“Oh, sorry. I just assumed you were a student. Do you make it a habit of removing pictures from walls?”
Was he laughing at her?
“What? No. I just...” What could she say? She wanted a better look at the man who broke her heart? A better look at the man she desperately needed to save her daughter’s life?
He glanced at his watch then the door, as if he had to be someplace. “I was just kidding. I’ll take this back to my office and get it fixed. I need to head out to an appointment. Watch out for falling photographs.” He walked backward a few steps, sent her another one of those dazzling smiles, then rotated on his heel to head back to his office.
“Wait.” She hurried to catch up with him, trying not to let the fact that he didn’t recognize her weigh down her heart.
Nick stopped and turned. His eyes swept over her. He stiffened. She saw the second recognition lit the lightbulb inside his head. A slow smile spread across his face. “Josie Peretti.”
Her stomach shimmied. Only Nick could make her name flow like melted caramel.
“You look amazing.”
“Thanks. Listen—”
“I’d love to stay and catch up, but I really must run. I’m late for an appointment.”
She fished through her purse for another business card, took ten precious seconds to scrawl her cell phone number on the back and thrust it at him. “Please call me after your appointment. It’s important. Please.”
Nick glanced at the card, then tucked it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “Okay. I’ll do that.”
Josie’s shoulders sagged as he disappeared into his office. Would he follow through? The Nick she knew once upon a time was always true to his word. She had no idea who he had become.
But it had to be enough.
Okay, God, you opened the door. Please push him through. For Hannah.
Heart thrumming, she hurried back to her car and unlocked it with the remote. As soon as it chirped, she wrenched the door open, hurled herself behind the wheel and slammed the door. She drew in several deep breaths.
If it weren’t for Hannah, she’d walk away and not look back. But it didn’t matter what skeletons the past held, she needed to dig them up to save her daughter’s life.
* * *
Her phone rang constantly when she barely had time to breathe, but when she wanted...hoped for a call, it remained silent.
With her back pressed against the stainless-steel counter, Josie pulled her phone out of her pocket, checking for the hundredth time to see if the ringer was turned up, or if a call had come in but she’d missed it.
Volume was fine.
No calls.
Focus on something else.
She sighed, shoved the phone into her pocket and pulled on two pink pig-shaped oven mitts before reaching into the oven for the browned blueberry muffins. She set the pan on top of the stove next to a cooling apple pie. Sweet sugar scents danced with the spicy cinnamon. Reaching for the baking sheet lined with rows of scooped chocolate chip cookie dough, she slid it in the oven, closed the door and set the timer.
Agnes Levine, her assistant manager, breezed through the swinging kitchen door, leaving a fragrant trail of perfume behind her. With mugs dangling from her ringed fingers, she balanced a stack of plates and set them in the dishpan next to the sink. “Dining room’s cleared, Sugar Pie.”
“Thanks, Agnes.”
Agnes pulled the apron over her head and hung it on the hook by the industrial-size stainless side-by-side refrigerator. “No call yet?”
“Not yet. Guess I’ll have to call the department on Monday. I can’t afford to drive all the way out there again.” Josie filled the deep sink with soapy water and added a splash of bleach.
“You think Sorority Sally passed on the message?”
Josie’s lips twitched at Agnes’s nickname for the student in Nick’s office. “Campus Barbie? I hope so. We’re running out of time.”
“How’s Hannah doing?”
“Same. Tired, but still keeps smiling.” Josie pulled on a pair of yellow gloves and stuck her hand in one of the glass mugs. She stared out the window at the smudged sky of mauve hues blended with lavender and gray. The same colors as Hannah’s bruises.
Agnes leaned a hip against the sink and cupped Josie’s cheek. “How’s her mama doing?”
Josie’s eyes drifted to the suds in the sink, watching bubbles rise to the surface of the dishwater and pop. Kind of like her dreams. “Praying for a miracle that seems out of reach.”
“Where’s your faith, girl?”
“I think it’s stored in a shoebox in my closet or some other place where I’d need a step stool to reach it.” She attempted a smile, but the muscles in her cheeks refused to cooperate.
Agnes wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “See, that’s the great thing about faith—the more you need, the bigger it grows. That little ole mustard seed turns into a mighty tree. Takes some watering, though.”
Did tears count?
Josie closed her eyes. Her daughter’s face with the dark circles and blotchy cheeks swam behind her eyelids. God, you work miracles. Please give one to Hannah.
Agnes rinsed the rest of the dishes and stacked them to dry. “You need to get out of here and go home to that sweet child.”
“I have a few more things to do. You go ahead. I can finish up here.”
The timer dinged.
Agnes reached for the oven mitts. “I’ll take care of these. You do what you gotta do, so we can both get out of here.”
As Agnes removed the batch of cookies from the oven and transferred them to the cooling rack, Josie headed into the dining room to close out the register.
Her shoulders sagged as she stuffed the receipts and cash into the bank bag and tried not to let today’s lack of customers discourage her. All businesses had slow days, right? She blamed it on the weather. Or at least she hoped that was it. She couldn’t afford to close her doors like other small businesses in the area had done in recent months. She needed the insurance for Hannah’s medical bills.
Shadows of the flames from the electric fireplace crawled up the ice-blue walls and reflected off the framed prints of European cafes. She flipped the switch. The flames flickered, then died out.
“Sugar Pie, I’m outta here.” Agnes wrapped a designer scarf around her cinnamon-colored curls like an old Hollywood movie star. Long and leggy, the transplanted Texan had a heart the size of Dallas.
“Thanks for covering for me today, Agnes.”
“Anytime. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” She winked, blew Josie a kiss and then headed out the front door.
Rusted Christmas bells hanging from a tattered ribbon—drooping with age and faded from sunlight—jangled against the glass as Agnes pulled the door closed behind her. Leftover from the previous owners of the old Baker’s Hardware. Josie considered replacing them with shiny, polished bells when she redid the place. But they added charm, character. They reminded Josie of what used to be.
Things were different now. A fresh start. New paint covered the scars, the imperfections.
The trendy coffee shop on the corner. A new beginning.
Her blends and fresh baked pastries whetted appetites more than a block away. Pride or ego didn’t tell her that. Her bank balance suggested, for once in her life, Josie had made a right choice. Business would pick back up again. It