“I can help,” I say.
Muriel snorts. “With what? Filibustering the electric company? I know you got fancy degrees and a big job, but biscuit dough doesn’t give a damn about congressional committees.”
A laugh pops out despite the ache in my chest. “I was there at five every morning for half my teenage life. I know exactly how your biscuit dough likes to be treated and I’ve helped you on the business side during college summer breaks. I know how to run the place.”
Muriel waves me off, refusing to meet my gaze. “I can’t ask you to spend your week off from work running the restaurant.” Her gaze cuts to mine. “Besides… one week won’t do anything.”
“I’ll stay the eight weeks,” I say, surprised that the words are tumbling out with no real thought whether I can do this. My mind spins. I’d have to call my boss. I’ve probably got four weeks of accrued PTO because I never take vacations, but… he’d have to put me on unpaid leave. Would he hold my job for me?
Fear takes root because I’ve just committed and I can’t back down, but now… this could ruin my career.
However, I look at my aunt, lying there staring at me with both hope and her own measure of fear, and I know I can’t turn my back on her. It’s not within my nature, and besides… I wouldn’t be what I am today if it weren’t for Muriel. She alone pushed me out of this town to go explore my big-city dreams. She never made me feel guilty about leaving and always had faith I’d achieve my goals. Muriel’s the reason I can offer this to her.
I sit back down, lean forward with my forearms resting on my knees. “I’ll keep Central running while you heal. We’ll get the bills current, bring the staff back, and I’ll keep cash flowing. You can sit here and rule from the recliner.”
She looks at me skeptically. “You have a career, missy. I’m not letting you walk away from that.”
“I won’t be,” I assure her, a lie that’s necessary. “I’ve got a lot of vacation time saved.”
“Penny… are you sure? I didn’t ask you to come.”
“I know.” I swallow the sudden lump. “I came because I wanted to. Because you’re the reason I ever believed I could be more than what this town expected. You pushed me out of the nest, so you need to let me push you into a chair for a few weeks.”
Muriel sits up a little straighter, this time wearing herbusiness face. “I can direct you on what to do, but this is a lot of work, Penny Bean.”
I think of the dark windows at Central. Of how much this means not just to my aunt, but to the whole town. “You know hard work never scared me.”
Muriel nods once, a little jerky, like something inside her unclenched. “All right then.”
We’re both quiet for a second and in that silence, I feel something slide into place with a soft click. This was the absolute right decision and I feel good about it.
I stand, smoothing my skirt. “I’m going to bring my luggage in and get changed into something more comfortable. Then we can plan when to reopen Central. We’ll need at least a day to get supplies and schedule the staff.”
Muriel’s eyes mist over and she nods. Clearing her throat, she says, “This means the world that you’re doing this.”
I smile at her brightly. “It’s time for me to give back for all you’ve done for me.”
CHAPTER 3
Sam
The world looksdifferent before six a.m. Definitely quieter, completely stripped down. It’s like the town hasn’t put on its makeup yet because the streets are empty and it’s really the people who bring the shine to Whynot.
Doesn’t mean I don’t like this time though. I only have the old-fashioned lampposts to keep me company as my running shoes slap the pavement. The spring air is cool against my skin and the robins are starting to wake up, warbling out their birdsong. I tell myself I run for my health, but the truth is, I like how alone I am in this moment.
My route starts at the duplex, cuts behind Crabtree Creek, loops past the water tower, and then I’m back running parallel to Courthouse Square. I try not to step on the little golden halos the streetlamps cast onto the sidewalks, much the same way I pretend to jump my car over tree shadows when driving down the road.
By the time I hit Wilmington Street, sweat slicks my back and the sky’s brightening from gray to pink. Floyd’s Hardware Emporium is dark and Lady Marmalade’s is shuttered.
Then I see it—light spilling from behind the glass at Central Café.
It’s so shocking to me that I come to a dead stop, staring at it in confusion. Muriel’s place has been dark for going on two weeks and there’s not been a hint in the gossip mill that it would be reopening anytime soon. In fact, my mama talked to the ladies in her church, and they have a meal train set up to feed Muriel for the next two months.
But now there’s a soft glow inside, and movement—somebody bustling around, sleeves rolled to the elbows. I drift closer, curiosity getting the better of me.
Penny Pritchard.
Fiery-red hair piled on top of her head, vivid green eyes, freckles dusting her nose. She’s wearing gray sweatpants and a faded Duke T-shirt that’s brushed with flour like she’s been through a bakery explosion. A pencil’s jammed through her bun, a smear of dough across one cheekbone. And still—God help me—she’s beautiful.
