I need to say that before you believe me?”
Elliott looked dismayed rather than convinced by her response. “Don’t let what Ernesto did shape the rest of your life, Adelia,” he said fiercely. “Not all men are like that.”
“You’re certainly not,” she agreed. “And for that I am eternally grateful.” She touched his cheek. “I imagine Karen feels the same way. She must count her blessings every night.”
“Most nights,” her brother corrected with a grin. “At least when she’s not exasperated with me for one thing or another, like forgetting about that whole partnership thing, for instance.”
“Yes, I can see how you might test a woman’s patience,” she told him. “As a boy you were certainly a pest.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She patted his cheek again. “Don’t fret, mi hermano. We all wind up loving you just the same. Even though this conversation is making me a little crazy, I know you mean well and I love you for caring.”
Elliott’s expression suddenly sobered. “Adelia, promise me something, okay?”
“Anything.”
“If a man comes along, you’ll leave yourself open to the possibilities. I’m not talking about the man who just left here, but any man.”
“Any man?” she echoed, amused.
“After I’ve checked him out thoroughly,” he amended.
“Now that sounds much more like the overly protective brother I know and love,” Adelia said.
“Promise,” he repeated.
Though she couldn’t imagine it would be a promise she’d have to keep, at least not anytime soon, Adelia nodded. “Promise.”
Just then the pizza and the kids arrived at the table simultaneously and, thankfully, further conversation was impossible.
Time and time again, though, she found herself glancing toward the door and thinking about the man who’d cast a lingering look in her direction. Whether it was the openly appreciative way he’d studied her or her brother’s teasing, she felt the oddest sensation stirring deep inside. It was a sensation she hadn’t anticipated and didn’t especially want, but it felt a whole lot as if she might be coming alive again.
If Rosalina’s had become his restaurant of choice in the evening, the bakery was the place where Gabe satisfied his sweet tooth every single morning. Not only was Sweet Things owned by his cousin’s new wife, Lynn, but he’d quickly discovered that the woman made the best cookies, pies, pastries and cupcakes he’d ever put in his mouth. If Mitch hadn’t beaten him to it, he’d have courted Lynn himself, not that he’d mentioned that to his cousin. He needed Mitch as an ally, not an enemy.
Thank goodness, though, ever since Gabe had arrived in town, Mitch had insisted on starting their mornings here over coffee and pastry warm from the oven as they planned how Gabe was going to fit into the company. His cousin filled him in on the work needed on the neighboring properties. Lynn joined them from time to time, but she was usually far too busy baking to take a break just past the crack of dawn.
At full daylight and after getting his fill of coffee and pastries, Gabe walked the length of Main Street with Mitch, trying to get a feel not only for downtown Serenity as it currently existed, but for his cousin’s vision.
The historic brick town hall at one end of the large, tree-lined green housed the city’s offices. Wharton’s, which had been in business as far back as Gabe could remember as a combination pharmacy and soda fountain, anchored one side of Main Street. A hardware store revitalized by Ronnie Sullivan anchored the other side.
Sweet Things was in that block, along with Chic, the stylish women’s boutique next door. The remaining storefronts were empty and mostly boarded up, victims of the economic downturn and of the tendency in too many small communities for business to flee to the outskirts of town and more modern strip malls. The one exception in the next block was the relatively new and apparently wildly successful country radio station with its studio window facing the green so the on-air hosts could report on Serenity’s many holiday festivals and everyday happenings.
Gabe had been able to view the recent progress with appreciation, but he was still mindful that a lot more was needed before downtown Serenity could be described as thriving.
This morning—his first official day on the job—he studied Mitch over his mug of coffee. “You really think turning this town around is possible?”
“I’m counting on it,” Mitch said. “Our town manager, Tom McDonald, believes it’s possible and is doing everything he can to lure new business to town. I want to be sure there are up-to-date properties available to rent when the prospective business owners come to look things over. I want downtown to be irresistible. I want them to see it immediately as a better bet than one of those strip malls that have started popping up along the highway outside of town.”
Gabe smiled. “Were you always this idealistic and ambitious?”
“I don’t see it as ambition. I see it as a chance to do something for a town I love, the town where I’ve built my life. I don’t want to see downtown die the way it has in so many towns.” Mitch shrugged. “Maybe that is idealistic.”
“I hate to tell you, pal, but that ship has sailed. Right now, this downtown is on life support at best.”
“I know a few people, my wife among them, who’d tell you otherwise,” Mitch retorted. “And Dana Sue Sullivan, whose restaurant lures people from all over the state, would pick a major fight with you if she heard you say that. Sullivan’s may not be right on Main Street, but her success speaks for itself.”
Gabe laughed. “Well, I’m not about to take on Dana Sue. I’ve heard too many stories about her temper. But Lynn is what they call a pie-eyed optimist. She married you, didn’t she? What does that say about her judgment?”
Mitch didn’t take offense at his teasing. He laughed with him.
“She took a chance on me, all right,” Mitch said. “I thank my lucky stars for it. After Amy died and the boys were away at college, I was a lost soul for a while.” His expression sobered. “I wish you’d come over for dinner one night, instead of existing on pizza. You know you’re welcome anytime.”
“I know that,” Gabe said. “But you’re still a newlywed. I don’t want to intrude.”
“We’re past the honeymoon stage,” Mitch said, though the appreciative glance he cast in his wife’s direction as she came out of the back to wait on a customer said otherwise. So did the touches he couldn’t resist making every time she was in close proximity. “We’ve been together almost a year now. And with Lynn’s two kids underfoot, it’s not as if we have a lot of privacy, anyway.”
“In my book a year still makes you a newlywed.”
Mitch gave him a knowing look. “And in my book, you’re just making excuses. You’re family, Gabe. You’re not an outsider. I know you didn’t feel that way as a
