The Second Chance Café (Hope Springs, #1) (6 page)

O
n Tuesday, Kaylie was up at first light to let Magoo outside. The dog had a schedule, and her job was to stick to it, but that didn’t mean she had to go with him while he did his thing. Her closest neighbor in the unzoned and most bucolic section of Hope Springs was a half mile down Second Street. The adjoining lot on Chances Avenue was undeveloped and overgrown. Magoo had quickly learned the boundaries of his yard. That left Kaylie free to brew her morning coffee and bolster herself to see Ten.

Strange that she felt the need to do that. She shouldn’t feel the need to do that. She’d hired him to do a job, but their synergy on Saturday as they’d discussed her plans had left her rather weak in the knees. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling; not in the least. But her schedule didn’t have time for it; her life didn’t have room for it. Once the renovations were complete, he’d no longer be part of her day-to-day life. As long as they stuck strictly to business, she wouldn’t be left to deal with the complications that came with even temporary emotional bonds.

Coffee poured, creamed, and sweetened, she crossed to the kitchen window to check on Magoo, bringing her mug to her mouth and seeing as she did that she had company.
The woman standing at the end of Kaylie’s driveway could only be described as exotic. Her hair was waist length, as straight as a needle, as black as onyx. A headband pulled it away from her face, and Kaylie couldn’t even imagine the weight of it against the woman’s back.

Along with skinny jeans and a coral linen tee, she wore a colorful scarf looped like a necklace of fringe. Rather than continuing the T-shirt’s color scheme, however, it served as an accent, the colors of indigo and ocean green and deep violet woven like an undersea current. And she wore the most gorgeous pair of suede boots in the same purple shade.

Magoo, the friendliest guard dog on the planet, having introduced himself and received a nose rub in return, now led her toward the back door. Kaylie pushed it open to meet them.

“Hi,” the woman said, her voice no more accented than Kaylie’s, which came as a surprise. “I’m Luna. I’m looking for Kaylie Flynn.”

“You’ve found her. What can I do—” Kaylie took in the colors in the scarf, the pattern, the story they told. She’d fondled a similar one in an Austin boutique that carried the Patchwork Moon collection, the label’s design including the artist’s signature, but decided she couldn’t justify such an extravagant purchase when she wore chef whites all day and pajamas all night. “You’re not Luna Meadows, are you?”

Luna nodded, her smile momentarily stiff before softening. “I am, though most people don’t know me from Eve.”

And Kaylie, drawn to the other woman’s honesty the way she’d been drawn to Ten’s, could tell she liked it that way. “Then mum’s the word, and I’ll make sure Magoo there keeps quiet, too.”

“He’s a beautiful dog.”

“Thanks, I think so.” She gestured toward the kitchen, curious as to why Luna Meadows would be looking for her. “Would you like to come in? I only have bar stools to sit on, and nothing to offer you but coffee or water.”

“Water is fine, and I’d love to see the place. I understand you’re doing some renovations.”

So word was getting around. “I am, yes, with plans to open a café.”

“The café is actually why I’m here.” The screen door bounced closed behind both women and the dog. Luna perched on the stool Kaylie offered. “I was at a craft show in Gruene over the weekend. That’s where I heard the news. I used to work there at the Gristmill Restaurant, and if it’s true that you’re interviewing for a cook…”

“Oh, definitely,” Kaylie said, handing Luna a bottle of water, amazed that not only was word spreading, it was leaving Hope Springs—even if Gruene was only a few miles east.

“Good. I know someone who might be perfect.”

“Would it happen to be Dolly Breeze? Because her daughter-in-law sang me her praises last week.”

“Dolly would be an excellent choice, but no. This is someone else.”

Topping off her coffee, Kaylie glanced toward the other woman. “Why don’t you have her, or him, come by and talk to me?”

“I will, but could I ask first about your plans? Your hours, your menu.” Luna toyed with a nick in the bottle’s label. “I hate to be pushy, but I don’t want to waste your time or his if things don’t sound like a good fit.”

“Sure.” That made sense. “I’ll be open for weekday lunches only. At least to start. If there’s a demand, I may add weekends and dinners down the road.” She took a sip of her coffee, then took the bar stool across from Luna’s at the island. “As far as the menu goes, each day there’ll be a single entrée, along with salad and bread. For dessert, brownies. I’ll handle those. And I have a wonderful recipe for hot rolls the size of your head,” she said, and thought of the Thanksgiving story she’d told Ten. “Those I’d prefer
not
to handle, though I can.”

