was. It felt strange to have someone other than Keira in the vehicle, and she sat in the back, where he could check on her through the rearview mirror. The passenger seat was always empty now, other than the few times he gave his brother a lift somewhere.

  The café was crowded, but then, it was an early Sunday afternoon, and Amelia barely suppressed her surprise at the sight of them walking up to the counter together. Her blue eyes were round as she stared at her sister, as if waiting for some sort of explanation that could be communicated without any words.

  Britt said pointedly, “We’re here to discuss the Cherry Festival. Can you send over two coffees and a plate of whatever you recommend?”

  Amelia looked mildly disappointed, but said, “Of course. I just made a batch of cheddar scones. Fresh from the oven. And Maddie dropped off two pies on her way to the market this morning. I still have a few slices left if you’re interested. We close at two on Sundays, but you’re welcome to linger as long as you please.” Her eyes gleamed.

  “I didn’t realize that Maddie sold pies here,” Britt said tersely.

  “Only on Sundays,” Amelia said. “And not every Sunday. Just when I ask extra nicely.” She grinned and promised to have their order up shortly.

  Britt waited until she and Robbie were settled at a table near the window to say, “I actually wanted to discuss Maddie with you. I think that we should ask her to make pies. For the festival.” They’d already discussed the usual setup for the event, and Britt had mentioned on the ride onto town that she was hoping to increase traffic by offering a raffle this year.

  He narrowed his eyes on her. “You’re not suggesting a pie eating contest?”

  She laughed. “I’m suggesting we see how people like the pies. They sell out every week at the market. It’s an opportunity to test new product with a bigger audience.”

  “New product? Britt, there hasn’t been a new product in over a decade. Your father likes to sink his time into what he knows works. Even with the wines.”

  “And I think the pies will work. Why not? They sell well. People have always loved them. We’re in the business of fruit.”

  “But we have no inventory,” Robbie pointed out, thinking of how many people had attended the Cherry Festival last year and knowing that Britt was determined to increase that number this year by offering hay rides, cherry pit spitting contests (even she had to laugh about that one), and an entire craft section for the kids, which he knew Keira would appreciate. “How many pies were you thinking?”

  “Well, we have three weeks,” Britt countered. “Besides, I think that Maddie needs a new challenge. Working here at the café is great for her, but she needs something for herself.”

  Robbie leaned back in his chair. “Is this whole pie idea personal or professional?” Seeing the flare of pink rise up in Britt’s cheeks, he quickly said, “I mean, are you doing this for your sister, or for the business?”

  Britt blinked at him. “Business, though I suppose it can be both. Her pies sell out every single Sunday, without fail. No other product has the same success. Maybe that’s something to consider. When we look to the future.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Future?”

  “Of the business, of course,” Britt said.

  Business. Of course. Robbie pulled in a breath, hiding the disappointment that had no business there.

  Britt paused as the sister she was speaking of approached with two cups of steaming coffee.

  “Scones will be right up,” Maddie said, before dashing off again.

  Britt added a splash of cream to her coffee and took a sip. “You’ve tasted those pies,” she said in a low voice that caused him to lean across the table, closing the distance between them. “It’s the very same recipe that my…” She took another sip of coffee, not finishing that thought.

  She didn’t need to. Robbie knew. Better than anyone. And not just because he’d experienced loss firsthand, but because he’d been there, at Britt’s side. He’d known her mother. It was another example of how unfair and unpredictable life could be.

  “Everyone loves those pies,” he agreed. He gave her a sad smile. “Everyone always did.”

  She met his eyes, and he saw the gratitude that shone in them. He cleared his throat, happy to be distracted by the arrival of Amelia now bringing them a plate of four scones and what appeared to be some canapés, too.

  “I need you to taste these for me. If you like them, I plan to serve them at Jenna’s birthday party this Friday.”

  Britt looked up at her quizzically. “Jenna’s party? Was I invited?”

  Amelia laughed. “You’re more than invited. You’re expected.” She patted her sister on the shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mention it before you came back, because, well, you know. But I assumed one of our sisters had mentioned it by now. I’m hosting it at my place. Seven sharp. Sorry, Robbie, but girls only for this one.”

  Britt’s cheeks flared a deep
shade of pink, and Robbie relieved her by saying, “I’m sure my brother will be sorry to miss it. Between us, I think he has a little crush on Gabby.”

