Sadia looked as tidy and sensible as ever, in her jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but there was an air of weariness about her. “You doing okay?” Livvy asked.
“Oh yes. Of course.” Sadia nudged aside the plastic wrap, picked up a scone from the tray, and started to crumble it on her plate.
After careful deliberation, Livvy went with a cookie. She bit into it, chewed, and swallowed. “Huh. Did Rick change the recipe?”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
Livvy raised an eyebrow at the sharpness in the question. “No. It tastes a little different, is all.”
Sadia cleared her throat. “I made that batch, actually.”
Weird. Sadia was no baker. “Is Rick out sick?”
“No. He, um, retired.”
“What?” That was huge news. Rick had been at the café for as long as she could remember. The menu he’d crafted was small but his emphasis on fresh ingredients had helped endear the place to locals.
Sadia continued crumbling the scone. “He wanted to spend more time with his grandkids.”
“When did this happen?”
“Right about the time you got back.”
“And you’ve been doing all the cooking since?”
Sadia shrugged.
If Sadia was playing chef as well as manager, that meant she was probably waking up before the sun to get into the kitchen. How was she even functioning? “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Mom and Aunt Maile know. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. You had so much on your plate.”
“And you don’t?” Guilt crawled through Livvy. “I’m the worst friend.”
Sadia cocked her head. “How’s that?”
“I should have known something was up with you. I think I did know, but I wanted to give you space.”
“You’re not psychic, and I do like space.” Sadia’s smile was faint. “Let’s save some time and energyand agree not to feel bad about silly things. I know you love me.”
Livvy bumped her knee against her friend’s. “I do love you. I’d like to help.”
“Have you been hiding your cooking skills all this time?” Sadia asked hopefully.
“Unless you count omelettes, no.”
“Yeah. Me neither.” Sadia looked down at her plate. Her best friend’s shoulders slumped infinitesimally.
Which was basically a full-on wail of despair from anyone else. “Oh, Sadia.”
She rubbed her forehead. “It’s fine. I’ll find someone soon. I can’t afford not to.”
“That sounds dire,” Livvy said cautiously.
Sadia’s exhale was loud. “When Paul died, I discovered he’d taken out a couple of loans.”
“Big loans?”
“Big enough. Oh, we were fine while he was alive. I know it’s not what he’d planned on doing with his life, but Paul was good at running the café. He knew the business and he had that magnetic personality, you know?” Sadia blinked, hard. “People wanted to be around him.”
