French Roast (26 page)

Chapter 34

M
ac, I think you’ve addressed all my questions,” the head of the planning commission said. “I can’t officially tell you which way I’m voting, but I can tell you not to lose any sleep over it.”

The two men shook hands. Jill had to hold herself in check. Doing a celebration dance in public would look immature, but they now
unofficially
had enough votes for Mac’s plans to pass.

“Jill, we’re delighted you’re involved. We know it will make the whole project reflect our community.”

She took Lane Brikens’ hands in a warm clasp. “I’ll do my best for the town.”

“We know you will. I’ll see you at the meeting.”

Jill sank back into her chair, watching his humpty-dumpty figure cross the restaurant.

Mac crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, a Cheshire grin on his face. “Okay, now you can let loose.”

“You won’t think any less of me?”

He huffed out a laugh, unbuttoning his navy suit jacket like it was his one concession to relaxation. “No. In fact, if you didn’t, I would think it out of character.”

“We have enough votes,” she chanted, clinking her fork against her plate like it was a drum stick.

“Yes, we do,” he murmured, tugging a yellow poker chip from his pocket and rolling it across his fingers. “You do good work. Not that I’m surprised.”

“Back at ya.” She threw her hands out. “It’s why you hired me.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Have you decided to join me full-time yet? I’ll add another third to the salary I quoted you. You’re worth it.”

Her mouth dropped open. This acknowledgement from someone like Mac was everything she’d ever wanted. “Are you serious?”

He pocketed the chip. “Damn straight. You’re a kindred spirit. A natural rainmaker. If I don’t tie you up, you’ll be running this town before long.”

The daydream went wild. More brightly-painted shops lining Main Street with cute names. Her hot self flitting in and out of her businesses. People waving to her. Calling her a business prodigy. Hell, she could run for mayor.

She fingered her heart-shaped pendant, so proud to be wearing it. Brian’s reaction had melted her heart.

“I told you! I’ll let you know
after
the vote.” She didn’t want to share her whole saga, though, so she said the first thing she could think of. “I don’t want to jinx anything.”

He snapped his posh burgundy leather briefcase shut. “You’re not a woman to be rushed. I’m trying to respect that. Let me take you back to your other job—for now.”

When he dropped her off at the coffee shop, she darted for the door to escape the cold. Damn, she was tired of winter, which only made her think about why she and Jemma had started PolarFest. Depressing.

The early evening crowd hummed with activity. Students took breaks from studying, their discarded textbooks unopened. Friends huddled close, laughing and smiling, letting go of the challenges of the day. The milk frother roared under the low jazzy voice of Miles Davis. Cold nights, the darkness descending down the snowy mountains, and the heat from the gas fireplace all made Don’t Soy with Me the perfect place to unwind. New artwork from the public school’s second grade class hung in funky frames on the walls, adding to the ambiance.

Margie waved her over. “When is the coffee order going in?”

Shit. She’d forgotten about it. “Right now.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Jill made a face and hustled back to her office. She sank into the chair and shuffled through her files for their ongoing order, adding notes in the margins about new products they’d agree to try on her patrons. What would people think of the java from Indonesia? A knock on the door gave her a start.

“Knock, knock,” said a familiar, age-roughened voice. “I thought it was time for me to see how you’re doing in person.” Her grandfather made his way forward, tapping his cane. He held a coffee cup. “Peace offering.”

She’d wanted to be like him ever since she was a little girl, so it had frustrated her when her journalism classes had bored her to tears. Who wanted to go through life being objective? Telling the news. She wanted to live it all in technicolor. He’d never been disappointed in her, but she felt he was now. He was from another time, and moving in with a man who wasn’t your husband simply didn’t work for him.

“I’m glad you came,” she said, her words their own olive branch. The cup warmed her hand when she took it from him.

The brow he raised should have been waxed when Kennedy was president. “Meredith’s on a rampage after seeing Brian and that French woman at Hairy’s last night, discussing some sort of menu. And your mother…well, you know how she feels.”

The spasms in her gut intensified. It made sense for Brian to talk with
that woman,
but she still felt a pinch of jealousy.

