Sweet Surprises Page 5

  “Nah, but tell Laura Beth I said hello.” He glanced away as he said it, and that made her wonder just who Laura Beth was and just why Granddad looked almost embarrassed when he mentioned her.

  A girlfriend?

  She didn’t ask because she didn’t want the subject of her love life to come up. Better to keep her nose out of everyone’s business and have them keep their noses out of hers.

  As if that were even possible in her family. Prying was just part of who her mother was. Byron was just as good at digging for information. Adeline, in her own sweet way, had been known to ask pointed questions.

  Only Willow kept her focus on her own life. Maybe because she had her own secrets that she wanted to keep hidden. There had been a lot of times lately when Brenna had wanted to ask what they were. Unlike Adeline, who’d always been an open book. Willow was difficult to read. She’d called a couple of weeks ago and told Brenna about her plans for a spring wedding. Small. Intimate. Janelle wasn’t to know about it until a few weeks before the event because Willow didn’t want things to get out of hand. She’d said it all like she was talking about a dinner party rather than a lifetime commitment, and Brenna had wanted to ask why. Why was Willow settling for a guy who spent his Saturdays watching sports and his Sundays drinking Scotch and watching more sports? Why was she working as a prosecuting attorney in a city when what she’d always loved was hiking through the woods and spending hours riding horses through the meadows and fields outside of Benevolence? Why didn’t she have a dozen kids already when all she’d talked about when she was ten and eleven and twelve was how she wanted to be a mom?

  When had that changed?

  After their father died? Before?

  Brenna frowned as she walked out into the bright August day. She needed to call her sister to make sure that the decision she’d made was one she wanted to stick with. Unlike Brenna, Willow tended to go with the flow. She didn’t like rocking the boat, and she didn’t like to change her mind. Those were good qualities. If they didn’t get you stuck in a situation you didn’t want to be in.

  She walked around the side of the building and headed down Main Street. The diner wasn’t far, and Adeline’s house was just a little farther than that. The exercise and fresh air would do Brenna good and maybe get her mind off the cigarette she’d been craving all morning. Besides, she didn’t have money for gas and her car was on empty.

  Actually . . .

  She pulled out the twenties Byron had given her, remembered the look in his eyes when he’d told her she had to take it. The last thing she wanted was charity from her family. The last thing she wanted to believe was that they somehow all knew that she needed it.

  For some reason, that thought brought an image of River, standing outside Chocolate Haven, scowling. He hadn’t wanted charity because he’d had to take it too many times in his life. She’d never had to take charity. Until now.

  It wasn’t a good feeling.

  At all.

  She crossed the street and walked into the diner’s parking lot. There were only a few vehicles there this time of morning. A couple of SUVs. A few pickup trucks. One or two sedans. In a few hours, the place would be filled with families coming for breakfast before they went fishing or hiking or berry picking. At least that’s the way it had been when Brenna was a kid.

  She stepped inside the diner, the soft clink of tableware and the quiet murmur of voices oddly comforting. She’d washed dishes there when she was sixteen, saving money for her senior trip to D.C. Back then, she’d had dreams of getting a scholarship to an out-of-state college. She’d imagined herself living on campus, making a bunch of new friends who knew nothing about her childhood, her father’s death, her mother’s perfectionist nature.

  “Brenna Lamont! As I live and breathe! What are you doing here?” A woman hurried across the room. Tall and pretty, her face lined with six decades’ worth of living, Laurie Simpson had been the head waitress at the diner when Brenna had worked there.

  “I’m back to help Byron with the shop,” Brenna said as Laurie pulled her into a bear hug.

  “I heard you might be coming, but Byron wasn’t a hundred percent sure you’d show up.”

  “He said that?”

  “Nah. He just said you’d come when you were ready. What can I do for you, kid? Breakfast?” She took a pad from her apron, snagged a pen from her shirt pocket, and eyed Brenna expectantly.

