“I hope we don’t have that soup with things in it,” Joey said as he followed his father to the pickup. “I hate vegables.”
“Vegetables,” Scott corrected absentmindedly. “Climb up, big guy.”
It was a short drive from the trailer park to the day-care center. He’d tried leaving Joey with a neighbor, but the woman had been more interested in her three poodles than his son. When he’d learned that Joey hardly ever got to play outside, he’d immediately enrolled him in group care. It was more expensive, something he could barely afford since his business gave him a decent living but not much for extras.
He parked in front of the neat brick house and went around to the back entrance that led to the lower level, which had been converted into space for preschool children.
As usual, one of the helpers gave Joey a warm welcome when they went inside and immediately steered him to a play station.
“Did you bring the form for our trip to the farm?” Betty Drummond, the head caregiver, asked Scott.
He’d flunked parenthood again. The pink slip of paper was at home, on the kitchen counter.
“Would it be all right if I drop it off when I pick Joey up?”
Betty had a round, friendly face framed by fluffy silver hair, but her silence told him that it wasn’t all right.
“The children are really looking forward to their trip to the farm,” she said.
“I’ll run home and get it,” he said, wondering why she didn’t have an extra form he could sign there. Surely he wasn’t the only parent who ever forgot.
“I’d appreciate it,” Betty said cordially enough, although no doubt her thoughts weren’t as understanding as her voice. Didn’t moms ever make mistakes?
He returned to the aging white-and-green trailer he called home and hurriedly filled in the blanks on the field-trip form. He couldn’t fault the day care for wanting a doctor’s name and an emergency number, but the closest person he had as a contact person was his sister, Doreen, and she lived nearly forty miles away.
His parents were even farther away, since his father had had to move west to Omaha to find a job when Apple Grove’s only plant had closed. He’d worked his way up to foreman of the milk-processing facility, and it had been a blow to lose the only employer he’d ever had as an adult. Now his dad was counting the months until he could afford to retire from a tedious night watchman job.
All the friends he and Mandy had had as a couple had dropped out of sight, too. Most likely it was his fault. Taking care of Joey and trying to make a living took all his time and energy.
By the time he delivered the permission form, he was late for his appointment at the old café. He’d made a few rough sketches and done some estimates to show the committee, but he had a lot more work to do before he could make a final bid for the project. He never would’ve dreamed he’d be working with Lori Raymond. He still marveled that she was back in Apple Grove.
He drove the short distance to Main Street and parked in front of the café. Ten years ago he would have done anything for a chance to be alone with Lori, but she’d been a good girl in every sense of the word. Everything she’d said and done had sent him a message: She wouldn’t have anything to do with a wild kid who didn’t embrace churchgoing.
He felt differently about a lot of things now, even taking Joey to Sunday school every week, but he still didn’t feel comfortable in church or feel God played a part in his life. He’d had to grow up fast when Mandy died, but part of him still felt like the rebellious outcast. The town accepted him for his construction skills, but he never felt like he belonged.
The lights showed dimly through the filthy front window, so he guessed Lori was in the café, waiting for him. He couldn’t believe it, but he actually felt a little nervous about seeing her again.
Scott was late.
Lori hoped nothing was wrong and knew it was her own worries about her future that were making her impatient. She certainly didn’t want to get off to a bad start with Scott by mentioning his tardiness. The sooner he could get the café ready to open, the sooner she could leave to take a permanent job.
“Hello!”
She heard him calling from the front and went out to meet him.
“Good morning,” she said, surprised that she felt a little breathless seeing him again.
“Sorry I’m late.” He didn’t explain why.
“I was just looking around. It looks worse in the daylight.”
He laughed. “I think they’d be better off building a new place on the outskirts of town, but that isn’t what they want.”
“No, my aunt made it plain that they’re hoping to revive Main Street.”
“I thought they’d have trouble getting a cook. A lot of the people who used to live here are gone.”
“But you’re still here,” she blurted out, immediately wishing she could take the words back.
She’d vowed to avoid personal comments. After all, Scott didn’t know that she’d lived for a glimpse of him all through high school. Whenever he had spoken to her, she’d recorded every word he’d said in her diary. But she wasn’t a teenager with a crush anymore, and she didn’t expect them to be more than casual acquaintances in the short time she’d be in town.
“Fate is funny sometimes,” he said, looking around the dining area, with a little frown. “Do you want to keep the lunch counter or tear it out for more table room?”
“I don’t have a strong opinion either way. I’m more interested in the kitchen,” she said. Talking about the café renovations was much safer than dwelling on the past.
“I have a feeling the committee wants things just the way they’ve always been.”
“You’re probably right. My aunt hasn’t talked to me about finances, but she seems to think a few nails and a little cleaning will make it as good as new.”
He laughed softly and took off the battered cowboy hat. His hair was a darker blond than she remembered, and tiny wrinkle lines radiated from the corners of his serious blue eyes. Still, ten years had made him even more handsome, and she imagined that he was a favorite with all the women in town.
“I have to check out the cellar and the roof, and I’ll take a look at the wiring and plumbing. Hopefully, I won’t find anything really bad, but the pharmacy down the street was riddled with termites a few years back. I had to shore up the whole building after the exterminators were done. I’m hoping that won’t be necessary here, but this building is about a hundred years old.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” She exhaled slowly and realized she’d been holding her breath.
“I wish they would’ve called me to do an inspection before they bought the building. Most buyers have one before they agree to a sale, but the folks here were too eager to restart the café.”
“That would be my aunt,” she said, with a little laugh. “I have a feeling she spearheaded the whole idea.”
“Where do you want to start?”
“Oh.” She was a bit surprised that he wanted her to give directions. “The kitchen, I guess.”
“Thought any more about junking that monstrosity?”
“The range? I guess it depends on whether the committee wants to buy a new one.”
The kitchen seemed even smaller with Scott taking up much of the room between the huge range and the work counter.
“My aunt