Allain continued. “Cinq who came in on that big yacht cet après-midi, and four from the mayor’s office who will be joining them.”
Piece of cake.
Which was kind of too bad.
Bobbie had been hoping for a challenge to keep her mind from straying back to Buck.
Right.
Like that would do any good.
CHAPTER 7
Buck had tossedand turned all night.
On the one hand, he couldn’t wait to see Bobbie, while on the other, he dreaded the confrontation. He went over and over in his head what he was going to say to her, and even to his own ears his words sounded lame, and…at least fifteen years too late.
Crap.The guilt of waiting so long to set Bobbie’s mind straight was eating at him, but what choice had he been given?
None.
Luckily, he didn’t have to sneak by his mother this morning before he went in search of Bobbie. Just last week he’d moved from his parents’ home into a small, fully-furnished cottage he’d found for rent. It was located south of Orono, half way between his home town and the as-yet-to-be-opened Diver Downeast office, which was okay for now. Eventually, however, he’d want to buy a house in Hampden so that he could roll out of bed, walk into town, grab some breakfast, then stroll into the office.
That sounded like heaven.
Right now, however, he needed to take himself off to Bobbie’s catering business, hoping he could get her alone to plead his case.
The address hadn’t been hard to find. Bobbie did a great job of advertising on line. And even if she hadn’t, his two local brothers could have pointed him in the right direction.
Not that he wanted to get his family involved.
Nope.This was something he had to do on his own, because in the end, Bobbie would either believe him or not, without any outside interference.
Driving up to the pretty little concrete-block building,Roberto’s Cateringstood out like a bright peacock amongst an otherwise plain flock of stores. The façade was painted a cheerful, cerulean blue, while flowers in a flamboyant riot of hues overflowed hot pink window boxes. And the door? Warm yellow. Buck could easily see Bobbie’s hand in the color scheme of this place, and the cheery appearance lent him a comforting, genial feeling. Some of his trepidation bled away. By the looks of things, Bobbie wasn’t miserable. Going by the overall appearance of her building, she’d somehow found and embraced joy in her life, despite the early curveballs she’d been thrown.
Errant pitches thatweren’this fault.
Now, if he could just get her to believe him.
He unfolded his body from his minivan and walked up to the door, wondering what the protocol was. Did he knock? Did he walk right in? Buck stood, pondering.
Here was something to consider for Diver Downeast. There needed to be a sign on business doors that gave direction and hours.
Maybe Bobbie’s wasn’t a walk-in kind of place? Perhaps all her customer acquisitions and planning were done on-line and over the phone? Maybe this building was just a place where she cooked and stored things?
Well, there was only one way to find out.
Buck approached the door and knocked, then backed up a few steps and thrust his hands into his pockets while he rocked back and forth on his heels.
Nothing.
He advanced and knocked again, this time a little louder.
Getting no response a second time, he figured he had nothing to lose, and tried the doorknob.
Locked.
“She’s closed on Mondays,” a helpful voice stated from just down the sidewalk. A woman with a key in her hand was just about to enter what must be her beauty salon.
