“You’ve done too much already, Ave. Can’t have you cleaning up too.”
She turned at the sound of Seth’s voice. At some point he’d unknotted his tie, so it hung loose around his neck now. His shirt was untucked too. He handed her a tall red glass, cool to the touch, ice bobbing in bubbles. She abandoned her rag and sipped from the straw. Diet Coke. He knew her well.
“I didn’t do that much. Whereas you . . .” She swept her hand around the restaurant. “Did all this.”
“Not by myself—that’s for sure.”
She took another drink.
“That stuff’s horrible for you, you know.”
“But it’s so good.”
“Aspartame. Weird preservatives.”
She guzzled just for effect. “I’m pretty sure we’ve had this conversation a dozen times.”
He grinned and nodded toward the counter. “Take a seat, I’ll be right back.”
She slid onto a stool and continued drinking her pop while he disappeared into the kitchen. He reappeared a minute later with two plates of blueberry pie and a conspiratorial grin. “I hid a couple pieces in the pantry.”
“You’re a true hero.”
He set a plate in front of her, handed her a fork, and plopped onto the stool next to her. “Man, all those years in college we didn’t get along, I could’ve just given you a pie and, bam, new best friend.”
“Yes, but what a disappointment it would’ve been for the readers who loved our bickering.”
He spoke around a massive bite of pie. “I think we could’ve managed to keep up the arguing despite the pie bringing us together.”
The pie tasted every bit as amazing as it looked. Outside the window, an old-fashioned streetlamp cast a glow over the sidewalk.
“I still can’t believe you came all this way.” Seth’s brown-eyed gaze was on the town square across the street, his pie already half eaten.
“It was your big day. I wanted to see you in action.” She’d wondered on the drive down if it’d be odd, seeing Seth. They had written communication down pat—a steady groove she’d come to appreciate. A friendship formed in words. Nice to know now it translated well in person.
“Long way to come just to see me running around like a chicken with his head cut off.”
“You were no such thing. You were pure poise and confidence.”
“Should’ve seen me yesterday then. I was a millisecond from panic the entire day. We had this whole thing with the chairs . . .” His voice drifted.
Ava took another sip of her pop, the heels of her shoes tapping against the base of the stool. “But you did it, Seth. Everybody was impressed. You should’ve heard all the things people were saying—about the food, the décor.” Was she gushing? She was gushing. But this place, Seth . . .
He deserved gushing.
“It’s cool to see it all emptied out, too. It was so packed earlier I didn’t even notice the cobblestone all around the base of the counter here and in back.”
He turned on his stool to face her, knees bumping against hers. “Cool story about that. It was all salvaged from Main Avenue. Few years ago the city decided to pull out the old cobblestone road and pave it. Caused a real uproar in the community—messing with history and all that. At the time, I had no idea I’d eventually be buying this place and opening up a restaurant. I just happened to be home for a few weeks because my mom . . .” He clamped up. “Anyway, I knew I wanted to save that cobblestone. Repurpose it in some way. My uncle let me store it in a shed out on his place.”
Seth leaned closer to her as he spoke, the faint scent of his cologne somehow breaking through the lingering hint of barbecue and French fries. He just looked so . . . excited. She’d read the thrill in his words in all those hundreds of emails in the past year. But to see it in person, it melted through her, warm and sweet, like the blueberry pie.
She’d never given the Seth Walker she knew in college enough credit, had she? She’d seen only his sarcasm and constant disagreement and tendency to get in trouble. But behind that restless exterior had been a man with talent and vision.
Just took him a while to discover his direction.
And took her a year’s worth of emails and a whim of a visit to make a discovery of her own: She hadn’t just come here to see The Red Door, to encourage a friend or get away from her own disappointment.
She’d come because of Seth. For Seth. The man had wriggled his way into her heart . . . and maybe, possibly past the chamber marked Friends and on to, well, something else.
“So how long are you staying?”
She blinked, more caught off guard by the realization fluttering through her right now than Seth’s question. “Uh, I hadn’t decided yet.” She’d figured she’d play it by ear once she arrived.
What she hadn’t counted on were her emotions suddenly pulling a trick on her. It’s Seth Walker. He’s the guy you argue with. Write emails to. Granted, emails that often read like journal entries, but still.
He’s not the guy you . . . like. As in, a way she hadn’t in years. Not since Ryan.
He jumped off his stool. “Well, I’ve got something you can help me with if you’re sticking around awhile.”
“Need me to wait some more tables?”
“Nope.” He grinned. Pulled something out of his pocket.
A jewelry case? He used his thumb to pop the case open, the glimmer of the ring inside enough to make her blink. Her gaze shot to Seth’s face, unmistakable uncertainty in his eyes, and for one fleeting moment, she imagined him kneeling in front of her, her hand outstretched and—
“It was always the plan that I’d propose after the restaurant opened.”
Always the plan?
“It’s been a little crazy, being in two different states with different lives and careers.”
Her heart lurched.
“I thought if Maddie showed up tonight, I might just pop the question then. That’s why I was carrying the ring with me.”
Maddie.
