“Ave—”
She shoved wayward bangs out of her eyes and mimicked his voice. “It’s the perfect job for you, Ava. It’ll combine your love of athletics with your knack for business, you said. Come home to Whisper Shore, you said. Be near family, you said.”
“Take a breath, I said.” He folded his arms, gave her one of those Hunziker grins that used to be enough to melt her into goo. When it came from Ryan, that is.
Amazing how thinking of Ryan these days churned up happy memories instead of only the bad. It’d been a long time coming, but things had changed for her in this past year.
And in the past few weeks. Emotions and uncertainty had propelled her to Maple Valley and then away again. But slowly God had started tugging on her in a new way.
Or maybe His tug wasn’t new. Maybe it was her willingness to follow along. To finally let go of so desperately needing life to look a certain way—first Ryan, then years of holding on to grief, then the football dream, then Seth. She’d learned to let go and to be okay with what came next.
Maybe even okay with not knowing what came next.
Although she was less okay with Blake’s goofy grin. “Look, just because you’ve won over my sister—”
His grin widened. “Oh, I more than won her over. The woman came home from Paris for me. Which, if I remember correctly, you had a little something to do with. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Shut up, Blaze.”
He clucked his tongue. “Pulling out the old nickname. Nice.”
She turned back to the equipment-strewn lot where she’d thought the rec center would be. A bowing evening sun lent a bright orange backdrop to the landscape. “This keeps happening to me. People invite me to town and I get there only to find a construction site.”
“I thought you said your friend’s restaurant had already opened?”
“I mean the apartment above it. It was an empty shell when I got there. Not quite the living space I’d expected when Seth said, ‘Hey, I’ve got an apartment for you.’”
“Seth’s the guy, huh? He must be a good guy if he got you to Iowa.”
“I repeat, shut up, Blaze.” But, yes, he’s the guy. And she had no idea what to do with the news his day-old email had let her in on just an hour ago. Maddie had gone back to Chicago. From the sound of it, without a proposal and without a ring.
She hadn’t read the email incorrectly, right? Seth had been pretty clear it was over over.
In her mix of shock and hurry to meet Blake, she’d left her phone sitting on the bed back at the house, so she couldn’t even reread the email.
Blake stretched his arms, then turned and started back toward his Wrangler. “I’m just saying, Iowa?”
She quickened to catch up with him. “Maple Valley is a cool little town, Blake. Not all that different from Whisper Shore, actually. It’s quaint and eccentric. More antique shops than it knows what to do with, yeah, but it’s a neat mix of old-worldly and trendy. And there’s this heritage railroad that gives rides to local tourists. I hear in the fall it’s gorgeous.”
Blake stopped, hands in his back pockets. “You like it there.”
“It’s friendly and welcoming and kind of, I don’t know, comfortable.”
“We still talking about the town or the guy?”
Both. Her fists found her waist. “You know, I think we should make something clear, Hunziker. My sister likes you. So I’ve done my best to get over not liking you. But talking to you about my love life? We’re soooo not there yet.”
“But you would put this Seth guy and your so-called love life in the same category topic-wise?”
She glared at him. “How many times today am I going to have to tell you to shut up?”
He grinned again, looked away and reached one hand around to rub his neck. Behind him, sunlight silhouetted the borders of town and shined a spotlight on the lane that reached past where they stood now. The road led to her family’s inn—the one Blake had saved with his own money when her sister had had to make the hard decision to put it up for sale.
She loved this place, even with crazy Blake Hunziker in it.
But if she was honest with herself, deep down, in some ways Maple Valley now felt even more like home to her than Whisper Shore. She hadn’t lived in Michigan since college. And Whisper Shore—though she loved it, though she loved the idea of being near family—it didn’t seem to beckon her.
Or was she just overthinking things again?
“You guys ever coming back?” Her sister stuck her head out of the passenger side window of Blake’s jeep. “A pile of dirt can’t be that interesting, can it?”
She followed Blake back to the car and slid into the back seat. “You could’ve told me the rec center didn’t exist yet, Autumn.”
“I don’t know why, I just assumed you knew. It opens in January.”
“But the city plans to put the director on staff by November,” Blake added as he got in the jeep. “So there’s time for the director to hire employees and all that.”
“Which would give you a couple months for moving.”
Just the thought of moving was tiring, but she had to make some kind of decision soon. She’d been living out of a suitcase for nearly a month now.
They rode in silence as Blake steered the car toward the inn. In the distance, Lake Michigan curled in rolls of blue and aquamarine. She’d loved growing up by the lake the way Seth talked about loving growing up near farmland—stretches of green and gold that spread in waves of a different kind.
“Are you nervous for the interview?” Autumn asked.
“Not really.”
“Excited?”
Not really. “A little.”
Autumn met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Uh-oh, I know what this is.”
“What what is?”
“I’ve realized something about you, sis. You have a pattern of going after things you can’t have. I’m not sure whether it’s ’cause that’s safer . . . or if it’s more exciting.”
“Not sure what you mean.” Ava shifted her seat belt so it didn’t pull so tight.