Luna nodded, her expression thoughtful. “What about your main dishes? You said there’ll just be one?”

“For now,” Kaylie replied. “The café service will be set up buffet style, so I’ll have to see how it’s all received. The entrées will be…hearty and nurturing, as well as nourishing. I’m competing with fast-food burgers and fries and taco trucks and buckets of chicken with potatoes and gravy. I’ll never win over the Lean Cuisine crowd, but that’s the beauty of self-serve and bushels of salad.”

“Let your conscience fill your plate.”

“Exactly.”

“And your entrées?”

“Casseroles, primarily. Lasagna. Baked ziti. King Ranch Chicken. Stacked spinach enchiladas.” Kaylie found herself smiling, her stomach rumbling. She needed breakfast before she skipped it and went straight for lunch. “Things that aren’t all Italian or Tex-Mex, which is why I need the cook, because that’s where my mind wants to go.”

A dimple in her cheek, Luna lifted a brow. “Are you sure it’s your mind in charge?”

“When it comes to food? Never.”

For the next half hour, and much to Kaylie’s surprised delight, the two women talked about everything under the sun. After explaining the workings of Two Owls, Kaylie learned her guest had grown up in the area and still lived on her parents’ farm. It was there, at Meadows Land, on the far edge of Hope Springs, where her father raised the sheep that produced the wool her mother spun and dyed, and Luna then wove into scarves.

“Why scarves? Why not shawls, or rugs?”

“Because I have a short attention span? A need for instant gratification?” Luna laughed. “A scarf can be done fairly quickly, as long as I have inspiration and the right yarn. And not a lot of other things going on. Like shopping. Or sleeping. Or tubing down the Guadalupe. A shawl would probably take me the rest of my life.”

Kaylie shared the other woman’s love of shopping and sleeping, though she had never done so much as dip a toe into the Guadalupe or the Comal. She’d been busy with school, then busy with work, and without close girlfriends—or guy friends—she’d been on her own. Luna made her promise to join her for a rafting trip, and without giving it a second thought, Kaylie agreed, hungry for the society this new relationship offered, though she did extract a return promise from Luna to show her the workings of a loom.

It was girl talk, punctuated with waved hands and wide eyes and nodded understanding. It was comfortable, natural, familiar when familiarity made no sense. Yet as their bond blossomed, Kaylie opened up, as if a door shut tight for years had flung wide. “Depending on how
much
news is getting out, you may not know that I used to live here.”

“In Hope Springs?”

“In this house. I came here when I was ten.”

“You must’ve lived with the Wises,” Luna said.

“Did you know them? Would I have known you? We’re about the same age, I think, but I’ve forgotten most of the kids I grew up with.”

But the other woman was already shaking her head. “I went to a private school. And I only know of the Wises from hearing their names come up in conversation.”

“Do they come up a lot?” Kaylie asked, wondering why they would, in what context. Wondering if anyone ever talked about her, about what had happened. Who might know more than she did and could answer questions, or point her to where she could find them.

“No, but they were very well thought of. I know Dolly Breeze was good friends with May, and Dolly’s heavily involved in the local craft scene. She’s the one I heard talking about your café.”

“May Wise is the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t know where I’d be today if my caseworker hadn’t sent me here.” She wrapped both hands around her coffee mug and stared down into her drink. “My first few foster homes didn’t exactly work out. Most of that was my fault, I’m sure. I was confused and angry and I missed my parents terribly. And I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Don’t worry about it. You must’ve entered the system fairly young, if you came here when you were ten. I can’t imagine much of anything being your fault.”

Kaylie shrugged. Her logical side knew Luna was right, but her logical side wasn’t the one that woke up with nightmares. “Part of coming back here is about finding out what happened with my parents to send me into foster care.”

“You don’t know?” Luna asked, having gone still, her gaze caught on Kaylie’s.

“I remember enough of the specifics.” She wasn’t going to talk about the knife, or the body on the kitchen floor, or the blood on her toes. “But I don’t know where either of my parents are. Why they never came to get me.”

