Longing for Home (9 page)

Chapter Ten

K
ate pedaled up the driveway to the inn, silently reciting the verse she’d chosen to memorize from the book of Proverbs for the coming week.

A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver
.

A verse she’d chosen in honor of Alex Porter.

When he’d left so abruptly the day before, she’d actually felt a stab of disappointment. And not only on Arthur’s behalf.

A split second before he’d risen to his feet, Kate had seen a flash of indecision in Alex’s jade-green eyes. Almost as if a part of him had wanted to stay.

Obviously, a very small part that was easily overridden by his desire not to mingle with the village peasants.

Be nice, Kate.

Funny how often she’d had to repeat those words to herself over the past few days.

Kate hopped off her bicycle and snapped down the kickstand with her heel. Mulligan and Lady ambled up, tails slicing the air, looking way too happy given the fact they were in the care of a man who didn’t even pretend to like them.

“Did he make you two sleep outside last night?” She ruffled the cocker spaniel’s velvet ears.

Mulligan sat down and barked. Three times.

Be nice, Kate.

“Okay, okay. I will.” For Abby’s sake, she would pause in the doorway of the office and smile sweetly at Alex on her way to the kitchen…

“There you are.”

It would have worked, except that Alex wasn’t
in
the office. He stood in the hallway, blocking the way to the kitchen and dressed for battle in lightweight gray slacks, a crisp button-down shirt and a tie.

Kate swallowed a sigh. If she’d known Alex was going to go for the “brooding millionaire executive” look, she would have opted for something a little less casual than a T-shirt, denim capris and tennis shoes.

“Good morning.” Like an NFL quarterback, Kate tried to size up the best—and fastest—way around him. She took a step to the side.

So did Alex. “I put a pot of coffee on.”

“That was—”

“To save time. Meet me back in the office after you pour yourself a cup.”

Now who was finishing the other person’s sentences, Kate thought darkly. But she’d promised to be nice, hadn’t she? Yes, she had.

“Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

Her spirits lifted when she walked into the kitchen. Abby had tackled most of the cosmetic changes herself, but she hadn’t spared any expense when it came to creating a kitchen that blended down-home charm and cutting-edge technology.

A spacious center island that boasted double sinks. Natural light from the bank of windows overlooking the garden spilled into the room and winked off the old-fashioned tin ceiling.

The breeze lifted the curtains and stirred the air, carrying the distinct hint of…something burned.

Kate’s nose wrinkled. Upon further investigation, she discovered the charred remains of what was once a piece of Abby’s homemade oatmeal bread in the wastebasket under the sink.

No wonder Abby and Quinn had questioned Alex’s ability to run the
breakfast
part of the bed-and-breakfast.

She hesitated, almost hearing the impatient tap of an Italian leather shoe against the hardwood floor.

But she couldn’t let someone go hungry. Not even Alex. Knowing that Abby kept a supply of emergency rations in the freezer, Kate rummaged around until she found something guaranteed to sweeten anyone’s mood.

When she paused in the doorway of Abby’s office a few minutes later, Alex stood at the window, staring out at the lake.

Was he wishing he could trade this view for one of the Chicago skyline?

Not Kate. She loved everything about Mirror Lake. She loved the slow pace and familiar faces. She loved that every window acted as a lens for the kaleidoscope of changing seasons, one that transformed the landscape from muted shades of pearl and gray to a shifting palette of greens and blues so clear they almost hurt the eyes before deepening to a fiery display of scarlet, gold and bronze.

Most of all, Kate loved that she had a place here. She
fit
. While the majority of her high school classmates had waited anxiously to kick off the confines of small-town life like a pair of shoes that pinched their feet, Kate had never wanted to leave. When her father had decided to move to Arizona, she jumped at the opportunity to take over the café.

Only once had Kate regretted her decision. One brief moment in time that she’d wished she were someone else. Some
thing
else.

Kate took a deep breath and carefully tucked away the memory with the same resolve she had the first time it had sneaked through her defenses.

The day she’d met Alex Porter.

Kate cleared her throat to get Alex’s attention before stepping into the office.

“I warmed up a few of Abby’s blueberry scones.”

Alex rotated to face her, his gaze dropping to the china plate Kate set down on the desk. “You didn’t have breakfast?”

“Of course I did. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

Alex’s eyebrows met over the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to feed me.”

“I found evidence to the contrary.”

A wry smile hooked the corner of his lips. “That was collateral damage. I was trying to find the coffee.”

Kate refused to be charmed by Alex Porter’s…charm. This, she sternly reminded herself, was the man who’d rebuffed her friends’ invitation to stay for dinner and walked out of her apartment without a backward glance.

Alex wasn’t always like this. He had a lot of friends before our parents put us in private school. He loved to play practical jokes when we were kids.

Kate couldn’t remember where she put her car keys half the time, so why did she remember everything Abby had said about her older brother?

Alex claimed the chair behind the desk, snagged a scone and got straight down to business.

“I went over the list of reservations. Charles and Irene Gibson will be checking into one of the cabins this afternoon. They’ll be staying through the weekend.

“Thursday there will be a couple on their honeymoon, two cabins booked with kayak enthusiasts, one who is lactose-intolerant, and a single guest who requested a vegetarian option…are you listening, Kate? Don’t you think you should be writing this down?”

“Yes.” Alex didn’t have to know Kate’s response had been directed to the second question. Because, if she were truly honest, the answer to the first would have been,
“No, I got distracted by your eyelashes again…”

Swallowing hard, she fished a pen and notebook out of her backpack.

