The orange cat lifted her head and meowed as if she understood—which she would, given the fact that Bethany brought her leftovers whenever she fed Sam. Bethany placed Sam’s dish on the table in front of him and crouched to give Gypsy her bowl. The cat devoured the scraps.
“He’s not what he seems, is he?”
Bethany tilted her head toward Sam, whose hands rested by his silverware, unmoving. “If you mean he’s not a handyman, you’re right. I told you before, he’s an actor. Aren’t you going to try the scrambled eggs?”
Sam didn’t move. Was he ill?
Bethany stood. “What’s the matter?”
He shrugged and grabbed his napkin.
“Sam, whatever it is, spit it out.”
Sam made a show of opening the napkin and tucking it into his shirt. Bethany tapped her foot on the floor. “Sam...”
“I like him.”
Bethany bit her lip. “You don’t know him.”
“I know enough. I know he’s as taken by you as the rest of us.”
Heat flamed Bethany’s cheeks and spread to her heart. “Don’t be silly. I just met him on Friday.”
Sam smiled and nodded and shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs in the vicinity of his mouth. “And now he’s fixing your dishwasher. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
Something sharp poked Bethany’s shoulder. She turned to see Elizabeth, her slim figure in a yellow sundress and clogs. The outfit’s carefree style contrasted with the determined expression on her face. “May I speak to you somewhere private?”
“I’m sorry, it’s a busy morning. Maybe later.”
“My apologies, but what I have to say concerns the welfare of you and your business. It cannot wait until later.”
Bethany considered Elizabeth’s condescending face. Why did she feel like she would regret this conversation?
She looked around. Where could they go to be private? Hank was playing handyman in the kitchen, Travis worked the counter, and most of the tables were filled with regulars.
From the corner of her eye, Bethany spied an open table in the far corner where the boys had been sitting, which was now empty. Travis must have them busy washing dishes. “Over there.”
Elizabeth followed where she pointed. “Excellent.” Shetook off toward the table. By the time Bethany arrived, she was seated, looking cool and smug.
Bethany nabbed the seat across from her, smoothed her clammy hands across her apron and held them together on her lap underneath the table. She studied Elizabeth, who had the look of a disgruntled Persian cat about to bite.
Bethany spoke in her most soothing voice. “What can I do for you?”
Elizabeth snorted and brushed her hair behind her ear, like women who are attractive and know it do. “It’s more about what I can do for you. Listen, I know you think you’ve got Hank wrapped around your little finger and all, but I’m here to tell you it’s a pleasant illusion.”
Bethany pleated her apron underneath the table. “I assure you, I don’t have Hank wrapped around my little finger.”
Elizabeth continued as if Bethany hadn’t spoken. “Hank’s going through a bit of a rough patch right now, and he doesn’t need complications. I’ve been working hard to keep him focused on his career. He’s lonely and vulnerable and likely to make promises he can’t keep. The man leaves a trail of broken hearts behind him wherever he goes. I don’t want you to be his next victim.”
“I’ve no intention of being a victim.”
Elizabeth tilted her thin lips in the semblance of a smile. “Good, because if it stays that way, I might be able to pull some strings to help you win the baking contest.”
Bethany raised her eyebrows.
“Don’t look so surprised. Hank told me you’re entering a family recipe. I’ve been with Hank since the beginning. He knows how hard I work to ensure his success. That’s why he tells meeverything.”
She shouldn’t have bothered emphasizing the word.Bethany had heard last night how Hank revealed details of his personal life to Elizabeth. She swallowed a sharp stab of jealousy and trained her gaze on Elizabeth’s inscrutable one. “How would you help me win?”
