Irresistible: Cloverleigh Farms Standalone Page 18

  “You left.”

  “Because you forced me to!” she shouted. “If you would have been a better husband, I wouldn’t have felt so alone! It’s your fault I had to leave.”

  “Carla.”

  “Just admit it—you didn’t want to marry me in the first place.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t want to get married that soon. We’d only known each other for a few months. We were young. I was about to deploy for Iraq. But I did what I thought was right.”

  “I never wanted to be your charity case!” she cried.

  “It wasn’t like that, and you know it. I tried hard to be a good husband and father.”

  “You didn’t try hard enough.”

  “You wanted too much from me, Carla. No matter what I did, it was never enough.”

  “I only wanted you to pay attention to me. I wanted you to love me.”

  “I did, Carla.” I lowered my voice. “But you were always sulking and pouting. Punishing me for things I had no control over.”

  “Like leaving us all the time?”

  “I had no choice about my deployments, Carla. You know that.”

  “And when you got back, you were always so happy to see the kids but not me.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  “Well, that’s what it felt like. You were cold and distant.”

  “I needed time to readjust. Life at home was a shock to me. You never understood that. You never let me talk about it.”

  “Because I wanted you to just forget it and be the husband I’d dreamed about. The husband I deserved. I’d waited and waited and waited for you, and then you came home and disappointed me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said grimly, feeling that sense of failure all over again.

  “That’s why I had to spend all that money on things,” she went on. “That’s why I drank. I was trying to fill the void you left in my life.”

  I took a steadying breath. “I hope you’re happier now.”

  “I am!” she snapped. “And since you’re all doing so well without me, maybe I’ll never come back.”

  “You do what you want, Carla. You always have.”

  She hung up on me, and I tossed my phone aside. Great. Now she’d have even more reason to blame me for ruining the kids’ lives. And she’d aim at them to get back at me. She knew that was the only way to actually hurt me. Tomorrow she’d probably tell Millie that I’d forbidden her mother from coming to visit, that I didn’t want them to see her ever again, and maybe even that I was screwing the nanny. I flung my arms over my eyes.

  Somehow I’d fucked that up without even trying.

  What else was new?

  I didn’t talk to Frannie again until Monday night. She called at about quarter to ten, as I was catching up on some work emails at the dining room table. It had been hard not to call or text her for two days, but every time I thought about doing it, I remembered what my mother had said and felt guilty.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, guess what?

  “What?”

  “I just talked to Maxima. She said Natalie from Coffee Darling is really excited, and we set up a meeting for four o’clock tomorrow.”

  “That’s great.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, and it’s probably impossible with your schedule, so don’t feel bad if you can’t, but if there’s any way at all—”

  “For fuck’s sake, Frannie. I’m getting old here.”

  She giggled nervously. “Sorry. I was just wondering if maybe you’d want to go with me.”

  Of course I wanted to. I wanted to do all kinds of things for her, and in a perfect world, I’d be able to. But we didn’t have perfection—not even close. And this felt like something I could manage that didn’t look overly romantic. “I’ll make it work, although I might have to meet you there. I told DeSantis I’d go look at some bottling equipment they’ve got over at Abelard Vineyards on Old Mission. But I should be done by that time.”

  “Okay. Great. I’m so excited, Mack. Like really prematurely excited. But something about this just feels so right. I mean, this is so silly, but I keep thinking, what if that strap on Maxima Radley’s wedding dress hadn’t broken? What if I hadn’t been filling in at the desk that night? What if I hadn’t noticed the toilet paper stuck to her shoe?”

  I smiled at her breathless enthusiasm. “So it’s fate, huh? With a little help from Charmin?”

  She laughed, and the sound made my chest tighten. “Yes. Exactly. But fate isn’t enough—I still have to be the one to go after what fate puts in front of me. Know what I mean?”

  “Sure.”

  “And look at us. I mean, what if Mrs. Ingersoll hadn’t broken her leg? What if it hadn’t snowed so much that night? What if you could actually get a pillowcase on a pillow in less than five minutes?”

  I grimaced. “That’s not fate, that’s just incompetence.”

  “Either way—I was there, but you still had to go after what you wanted.” Her voice quieted. “And I’m really glad you did.”

  “Me too,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie. I was glad I’d gone after her. But the more time I spent with her, the more I wanted with her. And not just sneaking-around time, either—real time, where we didn’t have to hide or rush or worry about being caught. That was impossible without telling the kids, and it was too soon to do that. I supposed I could hire another babysitter and spend time with her apart from the kids, but that would take away from time with my girls, which would make me feel selfish and guilty, and it would give their mother even more ammunition.

  I couldn’t win.

  Frannie

  On Tuesday I parked on the street about a block and a half down from Coffee Darling, and walked to the shop with butterflies in my belly, my boots crunching in the snow on the sidewalk. Mack had texted about half an hour ago that he was running late but he’d be here as fast as he could.

  The shop had closed earlier in the day—at 2:00 P.M., the hours on the window said—so the glass door was locked when I tried to pull it open at quarter to four.

