“I figured you’d still be here.” She holds out one of the coffees before I can say anything, and I take it automatically. The cup is warm against my palm. “So I brought reinforcements. Also, I may have assumed you’d come to your senses overnight and decide to ditch the spreadsheets, so I’m here to pick you up and save the day.”
“I’m still working on inventory,” I say, taking a sip of the coffee to hide how pleased I am to see her.
“I’m ignoring that,” she says breezily. “I can tell you’re happy I showed up.”
“You’re very confident for someone who just appeared unannounced at my place of business.”
“Confidence is one of my many excellent qualities.” She winks, and I’ll be damned if I’m not charmed by it. “Plus, you never texted me back. And when you didn’t text me, I chose to interpret that as ‘I want to go but I need someone to give me permission.’”
“That’s a very creative interpretation of radio silence.”
“I’m an optimist.” She takes a sip of her coffee, completely at ease, like showing up here was always the plan. “Also, I brought you coffee, so now you owe me.”
“That’s extortion,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
“I prefer to think of it as strategy.” Her eyes are bright with amusement, and she’s looking at me like she knows exactly what she’s doing and exactly how this is going to end.
“MISS HAYES!”
Chloe’s shriek cuts through whatever I was about to say. Iturn to see her racing through the restaurant—only a small amount of chocolate mousse visible on her face—and she shoots past me like I don’t exist, launching herself into Emma’s arms.
“Hey, you!” Emma laughs, somehow managing not to spill either coffee despite my daughter’s full-body assault. She crouches down to Chloe’s level, eyes warm. “Ooh, I love your sparkly shoes. Are those new?”
Chloe pulls back just enough to show them off, lifting one foot then the other to display the purple glitter sneakers I bought her yesterday. A shameless attempt to distract her from the fact that her mom canceled. Again. “Daddy got them for me! Watch!” She takes a few running steps, the soles blinking pink and purple in rapid succession.
“Very fashionable,” Emma says approvingly. “I’m obsessed.”
“Thanks.” Chloe beams, bouncing on her toes. “What are you doing here?”
Emma glances up at me, one eyebrow raised, clearly waiting for permission before she mentions the festival. But there’s a gleam in her eyes that says she’s already won and we both know it.
I sigh, unable to stop myself from smiling, and nod.
“Well,” she says to Chloe, “I’m here to steal you and your dad away from boring work to come to a fall festival. What do you think about that?”
“REALLY?!” Chloe shrieks, jumping up and down hard enough that I’m surprised she doesn’t go through the floor.
“Yes, but go wash your face first and then we’ll hit the road, okay?” I crouch down to her level. “This means you have to be good tonight because I’ll need to wrap up some work at home after dinner. Deal?”
“YES OKAY I’LL BE THE BEST!” She’s already racing toward the bathroom, wiping furiously at her face with her sleeve.
Emma stands, watching her go with this soft smile that does something complicated to my chest. Then she turns back to me,triumphant and not even trying to hide it. “I knew you’d come around.”
“Don’t gloat,” I say.
“I’m notgloating.” She’s absolutely gloating. “I’m just pleased that my excellent powers of persuasion continue to work exactly as intended.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling. Can’t seem to stop, actually. Emma showed up at my restaurant on a Saturday morning with coffee and a plan to rescue my daughter from boredom, and I’m supposed to, what, resist that?
“Let me grab my jacket,” I say.
The smile she gives me could power the entire restaurant. “That’s the spirit.”
The parking lot at Cedarbrook Farm is packed by the time we pull in, cars lined up in neat rows across what looks like it used to be a hay field. I find a spot near the back and kill the engine. Through the windshield I can see the entrance gates decorated with corn stalks and those big inflatable pumpkins, and beyond that what looks like half a carnival. Music drifts over from somewhere inside, something upbeat mixing with the distant screams from a ride and the general chaos of a crowd having a good time.
“Okay, so they do have go-karts,” Emma says from the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone. “Plus a corn maze, which could be fun. Some kind of mini roller coaster that looks like it’s for kids, though I bet parents can ride too. Carnival games, pie eating contest at two, and approximately a million food vendors.”
“Pie eating contest?” I glance at her, amused.
