Page 80 of Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher
“Too much? I did love your grandmother, but I have a business to run, you know.”
“No, that’s not right. If you picked another tenant, you could be making five thousand times that amount?—”
“Probably. I guess it wouldn’t make much sense, me settling for only a dollar, then. Would it? Strange, since apparently I’m going to.” He smiled and cut me off when I opened my mouth to argue the gift was too great.
“Katie, honey, I’m an old man. I own my house as well as a couple of other properties like this one. I don’t need the rent money or I wouldn’t have left it empty for five months. I had a feeling I should wait, and it turned out I was right. I want to do this. I want to be a part of this new venture, and I’m asking if you’ll let me. This is what I can do. I can’t cook and I’m not much for waiting tables, but I can do this. All right?”
My throat burned. I crossed to him and buried my head in his chest, hugging him tightly. He held me, and I realized that I was wrong. Aiden wasn’t home; this was. This man, this town was my home. I nodded, my head still against his shirt. “All right.”
“Good.” He patted my back. “Now, let’s go look at the kitchen, see if we need to make any changes in there.”
An hour later, we were sitting in Geddy’s, baskets of fish and chips on the polished wood table before us; a large group of noisy tourists in lobster bibs sat across the main room. It was lively and fun, servers joking with the customers as well as among themselves. Eclectic decorations lined the walls. I smiled at the flirty mermaid who watched over our table. The energy of the restaurant matched my own, as ideas for Nellie’s Kitchen whizzed through my head, one barely taking hold before another pushed it aside.
“So, will the kitchen do, or should we make some changes?”
“Connor, I know I’ve said this before, but I don’t think you’re listening. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never done anything like this before. My opinion means nothing. Less than nothing.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve cooked for people before. This will just be on a larger scale.” He stopped to think for a minute. “Maybe we should do a test run. Buy whatever ingredients you’ll need for a few different breakfast items, and then you can cook for me and Aiden, maybe some of the kids from the police station who have some free time, so we can see how the kitchen works for you and what we need to do to make it better.” He smiled at his ingenuity and took out his cell phone, beginning to text.
I mumbled. “This ought to be good.”
“Hmm?” He looked up inquiringly.
I shook my head. “Nothing.” I played with the remaining fries on my plate, making designs by swirling them through the ketchup. Aiden wouldn’t agree to this, and I’d forgotten my bat at home. I needed to start carrying that thing around with me.
“How can he be busy all the time?” Connor grumbled as he replaced his phone in his pocket. “Never mind about that. Jack would love a free breakfast, and I could get a few more retired guys who’ll jump at the chance to have a pretty woman cook for them.” His grin was infectious and took some of the sting out of Aiden’s continued rejection.
I excused myself, heading to the restroom. I needed to shake it off. Fuckers gonna fuck. Dicks gonna dick.
“Hello again, Kate. It’s Cady now, isn’t it? I heard you got married.”
That Nancy woman came out of a stall. She looked perfect, as usual, but there was a meanness in her eyes that gave me pause. “Actually, Gallagher is fine.”
She paused at the sink. “But I thought I heard you were married now.” Her voice was sharp and insinuating.
I took a deep breath. This was life in a small town; everyone in your business. “I’m in the process of divorcing.” I tilted my head, studying her. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?” Because fuck her.
Her smile was brittle. “Nancy Wilkins. Well, it’s certainly been a while.” She looked me up and down. “It must be hard, going through a divorce. The failure of love is tragic, isn’t it?” Her tone was solicitous as she asked, “Having a hard time sleeping?”
“What?” I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Did I look haggard? I saw a brief smirk in my peripheral vision. “You know, it’s funny, Nancy. I just don’t remember you at all. I’m sure I saw you often as a child, but”—I shrugged, shaking my head—“some people, I remember like it was yesterday, while others, nothing.” I walked out of the restroom, back to Connor.
When he saw me, he tossed his napkin on the table and pulled out some money, leaving it under his plate. “Come on. We’ve got some groceries to buy, and how about we stop off at the hardware store and check out paint colors for the walls?”
Shake it off, Kate. “You bet. That sounds great.”
My mind was buzzing when I dropped Connor off at his place. I had paint samples in my bag and catalogs of dishware and cookware. I couldn’t wait to lay it all out on the table and geek out, choosing colors and designs. “Thanks, Connor.” I grabbed and squeezed his hand. “You’ve turned a monumentally crappy day into one of my best days ever.” I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I think you may be my fairy godfather.”
He chuckled. “Pleasure’s all mine.” He hopped out and then leaned back in. “Do some thinking, and we can meet again tomorrow to plan.” He waved. “Have a good evening, sweetheart.”
A few days later, I sat on the floor of the diner, Chaucer at my side, and gazed at the newly painted walls. “I love it! Don’t you love it?” I studied the antique gold of the Italian plaster. It was perfect, just how I’d pictured it in my head. I pulled the dishware catalog into my lap, placed adhesive flags next to me, and began to narrow down my top ten.
I heard the back door open. Chaucer stood and growled, low and soft. I wasn’t expecting anyone and didn’t realize the back door was unlocked. I would have assumed it was Connor or Bear except for Chaucer’s reaction. I stood silently, braced for what was coming.
“Katherine.” Justin stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his face strangely blank.
My body tensed, readying for the insult. Old habits were hard to break. I reached out to place my hand on Chaucer’s head. The growling stopped immediately.
Justin followed my hand, his gaze resting on Chaucer. “Of course. The dog, you keep. The husband, you throw out.” He studied me. “I see your priorities and common sense haven’t improved during this little vacation of yours.” He glanced down at the catalog and the notes I was making. A smirk lifted one side of his perfect mouth. “Oh, Katherine, really? Tell me someone didn’t actually hire you to run a restaurant. That is”—he shook his head—“ridiculous. And pathetic.”