  I peered inside, my pulse racing. The space was narrow and deep, with a counter and a few glass cases over to the left, and tables lining the wall on the right. I knocked on the glass and a few seconds later, I saw a woman come from what I assumed was the kitchen and hurry around the counter toward the door. She unlocked it and pushed it open.

  “You must be Frannie,” she said with a warm smile. “Please come in. It’s freezing out there.”

  “Thanks.” I entered the shop and she locked the door behind me. She had medium-length dark hair pulled into a ponytail and was clearly pregnant, although she didn’t have that about-to-pop look about her.

  “Welcome.” She held out her hand. “I’m Natalie, and …” She shrugged, laughing. “This is the place.”

  I laughed too as I shook her hand. “I’m Frannie, and I love the place. I’ve been in here several times and have always thought it was so cute.”

  Natalie beamed. “Thank you. It’s been a great location for me. I opened it five years ago and I swear, we’re busier every year, even in the off season.”

  “Really? That’s amazing.”

  She nodded. “Of course, we get a lot more people in the summer because of tourism, but we’ve got a lot of loyal locals now too. Would you like to see the kitchen? Maxima should be here shortly, but we can go on back.”

  “Thanks. I asked a friend to meet me here too.” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course!”

  “Actually, he knows you—sort of. He said he went to school with your sister, Jillian?”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Declan MacAllister, but he goes by Mack.”

  “That sounds familiar, actually.”

  “You might have known my sister too—she graduated that same year. Sylvia Sawyer?”

  She nodded. “That definitely sounds familiar. Small world up here, isn’t it?”

  I laughed. “Yes
.”

  “But I like small town connections.” She smiled at me over her shoulder. “Follow me.”

  She showed me the kitchen, which wasn’t huge but was clean, well-organized, and full of shiny new equipment. My eyes popped as I looked everything over—the marble and wood counters, the rolling racks of pots and pans, the mixers lined up like soldiers, the massive stainless appliances. It wasn’t as big as the kitchen at the inn, but it was better suited to baking and seemed neater.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, running my hand along the cool marble.

  “Thanks. Let me show you around.”

  By the time she was done showing me the kitchen and tiny office, Maxima had arrived. She asked some questions as Natalie finished the tour out front. Mack still hadn’t arrived, and I looked at my phone again. I’d missed a call from him a few minutes ago and he’d left a voicemail. Feeling like it would have been impolite to listen to it now, I tucked my phone back into my bag, hoped everything was okay, and crossed my fingers that he could still make it. I really wanted his opinion.

  But he never showed.

  Natalie poured us each a cup of coffee and she, Maxima, and I sat down at one of the tables along the wall. From my bag I pulled out a white box of macarons I’d baked last night—pink-hued rosewater cream and violet-colored orange lavender.

  Natalie gasped. “They’re beautiful!”

  “Wait ’til you taste them,” said Maxima.

  “Can I?”

  “Of course,” I said, pride warming my insides. “I brought them for you.”

  She picked out a lavender macaron and took a bite. “Oh my God,” she mumbled. “It’s exquisite.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  We sipped coffee and nibbled macarons as we went over the options. Natalie said she’d sell the building if she found the right buyer, but she was emotionally invested in the place and would really prefer to take on a partner. “I know it sounds silly,” she said, her eyes welling as she looked around, “but this shop is like part of me. I opened it when I was just twenty-three and had no idea what I was doing. I got engaged right outside the door. I have more memories in this shop—of family and friends and people in my life—than I do at my own house. I’ve been here longer. Sorry.” She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m always more emotional when I’m pregnant.”

  “It’s okay,” I said softly. “I understand. I feel attached to Cloverleigh that way too. I was thinking recently that I don’t know if I could ever move too far away, because it’s so much a part of me. I grew up there. My roots are there. My heart is there.” I took a breath. “But if I don’t try to branch out a little, do something more just for me, I’ll always wonder what if.”

  Natalie put a hand over mine. “I know exactly what you mean. And even if this place isn’t what you had in mind, I think you should go for it.” She gestured toward the empty macarons box. “You’re so talented. I’d carry these in my shop every day of the week.”

  “Thank you.” I glanced at the door, wishing I had Mack here for confidence. “I think this place is perfect. What I’m looking for is kitchen space to bake in and counter space to sell in. I also need time to bake extra for weekend events like weddings. The busier I get, the tougher it is to use my own little kitchen, especially if I do events outside Cloverleigh.”

  “Are you an early riser?” Natalie asked. “Bakeries are not for night owls.”

  “I’d definitely say I’m more of an early riser,” I told her. “I like schedules and routine, and I’m good with deadlines. I’m organized, outgoing, and easy to work with.” Then I paused. “But I’ll be honest and say the thought of running my own business leaves me weak in the knees.”

  “Are you willing to learn?” Maxima asked.

  “Totally.”

  “And I’m willing to teach,” Natalie said, placing her hands on her stomach. “At least until I pop this one out in May.”

  “Do you know what you’re having?” asked Maxima.

  “A girl.” Natalie blushed and smiled. “I’d have been happy either way, of course. We already have one of each, but I’ve got sisters and there’s something so special about that bond.”

  “I agree,” I said. “I’ve got sisters too.”

