Simple.
The sooner the two of them moved past the sniping, the faster he’d get his answers and be on his way.
Except that by the time he had the toast buttered and his temper under control, an odd chime started ringing in the living room. Clayton stepped up the pace, jogging down the short hall to see what was up.
Only to discover Pete twisting and flailing on the hospital bed, in the grip of a seizure while his heart monitor blared.
I can meet you at Peachtree at four o’clock.
Gabriella reread the text Mia sent her earlier in the afternoon as she stood just inside the main entrance to Heartache’s newest restaurant, The Peachtree, owned by Mack Finley and Nina Spencer. Nina was the nice woman with the amazing cupcakes who’d hosted the Salon Night at the Strand the night before. Amy Finley had told Gabriella about this place while they were having their toes painted in side-by-side lounge chairs at the pedicure bar.
Apparently the Finley family had all been here Saturday night to watch their sister Heather perform. Zach must be so proud of his new fiancée. Gabriella knewshe needed to make more time to spend with Heather and get to know her better, but right now she just wanted to find Mia and shake off the chill of a harrowing day.
Sitting in on the first day of Jeremy Covington’s trial had been hellish, even if she’d never looked him square in the face. She counted it a victory that she had been present in the courtroom, and for now that had to be enough. But she wasn’t sure she would have even walked into the building if Clay hadn’t been by her side, drawing her steadily forward. Her counselor had said that this trial had the potential to undo some of the progress she had made in past years to overcome the old guilt and fears following the attack. Judging by the negative emotions swirling inside her now, that had been a massive understatement.
Seeing Mia would help. She was glad to have something else to focus on. And after remembering all too clearly how difficult her teen years had been, Gabriella was even more committed to making sure Mia didn’t face her demons alone.
The restaurant was quiet, but then it was an odd time to be seated—after lunch and before dinner. The Peachtree had a tea service, so a handful of tables were full of mostly women and a few men. White linen cloths covered bistro-size tables in the center of the room while booths lined two walls. The other two were floor-to-ceiling windows, and with the black metal rafters exposed in the revamped historic building, Gabriella could see where those glass walls could retract in warmer weather, rolling up like garage doors. Now, with the wind beating against the panes, the weather made an impressive spectacle while a fire burned in a central stone fireplace. The scent of wood smoke and barbecue emanated from an unseen kitchen, and a couple at the bar was toasting an older woman in a party hat while anupbeat Patsy Cline tune played softly over the restaurant’s speaker system.
“How many in your party?” a smiling blonde hostess asked, hurrying to Gabriella’s side with a stack of black, leather-bound menus in her hand.
“Two. I’m meeting a friend?—”
“Ellie?” A rush of cold, damp air preceded the feminine voice Gabriella recognized well.
“Mia!” She turned to find a more petite girl than the one she’d envisioned, but she recognized her friend’s face from social media photos.
Glossy brown hair in a ponytail peeked out from the hood of a plain black sweatshirt. Without a stitch of makeup, Mia Benson was a lovely girl. Her wide brown eyes and dark eyebrows were her prettiest feature, but a quick smile made her face come alive.
“I’d hug you, but I’d drench you!” Mia laughed as she tugged off the sweatshirt, her hair clinging to the hood with static attraction.
The lack of jacket revealed womanly proportions that Gabriella knew were the bane of the girl’s existence. It had to be difficult to look like a twenty-year-old knockout at sixteen. And, to hear Mia tell the story, she had awoken like that one day shortly after her thirteenth birthday when her Year from Hell began.
“I don’t even care,” Gabriella assured her, drawing her close for a quick squeeze. “It’s so good to meet you in person.”
“Would you like to sit near the fire?” the hostess asked, stepping forward with her stack of menus pared down to just two.
“Definitely.” Gabriella followed the woman to aprivate table near the hearth and felt the warmth of the crackling blaze right away.
Fifteen minutes later they had their tea service ordered and a small pot for each of them on the table—Ginger Peach for Mia and Cinnamon Apple for Gabriella. Mia balked at Gabriella’s insistence on buying their meal, but reluctantly agreed to a shared tray of dainty sandwiches as long as Mia could pay for her own tea. Their server poured their first cup into charmingly mismatched china cups and left them to their visit.
And left Gabriella to her reservations about her role in telling Mia about her half brother. Gabriella wished she knew the right approach.
“So I went to the coolest store today.” Mia launched into a story about Last Chance Vintage, the secondhand shop on Main Street owned by Erin Finley.
Another Finley business owner. Zach’s fiancée had a large family with deep roots in Heartache.
And while Mia was clearly excited about the new wardrobe pieces Erin helped her choose, a few of which she’d carted into the restaurant in a shopping bag, Gabriella couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t been in school.
“Didn’t Crestwood have classes today?” She sipped her tea, grateful for the heat inside and out after an emotionally draining day.
She missed the warmth of Clayton’s hand on hers, a strong tether that had helped her get through the day. She hoped his meeting with his father was going well.
“They did have classes.” Mia took a sip from her own cup, clutching it like a mug with both hands. Her short nails were painted dark purple. “But after my date last night, I figured it was a good day to let the gossips havetheir fun. I’ll go back tomorrow when they’re not as giddy with a new story.”
“You don’t feel like that leaves you a step behind in your classes?” Zach would have had a fit if she’d missed school—before and after they left Heartache.
And even if it hadn’t been for his perfectionist ideals, Gabriella knew she’d never meet the town’s expectations of the Chance family if she didn’t attend school every day. She needed help from her teachers to stay on track.
