Aggie had her little recorder sitting unobtrusively next to her plate, quietly capturing their conversation. She pressed buttons here and there, but didn’t make a show of it, as if thiswas her way of preserving the night. Winston launched into a tale about Lolly’s infamous victory at the town’s mechanical bull-riding competition. Apparently, she had a hidden knack for hanging on to things that didn’t want to be held.
“And she did it in a dress,” Winston added, his eyes wide, like he still couldn’t believe it all these years later. “I’ll never forget the look on everyone’s face when she hopped off, cool as a cucumber, like she’d just gone for a stroll in the park.”
Bea jumped in, unwilling to be outdone in the Lolly-story department. “Remember when she convinced the mayor to turn Main Street into a roller derby rink for Thanksgiving and then released a bunch of live turkeys in the middle of it? Feathers were flying everywhere. Half the town was on skates, and the other half were just trying not to get flattened. I think that’s when we all agreed Lolly shouldn’t be allowed to organize anything again.”
Cora laughed, wiping butter from her chin. “That’s why everyone loved her, though. You never knew if she was going to bake you cookies or challenge you to a foot race.”
It was one of those nights that felt like a time capsule, a few precious hours stolen from the mess hanging over, something they could tuck away and return to whenever they needed to remember. The laughter was real, but beneath it was an unspoken weight, a quiet acknowledgment that this might be one of their last nights together at The Spoon.
As the evening wore on, the wind outside picked up, rattling the shutters and hinting at incoming bad weather. Aggie noticed it first, glancing out the window with a frown. “We’ve got a storm coming,” she said, standing and gathering her things. The others followed her lead. Bea slipped on her sweater, and Winston tucked away his ever-present notebook.
Jack lingered as the others headed out, the distant rumble of thunder creeping closer. He turned to Cora, his expression soft. “Want me to stick around? You know, with the weather.”
She met his gaze, the warmth of his offer wrappingaround her. As much as she appreciated it, she knew what she needed tonight. “Thanks,” she said quietly, “but I think I need to be alone with Lolly tonight.”
He hesitated, studying her for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” he said. “But if you change your mind ...”
She smiled faintly. “I know where to find you.”
He kissed her goodnight—soft and slow, like they had all the time in the world—then she stood on the porch, watching as he walked to his truck. The wind tugged at his shirt, and for a moment she thought about calling him back. But she didn’t.
Once she got back inside, the silence of the café felt thick, and reality settled in. The storm outside was creeping closer, and a stack of Lolly’s papers sat waiting for her at the counter. But one question still circled in her mind, and it was the question she’d tried and failed to get Nathaniel to answer: why in the world would Lolly take out a loan from the Worthingtons?
Lolly knew better. She was practical and sensible...yet Cora was knee-deep in her financial mess, trying to make sense of something that didn’t add up. She never even knew Lolly needed money. She always seemed fine. She paid for Cora’s college tuition without blinking and sent her money “just because.”
Cora thought back to the night before she’d left Sunrise for New York City. The café had been dark, the chairs flipped, and Lolly was pouring them both sweet tea.
“You don’t owe this place anything, sugar,” Lolly had said gently. “Least of all your twenties.”
Cora had blinked fast, her jaw set tight. “It’s not that I don’t love it here. I just need more. Something that’s all mine.”
Lolly had nodded like she’d understood. Because of course she did. She always did. “You were never meant to make gravy for a living. You were meant to live bright andloud. Just promise me you won’t stop eating carbs when you make it big.”
They’d both laughed, but Cora had packed her bags that night with tears in her eyes and a color-coded plan in hand.
Now, standing in the very place she’d left behind, Cora’s chest tightened with guilt.How could someone so generous hide that they were struggling?
Frustration bubbled up as she flipped through another stack of papers, feeling that she was trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. From everything Cora had seen, Lolly wasn’t desperate. She hadn’t needed to make a deal with Nathaniel Worthington, of all people. And yet, somehow, she had.
The café was eerily quiet now, the faint hum of the fridge the only sound, along with the occasional creak of the old building settling. The stillness should’ve been calming, but instead it pressed in on her, the unanswered questions growing louder with every passing minute.
She was about to call it a night when a sharp knock at the door nearly sent her tumbling out of her chair. Heart pounding, she glanced toward the window, wondering who in their right mind would show up this late. For a split second, she hoped it was only the wind. But when she peered outside, she realized she wasn’t that lucky.
Nathaniel Worthington.
Of course.
Against her better judgment, she shuffled to the door and unlocked it. “Nathaniel,” she said, forcing a smile. “What brings you by so late?” She tried to sound casual, like they were old friends catching up over sweet tea, not mortal enemies in some small-town soap opera.
His smile widened as he stepped inside, smooth and confident. “I was passing by and saw the light on. Thought I’d check in, see how everything is going.”
Uh-huh. Sure.Because nothing screamsjust passing bylikean eleven p.m. visit to someone you’re about to financially ruin. She resisted the urge to point out that his thin excuse was as believable as Aggie’s claim that her crochet needles were magic wands. Instead, she plastered on a polite, Southern-girl smile. “That’s thoughtful of you. But as you can see, I’m doing some late-night organizing. Nothing exciting.”
Nathaniel’s gaze flicked to the papers scattered on the counter. “Trying to tie up some loose ends before the loan comes due in”—he made a dramatic show of glancing at his watch—“one week?”
“I’m aware of the timeline, thanks,” she said, her teeth clenched so tight she worried they might crack.
He took another step forward, casually boxing her in against the counter. His cologne hit her like a wall, too strong and too expensive for a room that still carried the scent of cinnamon rolls. “I’m only trying to help, Cora,” he said, his voice coated in that too-smooth concern. “The Worthington family has always been there for the people of Sunrise in times of need. I was there for your grandmother, and I can be there for you too.”