  “Byron sent me for pecan rolls. He said I should talk to Laura Beth?”

  Laurie laughed, the sound filling the quiet dining room. “That would be me, kiddo. Laura Beth. Man! Aside from my mother, your granddad is the only one who’s ever called me that.” There was something soft in her face as she said it, something sweet and young and a little revealing.

  She must have realized it. She shoved the pad back in her pocket, grabbed Brenna’s wrist, and dragged her to the Formica counter that had been in the diner for as long as the diner had been around.

  “The rolls just came out of the oven. I’ll box ’em up and bring ’em out for you. Angel!” She waved at a waitress who was setting plates of food on a table. “Bring Brenna some coffee and some biscuits and gravy. You still like that, right, kid?”

  She didn’t give Brenna a chance to respond, just hurried into the kitchen.

  “Coffee,” the waitress said, setting a mug in front of Brenna and pouring coffee into it. She looked young. Maybe seventeen and obviously pregnant, her apron tied below her burgeoning belly. “Sugar or cream?”

  “Black is good.”

  “Yeah. I figured that.” The girl’s gaze dropped from Brenna’s face to her body, and then she smiled and patted her stomach. “Me? I’m all about the sugar and cream. Got to keep the kid fed. I’m Angel, by the way.” She held out her hand. “And, you must be one of the Lamonts.”

  “Brenna. What gave it away?”

  “The hair. And the fact that Laurie is running back to get those pecan rolls that Byron loves so much. She only used to make them once a month. Now she makes them every single day.” She leaned in close, her belly bumping Brenna’s arm as she whispered, “She and Byron have got a little thing going on.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. Neither wants to admit it, though. Laurie was married to a bastard. The guy nearly killed her.”

  Brenna knew the story. Laurie had been a street kid in Los Angeles, a runaway who’d hooked up with the first guy to offer marriage. On her fifth anniversary, her husband had beat her so badly, she’d been hospitalized for a month. When she’d finally been released, she’d filed for divorce and left town. She’d stopped in Benevolence on her way to somewhere else. She’d never left.

  “And Byron,” Angel continued. “He’s still got the hots for his dead wife, and he feels guilty for finding another woman attractive.” She flushed. “What I mean is—”

  “You don’t need to explain. I know what you’re saying.”

  “Okay. Good. I’ve got a great job here. I’d hate to lose it because one of Byron’s granddaughters complained about my big mouth. Give me a minute and I’ll bring you the biscuits and gravy.”

  “Can you put them in a carry-out container? I don’t have a ton of time.” And, she’d want to bring some of them home for later.

  “No problem.” Angel walked into the kitchen, leaving Brenna with black coffee and a thought that she never would have even considered before.

  Laurie and Byron?

  She couldn’t imagine Byron with anyone other than her grandmother. He and Alice had been a perfect team, but Alice had been gone for five years, and Byron was still young enough and healthy enough to want something more than to be alone.

  Why hadn’t she thought about that before?

  Maybe because she’d been too caught up in the mini-drama that her life had become.

  “Things change,” she muttered, taking a sip of her coffee.

  “Except when they don’t.” River dropped into the seat beside her, his legs encased in faded denim, his white long-sl
eeved shirt rolled up to the elbow. He hadn’t shaved and black stubble shadowed his jaw.

  God, he was sexy.

  And handsome.

  And every single thing Brenna needed to avoid.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, and he gestured to the counter, the pictures on the wall, the old diner tables that had been there for as long as Brenna could remember.

  “This place looks exactly the same.”

  “Things like this should never change,” she responded, and he smiled, an easy gentle smile that made a tiny little seed sprout in her stomach.

  She felt it there—new and fragile.

  It felt like....

  Happiness?

  Hope?

  Excitement?

  “You’re a romantic, are you?” he asked.

  “No, I’m practical. If the diner changed, people would stop coming. They’re here for the food, but they’re also here for the memories, for the connection to the past that they feel when they sit in a booth they’ve sat in dozens of times before.”

