If she hadn’t gone to college, would Lolly have needed the loan? If she hadn’t let Lolly send her money, would the café still be hers, safe and thriving? She wanted to go back in time and tell her to stop. To insist that she didn’t need her help. But it was too late for that now. Too late to change anything.
Nathaniel’s words echoed in her head,She needed the money, and I was only being neighborly.
Neighborly? What a joke. He hadn’t been helping Lolly out of kindness; he’d been waiting, biding his time, ready to snatch the café from under her. And now, Cora was standing in the wreckage of Lolly’s choices—choices she had made because of her.
The weight of it was crushing.
Before she could speak, the café door opened. For a second, her heart leaped, hoping Jack would come storming in, ready to throw Nathaniel out on his pompous behind. But no, this time, it really was just the wind.
Nathaniel chuckled but stepped back slightly, his confidence wavering. “Quite the dramatic weather, isn’t it?”
She forced herself to stand, her legs shaky but steady enough. “Yeah, well, I should close up before it gets worse. Thanks for stopping by.”
He lingered in the doorway, eyes gleaming with a thinly veiled threat. “Of course. But do think about what I said,Cora. The Worthingtons can be powerful friends...if you’ll let us.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she held his gaze until he turned and walked out the door.
She waited until his taillights disappeared down the road before stepping outside, the wind tugging at her hair as she crouched to retrieve the spare key from its hiding place under the porch pot. Her hands were still shaking as she locked the door behind her.
Powerful friends.The implication echoed in her mind. He hadn’t needed to say the rest. She knew exactly what kind of enemies they could be too.
She needed twelve showers, and maybe an exorcist, to rid the café of the creep factor that lingered after he left. She leaned against the door, drawing a shaky breath. It was like the next-to-the-last scene in a horror movie. The one where the monster walks away, but everybody knows he’s not gone for good.
As she turned toward the pile of documents on Lolly’s desk, the dread returned, heavier this time. She finally had her answer. Lolly had asked for that loan...for her. When the bank wouldn’t give it to her, she’d made a deal with the devil.
And now, Cora had to live with that.
The insistent bangingon the café door jolted Cora from a fitful sleep. The sun was up, but it still felt like the middle of the night. She groaned, burying her head under a pillow, wondering, not for the first time, if it was some sort of Southern tradition to bang on people’s doors at ungodly hours. Was this how they did hospitality down here now? Forget the sweet tea, just startle everybody awake before breakfast.
“Go away,” she mumbled into her pillow, hoping that whoever was trying to break down the door would take the hint and let her wallow in her exhaustion.
No such luck. The banging continued, and now it came with voices. Familiar ones.
“Cora Jean Lockwood! You open this door right now, or I swear on Ethel Simmons’s prize-winning pickles, I’ll sic my garden gnomes on you!”
She snorted despite herself. Only Aggie would think ceramic lawn decor could be used as a weapon. She reluctantly dragged herself out of bed, not even bothering to change out of Lolly’s old Grateful Dead T-shirt and fuzzy pajama pants covered in cartoon squirrels.
She stumbled down the stairs and landed in an ungraceful heap at the bottom, face to face with a dust bunny the size of Texas. She dragged herself up and peeked through the window. Sure enough, there they were, just like every morning. Aggie was rocking her rhinestone glasses, Bea balanced a basket of muffins, and Winston tugged at his bacon-printed bowtie. And then there was Jack...looking like Jack. Too handsome for this early in the morning, wearing a look of concern that made her heart flip.
She sighed, unlocked the door, and braced herself for whatever small-town chaos awaited her.
“Well, it’s about time!” Aggie announced, barging past her. “We’ve been out here long enough to grow roots. The spare key’s gone, and the door’s locked tighter than Mildred’s girdle at the church picnic?—”
“Good morning to you too, Aggie,” Cora mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “Coffee. I need coffee before I can deal with all...this.” She waved a hand at the whole scene unfolding in her café.
Before she could make a move toward the coffeepot, Jack was in front of her, holding out a steaming takeout cup from The Bean. The name Jake was scrawled across the side. “Figured you might need this,” he said, his voice low and rough.
It sent a shiver down her spine. Despite her bedhead, morning breath, and the suspicion that she had yesterday’s mascara smudged under her eyes, she managed a breathy, “Thanks.”
Jack’s gaze lingered on her, his eyes intense, unreadable, and she swore her heart skipped a beat.
“Cora,” Winston’s gentle voice cut through the moment. “Is everything all right? It’s not like you to lock up so tight. And with the spare key missing ...”
“Oh, um, yeah. Everything’s fine.” She felt Jack’s eyes on her, seeing right through her flimsy excuse. Darn him and his perceptiveness. “I just thought it might be safer. Can’t be too careful these days.”
“Right,” Jack said slowly, clearly not buying it. “Hey, mind if I borrow you for a sec? I’ve got a question about that thing we were working on.”
Before she could argue, Jack was already guiding her toward the kitchen, away from the others’ curious stares. Once they were alone, his playful smirk faded, replaced by a look of concern that made her heart flip again.