“Lactose. Vegetarian. Kayaks.” As Kate jotted down the information, she became aware that Alex had gone completely still. She looked up. “What is it?”

“It’s…pink.” It was the first thing that popped into Alex’s head. Except that he didn’t usually
say
the first thing that popped into his head.

But…he’d expected Kate to tug a laptop out of her backpack. Or a neat, professional-looking leather binder. Not a hot pink, spiral-bound notebook and a pen encrusted with so much bling that it resembled a Fourth of July float.

“I know. The girls in my book club like to give me sparkly things on my birthday.” Kate swiped at the pom-pom dancing on the end of the cap. “I think it’s sweet. Is there anything else?”

Alex managed to yank his gaze free from the slow, hypnotic movement of the glitter floating inside of the pen’s cartridge.

“When the guests check in, Abby gives them a choice as to whether they want a continental breakfast delivered right to their cabin or if they prefer to join the other guests in the dining room.”

He handed her a sheet of paper lined with organized, typewritten notes. “Abby acts as the dining room hostess but I can hire someone if you prefer.”

“I’m already here,” she pointed out. “It won’t be any trouble to serve breakfast and keep the coffee going.”

“I ordered a new oven. It will be here by tomorrow afternoon.” Alex leaned back in the chair, expecting to see profound relief on Kate’s face. What he saw looked a lot like…horror?

“You can’t get rid of Mrs. Avocado!”

“Who is Mrs. Avocado?”

“Abby’s oven.”

“My sister
named
the oven?”

“Mrs. Avocado is not just an oven.” Kate leaped to her feet. “She’s an…an icon.”

“No, she’s—” Alex stopped and shook his head. “I mean
it’s,
a temperamental green dinosaur that isn’t worth the price I’m paying to have it shipped to the junkyard.”

Kate slapped both hands on the desk and leaned forward until Alex got a close-up of a tiny, star-shaped freckle just below the corner of her left eye.

“It works if a person knows what they’re doing!”

He leaned forward, too. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m running the inn.”

“And I’m running the
kitchen
. I say we don’t need a new oven.” A spiral of copper hair flopped down over Kate’s eye, blocking the star-shaped freckle from Alex’s view.

Their fingers tangled as they attempted to brush it away. At the same time.

Alex’s lungs stopped working as he stared down at Kate. He’d always been good at reading people…but he was suddenly afraid of what he might see in her eyes. And what she might see in his.

A low laugh shocked them apart—yanking their attention to the doorway, where an elderly couple stood grinning. Two short, round bookends in matching white polo shirts, Bermuda shorts and straw hats.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gibson?” Alex managed to find his voice.

“That’s us!” the woman sang out.

Her husband’s face split into a sly grin. “And I can tell from the way you two are looking at each other that you must be the newlyweds!”

“You and Charlie
have
to spend a few days there when you get a chance, my friend, Lydia, said.” Irene Gibson kicked a pinecone and sent it spinning off the path as she and Kate trudged toward the cabins. “‘Mirror Lake is one of the most peaceful places on earth.’”

“Uh-huh.” That didn’t sound too convincing, so Kate tried again. “It is peaceful.”

At least it had been. Up until Alex Porter descended on the place like the plagues of Egypt all rolled into one inflexible, infuriating man. A man who happened to have a smile that melted her defenses.

“I would have liked to meet Abby,” Irene prattled on. “She made Lydia and Simon’s fiftieth wedding anniversary so special by letting them renew their vows here last summer.”

Kate winced as the woman’s suitcase—shaped like a ladybug but certainly heavier than one—bumped against her bare ankle.

“Abby is one of my closest friends. I can vouch for the fact that she is a real sweetheart.”

Irene’s head bobbed up and down, rattling the cluster of fake cherries pinned to the crown of her hat. “Her brother seems to be, too.”

Kate stumbled. “Alex?”

“Oh.” Two penciled eyebrows dipped together to form a crooked line above the bridge of her nose. “Does she have more than one?”

“No…” But still.

“He’s quite easy on the eyes, I must say.” Irene’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Charlie was quite the looker when he was that age. One smile and I was a goner.”

“That’s very…romantic.” And hopefully, Kate thought a little desperately, impossible.

“How long have you two been dating?”

“Dating? No. Alex and I…we aren’t…”
Come on. Spit it out, Kate!
“We work together. Temporarily. We barely know each other.”

Irene didn’t seem to hear her. “The moment I met Charlie, I knew he was the one. He proposed two weeks later and I never looked back.”

Looking back wasn’t the issue. It was looking ahead. A relationship with Alex would be impossible. He lived and worked in Chicago. He wasn’t simply
on
the A-list, he made up the list. And he avoided relationships the way a person would avoid a communicable disease.

Because of his past.

“Don’t,” Kate muttered.

It wasn’t an excuse. Alex and Abby had both experienced the pain of losing someone they loved, but Abby had turned to God for healing. Alex had defaulted to his Grand Plan.

Irene clucked her tongue and the cherries on her hat wagged back and forth sympathetically. “I tried to talk myself out of it, too. It didn’t work.”

Kate had to try one more time. “Believe me, Mrs. Gibson, Alex and I have
nothing
in common. When you and your husband saw us—” she hesitated, then decided that the only way to nip this crazy idea in the bud was to be honest. Totally, brutally honest. “Well, we were right in the middle of a disagreement. Something that happens a lot, I might add.”

To Kate’s chagrin, the woman let out a merry laugh.

“You might have been in the middle of something, Miss Nichols, but trust me, from where I stood it
wasn’t
a disagreement.”