“Back when you were in college and you started dating Ryan, you knew how mad it’d make Mom and Ryan’s parents.”
True. They’d had quite the Capulet-Montague thing going on back in the day. Actually up until just recently. Autumn and Blake had helped change that.
“Then you decided you wanted to coach college football. Not a career that’s all that in reach for females. Not often, anyway. And Seth. You wanted him whether you’ll admit it or not, all while knowing he already had someone else. He’s unavailable.” Autumn nodded as if agreeing with herself. “You want what you can’t have. This job . . . you can have it. It’s just sitting there waiting for you. And that either scares you or it bores you, I’m not sure which.”
She should be annoyed at her sister for the therapist-like assessment. Tell her she didn’t know what she was talking about. Defend her choices and dreams.
But truth was, she could only refute one thing.
“He’s not,” she said.
Autumn craned her neck, looking around her headrest. “Huh?”
“He’s not unavailable. Seth.”
Autumn’s eyes widened.
“You really think I always want what I can’t have?”
“Ignore me. Ignore everything I said. Or don’t. But think about it later. Right now we’re talking about Seth. And how he’s not unavailable. Which means he’s available. Right? You’re going to go back, aren’t you.”
She didn’t know. It’s not like Seth had asked her to come back. He hadn’t even really explained what happened.
Man, for two people who trade words by the gazillions, we sure manage to confuse each other.
She’d decided to let go of Seth. She’d left Maple Valley and let go. But now . . .
“Guess that’s one of the keys in life. Knowing when to hold on, when to let go.” Case.
“You know I may just take this decision out of yo
ur hands and make it for you. I’m looking up flights to Des Moines right now.” Autumn fiddled with her phone. “Or maybe you should just drive.”
“Sis—”
“I’m going to see how long of a drive it’d be. Whisper Shore, Michigan to Maple Valley, Iowa,” she muttered as she tapped her phone. But then paused, gasped.
“What’s wrong?”
“When I typed in Maple Valley, all these search results popped up. Headlines. Only hours old.”
She heard the alarm in Autumn’s voice. “What is it?”
Autumn handed her phone back, and Ava scanned the headline. Dozens injured, buildings decimated in Maple Valley tornado.
10
Dear Ava,
Well, I’m sitting in the middle of the floor of the apartment that looks even less like an apartment than it did before you came to town.
Half the roof is missing.
Appliances were thrown around like marbles in a pinball machine.
And those red walls you hated look like someone mistook them for punching bags.
Oh, yeah, if you haven’t heard, we had a crazy tornado yesterday.
It’s actually not as bad as what we first thought. There were injuries, but no one died. Two houses were completely ruined. The depot had major damage—a blow for the town, and Case, of course. And other businesses and homes had varying degrees of damage.
A tree knocked through one of the windows in the restaurant kitchen, but amazingly didn’t destroy the place.
The apartment, however . . . Well, let’s just say it’s going to be a little while before it’s livable again.
The crazy thing is, I’m having trouble even being upset by it. It doesn’t feel all that important at the moment.
A lady named Rachel stopped by yesterday. She wants to look into franchising The Red Door. Can you believe that? I haven’t even been open a month, but she’s totally serious. And she said if I’m interested—and if this thing actually happens—I could work for the corporate headquarters. Maybe even be a part of deciding where they open the next Door.
And I couldn’t help thinking of your town in Michigan. It’s a tourist town, right? Could it use another restaurant? Do you think there’s enough of a tourist population to support it?
Maybe that’s crazy to be thinking of at the moment, considering the tornado. Maybe the company won’t even be interested anymore. Maybe . . .
Seth stopped typing.
Sighed.
Pale moonlight filtered into the wreckage of a room through the massive hole in the roof and a bird’s chirping replaced the sound of his typing. A breeze floated in from above, oddly refreshing considering the mess all around him. Ceiling beams slanting to the ground in odd angles. A refrigerator on its side. Tarp twisting around a broken table.
This place was a wreck, and he had a restaurant to reopen, but none of it mattered the way it should.
He looked back to his screen, reread his words, and shook his head.
Then pressed Delete.
Other than the jingled greeting of the bells over the front door, Seth’s restaurant echoed with quiet as Ava stepped inside. The Red Door’s hush seemed to reach inside her, smoothing over the nerves that’d sparked through her all through the long day of travel, as if to say, Welcome home.
But where was Seth? She’d stopped at Case Walker’s when she first got to town, and he’d told her she could find Seth at the restaurant. She’d hopped back in her car before common sense—or truthfully, fear—could stop her.
There was no question this time about why she’d come. She’d come for Seth. Oh, sure, she’d wanted to see the restaurant. Wanted to help in the wake of the tornado. Needed to tell him she’d decided not to interview for that job in Whisper Shore and planned to pack up and move out of her townhouse back in Minnesota once and for all. Hoped to find a job, right here, in the town that’d grown on her so quickly it was uncanny.
But mostly . . . she’d come for Seth.
