Cora stepped forward, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Lincoln, this is important. It might be the key to saving the café.”
His hands stilled. For a long moment, the only sounds were the distant call of seagulls and the soft lap of water against the shore. Then, with a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagged under the weight of something old and unresolved.
“All right,” he finally said. “But not out here. Come on inside.”
As they settled into the living room, Gramps’s eyes drifted, staring at something far beyond the faded wallpaper and creaky floors. He sat in silence for a long time before speaking.
“I met Lolly at The Salty Spoon, back when it first opened,” he began, his words slow, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to let them out. “She was saving up for college, working behind the counter. I took one look at her and ...” He trailed off, lost in the memory.
“And?” Cora prompted gently.
He blinked, pulling himself back to the present. “And I suddenly developed a powerful appetite for mediocre coffee.”
He shot Jack a knowing look, and Cora shifted closer on the couch. Jack ignored the urge to slide his arm around her and pull her in even tighter.
“But Lolly’s parents had different plans,” Lincoln continued, his voice hardening as old memories resurfaced. “They didn’t want her with a mechanic like me. They had their sights set on someone with the status of Tobias Worthington.”
At the mention of Worthington, Jack’s muscles tightened, his jaw clenching so hard it sent a dull ache through his skull. Of course it all led back to him. Jack’s hand curled into a fist against the armrest, anger bubbling just under the surface. Before he could let it take over, Cora’s hand moved to his thigh, light but steady. Her touch grounded him, pulling him back. He glanced at her, and she gave him a small, reassuring nod. She turned back to Lincoln, her voice calm but firm.
“What happened next? Did you and Lolly meet in secret?”
Gramps nodded, but then hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, it wasn’t like that, not at first. We were friends.” He glanced at Jack and sighed. “Okay, maybe more than friends. But it had to be secret. Her parents would’ve had a fit if they knew she was seeing me.” He paused, eyes drifting toward the window again. “But we had a plan. I was saving up, and we were going to run off together. Start fresh, away from her parents and their expectations.”
Cora leaned forward, teasing him. “Let me guess, you fell in love with her cooking, right? Seems to be a theme around here.”
Lincoln let out a full, rich laugh. “Lord, no. That girl couldn’t boil water without setting something on fire. I’m the one who taught her to cook. Late nights in The Salty Spoon’s kitchen, after her parents had gone to bed.”
Cora blinked. “Wait...youtaught Lolly to cook?” Her voice cracked with disbelief. “But I’ve seen her recipes. She was a kitchen goddess.”
Lincoln chuckled, his eyes soft with the memory. “Not when I met her. Back then, Lolly couldn’t make toast. I had to show her the basics. She didn’t even know how to boil an egg.”
“You’re telling me the woman who was famous for her cooking couldn’t always cook?” Cora’s laugh hung in the air, her eyes widening as the truth sunk in. It was as if a weight lifted off her shoulders. Her grandmother, the legend, had once been just as lost.
Jack watched her process it, her fingers fidgeting in her lap, and—for a second—he almost saw a piece of her settle into place.
But as he looked at her, his mind also spun. The Lolly he knew was untouchable in the kitchen. The thought that she’d once needed lessons? That didn’t sit right. “You really taught Lolly to cook?” he asked, still trying to wrap his head around it.
Lincoln didn’t miss a beat. “Jackie, where do you think you got your talent from?”
His words pulled Jack back to the kitchen of his childhood. He pictured himself standing on a rickety stool, stirring gumbo or flipping pancakes while Gramps showed him the ropes. His grandfather had never said much, just handed him a spoon, told him to taste, and to trust his instincts. He’d learned more by his side than in any fancy kitchen he’d ever worked in.
Cora leaned forward on the edge of her seat. “So, what happened? How did it all go wrong?”
Gramps’s face darkened. Without a word, he stood up and moved to the window. For a moment, Jack thought he wouldn’t answer. His hands gripped the windowsill, shoulders tense. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
“It was the night of the Honeysuckle Festival. Lolly had just been crowned queen, and I was looking for her. I wanted to steal a kiss before she went back to playing the perfect daughter.” He paused, fists tightening at the memory. “That’s when I saw Tobias with her. He had his hands on her. She was saying no, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her go.”
The room seemed to freeze. Cora stiffened beside Jack, her body tensing with the same anger that shot through him. Her hand found his, and he laced their fingers together, squeezing tight.
“And I couldn’t take it. He didn’t own her, despite what he seemed to think. So I stepped in,” Lincoln continued, his voice sharp with anger. “Told Tobias to back off. He didn’t like that. We fought, and ...” He trailed off, lost in the memory.
Cora’s voice was barely a whisper. “He died.”
Lincoln nodded, his eyes still fixed on something outside. “And because he was a Worthington, nobody wanted to hear my side of it. Lolly...well, her parents made sure she stayed quiet. Told her it was her fault.”
Cora looked sick. The weight of it, of what she’d found out about Lolly, the town, and the Worthingtons, settled heavily in the room.
“So you went to prison,” Jack said, piecing it all together. “You took the fall.”
