Page 36 of A Family Affair: The Plan
She’d stopped baking pies years ago, and while she pretended the reason had to do with extra calories, it was the reminder of the sad life at the bed-and-breakfast. But this place was different. Mimi appreciated help in the kitchen, offered tips on preparing salmon, rolling out sweet rolls, and adding the right amount of “zip” to a pot of chili. Maybe it was okay to encourage this part of herself and it didn’t mean she had to live in the past. There was a whole future waiting to be lived, and for the first time in too many years, she wanted that future to be about more than a promotion or a bonus.
Was she afraid? Definitely. Was she worried about exposing too much of herself and her insecurities? Yes, to that one, too. What about owning up to the truth—Sam Harrington was a big part of her transformation and she wanted him in her life. Those admissions petrified her. They’d both insisted they weren’tinterested in long-term or a serious relationship, but could he say that now? Hope’s feelings had changed, and the openness and honesty with which Sam talked to her indicated his feelings might have changed, too.
Hope still had to tell him she wasn’t the sophisticated, wealthy girl from the elite background, even though everyone thought she was. If she wanted a chance with him, she had to share the secrets about her childhood, that included being raised in a bed-and-breakfast where she was more employee than child and the only hope she had was escaping that life and creating a new one with a different backstory.
All of the things she wanted to tell Sam flitted through her head as she peeled and sliced apples, placed them in a bowl of water with a squeeze of lemon so they didn’t turn brown. The piecrust rolling took three attempts and a little “patching” before she fit it into the pie plate. Next, she mixed the cinnamon-nutmeg-sugar mixture, and twenty minutes later, with a bit more crust repair, she slid the pie into the oven. When Sam returned for his afternoon break, he’d smell the cinnamon and spices, know she’d made it just for him…an apology for Kent’s abrupt and inconsiderate appearance. At least the man was gone, and he better not contact anyone from Magdalena again.
She checked the rooster clock on the wall, wished it were already mid-afternoon so she and Sam could talk. Had she ever been as anxious or nervous about having a conversation with someone? No, not even her job interview with Martin compared to this. The only way to pass time was to stay busy and try not to think about it. The staying busy part wasn’t difficult and consisted of peeling more apples for applesauce, washing and drying the dishes, taking a long walk…visiting Mimi’s garden, and getting lost in the beauty of this private escape. The biggest distraction lay in the plans she reviewed for a bed-and-breakfast model, one that included an authentic feel,not run by automation or cookie-cutter duplications. The Heart Sent offered the perfect model, and while Kent laughed at the photo albums and the wallpaper, they represented a familiar and welcome intimacy for guests. What couple wouldn’t want to share a photo of their visit, the smiles and obvious love? And while lace, wallpaper, and stuffed pillows might make a person think of their aunt or grandparents’ home, wasn’t that the point? Family. Love. Comfort.
Hope had jotted down several more ideas while she sat on a wrought-iron chair in Mimi’s garden. She’d created broad brushstrokes these past weeks, but this afternoon she added details that should be considered when modeling the Heart Sentandthe town for future bed-and-breakfasts in various locations. Surely, Martin would understand that their company could create their own Heart Sent in towns that resembled this one yet carried their own authenticity.
They must leave Magdalena and the Heart Sent alone!
But a tiny part of her worried he might not see it that way, might listen to Kent as her ex laid out plans and promises that would help the town—even though the town didn’t want or need help. What if Martin refused to consider Hope’s ideas but stuck with his nephew’s? Then she would have to fight them and protect Mimi, the town, and every business in Magdalena. Thoughts of Kent’s underhanded ploy and attempts to convince Martin to support his plan gave her a headache and made her queasy. As soon as she talked with Sam, she’d contact Martin once again and pitch her ideas. He had to agree…
When the front door to the Heart Sent opened late that afternoon, Hope sat in the kitchen, flipping through Mimi’s recipe book. She’d showered, dressed in jeans and a lavender T-shirt, minimal makeup, gold hoops. No pearls, no chignon.Lavender brings out the highlights in your hair.Sam had toyed with the collar of her lavender blouse, reached for the pins inher hair, removed each one.I love your hair, love the feel of it between my fingers…He’d clung to the “love” word, eyes bright as her hair slipped through his fingers.I love the way it feels when you?—
“What have you done?” Sam stood in the doorway of the kitchen, fists clenched, anger smothering his face.
Hope set aside the recipe book. “What’s wrong?” She stood, started toward him, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“Stay right where you are.”
“What happened?” Had his mother admitted she’d shared his story about his ex-wife? Or had she told him she believed he and Hope might get together? Or?—
“Was I a target from the beginning?”
“A target? What are you talking about?”
“That ex-boyfriend of yours approached my father, told him he was interested in buying the practice and the land tied to it.” Disgust and anger swirled through his next words. “He said it would make a perfect bed-and-breakfast.” The expression turned darker, the right side of his jaw twitched.
“Kent said that? No, he’s gone.”
A raised brow, followed by a scowl. “Maybe, but not before he paid my father a visit and offered to buy the buildingandthe land. Apparently, that’s option two since Mimi’s not selling.”
Hope fought back the dread inching up her throat, her next words a mix of disbelief and confusion. “They can’t do that.”
“Of course they can.” The look he gave her said she was naïve and foolish to believe otherwise.
“Your dad can refuse.”
“Just refuse?” he spat out. “It seems it won’t be that easy because your ex implied if my father doesn’t sell, they’ll find a way to drive business away. Shut him out and shut him down. How’s that for goodwill and emulating small-town life?”
Horrible. Unacceptable.“I’ll take care of it. Whatever Kent’s done, I’ll undo it. I’ll call Martin and let him know he has to fix this mess.” She took a step toward Sam, stopped when he flinched.
“Really? Don’t be so sure that your boss isn’t involved in this plan.” He crossed his arms over his chest, stared at her as though she were a stranger. “You played me, didn’t you? Get close to the fool, pretend you care, and then go after the father.”
“Of course not! I would never do that. How can you even think such a thing?”Don’t you know how I feel about you? Don’t you know how much I care…?
“Because it’s true?”
Hope tried to find the words to tell him how wrong he was, but disbelief and hurt stole her logicandcommon sense. “I wouldneverdo that.” When the tears threatened, she tried to hold them back. She hadn’t cried in front of anyone since she was a teenager and her mother told her to grow up and stop believing in happily-ever-after. But she couldn’t stop these tears, not when the first one fell, the third or the tenth. Hope grabbed a napkin to swipe her eyes, but it didn’t matter. The tears kept coming and Sam just kept staring.
“It must have taken a lot of practice to learn how to manufacture those tears.”
She cleared her throat, managed to speak. “Sam, please… You have to believe me.”
“Do I? What else are you keeping from me because it’s not convenient to admit?” He dragged a hand through his hair, left pieces sticking up. “Damn you for making me believe you were different… Making me believe…” His words trailed off, and he shook his head, muttered a curse. “Stay away. If you care about this town, you’ll leave.”