“You haven’t heard from either of them?”

She shook her head. “Not in twenty-three years.”

“So you’re taking matters into your own hands.”

And hoping her hands were big enough. “Something like that.”

“I feel like I should wish you luck,” Luna said, with just enough hesitation for Kaylie to sense her discomfort, as if she didn’t want to cause more pain than Kaylie had already endured. “I’d be more of a basket case than I already am if I hadn’t had my parents to keep me sane.”

“I had May and Winton. Only for eight years, but those eight years were everything. And please don’t feel bad telling me how close you are to your parents. You should be. You’re supposed to be. And I’m glad for anyone who has that.”

After that, the conversation returned to her plans for the café. While talking about the casseroles May had served in an effort to stretch a dollar, Luna told her about Dolly Breeze losing her husband, and that to make ends meet, the older woman had gone to work for a local contractor, Ten Keller.

“Word has it that she keeps him on his toes,” Luna said.

“Did I tell you he’s doing my renovations?”

“No, but I assumed he would be.”

That gave Kaylie pause. “Why the assumption?”

“Ten Keller is pretty much the local go-to guy for such things.”

“What do you know about him?”

“You mean personally?”

Kaylie nodded.

“He’s single. He’s hot.” She said it with a grin. “He takes care of those around him. Why he hasn’t been snatched up is always a topic of gossip. At least in the circles where people do that sort of speculating,” she said and added a wink.

Circles and hot topics and gossip about men. Things Kaylie had little experience with. The fact that she found talking about them to Luna so comfortable caught her off guard. Since when did she have conversations that weren’t about work?

Was it Luna who made it so easy, or was this more of the magic of the house? As she got up to set her coffee mug in the sink, she gave the other woman an interested “Hmm,” because she didn’t know what else to say. And then a knock on the door saved her.

“Good morning.”

She hadn’t heard his truck arrive, and Magoo had apparently decided Ten didn’t need to be announced. That dog, making his own rules. Kaylie turned. Behind her, Luna murmured something, but she had room for nothing but Ten and the way her kitchen warmed.

Stepping from the breezeway into the mudroom, he reached down to scratch the top of Magoo’s head, his gaze caught on Kaylie’s, asking…for permission to enter? To forgive him for being so bold with
his
plans for
her
house, and for the unsettling look in his eyes? Not to hold his preservationist heart against him?

He held up a white bag with the Butters Bakery logo. “I come bearing breakfast.”

Oh, good. A distraction. She waved him all the way in. “And I happen to have a fresh pot of coffee.”

“Sugar and cream?”

“Coming up,” she said, noticing as she turned to serve him that Ten wasn’t alone.

He followed the direction of her gaze. “This is Will Bowman. I’m putting him to work on your shutters. Will, Kaylie Flynn, and Luna Meadows.”

“Good to see you again, Ten,” Luna said, skimming him with a smile before settling on Will and staying there. “Hello, Will.”

Kaylie didn’t blame her. Will was tall, lanky, his limbs almost too long, like those of a swimmer meant for speed. His hair was black and cut short except where it fell forward over his eyes. Rock-star hair. And rock-star eyes, sapphires sparkling beneath coal lashes.

“Nice to meet both of you,” Will said in a voice too civilized for someone decked out in biker boots, dark jeans, and a long-sleeved T-shirt the color of his hair. His gaze traveled the kitchen, avoiding Luna’s, and even Kaylie could see by the tic in his jaw what it cost him.

“Coffee, Will?” she asked, setting Ten’s cup in front of him on the island where he’d pulled up a bar stool to break open the bakery bag.

“Sure, thanks, just black.” He took the stool next to Ten’s, then took the doughnut Ten handed him, biting off a hunk as if he were a lion and the doughnut fresh meat.

“Will here’s been out of pocket for a while,” Ten said, and the side of Will’s mouth clicked up to reveal a dangerously
deep dimple. Kaylie swore she heard Luna sigh. “Figure a week on a ladder will help him find his balance.”

Or cause him to fall flat on his face.

Will must’ve seen Kaylie’s flicker of doubt. “Keller here’s a big believer in on-the-job training.”

“Hasn’t let me down yet.”

Kaylie had hired him. She had to trust him. “As long as the job gets done and no one gets hurt, I’m staying out of this one.”