  “You are a romantic,” he confirmed, his eyes looking straight into hers, and she could swear he could see whatever it was she felt, whatever new and fragile thing she was hiding.

  “And you’re out and about early.” She changed the subject, and his smile broadened.

  “It’s nearly nine,” he pointed out, and she felt young and foolish. Which only added to the all-around foul mood she’d been in since she’d ruined her first batch of Lamont family fudge at 5:38 that morning.

  Not River’s fault, so she took a deep breath, tried on a smile that felt more like a scowl. “I guess it is. I was working. I must have lost track of time.”

  “First day on the chocolate job, right?” He reached over, rubbed a smudge of chocolate from the back of her hand.

  She felt that one little touch all the way to her toes.

  Her cheeks were hot, and she knew they were red, but she’d be darned if she was going to act like a schoolgirl with a crush. “That’s right.”

  “That explains it then. Kitchen work will make anyone lose track of time.”

  “You spend a lot of time in the kitchen?” she asked.

  “I own a couple of restaurants in Portland.”

  “I guess that explains the broken dishwasher emergency,” she said, and he nodded.

  “I’ve got some good managers, but they like to call me when things like that happen. Which is a little too often for my liking.” He lifted her hand, studying a smear of fudge that decorated the side of her wrist. “Looks like you and the chocolate weren’t getting along.”

  “Chocolate. Fudge. Peanut butter. Caramel. You name it, I fought with it this morning.”

  “And now you’re taking a break before going back to the battle?” He still had her hand, and she could feel the warmth of his fingers, the roughness of his skin. It reminded her of things she’d be better off forgetting.

  She tugged her hand away, lifted her coffee as if that were the only reason why she’d wanted to free it. “I’m picking something up for my sister.”

  “Adeline? I’ve got a meeting with her this morning.”

  “Is she helping you with the. . . .” She didn’t finish. There were people in the diner who knew Belinda, and she didn’t want anyone spreading rumors about the financial trouble she was having.

  River nodded. “Yes. Hopefully. If you want me to, I can bring the stuff to her.”

  “It’s okay. I haven’t seen her in a few months, and I’m looking forward to catching up.” She also didn’t want to go back to Chocolate Haven.

  She’d have to be there before it opened, but for right now...

  She’d use whatever excuse she had to stay away.

  Angel rushed out of the kitchen, a Styrofoam carry-out container in one hand and a white bakery box in the other.

  “Laurie is checking on a delivery, so she asked . . .” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of River. She didn’t look pleased to see him. He didn’t look all that happy to see her either.

  “What are you doing here?” she snapped.

  “Belinda said you forgot to take these this morning.” He pulled a bottle of prenatal vitamins out of his pocket and set it on the counter. “She was worried, so I brought them.”

  “Thanks,” she said begrudgingly as she set the box and carry-out container in front of Brenna. “Laurie says this is on the house because it’s your first day back in town.”

  “I can’t—”

  “No sense arguing. Laurie calls the shots here, and if she says you’re getting it free, you’re getting it free.” Angel snatched up the bottle of vitamins and swallowed one without water. “I’ve got work to do, so see you around.”

  She flounced off, her hips swinging, her belly bouncing. She looked like a kid, and she acted like one, and something about that made Brenna feel sorry for her.

  She took out one of the twenties Byron had given her and set it under her coffee cup.

  “Nice tip,” River commented, and she shrugged.

  “She looks like she could use it.”

  “She can. Belinda helped her get insurance coverage for the kid, but Angel doesn’t want to go on welfare. She’s been working hard so she can provide for both of them. She’s still not making enough. If Belinda hadn’t taken her in, she’d be on the streets.”

  “She’s one of the guests?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “I don’t think it’s unfortunate for her.”

  True.