All the air seeped from her lungs. Maddie. Of course. Of course. His long-distance girlfriend. The one out in Chicago or Boston or somewhere, editor of some magazine. He hadn’t talked about her much lately, so she’d just assumed . . .
She’d assumed wrong.
“Anyway, since she didn’t show up today, I need a new plan. I have no idea how to propose. So I thought you, being a girl, might be able to help.” He closed the ring case and dropped it back in his pocket. “What do you say?”
4
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”
Ava awoke to an assault of sunlight warm on her face and a voice she didn’t recognize. She forced her eyes open. Where . . . who . . . ?
“I wasn’t going to wake you up, but you left your phone out on the kitchen counter and it’s rung about four times in the past hour. I got worried that it might be important.”
Ava sat up in the monstrous bed she was finally beginning to remember falling into last night, the final events of the evening gathering into focus. Seth asking how long she planned to stay. She saying she wasn’t sure, but if the apartment was still available—
Seth jumping in with a sheepish, “Actually, thing is . . . the apartment might need a little sprucing up before it’s, well, livable.”
She’d wanted to ask him why he’d offered it to her in his email in that case, but she’d still been too shell-shocked over his proposal plans.
She closed her eyes now. Took a breath. Opened them to see Raegan Walker still standing in front of her. They’d met at the restaurant last night before everything turned inside out.
“Sorry about my phone ringing. I hope it didn’t wake anyone else up.”
Raegan grinned and dropped onto the edge of the bed. “Not a chance. Dad was up and out of here hours ago. Seth, too. I have a feeling it’ll be a while before he entrusts the restaurant to anyone else during business hours.”
Ava glanced at the phone Seth’s cousin handed her. Four missed calls and a text, all from th
e same number. She opened the text.
Just heard about the coaching job. It shoulda been you, A.J. Wish it woulda been.—Tripp
Tripp Bundy. It was probably wrong to play favorites among students and team members—but it’d be a lie to say he hadn’t snagged the spot.
I wish it would’ve been too. But Ackerson will do a good job.
She looked up to see Raegan scanning the bedroom. The massive four-poster bed could’ve swallowed a person and nearly filled the room. Pink curtains at the window matched the draping sheer fabric that twisted around the four posters and frame overhead. A white antique vanity filled most of the rest of the floor space. The whole room had a whimsical, storybook sort of feel.
“Seth said this is your sister’s room?”
Raegan sat cross-legged. “Yep. She lives in Chicago, so it doesn’t get a lot of use these days. We joked about putting Seth in here when he moved back to Iowa, especially since it’s the biggest bed in the house, but the pink was a little much for him.”
Her phone dinged again. Another text.
If you find a coaching job somewhere else, just say the word and I’ll transfer. And for the record, my proposal still stands.
She had to grin at that. And yet, it made her think. Coach Mac said the players looked at her as a friend, not a coach. From the tone of Tripp’s texts, the joking, the playful pretend proposal, maybe Coach had a point.
“Sorry for waking you up if the calls weren’t important. But hey, I made breakfast.”
That explained the amazing smells drifting in from the hallway. Bacon. Something cinnamony. And coffee.
“Seth actually wanted to bring you breakfast in bed before he left—a way of saying thank you for the help last night—but I knocked that idea out of him.” She ruffled her short blond hair, streaks of color matching her painted toes. “I told him it was a sweet thought, but the way I see it, who wants to be surprise-awakened by a guy, one you’re not related to, and risk any kind of snoring, drooling, bad breath situation, right?”
Indeed. She’d been feeling awkward enough as it was ever since Seth showed her that ring. He did not need to see her morning face in addition.
Raegan stood. “Come on, have some coffee and breakfast.”
Ava slid her feet over the edge of the bed and eyed the cotton pants and tee she’d worn to bed. “Is anyone else in the house?”
Raegan shook her head as if she knew exactly what Ava was thinking. “Nope. Stay in your PJs.”
Ava followed Raegan down a hallway lined with framed pictures, catching glimpses of faces that mirrored Raegan’s—all with darker hair, though. She knew from Seth that his aunt had passed away quite a few years ago. It’d been cancer, right?
They rounded the corner into an expansive kitchen. The stainless steel appliances and a collection of silver pots hanging over the center island were contrasted by the warm colors of ceramic tile flooring—swirls of beige, copper, and brown. Granite counters and wraparound cupboards gave the room an embracing feel.
It was lit by flooding sunlight from the dining room’s patio doors.
And breakfast smelled even better up close. A far cry from her usual wheat toast and peanut butter.
Raegan motioned toward a mug tree on the counter. “Help yourself to coffee. I’ll get you a plate.”
She filled a cup, aroma enticing, took a drink, and sputtered. “Whoa.”
Raegan turned from where she’d been scooping scrambled eggs onto a plate. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you. My dad makes coffee so thick it’s like drinking motor oil. I swear, it could fuel a car. I usually remember to give people fair warning.” She picked up a second plate. “Then again, it does the trick if you’re feeling foggy in the morning.”
Thing was, Ava didn’t feel foggy. Not at all, not anymore. Oh no, the events of last night had turned as crisp in her memory as the bacon Raegan forked onto plates now.
