Gracie was quiet, then she leaned forward. “Have you met anyone since you came here who would give you a reason to pull that folder out?”
“I’ve met lots of people,” Melissa said, being deliberately obtuse.
“You know what I mean.” Gracie leaned closer, grinning, her previous funk disappearing behind her usual bubbly personality. “What do you think of my boss? Patrick Fogarty? Isn’t he just a dream?”
“He is good-looking.”
“That sounds like a brush-off. So, have you met someone else then?”
Just then the door opened. When Melissa looked up she had a sense of déjà vu.
Brian Montclair stepped into the Cozy Cup Café followed by an elderly man, tall, slender, wearing a golf shirt and plaid shorts. His hair, a thick shock of white, was neatly brushed and his blue eyes sparkled. He had the same widow’s peak as Brian, the same blue eyes. Melissa guessed this was Brian’s grandfather.
Brian glanced her way, then he hesitated a moment and she wondered if he would come up to her and accept her offer. Instead he turned to the man he was with.
“Grandpa, what did you want to drink?” Brian asked him.
Gracie glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to Melissa, grabbing at her arm, her eyes wide. “Oh. My. Goodness. He likes you,” she said in a stage whisper.
Melissa shot her a frown. “What? Who?”
“Brian. He totally likes you.”
Melissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes but lowered her voice, too. “That man has been nothing but cranky to me, especially when...” She stopped herself there, figuring someone like Brian wouldn’t want Gracie to know about her offering him a job.
But Gracie didn’t catch her vague sentence; instead, she looked back just as Brian glanced their way. Then she turned back to Melissa, her eyes wide with pleasure. “See? He is checking you out.”
“He’s wondering what you’re whispering about.”
“He’s acting like my brothers do when they like someone.”
As a sister of five brothers, Gracie could be considered an expert on male behavior. Melissa, growing up the only child of a single mother, had no such experience on which to base her judgment.
However, she figured she knew how a man would act if he was attracted to someone. The first thing Jason had done when he met her was flirt with her. Then give her his phone number. When they dated, he made her believe she was the only one for him. That he would always be there for her. They talked about starting up a new business together—a bakery in St. Louis. She moved to be with him and make their plans. But just when everything seemed to come together, he left her with her money, her dreams and a broken and disillusioned heart.
Melissa pushed the dark memory aside. She had her bakery now and her own chance to prove herself. Depending on anyone to fulfill her or to support her plans was a waste of time and emotion.
Brian reminded her too much of Jason. A bit arrogant and a bit controlling. No thanks. She was her own boss now, in charge of her business and her heart, and she wasn’t letting anyone in on either one.
Then the door of the shop opened again and Mrs. Morgan swept in.
“Oh, dear,” she heard Gracie whisper as Mrs. Morgan walked toward them, clutching a binder identical to the one Gracie had on the table in front of her.
“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Sorry I’m late.”
She held out her hand to Melissa, her red fingernails flashing. Her hair, a delicately washed silver, hung in a stylish pageboy around a face that defied her actual age. Her silky brown dress seemed unnecessarily formal for a casual meeting in a coffee shop, but Melissa was slowly learning Mrs. Morgan placed much stock in appearances. She didn’t so much sit down as ease into the chair in one fluid motion. “What have I missed?” she asked, glancing from Melissa to Gracie.
“We were talking about some of the changes you wanted to make.” Gracie’s voice grew small in this woman’s presence.
“Gracie said you wanted to add a tea with snacks for after the service,” Melissa said, taking over, hoping to ease the sudden tension. “However, this will substantially change the cost.”
Gracie spoke up. “I don’t know if my father wants—”
“You don’t have to worry about the money,” Mrs. Morgan said. “I told your father we would cover everything.”
“But—”
“Please. I don’t want to hear about it anymore.” Mrs. Morgan smiled, but the tension around the table had increased.
And when the café’s door burst open, Melissa jumped.
“Melissa,” a worried voice called out. “I need you to come to the bakery.”
Melissa turned to see Amanda scurrying toward her, twisting her apron around her hands, her face a grimace of concern. “The oven quit working and all those cupcakes you put in aren’t baking.”
“Did you call Alan?” Melissa asked, her mind scrambling. “He was the one who installed the stove and oven.”
“He can’t come until tomorrow,” Amanda said. “He’s working in another county today. What are we going to do?”
Melissa bit her lip, her mind racing. The cupcakes were for a conference in Junction City. If the organizers there liked what she had to offer, it could increase business for the bakery and maybe raise the profile of Bygones and the new businesses here.
And Mrs. Morgan was still waiting.
“So the oven won’t go on at all?” Melissa asked, taking care of her first priority.
Amanda shook her head, her brown ponytail bobbing.
“I’ll tell Brian. He’s really handy. I’m sure he can help,” Gracie said, then, before Melissa could protest, jumped to her feet as if relieved to have a reason to escape. She hurried over to where Brian sat with the older man and murmured something to him. Melissa looked away when she saw him frown, but then Brian strode over.
“Something wrong with your oven?” he asked.
“It doesn’t work,” Amanda said before Melissa could protest that everything was fine, which it wasn’t. She didn’t want Brian in her bakery. Especially not after the way he seemed to treat it so dismissively. “Could you come and fix it?” Amanda asked.
“Sure. I’ll have a look at it.”
“It’s fine. We can manage,” Melissa said, holding up her hand as if to stop him.
Brian shot her a frown. “How? Amanda said Alan can’t come till tomorrow. Can’t bake your fancy cakes if your oven doesn’t work.”
Melissa stifled another protest at his blunt assessment of her situation. Much
