“What’s so great about this breakfast sandwich?” Andrew asked after the silence had gone on just a little bit too long.
“You’ll have to wait and see,” I said. “But if you don’t like it, I’ll buy you anything else on the menu.”
He grinned. “You’re on.” Then he shifted sideways in his chair and reached for his cup. “Tell me about this tasting thing you were talking about to our waitress.”
“It’s this afternoon, by the boardwalk along the water. A Taste of Mayville Heights.” I folded my hand around my mug. “Where are you staying?”
“The St. James Hotel.”
“Did you see the tents across the street?”
He nodded.
“That’s where it is.”
“Sounds like fun,” he said. “How about showing me around?”
“I have to work.” I shifted to one side so the back of the chair wasn’t digging into my shoulder.
“I heard you say you were going.”
“On my lunch hour.”
“I’ll meet you at the library, then. What time?”
I shook my head. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Nope.” He tented his fingers over the top of his cup. “I told you—I came here to get you back. I’m not giving up. I’m just getting started.”
I didn’t have a chance to answer because Eric was on his way to the table with our order. “Hey, Kathleen,” he said with a smile as he put a heavy oval plate in front of me.
The aroma of pan-toasted sourdough bread and bacon tickled my nose. “Hi, Eric,” I said. “It smells wonderful.”
“Thanks.” He eyed my left arm. “You okay?”
“It looks worse than it really is.” It struck me that maybe I should make a little sign that read I’M ALL RIGHT and stick it on the front of the nylon sling so I didn’t have to keep explaining myself all day. On the other hand, it was nice to have so many people who cared about me.
Eric slid Andrew’s plate in front of him, assessed him with a quick look and then held out his hand. “Welcome. I’m Eric.”
“Andrew,” he said.
They shook hands.
“Andrew’s a friend from Boston,” I added.
“Good to meet you,” Eric said. “Enjoy your breakfast.” He looked at me and his eyebrows went up just slightly, but all he said was, “Claire will be over in a minute with more coffee.”
Andrew reached for half of his sandwich and took a large bite. That was followed, after a moment, by a grunt of pleasure. “This is good.” He gestured at the plate. “What’s in it?”
I moved my own plate a little closer. “Bacon, tomatoes, a little fresh mozzarella, a little thyme, and sourdough bread.”
“Don’t tell me everything on the menu is this good.” He took another huge bite.
“Just make sure you try the chocolate pudding cake if you go to the food tasting.” As I looked over his shoulder, the front door opened and Maggie and Roma came in.
Perfect timing.
2
Maggie and Roma looked around, smiling when they caught sight of me.
I waved hello and they made their way over to us.
“Hi,” Maggie said. She looked from me to Andrew, curiosity obvious in her blue eyes.
“Hi, Mags,” I said. I smiled up at Roma. “Hi.”
“How’s your shoulder?” she asked.
“Better,” I said.
“Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“Can you move it?”
I nodded.
She reached out a hand and then stopped herself. “May I?”
“Go ahead.” I shifted forward in my seat so she could lean down and feel my shoulder. Her fingers were gentle as they probed around the joint.
“I think most of the swelling has gone down,” she said, straightening up after a moment.
“Are you Kathleen’s doctor?” Andrew asked.
Maggie laughed. “In a manner of speaking, she is.”
I leaned back in the chair again. “Actually, Roma is Hercules and Owen’s doctor.”
“You’re a—?”
“Veterinarian,” Roma finished.
“And a first-aid responder,” I added. “She knows how to take care of four-legged and two-legged patients.”
“Good to know you have friends who have your back,” Andrew said. He stood up. “I’m Andrew. I’m a friend of Kathleen’s from Boston. Would you two like to join us?”
Roma smiled and offered her hand. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Roma Davidson.”
“And I’m Maggie Adams,” Maggie said. “Welcome to Mayville Heights, and yes, we’d love to join you.”
Andrew moved aside and Maggie slipped into the chair next to him. Roma came around the table and took the seat next to me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Claire, already on her way over with coffee, along with a teapot and hot water for Maggie, who didn’t drink coffee.
“Hi, guys,” she said, giving Maggie her tea and pouring coffee for Roma without setting down the tray she’d carried everything over on. “What can I get for you?”
“I’ll have what they’re having,” Maggie said, tipping her head toward the last half of the sandwich on my plate.
“It smells wonderful,” Roma said. “Me too.”
“It’ll just be a couple of minutes,” Claire said. She topped up my cup and Andrew’s. I saw her hold up two fingers to Eric as she went back to the kitchen.
“So what are you doing in Mayville Heights?” Maggie asked, dropping a tea bag into the little stoneware pot and pouring in the hot water. “Are you here for business or is this a vacation?” Subtlety was not one of Maggie’s strengths.
“I came to win Kathleen back,” Andrew said. Then he tipped his head to one side and gave me a sweet—and very phony—smile across the table.
Beside me Roma cleared her throat and picked up her coffee. Since Maggie wasn’t the type of person to beat around the bush, Andrew’s directness didn’t faze her. “So what took you so long?” she asked.
I blew out a breath. “Mags,” I said softly. I should have guessed she’d ask a question like that.
Andrew was already shaking his head. “It’s okay, Kathleen,” he said. “I don’t mind answering your friend’s questions.” He propped his elbow on the back of the chair so he was turned partly toward Maggie. “You know about the fishing trip.”
She nodded, reaching for her cup to pour the tea.
“At first I was still married. It took a while to have the whole thing annulled.”
“And after that?”
He played with his fork. “After that I was mad.”
“At Kathleen,” Maggie said. She took a sip of her tea and watched him over the top of the cup.
“Yes.”
“She’s not the one who married a waitress from a fifties diner,” Maggie said, her blue eyes locked on his face.
He blushed, but he didn’t look away. “No, she wasn’t,” he said. “Look, I know I’m the one who messed up. I’m not saying I had a right to be mad because Kathleen left Boston. I’m just saying that I was.”
“Okay, I can understand that,” Maggie said.
Claire returned then with Roma’s and Maggie’s breakfast orders and more hot coffee. Once she’d taken a couple of bites of her sandwich, Maggie turned her attention back to Andrew.
“So, when did you stop being angry? I’m assuming that you’re not anymore.”
He smiled at me across the table, a genuine smile this time. I remembered when that look used to make my heart race and, truth be told, it was thumping just a beat or two faster now.
“No, I’m not angry anymore,” he said, letting his gaze slide off my face and back to Maggie.
Was I imagining that he did it with just a bit of reluctance?
“I stopped being mad the first time I saw her again.”
“The first time you saw me again was less than twelve hours ago,” I said. I’d thought he was going to say it was when we’d talked on the phone several months ago.