  Britt seemed to compose herself and said, “Name someone who doesn’t!”

  He could think of one. Gabby was pretty, but she had never appealed to him the way that Britt had, with her contagious laugh and earnest way of listening.

  Amelia set a bag on the table in front of him.

  “For Keira,” she said with a grin.

  He didn’t have to look inside to know that it was probably her favorite cookie that she asked for every time they stopped by the café. Maddie made them just for Keira, he suspected.

  “Thank you,” he said. “And Maddie. She’ll be thrilled. I’ll have to bribe her to wait until after dinner to eat it.”

  “There’s one in there for you, too,” Amelia added. “Life is better in pairs.”

  She gave a suggestive look at Britt and then sauntered away with a little smile, leaving Britt sitting silently at the table, her face burning.

  “Excuse them,” she said.

  “I’ve been getting the same encouragement from my family,” he admitted.

  Britt’s eyes flicked to his before she took another sip of the coffee. “So you’re on board? With the pies?”

  “I think it’s up to Maddie,” he said. He tore apart a scone, so flaky and buttery that it nearly melted in his mouth.

  Britt hesitated for a moment before leaning across the table. “I get the impression that Maddie is upset with me. I’m not even sure how to talk to her anymore.” She shrugged and leaned back in her chair, clutching her coffee mug with both hands. “Well, she can’t take offense to this. Who doesn’t want to hear that there is more demand for their product? I’m sure she’ll appreciate a pay increase.”

  Robbie watched Britt carefully, wondering just when things had changed. When she had hardened herself, made everything about numbers and facts, and not about people themselves.

  But he knew the answer to that. He knew best of all, really.

  “Remind me before I go that I need to place an order for two dozen of these cookies,” he said, suddenly remembering the class party he had volunteered for—make that, been volunteered for. If it was up to Natalie Clark, he would have partnered with her for decorations, but he’d managed to put his name down for the cookie tray instead.

  Britt arched an eyebrow. “Two cookies aren’t enough for dessert?”

  “Class party for the last day of school,” he explained. “Keira wanted to bake something, but—”

  “But why not? It’s not that hard!” She read his expression and said, “Well, not everyone can make cookies and scones this good, but I’m sure you could pull something together. Besides, if you bring a tray of cookies from here, everyone will know where they’re from. They’re one of a kind.”

  She had a point. Still, he was barely getting the hang of anything that wasn’t cooked on the grill on his deck. Baking seemed out of his league just yet.

  “I’m happy to help. When is the last day of school?”

  “Friday,” he said. He pulled in a breath. It was a generous offer, and he knew that Keira would be thrilled. And for that reason alone, he should probably think of a polite excuse.

  But he didn’t want to take that joy away from his daughter. And truth be told, he liked spending time with Britt again. And it was just cookies.

  “I’ll even bring the ingredients,” she said. “I may not have the same talent as two of my sisters when it comes to the kitchen, but I know my way around a recipe, and well, it would get me out of the house.”

  He grinned. “Your dad’s girlfriend still bothering you?”

  “It’s not his girlfriend,” she said testily. She hesitated. Tore at the corner of a scone but didn’t eat it. “My dad had a talk with me.” She glanced at him, looking uncertain. “He wants me to take over the business. In his place.”

  A strange mix of emotions muddled together until Robbie couldn’t form a coherent response. Britt in Blue Harbor full time? He hadn’t dared to think of it. Somehow, it was easier spending time with her like this knowing that it was limited. Safer.

  “Did you tell him about your job?” he asked.

  She shook her head and glanced toward the counter, where Amelia was busy chatting with a customer. “No. He brought it up when I mentioned him returning to work.”

  “And are you…considering it?” he asked.

  “Well, I have to consider all my options at this point, don’t I?” she said. “And being back here isn’t easy, but…it’s made me realize how much I was missing being away.”

  He could tell by the regret in her eyes that was she was referring to more than her cousin’s birthday party. That, maybe, she was referring to Maddie, who had definitely seemed a bit chilly toward Britt at the farmer’s market this morning, if anyone were to ask him.

  He nodded his head, trying to think of what this would mean for him. If Britt was back in town, working with him at the farm every day, like they had for the past week.

  Now wasn’t the time for thinking of that, he told himself. She’d left town once before, without warning, or even care. She’d done what was best for her. He understood that. Understood that he wasn’t it.

