“You can’t quit. You need this job. How are you ever going to open that brewery you want?”
Ethan smiled through the disappointment. “You’ve helped me realize that I want the brewery less than I want to get the hell away from you. Thanks, Dad. It’s the best thing you’ve ever done for me.”
He leaned close, planted a hand on his father’s chest, and met his gaze deliberately. “Back off Delaney. Back off me. Or you will regret it. And you don’t want to test me. I promise.”
Delaney brought the arm of the table saw down on the strip of maple flooring at the marked angle. Her blade cut through the wood smoothly, evenly, perfectly, just like it always did. Lifting the arm, the saw automatically shut down, and she turned with the board, crouched, and settled the piece into the starburst pattern she’d created where the boards originated from the edge of the oval brass dedication plaque she’d had made.
The wood fit into the grooves of the piece beside it perfectly, and Delaney sat back on her heels to look at the job as a whole. A moment of pride, of rightness, flashed through her before hurt smothered all the pleasure. Within two heartbeats, her whole body had refilled with the ache of Ethan’s betrayal. And the hell of it was, she couldn’t be 100 percent angry with him. He’d been trying to help his grandfather. The same way she was trying to help her sisters. And she certainly knew how broken families drove people toward warped destinations.
“What a damn mess,” she muttered, and stood to measure and cut the next board.
She had to keep her head down, her mind focused. The hurt would pass. She’d experienced enough of it to know.
Only something inside her whispered this time it was different.
She silenced the voice with the roar of the saw and cut into the board.
When she released the arm and the saw whined to a stop, she heard her phone ringing. With the board in one hand, she reached for her phone with the other and found Phoebe’s number.
“Hey, how’s Avery’s tasting going?”
“It’s me,” Avery said, her voice filled with breathy excitement. “And, wow, I can’t even believe the turnout. I never expected anything like this.”
“Yeah?” Delaney’s heart lifted a little, and she knelt to
set the board down, then dropped to her butt and leaned against the wall to talk. “Tell me.”
“I’m completely out of food. An hour, Delaney, and it’s completely gone.”
“Nuh-uh,” she teased.
“Uh-huh.”
Delaney laughed. “Well, that’s because it’s amazing. Any solid potential business?”
“Oh my God, yes. It’s exciting, but, God, terrifying. I need to talk to you about it. I need to know what you think.”
A long-dormant sense of being needed, of being respected, of being loved opened in her chest. The sensation was so sweet, Delaney dropped her head into her hand and closed her eyes against the sting, pushing out, “Okay” past a tight throat.
“The owner of Java on the Wild Side wants to talk about replacing her current pastry and sandwich supplier with me, and she’s opening up three more shops in the county within the next two years.”
“Promising.”
“And I’ve gotten half a dozen inquiries about catering, another half-dozen women interested in wedding cakes, two restaurants wanting to know if I can provide their desserts—” She cut herself off, out of breath. “Oh my God. I think I’m having a panic attack.”
“That’s called excitement, and you deserve it. You’ve worked a long time to get this business up and running. And you did it all on your own. You’ve totally got this.”
“I wish I was as confident as you and Phoebe. Speaking of Phoebe, I know you don’t plan on staying in town once the bar is finished, and I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m really hoping you could help me get this up and running—if I decide to do it, I mean. It’s already way bigger than I’d anticipated, and the more Phoebe talks, the bigger it gets. I kinda need someone to rein her in, and I really need your big-picture business view, you know? I don’t even know what a business plan looks like. You’ve got the whole project management thing down. I’m strictly small time, small town, and this feels . . . ridiculously overwhelming.”
“Take a deep breath. You’re going to be fine.”
Listening to Avery loosened all the stress in Delaney’s shoulders, and she slumped against the wall, smiling. Smiling because she was being asked to stay somewhere she’d never even planned on setting foot again. So ironic.
“Small town doesn’t always equal small time. Some of the biggest names in commercial baked goods started out of their own home oven. And, yes, I’m here as long as you need me. We’ll get you on your feet before I make any decisions on where I go next.” She glanced around the partially finished bar. “You know, the money from the sale of this place could really give your business a leg up.”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank—” Avery suddenly went silent, and Delaney heard boisterous voices in the background. “Oh, Jesus. I better go. I’m pretty sure Phoebe’s got me hosting bridal and baby showers now . . . I’ll see you at home tonight?”
The flash of the three of them at home tonight—Phoebe, Avery, and her—all atwitter about Avery’s success over wine in front of the fire, laughing, gossiping, and making plans, made Delaney’s heart swell. “I’ll be there.”