“This whole moving in with Brian thing was so fast, which got me thinking.” He peered down his nose at her. “You aren’t pregnant, are you, girlie?”

“What?” The cup spilled when she flailed her arm. “Shit.” She plucked her coffee order out of the way with the speed of a pedestrian fleeing an approaching bus. Hefting a wad of Kleenex onto the spill, she mopped it up and tossed the soggy mess in her garbage can. “No, of course not,” she said, secretly praying it was true.

He clapped. “Thank God you didn’t go into acting,” her grandfather harrumphed, folding his hands across his lap.

Brezhnev hadn’t fooled her grandfather during the Cold War, and she didn’t have a prayer.

Eyes as sharp as a red-tailed hawk’s pinned her in place. “You are, aren’t you?” He clucked his tongue. “So, one mystery solved. I can’t believe your mother and Mere didn’t think of that.”

Her whole body flushed red as she realized she couldn’t lie to him. “Look, I don’t know yet.” Her damn period hadn’t shown up yet, but she kept telling herself it would any day. She lowered her head into her hands. “How did you guess?”

The chair scraped on the floor as he moved around. His hand stroked her back. “Reporter’s deductive reasoning. Come here, kiddo.”

“Oh, Grandpa,” she cried, resting her head against his chest and finally giving into all the emotions she’d been trying to bottle. When he bent down, she smelled the familiar scent of red hots.

“Here now, it’s not the end of the world. Not the best situation, I’ll grant you, with this French tart in town, but you’re a tough girl and a Hale. You’ll pull through.”

His support surprised her. “You’re not disappointed?”

His hand gently whacked the back of her head. “I’m not delighted that you’re shacking up with Brian without a ring on your finger, I won’t lie, but it doesn’t make me love you any less. You’re tougher on yourself than I could ever be. I’ve reached an age where I’ve seen enough of life to know one thing.”

Tears popped into her eyes. She sniffed and reached for a Kleenex, relieved that he wasn’t as upset as she’d thought. “What’s that?”

“I only want you to be happy, and if I can help with that, then I’m on the case. Of course, part of me wants to kick McConnell in the balls, but that won’t solve diddly.”

“It’s not just his fault. It—”

“Takes two, I know, but he’s an easy target. Were you keeping us in the dark because you knew we’d be angry with him now that his ex-girlfriend is thinking about staying and buying Morty’s place? Please tell me you’re not allowing Brian to go into business with that woman. There’s no way that woman doesn’t have an agenda.”

The tissue slid from her hand. Suddenly, it was like gravity had sucked everything down. Her mouth. Her hands. Even her legs.

“She’s thinking about
staying?
”

He rubbed his hip and leaned on her desk. “You didn’t know?”

Her mind flashed back to the first day she and Brian had moved in together. Was that what he’d wanted to tell her? That they were going to open a restaurant in Dare
together?
It would be the best of both worlds for him. And it would mean he wouldn’t really have to choose her—not like she wanted.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. How was she supposed to handle him working with that woman day in and day out when she knew she was planning to win him back? “How did you find out?”

“Morty Wilson gave her an advance tour before the property officially hits the market. Said she was charming.”

“Charming!” Everyone seemed to fall under her spell. She sank back into her chair.

“I can see the misery on your face.” He tapped her crown. “Seems like this is news to you.”

“Yeah, Morty left a message for me to call him, but I haven’t had time yet,” she replied in a listless voice.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Right. “Brian tried to tell me, I think.” She didn’t want anyone to heap more blame on Brian. She stood up, needing to move. “We moved in together to see if we could work things out between us before deciding on our career options. We agreed to table all the difficult stuff.”

Her grandpa’s whistle pierced her ear. “What kind of stupid idea is not talking about the tough stuff? That’s what relationships are all about.”

She stomped her foot. “I know that, but we didn’t think we could make it without some…stupid moratorium.”

When he pulled her into a hug, she wrapped her arms around his waist, his wool cardigan tickling her nose.

“Well, at least he’ll be here if you’re pregnant.”

“I don’t want to be pregnant,” she whispered. “Does that make me a bad person?”

