The Second Chance Café (Hope Springs, #1) (2 page)

She glanced at Magoo as he huffed and snorted his way around the room’s baseboards, his tail up, his ears up, his nose hard at work. “Whaddaya think, Goo? ‘Wanted. A butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker’?”

Magoo gave a single distracted wag of his tail in answer, then moved into the dining room, leaving Kaylie on her own in the kitchen. It was this room, more than any other, where she’d come to terms with the life she’d lost and the one she’d been gifted in return.

What she hadn’t been able to do, however, was reconcile the images, the ones stamped on her five-year-old mind’s eye: Her mother lying bloody on the floor of another kitchen. Their neighbor, Ernest, holding her tiny, shivering body and crying when the authorities had whisked her away. Her father like dust in the wind.

She needed to know the whole story. And only from the harbor of this house that had saved her would she be strong enough for the truth.

After carting the few belongings she’d brought with her to the third-floor bedroom, Kaylie called for Magoo and loaded both of them into her Jeep. It was almost three, and if Carolyn was right, the
Hope Springs Courant
was closing soon. Before she lost herself for hours in the house—no, not
the
house,
her
house—measuring the windows and rooms, sketching possible furniture placement, noting the most obvious of the needed repairs, she had to make the trip into town.

She found the small square building squatting on Fifth Street, the post office to its left, the Dollar General finishing off the block, and eased forward into one of the angled parking places. Giving Magoo orders to stay put, she tugged open the paper’s front door and stepped into the low-ceilinged
room that spoke less of urgent deadlines and more of garage sales and grocery specials.

“Good afternoon. May I help you?”

Kaylie turned to the woman who’d appeared from the closest cubicle, its walls decorated with school photos and family snapshots pushpinned into place. “I wanted to place an ad in your classifieds.”

“Sure thing, hon. Let me find you a form.” One hand on the counter, she bent to shuffle through the supplies stored beneath. Her nails tapping against the surface were short and painted a bright orange-pink to match her lipstick. The color was the only makeup on her face and shockingly bright, but somehow it suited her perfectly. “Here’s a pencil. And here’s the form. Name, address, phone number, then the ad worded exactly as you’d like it to appear. It’s best if you print. Makes for fewer mistakes in data entry.”

While Kaylie got started, the other woman explained the cost, the circulation numbers, and the distribution schedule. “You can pay for up to four weeks at a time, or pay for one and let us know by the next week’s deadline if you want to run it again.”

“I’ll start with two weeks, if that’s okay. See where I am with responses, and go from there.”

“Put a check mark right here, then,” the woman said, pointing to a box in the
For Office Use Only
section, and frowning as she began to read through. “Your address. The corner of Second and Chances? You bought the Coleman place?”

“It was the Wise place when I knew it, but yes. That’s the house.”

“The Wise place.” The frown deepened, dredging a vee between the other woman’s thick eyebrows. “You knew May
and Winton Wise? Were you one of their kids? I mean, it’s none of my business, but it’s mostly local folks who remember the Wises.”

Kaylie nodded, extending her hand. “Kaylie Flynn. I came to live with them when I was ten, though I would’ve been Kaylie Bridges then.”

“Kaylie Bridges. Oh my God! I’m Jessa Little!” Jessa pumped Kaylie’s hand as if priming a water well, her plump bosom bouncing. “Well, I’m Jessa Breeze now. I married Rick Breeze after graduation. Oh, did I ever love your brownies. I think eighth grade was when I fell in love with chocolate, thanks to you. There wasn’t a weekend I wasn’t baking something. And then Rick magically fell in love with me.”

Kaylie laughed, glad to hear her baking had benefited others as well as herself. “Happy to do my part for true romance.”

Jessa leaned closer to whisper, “I hope the name change means you’ve got an amazing man in your life.”

“Of a sort.” Kaylie glanced outside to see Magoo draped out the Jeep’s passenger-side window, watching her. His tongue hung over his chin as he panted. His big paws dangled down the door. “That guy out there keeps me company.”

