Page 11 of The Restaurant on Plum Island
“Is it his parents?” Ethan frowned. “Or at least his mother. I’m sure she’s a single mother, and I know she owns the Cobble Point Restaurant.”
“Ethan, do you know who she is?” Bailey asked, and something in her voice set off alarm bells in his head.
“Yes.” Ethan nodded. “I met her tonight. Her name is Carly Donovan.”
“That’s her real name.” Bailey started turning her laptop around. “But you know her by this name.”
Ethan’s eyes widened in shock as he stared at the picture on the screen and the name beneath it. It was a name he wasn’t likely to everforget as it had cut his career as a screenwriter short and nearly ended his one as a director.
“There must be some mistake,” Ethan stated.
“I don’t think so.” Bailey shook her head. “This is her bio that we have on our database. It may be over ten years old, but it refers to her real name.”
But an image of Carly flashed through his mind. Now, when he looked at the picture of the woman who’d nearly ruined his professional life, Ethan knew why he thought he’d met Carly before.
CHAPTER 3
It was only ten in the morning, and Carly was exhausted. She hadn’t slept much the previous night for two reasons. The first was Ethan Blackwell, who now lived next door to her, and the second, she was meeting with him in thirty minutes. For the past three years, Carly had lived in peace in the small town of Plum Island, where even though everyone knew you, they never pried. Then, a camera crew showed up last year, and her past started creeping in around her.
Lately, Carly didn’t even like to go sit in the park in the town square and feed the squirrels in case she got spotted by one of the paparazzi that had been buzzing around. They were like annoying wasps. As long as you kept out of their path, they couldn’t sting you, and Carly knew what it felt like to be stung by the media. She still bore the scars, and Carly didn’t want Reef tangled up in their web either.
Carly found herself wearing huge hats and oversized sunglasses once again to obscure her identity. Reef teased her that wearing a disguise attracted attention because the media would wonder why she was wearing sunglasses twice the size of her face. They weren’t really that big, but they were still a lot larger than the regular pair she used, and the bigger ones weren’t prescription, which caused a dilemma.
Carly wore her glasses these days and not contacts for fear of being recognized. It was what Reef called her Clark Kent disguise. Only, Clark Kent could fly away from the paparazzi, and she couldn’t even outrun them as most of them drove scooters these days.
Carly sighed and carried on opening up the restaurant for the Sunday lunch crowd that usually showed up by about midday. David Brundel, her head chef, was already in the kitchen with the rest of the kitchen staff preparing the usual, which smelled delicious. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything since last night.
“Carly, you need to get something to eat.” Sue-Ann, the hostess, laughed as she was standing beside Carly when her stomach decided to remind her to eat.
“You’re right, I’d better before I pass out,” Carly agreed. “Are you alright to continue sorting out the tables?”
“Yes,” Sue-Ann said. “And all the wait staff are here today, so get something to eat!”
Carly left Sue-Ann and walked through to the kitchen.
“Ah, there you are,” David said in his British accent that she loved. He was on his way out of the kitchen. “I was coming to find you.”
“Here I am.” Carly smiled at the tall, good-looking man. “And I was just coming to find you to get something to eat.”
“Of course,” David said, stepping aside for her to enter the kitchen. “Let’s go to my office dining table, and you can order what you want on the way.”
“Is it too early to sample a roast something?” Carly asked, her stomach gurgling at the tantalizing aroma teasing her senses and making her mouth water in anticipation.
“Which one do you want?” David asked. “The lamb, beef, and chicken are all ready.”
“A bit of each?” Carly grinned. “And a pile of veggies, especially your roast potatoes.” Her brow creased thoughtfully. “Did you make the lemon ones?”
“I did.” David nodded. “Do you want a few of the plain ones and lemon ones?”
“Yes!” Carly sighed gratefully. “Oh, and a large freshly squeezed apple juice, please.”
“Sure.” David turned, saying. “I’ll meet you in the office.”
Carly wandered through, stealing a few freshly baked breadsticks along the way. When he appeared, she’d just sat at the round dining table in the corner of David’s small office.
“Your food won’t be long,” David told her, getting a file off his desk. “I have next week’s special menus and the catering order list for you to review.”
“Great.” Carly watched David sit in front of her with the file.