  “Any kids?” she asked, glancing at my left hand.

  “No. Not yet.” I smiled and shrugged. “Hopefully someday.”

  “Well, you’ll be pretty busy with a new business for a while, so no need to rush.” Natalie looked at Maxima. “Okay, so what’s the next step?”

  Maxima said that since it wouldn’t involve the sale or rent of the building, this was a little outside her area of expertise, but she had business experience and gave us her advice. She also said again that she’d be glad to invest in me if I needed money to buy in.

  About an hour later, Natalie and I parted with an impulsive hug and a promise to meet again soon. Maxima had recommended forming an LLC for the partnership if we decided to go through with it, but I wanted to talk to Mack or my dad first. My head was spinning.

  On the walk to my car, I pulled out my phone and listened to Mack’s message. “Hey, I’m so sorry, but I can’t meet you today. Mrs. Ingersoll called, and said Felicity came home with a bad fever. I’m running home to take her into the doctor. I feel horrible, and I won’t blame you for being mad. I’ll call you as soon as I can. I want to hear how it went.”

  I reached my car and jumped in so I could start the heat. While the engine warmed up, I texted him back.

  Poor Felicity. I hope she’s okay and please tell her I said to feel better. Everything went great here. I can’t wait to tell you about it. And I’m not mad!

  On the contrary, I wasn’t sure anything could take away from my excitement. I was disappointed that he hadn’t been able to make it, but I understood. Mostly I was just dying to tell someone about the meeting. I called Chloe on the way home and filled her in, and she was thrilled for me.

  “That’s awesome, Frannie,” she said. “I know exactly the place you’re talking about and I think it’s perfect.”

  I called April too, but she didn’t answer. I left her a message as I was pulling into the garage at home, and went up to my apartment, unable to stop smiling. While I was unzipping my coat, my phone buzzed—it was Mack.

  “Hey, how’s Felicity?”

  “She’s okay. Just a virus. I gave her some Motrin and put her to bed. Mrs. Ingersoll just left. Now I’ve got to feed these other two monkeys and make sure they get their homework done.”

  “You sound exhausted.”

  “I didn’t sleep well last night, and this week is nuts. I have to get the house in shape for my parents’ visit, I have Best Man shit to take care of, and I have to cram five days of work into three since I’m taking Thursday and Friday off—mostly to spend some time with my parents since the weekend will be full of wedding shit.”

  “Why don’t you let me come over and help? I can be there in fifteen minutes, and you can deal with the homework and the house while I make dinner. That way you’re not trying to do everything on your own.”

  “That’s okay. I’m used to it. And you don’t owe me any favors right now, that’s for sure.”

  “Mack! Stop it. What are you going to feed them, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. Chicken nuggets.”

  Glancing at my kitchen, I remembered the stuffed shells I had in the freezer. “I could bring the stuffed shells I made last Saturday night …” I teased.

  He groaned. “That sounds so good. But I don’t want you to think you have to rescue me all the time. I can handle things on my own.”

  “I know you can. But why do it alone when you don’t have to? I’m standing here alone in an empty apartment, Mack. I’d much rather be at your house. Besides, that way I can tell you about the meeting.”

  Exhaling, he said, “Okay. If you’re coming because you want to, I guess it’s fine.”

  “I want to. I’ll be there soon.”

  Mack

/>   She came over that night with stuffed shells and told me all about the meeting while she reheated them. When dinner was done, she and Millie loaded the dishwasher, singing and giggling like friends while I got Winnie in the shower and tended to a miserable Felicity. When I came back down after getting Winnie in bed, Millie was in the shower and Frannie was putting on her coat in the kitchen.

  “I’ll get out of your way,” she said, zipping up. “I know it’s been a long day.”

  I took her in my arms for the first time that day and kissed her forehead. “Thank you for everything. I don’t deserve you or your shells.”

  Laughing, she squeezed my torso. “Thanks for listening to me babble on about the coffee shop.”

  “I loved hearing you so excited. I think it’s a great plan. Less risk than if you were going it alone, and you get the benefit of her experience and loyal customers.”

  She sighed. “I can’t decide if I should ask my dad for the money to buy in or take Maxima Radley up on her offer for a loan.”

  “Both have positives and negatives. Your dad would probably give you a better interest rate—if he made you pay it back at all—but taking money from family members can be fraught with problems. Now, your dad doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to hold it over your head, but it’s still a risk. Talk to him.”

  “Okay.”

  “I know if it were me,” I went on, “I’d want to be the one to help my daughter if I could. And I’d hope that she came to me to ask.”

  She kissed my cheek. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Dad?”

  Frannie and I jumped apart so fast, her tailbone hit the island and she winced, rubbing it. Millie stood in the dining room blinking at us.

  “I thought you were in the shower,” I said, my heart pounding. “The water is running.”

  “I just turned it on and remembered that I forgot to tell you I need the twenty dollars for the fashion show tomorrow.”

  “Wait a minute, we have to pay to be in this thing?”

  “It’s for charity, Dad. Everybody has to pay.” Then she looked at Frannie. “Will you come to the show? It’s a week from Saturday.”