  And she wasn’t what was best for him, either. What was best for him, and for his daughter, was to keep things as they were. They were happy. And they were fine. Or they would be. Someday.

  10

  On Thursday evening, Britt pulled her car to a stop outside the address that Robbie had given her, even though she already knew the house. She knew every house in Blue Harbor—it was a small enough town without any new construction that you knew the landmarks, like the yellow Colonial on the bend up toward the bluffs, or the large white Victorian with the clear view of Evening Island, and a wraparound porch dotted with rocking chairs, owned by old Lottie Erickson and in the family for generations.

  Robbie’s house was two blocks off the lakefront: a small grey cottage that had once belonged to Britt’s childhood friend Rebecca’s grandparents. She’d never been inside, but remembered that at Christmastime, the Dodsons would put a candle in every window and hang a cheerful wreath on the front door secured by a thick red velvet bow.

  It seemed strange to think of Robbie living here now. With a daughter. The last time she’d seen him, he had still been a teenager, living in the coach house which was his family home, just behind the inn his parents owned in the center of town.

  He opened the door before she had even reached to knock, wearing jeans that skimmed his bare feet, and his work shirt untucked and rolled at the sleeves. They had both been too busy to see each other much this week. Britt was still going over the financials, trying to come up with a strategy to get the business on better footing, and Robbie had been meeting with vendors in town for the upcoming Cherry Festival.

  “Nice house. You’re such an adult,” she said, giving him a little smile.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “And you’re not?”

  She supposed it was true, that to the outsider, she may look like she knew what she was doing, that she had her life in order. That she had—had being the operative word here—a big career.

  “Don’t you have a fancy place in the city?” When he caught the look on her face, he explained, “Your dad brags about you a lot.”

  “If you call original plumbing in a vintage walk-up fancy,” she said with a smile. She had always wanted to get around to putting more into the décor, but she’d never quite dared to trust that it would ever be home, or permanent.

  Now it would be so much easier to pack everything up and move. Most of her clothes were folded in a suitcase anyway, ready to go on the next long business trip. Ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

  But where would she go next?

  The bubble of anxiety that bloomed in her stomach disappeared when Keira’s smiling face appeared in a doorway. “You’re here!”

  She said it as if it were a surprise,
as if she hadn’t been so sure that Britt would come at all, and in that moment, Britt felt an instant connection with the little girl, and a desire to please her. Like Britt, she had lost her mother. Her world had been suddenly uprooted. Her life forever changed. The future was uncertain. But some things, well, some things you could count on.

  She glanced up at Robbie as he let her pass by him and closed the door behind them. He was giving her a funny look, his mouth pulling into a smile as his eyes roamed her face. “What is that for?”

  “Your hair,” he said, motioning to the loose locks that fell at her shoulders. “It looks nice.”

  Britt blushed, warming at the compliment. “Thanks.”

  “It looks better than nice, Dad,” Keira corrected, with an exaggerated look in his direction. “It looks beautiful!”

  Britt laughed, but Robbie just grinned a little wider. “You’re right, Keira. It looks beautiful.”

  The air trapped in her lungs for a moment, and the three of them stood in the hallway lit by the evening sunlight that came in through the large windows at the back of the house, where Britt could already see a cookbook spread out on the butcher block countertop.

  “I brought some ingredients,” she said, letting Robbie take the grocery bags from her.

  “How much do I owe you?” he asked, but she held up a hand.

  “Consider us even.” She squared him with a look.

  “You’re the one doing me a favor tonight, in case you’re forgetting.” He motioned toward Keira, who was already scampering back to the kitchen. Britt could make out the sounds of drawers opening and closing.

  “When I left my house tonight, Candy was spoon-feeding Denny a bowl of ice cream,” Britt said, sparking a mischievous grin from Robbie.

  “Denny?”

  Her eyes hooded. “Don’t even get me started. You’d think the man couldn’t do anything for himself. Between you and me, I’m starting to think that he’s milking this injury.”

  “Well, he did break his arm,” Robbie pointed out.

  “Not his right arm,” Britt said on a sigh. She pursed her lips. No sense in thinking about that just now. She had baking to do. And she craved the thought of staying busy all night if it meant keeping her mind from wandering to things she’d rather not worry about.