  Very true, and River wasn’t so much of an ass that he didn’t realize it. He watched as Angel cleared off a table, handed menus to a group of older men, poured coffee for an elderly couple. She did her job well and she worked long hours. He knew she was making decent money, but she wore the same pair of jeans almost every day, the same faded shirt. Every cent she spent was on stuff for the baby.

  So maybe he was an ass, because he’d been so caught up in worrying about Belinda that he hadn’t spent more than a few minutes worrying about Angel.

  He pulled three twenties out of his wallet and set them with the one Brenna had left.

  “Nice tip,” she murmured, grabbing the box and carry-out container and standing. She looked just as thin as she had the night before, her eyes just as hollow and tired. She had a smear of chocolate on her neck and one just under her jaw.

  “She looks like she could use it.”

  She smiled. “You’re a quick learner, River. I’d better get this over to my sister’s. Chocolate Haven opens at ten and I need to be back by then.”

  “Want a ride?”

  “To Adeline’s?” She looked surprised and maybe a little appalled.

  “That is where we’re both going, right?” He held the diner door open for Brenna and then followed her out into the warming day.

  “Yes, I just didn’t think . . .”

  “That we’d be there at the same time?”

  “I didn’t think we’d be going there together, but I’m tired, and a ride would be good, so I guess I’ll accept your offer.”

  “No need to sound so excited about it,” he said lightly as he led the way to his truck

  She climbed into the cab, all long arms and legs and skinny frame. “Sorry. The only thing I’m excited about right now is the thought of making it to the end of the day and tucking myself back into bed.”

  “How long did your drive from New York take?”

  “Four days.”

  “You made good time.”

  “I had good motivation.” She snapped her belt into place, the box and carry-out container on her lap.

  “What kind of motivation?”

  She met his eyes, and he realized hers were blue with specks of violet and green in them. Pretty eyes in a stunning face. “The kind that makes a woman drive 2,500 miles in four days.”

  Obviously, she didn’t want to share any more than that, and it was just as obvious he didn’t need to add anyone else’s trouble to his plate.

&nb
sp; He was curious, though.

  He’d admit that.

  “I can think of a lot of things that might make a woman do that. None of them are very pleasant.”

  “Not very pleasant sums up the last past months of my life beautifully. Now,” she said, “how about we head to my sister’s house. I really do have to get back to the shop this morning. My family is counting on me to help out until Adeline gets over her morning sickness and can stand the smell of chocolate again.”

  “She’s expecting?”

  “You hadn’t heard?”

  “I’ve been a little too caught up in my own family dramas to worry about anyone else’s.”

  Brenna’s foot tapped against the floor of the truck, her fingers playing a rhythm on the carry-out box. “I wouldn’t call Adeline’s pregnancy a drama. It’s more like . . . a distraction.”

  “From the things that sent you running from New York?”

  “I wasn’t running. I was coming here to help. I was just doing it very very quickly.”

  “Why?” He was back to that again, and he knew she wasn’t going to answer, but he wanted to know. Maybe just because thinking about her problems was a whole hell of a lot easier than thinking about his own.

  “Why not?”

  “Do you always answer questions with questions?”

  “Do you?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. Actually. When I don’t want to answer. So, I guess I’ll take your question as a subtle hint that I should mind my own business.”

  “It wasn’t subtle and it wasn’t a hint, but I’ll say thank you and we’ll leave it at that,” she responded. “Perfect timing for it, because there’s my sister’s place.”

  She pointed to a small house sitting in the middle of a well-manicured lot. Flower baskets hung from the eaves of a narrow porch. More flowers decorated mulch beds near the corners of the house. An old Cadillac was parked in the driveway, and he pulled up behind it.

  The front door flew open before he could put the truck in PARK and Adeline Lamont stepped out onto the porch. No, not Lamont. Jefferson. She’d gotten married a few months back and, according to Belinda, was happier than she’d ever been. He might not have heard about her pregnancy, but he’d heard plenty about her marriage.