“Huh. Looks like the type to scare off any other company you might want.”

“He knows his place. He wouldn’t leave the Jeep even if you waved a sirloin in front of him.”

“Ah, but let someone look at you the wrong way…”

“It’s definitely been an unanticipated benefit of pet ownership,” Kaylie admitted, opening the Baggallini wallet
attached to her belt. “Is cash okay, or do you prefer a credit card?”

“Either one,” Jessa said, then took the bills Kaylie counted out and handed her. “I’ll be right back with your change.”

While waiting, Kaylie returned her attention to her dog. Magoo had been her constant companion since an emotional, spur-of-the-moment decision had sent her into the parking lot of the animal shelter, where he’d been left with his littermates days before. She’d been sad, alone, and desperate for a friend. May Wise’s funeral had broken her.

Who was she going to call when she wanted to brainstorm new brownie recipes? Who would remind her to pick up shards of broken glass with a balled-up slice of bread? Or to clean the grease from the blades of her garbage disposal with ice cubes?

Who would answer the phone in the middle of the night and listen to her breathe when she woke from the dream that left her gasping?

“Here’s your receipt and change.” Jessa was holding out both when, perspiration pasting her bra to her breasts, Kaylie pulled herself out of the nightmare. “Not that it’s any of my business, but I read through the ad. You’re opening a restaurant?”

Kaylie cleared her throat. “I am, yes. A café. On the first floor of the house.”

Jessa toyed with a puff of a curl cupping her ear. “Do you mind if I mention this to Rick’s mother? And give her your number? The woman puts those Food Network chefs to shame.”

“Not at all. I’d love for you to. And if there’s anyone else you can think of, please have them call or come by. I’m anticipating it’ll be just shy of three months before the café’s open, but I want to involve whoever I hire with the planning.”

“Have you already moved in?”

“It’s more like I’m camping in. I need a couple of walls knocked out, some painting done, an overhaul of the kitchen.” Not to mention all the upgrades and improvements. “I’ll be staying there while that’s going on, but won’t move my furniture in until the construction’s finished.” Another thing that couldn’t wait. “Speaking of construction, do you know of Tennessee Keller?”

“Oh, sure. Everyone knows Ten. Are you looking to hire him to do the work?”

“I’d like to go with a local contractor if possible.”

“Then Ten’s who you want. No one’s better. Ask anyone in town and they’ll be able to point you to a job he’s done.”

“Carolyn Parker told me he’d done some work for Wade.”

“For Rick’s mother, too. Ten’s helped her out a lot since Rick’s dad died. He’s a good man.” Jessa paused, smiled, then pressed her hands to her cheeks as if doing so would hide her blush. “He’s also quite a man, if you know what I mean.”

Kaylie had never had girlfriends. She’d had classmates and coworkers; then she’d had employees. She’d also had neighbors, but no one to talk to about men. Not the confident roll of their hips as they walked. Not the fit of their clothes, the strength of their hands, their opinions. Not the zeal in their eyes when they had something on their minds.

She gave Jessa what she hoped passed for a look that said she knew exactly, when in reality she was more interested in the work he did than in the man. As busy as she was going to be over the weekend, talking to him now would make for one less chore on her list. “I’d love to see him while I’m out, but I only have a phone number. Does he have a shop? Or an office? Though I guess I could call for directions…”

“Do you know where Grath Avenue is?”

“I’m sure my GPS does.”

“He’s at the end. A big barn where he works, and a couple of other buildings. His house is at the very back of the bunch. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks, Jessa. It’s good to see you again.”

“You too. I can’t wait to tell Rick you’re back.”

Climbing into her Jeep and rubbing her cheek against Magoo’s, Kaylie was certain more people today than Rick Breeze would be hearing that particular news.

“H
ello?”

