Shelly stood from the table. “All right, shall we go through the house?”
Brenna grabbed a chocolate chip cookie. She covered her mouth as she chewed, but I knew a smile graced her lips. I took one as well, savoring it almost as much as her smile.
I couldn’t wait until we were alone again.
32
BRENNA
Now
The next few weeksflew by in a blur as Nathan and I focused on getting the house ready to sell.
There had been meetings with the financial adviser and phone calls with Shelly, who worked to schedule an open house. When we weren’t at the café, we tackled a long list of projects we agreed to complete after her walk-through—installing new faucets, putting dimmers in the family room and bedrooms, staining kitchen cabinets, power-washing the driveway and patio. We also painted the final two rooms, the ones we’d been sleeping in. It was easier once we shared a bed. We moved into my old room for a few nights while the paint in his room dried.
“This place looks so cute.” An older woman complimented the decorations in the café as she approached the counter.
“Thank you.” I nodded at Allison at the other end of the counter, packing baked goods for another customer. “It was all her.”
As Nathan and I focused on the house, Allison brought Christmas to the Courtside Café with a Christmas tree in a window and several wreaths hanging outside. Somehow, she’d made the windows look snowy. Inside, string lights hung from the ceiling and garland looped above the chalkboard behind the counter. It reminded me of Christmases here as a kid. Nathan’s mom always decked the place out right after Thanksgiving, and it immediately put me in a holiday mood.
Nathan and I hadn’t discussed holiday plans. I hoped we’d spend it together.
“Someone’s in a good mood today.”
The words sounded like an accusation rather than an observation. I had to remind myself not to let Allison’s tone get to me; she usually didn’t mean anything bad. “You and the boy finally pull your heads out of your asses?”
My eyes trailed to Nathan, sitting with Bertram and his crew in their usual spot. He leaned back in his chair, laughing at something Bertram said, reminding me ofmyNathan, from before our families complicated our lives. I liked seeing this ease in his demeanor and thinking maybe I had something to do with it.
It took effort to keep rosiness from entering my cheeks. “Maybe I just appreciate all you’ve done to help us.”
She shrugged. “It’s what you’re paying me to do.”
It was more than that. We weren’t paying her enough to take this much pride in her work.
“You love this place, don’t you?”
“Contrary to what the prodigal son thinks, I loved Gordon. And Gordon loved this place.”
I wondered if she suspected Gordon’s love for the Courtside Café had to do with his first wife, the one who got away. He’d held onto the house and business he’d shared with her, which was too much of a coincidence to mean anything else. But if she suspected, Allison didn’t care. It made me trust her motivations.
“He talked about you and Nathan a lot,” she went on. “Especially toward the end. All he wanted was Nathan’s forgiveness. I think that’s why he wrote you into his will. He knew Nathan needed you, even if he wouldn’t admit it. I told Gordon it was ridiculous to think some girl could help his son move forward.”
Allison nodded toward Nathan, who held Bertram and his crew’s attention captive with a story, his arms flying through the air, a wide smile on his face. “He doesn’t look like the same person who showed up on my doorstep earlier this year. He doesn’t even look like the punk who tried to lay down the law with me in October.”
“I can’t take credit for that.”
“Well, it sure as shit wasn’t the café. I bet that arrogant know-it-all is looking down and laughing at us.”
Cheers echoed from Bertram and Nathan’s table as the old man waved some cards in Nathan’s face. He swatted playfully at his hand, the other two men watching with wide eyes. Allison shook her head and headed to the back, where she could pretend they weren’t gambling. She’d given up trying to stop them.
Bertram cleared his throat to get my attention, his coffee cup in the air. We didn’t do refills or table service, except for this particular table.
“You beckoned?”
“Oh, don’t you complain,” Bertram huffed, smacking his cards onto the table. “I’ve won enough money off your man here, you’re in for a good tip today.”
My man.My heart beat against the wall of my chest, a hard knock reminding me of its presence.