She looked around The Red Door. Other than a few chairs out of place, the restaurant didn’t look all that damaged.
But then she stepped into the kitchen. “Oh boy.” A tree jutted through the back window. She tiptoed through the mess, avoiding broken glass, heart hurting for the wreck the storm had made of a place Seth had put so much work into.
It’s not irreparable.
The thought sent shoots of hope pulsing through her. But where are you, Seth?
She reached the staircase at the back of the kitchen that led upstairs. How had her little apartment fared? She paused halfway up the stairs at the unmistakable sound of . . . typing?
Her heartbeat lilted. Seth.
She took the rest of the steps two at a time, pushed open the door at the top . . .
It crashed to the floor, fresh off its hinges. Her screech collided with the instant halting of Seth’s typing.
As if in slow motion, his gaze moved from the door—where it’d landed only inches from where he sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor—to Ava.
She lifted one palm in a lame wave. “Hey.”
His brown-eyed gaze was a mix of incredulous and . . . and something she hoped was happy. Please let it be happy, God.
“What . . . ?” He didn’t even finish the question. Didn’t stand up. Just stared.
Somehow she was vaguely aware of the ruined interior of the apartment. Scattered paint cans and broken glass. A roof so pummeled it’d take tarp the size of a circus tent to protect it from rain until it could be repaired. Branches from trees lugged by the wind and dropped into the apartment.
But she couldn’t look away from Seth long enough to take in any more details. “This is an odd space to get work done in,” she said, motioning to his open laptop.
“Did you see the desk in the kitchen? It’s not so usable at the moment. Not with a tree trunk splitting it in half.”
A warm breeze snuck through the holes in ceiling, along with rays of moonlight, dust particles dancing in the light. “What are you working on?”
“Come sit and I’ll show you.”
She dropped her purse in the middle of the floor and did as he asked, sitting just like he did, wood floor damp underneath her.
“I was writing an email.”
She glanced at his face, lit by the light of his screen. “Who to?”
“Who do you think?”
Something so warm it could probably heat the whole room—in the dead of winter, without even a roof to hold it in—wriggled through her.
“I wrote this whole long email. Said a bunch of stuff. Planned to say even more. But then I deleted it like five minutes ago and rewrote it.” He lifted the laptop and set it in her lap. “Here. Read it.”
His smile . . . she could drink it in and never be thirsty again. How had she ever thought to let him go? Thank you, Autumn, for packing my suitcase for me and filling my car with gas and nagging until I gave in. Thank you, Coach Mac, for not giving me that coaching job.
Thank you, Case Walker, for reminding me to pick wisely what I hold on to and what I let go.
And thank God for the whisper in her heart when she’d woken up this morning. Just like last year when she’d wanted to stay home from that alumni dance.
Go. It’s time.
“Hurry and read it, Ave.”
“Aren’t you even going to ask me what I’m doing here?”
“Read.”
She lowered her gaze to the screen.
Ava,
I love you.
—Seth
I love you.
She tried to read the words again but the tears pooling in her eyes blurred her vision. She blinked, focused. They were still there. I love you.
Three little words. The best words. She couldn’t look away from them.
“I do believe that’s the shortest email you’ve ever sent me, Seth Walker.” Her voice cracked.
“Well, technically I haven’t sent it yet.”
And now she couldn’t look away from him. He rea
ched forward to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. She could smell the faint mint of his aftershave and feel the beat of his heart. Or maybe that was her heart.
“Send it,” she blurted.
He leaned back. “What?”
“Send the email. Right now.”
“Right now? But you already—”
“Just send it.”
He shrugged, reached over to the keyboard, and tapped to send the email. As soon as he did, she pushed the laptop off her lap and stood.
“Where’re you going?”
She yanked her purse from the floor and pulled out her phone, waiting for the ding she knew was coming. The quiet stretched. One second, two, three.
She was ready to burst with impatience when her phone finally vibrated. She tapped open the email, felt her heart dance all over again at those same three words. I love you.
Seth still watched her from the floor, eyebrows raised. She tapped out a reply. Hit Send. Then pointed at his laptop.
“Ava—”
“Check your email.”
Another wait that stretched seconds too long. And the warmth from before, it wrapped around her like a blanket now, so perfect and comfortable and right and . . .
“‘Seth, I love you, too. Ava.’” Seth looked up at her after reading her email out loud, pure joy in every line on his face. And then he was pushing his computer out of the way and standing and stepping over a broken floorboard . . .
And standing in front of her, reaching for her hands. “That was a pretty good email, Ava Kingsley.”
“You think?”
“I mean, it was four words, so clearly we know who the more concise one is, but still.”
“You would turn this into a competition.”
He stood so close now she was pretty sure it wasn’t only her own warmth enveloping her now. He lifted both their hands, lacing their fingers together. “You know, when you first came to town, you said you’d stay long enough to help with the apartment. I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s kind of a mess. Could take the rest of the summer or even longer to finish.”
“Are you asking me to stay the rest of the summer, Seth?” Her voice came out a whisper, feathery anticipation hovering in the question.