Seth planned to propose to Maddie. And he planned to do it soon.
Which meant the feelings Ava had thought she felt last night were a moot point. And maybe . . . maybe she hadn’t really been feeling those feelings anyway. Maybe it was just her disappointment over the coaching job and need for cheering up that had fooled her into seeing Seth differently than she had before. Her brain had known she needed a friend but her heart had made a momentary leap too far.
She just had to rein it back in.
Raegan set both plates down on the island counter and they sat. “So, what are your plans for today?”
She dug the fork Raegan had provided into a gooey cinnamon roll. The Walkers did breakfast right. “Haven’t thought all that far ahead.”
Clearly she hadn’t put much thought at all into this trip. Had packed a suitcase and hit the road before she could talk herself out of the four-hour drive.
“I can’t believe you’ve never come down to visit before. I know Seth emails you all the time. I think you’re one of his best friends.”
“We are good friends.”
And that’s all. An add-on that before yesterday she never would’ve felt the need to include mentally.
“Actually, Raegan, I think my plans for today mainly consist of packing up my car and hitting the road again.”
Raegan dropped her bacon to her plate. “You’re leaving? You just got here.”
“I wanted to, you know, congratulate Seth on his opening. I did that. So . . .” Her voice drifted. It’s not like she hadn’t planned to return to Minnesota eventually. Even if she decided not to teach at the college this fall and look for another job, all her stuff was still there.
“But Seth’s all eager to show you around town. He was talking about taking you out to the depot.”
Oh yes, Seth had mentioned the Maple Valley Railroad. Apparently his uncle operated the depot and museum she’d passed a sign for at the edge of town. The heritage rail’s passenger train was supposedly a nice little tourist draw in the fall.
“He’s like a little kid finally getting to play with his pen pal in person. Besides, he’s under the impression you’re sticking around. He said he offered you the apartment for the whole summer.”
“And neglected, until last night, to mention it’s not livable yet.”
Raegan waved her hand. “Oh, that’s not a big deal.”
“Raegan—”
“He needs you.”
Ava set her fork down. Met Raegan’s eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“Do you know how many times he was almost ready to throw in the towel on The Red Door? When thing after thing came in over budget or the city made it super difficult to expand his parking options or a new restaurant opened in the town just ten miles away. It was always your emails that cheered him up. Dad and I tried. His friends here tried. But you always somehow said the right thing.”
She remembered those emails—the ones where he shared his setbacks in spurts of frustrated paragraphs. She’d gotten in the habit of praying before responding, then taking care to find the right words as she replied.
“But the restaurant is open now. He’s set.”
“There are . . . other things.” Raegan traced a pattern in the granite countertop, her furtive words hanging in the air between them. “Like the apartment. He thinks he’s going to have all this time to fix it up now that the restaurant’s open, but I have a feeling he’ll be busier than ever. He needs help.”
“Raegan—”
“Please, just for a week or two. For Seth.”
For Seth. She swallowed, trapping a sigh that might have given away a little too much of her own crumpled hope, but knew she couldn’t refuse. Raegan had used the magic words.
“Dude, she’s cute.”
Seth ignored Bear and punched a rundown of prices into the cash register atop the counter—it had a brass surface and the look of an antique but all the function of a modern system. One of the items he’d splurged on for The Red Door. “That’ll be seventeen dollars and forty-eight cents.”
A midmorning customer handed over a d
ebit card while chatting into his cell phone. Not even open twenty-four hours and Seth was already regretting not hanging the No Cell Phones signs he’d wanted to. Raegan had talked him out of it.
Well, Raegan and Bear, both. He turned to his friend now. Bear McKinley leaned over the edge of the counter with a smirk. The tattoo that wrapped around one of his arms peeked from underneath his Maple Valley Mavericks T-shirt.
“You were saying?”
“Ava. The one you’re constantly emailing. Saw her last night.”
He handed the customer his receipt. “Not constantly.”
“Daily counts as constantly in my book.”
“Nobody’s reading your book.”
Bear straightened and raked one hand through the jet-black hair that gave him a George-Clooney-the-early-years look. “All I’m saying is she’s cute.”
Seth glanced around the restaurant. About three-fourths full, even this late into the morning. They hadn’t experienced the same rush as last night, but he’d expected a slower second day. And he was probably safe to quickly duck into the kitchen.
“Okay, she’s cute. So what?” He brushed past Bear and pushed through the swinging kitchen door. The temperature difference between the main dining area and the kitchen was significant—what with the stove going and now a cloud of steam rising from the dishwasher.
His uncle’s legs appeared from underneath the appliance.
“How’s it going, Case?” He heard Bear enter the room behind him.
His uncle slid into full view—white T-shirt spattered with wet spots. “She’s running again. I think you’re good to go.” He lifted one hand and Seth grasped it, pulling his uncle to his feet.
“Oh man, I don’t know how to thank you.”
Case wiped his hands on his wrinkled shirt. “Easy. Get your friend to finally ask out your cousin.”
Bear grabbed a cookie from a tray Shan had pulled out of the oven only minutes before. “Ha, that’s a good one, Mr. Walker.”