“What’s not to love?”
Beck snorted as the two of them traded barbs. Two peas in a pod. But really, Beck could get along with just about anyone. I watched as they talked, realizing it really was a strength of his, making everyone around him comfortable.
He was the perfect person to take over Dad’s bar. I had no doubt O’Malley’s would thrive with Beck at the helm. I had to talk to him on the way back about why he was so hesitant about it.
That wasn’t the only thing we had to talk about on the way home, but it was clear our “kiss” conversation would have to wait. After fry guy, one of the event organizers stopped by, along with the owner of a local restaurant looking for partners for a fall festival he was planning. Apparently my tarte tatin was making the rounds.
“Mae O’Malley,” a cheerful voice called from behind my current customer.
“Thayle,” I exclaimed as she waved excitedly. Standing beside her husband, one of the owners of Grado Valley Vineyards, my long-time friend finally made it to the counter.
“You remember Neo?”
“Of course,” I said. “How’s GVV doing?” I asked them both, grateful there was nobody behind them yet.
“Couldn’t be better,” he said. Neo was the winemaker for the vineyard he and his siblings owned. I’d met Thayle over email first. She was a long-time customer, and I’d contacted her with a question about the wine club which she ran. When we finally met in person, we hit it off immediately.
“You have to come down one of these days now that you’re back in town. Is it for good?”
I hadn’t spoken to her in person in over a year. “Lots has happened since we talked last. Long story. But I’m back from France for good. Just not sure about next steps. Working for Dad until I figure things out.”
“I saw the sign and wondered if it was the same O’Malley’s.” Two teen girls got in line behind her. “Let’s catch up when you have time. Actually, we’re having a girls’ night next Thursday. Come down and bring some friends. I’ll see if we have an empty cottage.”
“Actually,” Neo said, “I know we do. Remember Brooke telling us the bachelorette party cancelled. They were coming Thursday to Saturday and had three booked.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I’ll make sure one stays empty if you promise to come.”
“Girls’ night at a winery. Cottage on the lake. You drive a hard bargain.”
Thayle laughed. “Gotta look out for my girls. I’m counting you in. How about two burgers and one of your pastries, obviously?”
“Obviously,” Neo quipped beside her.
I called the burger order to Beck, realizing this could be a blessing in disguise. If anyone was perfectly positioned to help me navigate the Beck situation, it was Thayle Burke.
“On the house,” I said as Neo pulled out his wallet. I handed the pastry to Thayle who stepped aside, letting the girls order.
Beck slid two burgers to them as I handed back change to the girls as I pushed aside thoughts of the kiss that crept into my head.
“Do you remember Thayle and Neo from Grado Valley?” I asked him. We’d been there more than once together with a few other people, the last time about two summers ago.
“Of course.” He grabbed a rag, wiped his hands, and stuck out his right one to one of them at a time. “Good to see you again. Hope you’re enjoying the festival.”
“I had to pull him kicking and screaming away from the vineyard,” Thayle said. “The downside of owning your own business.”
“Funny you should say that.” I gave Beck a sidelong gaze.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “You’re the one who got a new client this weekend.”
“Client? What?” Thayle asked. “You’ll have to tell me all about it Thursday. Go ahead, we don’t want to keep you from your customers.”
“I’ll see you soon,” I said, blowing her a kiss and waving to Neo.
They stayed and talked to Beck while I took care of the girls, and then another couple, and before long I couldn’t think about anything, even Beck’s kiss, for long as the lunch crowd picked up. As he predicted, the tarte tatin sold out before one o’clock which really did surprise me based on our estimates from the organizers’ numbers.
Every so often, I’d glance back at Beck, who was either cooking or peeking at me. We kept things light, professional, all afternoon, and it was actually less awkward than I expected.
Until it wasn’t.