At the sound of the female voice, all soft and southern syrup, Tennessee Keller froze. Dolly Breeze ran his front office and handled any visitors who dropped in without calling. But Dolly had cut out early—something about getting ready for a weekend craft fair—leaving Ten alone in the shop.

He really should’ve locked the barn door, but the horse already being gone and all that had him heading toward the front to see who’d decided a phone call wouldn’t get them what they wanted.

It was a dog. Well, a woman and a dog and the red Jeep Wrangler they’d arrived in, but the big loping shepherd caught his eye before the long legs striding toward him. Yeah, some sorry state he was in when a dog got his pulse racing, and a woman was more afterthought than anything.

“I’m looking for Tennessee Keller?”

That voice again. “You found him.”

“Hi. I wanted to talk to you about some construction work I need done. Jessa Breeze and Carolyn Parker both
said you’re the man I want.” She came closer. So did the dog. She held out her hand. “I’m Kaylie Flynn.”

“Ten Keller.” He shook it quickly, smelled fields of sun-soaked flowers when she leaned in, and then lowered his palm for the dog, waiting until he’d been sniffed and licked before scratching the spot of soft hair behind the stiff ears. “What’s his name?”

“Magoo.”

“As in Mister?”

Strands of copper-blonde hair escaped her ponytail to blow in her face. She snatched them away and nodded, and he smelled the flowers again. “When I got him, he had this tiny scrunched-up face. Mister Magoo was the first thing that came to mind.”

“He’s got more in him than German shepherd.”

“The shelter thought rottweiler.”

“Good-looking dog.”

“Thanks. I think so.”

Good-looking owner, too, though he kept that P.S. to himself. She wore a white T-shirt caught loosely around her hips. Not Hanes or Fruit of the Loom, but something classy, rich, like the russet leather of her boots, buttery and worn to fit.

Her clothes said she wasn’t from around here. They also said she wasn’t looking to stand out. Interesting. He finally said, “It’s been a while since I had one.”

“A dog?”

“My folks were big on animal rescue.” And rain forest rescue and Arctic ice rescue and closing the hole in the ozone. “We usually had half a dozen at any time. Cats and dogs both. All shapes and sizes and temperaments.”

She gave a groaning laugh, as if she couldn’t decide between sympathy and pity and rolled the dice. “I hope you had a big house. And an even bigger yard.”

He liked her laugh, the watermelon burst of it, liked the shape of her mouth, the width. It fit her face without taking it over. The bow of her lip pointed to the spatter of freckles dotting her nose, pale chestnut flung from a paintbrush.

Motioning Kaylie Flynn out of the sun and into the barn, he perched on a drafting stool, offered her another, watched what her thighs did to the denim of her jeans when she sat. Magoo plopped to the cement floor between them, making sure the hand that had scratched his ears behaved.

“What kind of work are you looking to have done?” Ten asked, behaving. “And where?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Do you know the Coleman place? Used to be the Wise place? On the corner of Second Street where it crosses Chances Avenue?”

“Big Victorian. Blue. Lots of trees.” It was one fine house. His crew had replaced the roof a few years back after hurricane-force winds stripped half the shingles away. At the end of the job, he’d made the Wises an offer, but they’d stayed until Winton had died. Then May had gone to live with her sister in Dallas, selling it before he could bite. “You handling things for the Colemans now?”

“I bought it from them. Closed this morning. It’s all mine.”

She said it with relish, as if she’d landed herself the deal of the century. And knowing the albatross the property had become to Bob Coleman, she probably had. Ten just wished
he’d known they’d decided to unload it. He’d really wanted that house.

It was solid, sturdy. Built to stand up to the elements. Built to be used. “I didn’t know they were selling.”

Her smile was sly. “I didn’t give anyone else a chance to find out.”

“Been keeping an eye on it, have you?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Mind if I ask why?”

This time she wasn’t quite as quick to answer, and the slyness slid from her smile. “It was the house I lived in from the time I was ten till I was eighteen.”