His sigh couldn’t have been more heart-felt. “No, sweetheart. Only human.”

“Oh, grandpa. It looks like we have enough votes to get the hotel passed. I want to work for Mac.” Her voice was so soft she could have been in a confessional admitting to a mortal sin. “He’s great, and it’s an incredible opportunity for me.”

He leaned back, his faded blue-jean eyes rimmed with the laugh and worry lines of a long, full life. “You’re like me, Jill. You want to build empires. I knew it when we started playing Monopoly when you were eight. You always had to have your hand in everything.”

A headache spread across the base of her skull. “I don’t want Brian to open a place with that woman here in Dare even if it keeps him here. She does want him back.” Could she support his decision and trust him to stay true to her? God, that was like trust with all capitals.

“Of course she does.”

“But he wants to be a serious chef, and I don’t see that happening here, especially since I’d rather work for Mac than open a restaurant with Brian.” She didn’t need the vote, after all, to know what she’d decided. “But I love him. I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“I’ve missed you, Grandpa.”

He tightened his grip. “I’ve missed you too, missy. If something like this happens again, God forbid, I hope you’ll remember I’m not some judgmental ogre. I love you, kid.”

She burrowed her face into his sweater, smelling Old Spice. “I love you too.”

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?”

There was a hidden meaning in his words. She didn’t want to go there. “Okay.”

He released her and used the desk as a prop to get back to his cane. “The rest of the family might want to kick Brian’s butt, but they love you too. Now, go talk with your sister. She’s upset. Her copy is suffering.”

Jill doubted that since Meredith had written kick-ass articles even through her divorce. “You’ve got it.”

“Well, better get back to my own empire. And so should you,” he added, tapping her nose. “Still can’t believe people pay that much for a cup of coffee. In my time…” His voice trailed off as he shut the door behind him.

Jill put her head in her hands. Her mind was spewing up all sorts of scenarios. Stop, she ordered her thoughts and reached for the coffee order. After placing it, she left the office, steering her emotions back inside. Time to make things right with Meredith.

***

Tracking down her sister wasn’t tough. Jill knew she’d be at work. When she walked into the headquarters of
The Western Independent
, phones were ringing everywhere and people were arguing passionately over sentences. Ink and paper had never smelled as good to her as coffee, but the combo warmed her heart nonetheless. Memories of coming here after school, her dad and grandpa letting her design her own ad for the lemonade stand she ran with Brian or write an announcement for her Oscar-winning role in the Christmas play, rushed over her. Nostalgia sang through her veins.

Jill knocked on the open door. The proverbial Hale red pen halted on the page. Meredith looked up and frowned.

Shutting the door behind her, Jill slid her hands into her coat pockets. “I know you’re pissed at me—and hurt. I am too, but I don’t want it to be this way anymore. I’m sorry we fought, but I felt like you weren’t trusting me to make my own decisions…and you were being super hard on Brian when I need to work out my feelings for him—my own way.” She took a deep breath to ease the tightness in her chest. “Plus, there’s something else I need to tell you. I…there’s a chance I might be pregnant and didn’t want to tell anyone in case I wasn’t.”

Meredith blinked a few times. Put down her pen slowly. When she didn’t respond, Jill continued. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed or worried if there was no reason for it. Plus, I was scared you’d tell mom.”

Standing, her sister crossed the space between them and gripped her shoulders. “You might be pregnant?” Her green eyes bugged so wide, her irises looked like Jupiter’s ring. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, holy shit.”

Her hands slid down her arms. “Mom’s going to have a cow.”

“See, I knew you’d tell her.” She jumped up and down. “Listen to me. I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet.”

A ping sounded, signaling an email. “Wow, it’s a shock. So him moving in was about—”

“Needing to see if we can make our personal life work when we have a lot of other decisions looming, like Mac’s offer for me and that French chick’s offer for Brian. And I wanted to see how we’d work as a fully functional couple before finding out for sure about the whole …pregnancy thing.”

“Wow,” Meredith commented dryly. “That
is
a lot. And I don’t know how to tell you this, but Tanner took Brian aside at the bar yesterday…”