“Okay, spill it. What really happened? And don’t try to feed me some line about ‘being careful.’ You look like you’ve seen a ghost. A very annoying, probably expensive-suit-wearing ghost.”
She sighed, the weight of everything catching up to her in a rush. “Nathaniel paid me a visit last night. Late.”
Jack’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “Did he...are you okay? Did he try anything?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” she assured him quickly. “He was just a bit unsettling. All smiles and charm on the surface, but something was off. He kept talking about how he was there for Lolly and could be there for me too.” She waggled her eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.”
Jack’s fists tightened at his sides. He was trying to hold it together, but the storm brewing behind his eyes was impossible to miss. It tugged at something deep inside her, seeing how fiercely protective he was.
“Jack?” she said softly, touching his arm. “What is it?”
He let out a long breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I just hate that he came here and made you feel unsafe. I should’ve been here.”
She shook her head, guilt pressing down on her. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. And, honestly, I’m the one who should’ve known better.”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Nathaniel said something last night, something I didn’t want to believe.” She bit her lip, struggling to get out the words. “He told me Lolly didn’t take out the loan just because of the café. She did it for me. To pay for my college, to cover my expenses...I’m the reason she had to make that deal with him.” Her voice cracked as the truth hit her. “It’s my fault we’re going to lose the café, Jack. All of this. It’s because of me.”
She took a shaky breath, swallowing hard. “I moved to New York because I needed a fresh start. But that fresh start cost my grandmother everything. I wasn’t here. I didn’t see what she was going through. If I had—” Her voice faltered. “She trusted me, and I let her down.”
Jack’s eyes softened, concern written all over his face, but before he could respond, Aggie, Bea, and Winston stormed into the kitchen, clearly having eavesdropped on every word.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Aggie huffed, her arms crossed, ready to give her a good talking-to. “If I hear one more word about this being your fault, I’m going to throw this wooden spoon at you, Cora.”
Bea nodded solemnly, brandishing a dish towel like a backup weapon. “And I’ll be right behind her.”
Aggie stepped closer, her voice gentler now. “Sweetheart,you don’t always need a fresh start. Sometimes, you just need a fresh perspective.”
“Exactly,” Bea chimed in, her voice firm. “You didn’t force Lolly to do anything she didn’t want to do. That woman was as stubborn as a mule in a cornfield. Helping you was her choice, and I know she’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Winston adjusted his suspenders and gave a solemn nod. “And for the record, I’ve never seen her smile bigger than when she talked about you. Well, except for that time someone brought her a pineapple upside-down cake and a shirtless fireman in the same afternoon.”
A tear slipped down Cora’s cheek before she could stop it. Jack gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand.
Aggie tapped her spoon on the counter. “Now, enough of this pity party. We’ve got a festival float to decorate, and I don’t want to spend the day wallowing.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cora spent the rest of the week holed up inside The Spoon, surrounded by cardboard boxes, stale coffee cups, and the ghosts of better days, while the rest of Sunrise twirled and two-stepped its way through the Honeysuckle Festival. The irony wasn’t lost on her. The town’s biggest event of the year was happening right alongside her personal apocalypse, as if life was throwing a parade while she prepared for a funeral.
She taped shut another box, scrawlingRandom Stuffon the side because, honestly, who cared? She didn’t know where any of it was going. Storage? Donation? The bottom of the Atlantic? All options seemed equally likely.
Lolly would’ve dragged her to the festival, no question. But today, the only thing dragging her anywhere was the looming deadline, and it wasn’t heading toward funnel cakes and Ferris wheels.
It wasn’t that people had forgotten her. They’d been popping in to check on her in that polite, “I’m-worried-but-too-busy” way people do. Jack had been stopping by every night to bring her dinner. He always made Lolly’s favorites—shrimp gumbo, fried green tomatoes, sweet potato pie.
And the worst part? He’d snap a picture of whatever dish he’d made. “For posterity,” he’d say with a wink. But it feltmore like he was documenting the slow death of Lolly’s dream. To Cora, each meal was another farewell, a slow countdown to the end of The Salty Spoon.
Jack didn’t stick around for long. He’d drop off dinner, chat for five minutes over the kitchen island, kiss her forehead, and vanish. It was weird. Was he giving her space? Or avoiding his own stuff? She couldn’t tell which, and she didn’t have the energy to care.
Aggie had been by too, breezing in with her whirlwind energy, always smiling, always offering chipper comments about how “things will work out.” She’d ask for more Lolly stories, hoping a little nostalgia would lift Cora’s spirits. But no matter how many sweet memories she dug up, they didn’t lighten the weight pressing on Cora’s chest. She gave Aggie what she wanted and forced a smile, but she was just going through the motions.
The sounds of the festival drifted in through the window. The faint strains of live music and the excited squeals of kids racing down Main Street were not-so-gentle reminders that while everyone else was twirling through life, she was packing up Lolly’s in boxes.
The door jingled behind her, and she didn’t bother to turn around. Probably Jack, back with tonight’s farewell dinner special.Here, have some fried chicken and a side of dread.
“Hey.”
