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“I really wanted to get over, just for a minute, to see.” She gulped down Gatorade. Energy, she thought. She needed all she could get to finish it out till closing. “Hope sent me some pictures over the phone.”
“I couldn’t give them any real time, either. The bus tour swarmed us, too. God bless them, every one.” Clare smiled, picked at her own salad. “Beckett told me the inspector gave the thumbs-up on the load-in. All of it.”
“All of it?”
“It’s nothing but details now, and he’ll be back, but he said they could start bringing everything in. Hope can’t move in, of course, but we can really start setting things up.”
Sulking, Avery stabbed at pasta. “I’m not going to be left out of this!”
“Avery, it’ll take days. Weeks, really.”
“I want to play now.” Then she blew out a breath. “Okay, not now because my feet are already killing me. But tomorrow. Maybe.” She stuffed in more pasta. “Look at you. You look so happy.”
“I’m happier every day. Yoda threw up in Murphy’s bed this morning.”
“That’s reason to celebrate, all right.”
“Definitely not, but Murphy came running for Beckett. It was wonderful.”
“Yeah, I’d be happy not to be on dog-puke detail.”
“It’s a factor.” Clare’s eyes danced. “But what really makes me happy is how the boys love Beckett, how they trust him. How he’s part of us now. I’m getting married, Avery. I’m so lucky to love and marry two incredible men in one lifetime.”
“I think you got my share. You should really give me Beck.”
“Nope, I’m keeping him.” Her sunny ponytail danced when she shook her head. “Pick one of the others.”
“Maybe I should get both of them. I could use two sets of hands tonight. And I still have Christmas shopping. Why do I always think I’ll have more time?”
“Because you always manage to find a way to make the time. Have you said anything to the Montgomerys about the space across the street?”
“Not yet. Still mulling. You didn’t tell Beckett?”
“I said I wouldn’t. But it’s hard. I’m getting used to telling him everything.”
“Love, love, sappy love.” Avery sighed, wiggled her tired toes. “At times like this it seems like a crazy idea anyway. But . . .”
“You could do it, and do it right.”
“You’re just saying that because I could.” Avery laughed, and some of the fatigue fell away from her face. “And you love me. I’ve got to get back to work. Are you going over to the inn?”
“Laurie and Charlene have the store covered. I thought I’d give them an hour or so. Then I have to pick up the boys.”
“Send me more pictures.”
“I will.” Clare rose, pulled a wool cap over her sleek blond hair, shrugged a coat over her willowy frame. “Get some sleep, sweetie.”
“Won’t be a problem. The minute we’re closed I’m going upstairs and falling flat on my face for eight straight. See you tomorrow. I’ve got it,” Avery said when Clare reached for the dishes. “I’m heading back to the kitchen anyway.”
She waved Clare off, rolled her aching shoulders, then went back to work.
By seven she was in the zone, sliding pizzas into the oven and out again, boxing them for delivery, passing them to waitstaff for table service.
Her place buzzed with activity—and that was a good thing, she reminded herself. She dished up pasta, plated burgers and fries, glanced at the boy who sat at the counter playing the Megatouch as if it comprised his world.
She hustled back to the closed kitchen for more supplies just as Owen walked in.
He took one look around, frowned when he didn’t see her behind the counter.
“Where’s Avery?” he asked a waitress.
“She’s around. The high school chorus decided to come in for pizza after practice. We’re slammed. She must be in the back.”
“Okay.” He didn’t think about it, just went over to the cash register, grabbed one of the order pads, and headed for the back dining room.
When he came out, she stood at the counter, cheeks flushed from the heat, ladling sauce on dough. “Orders from the back,” he told her, slapping the slips in place. “I’ll get the drinks.”
She spread mozzarella, added toppings, watched him.
You could count on Owen, she thought, through the paper thin to the brick thick, you could count on him.
For the next three hours she did whatever came next. Baked spaghetti, Warrior’s pizza, eggplant parm, calzone, gyro. By ten it was like being in a trance, cashing out, cleaning counters, shutting down the ovens.
“Get a beer,” she told Owen. “You earned it.”
“Why don’t you sit down?”
“I will, when we finish closing.”
When the last of her crew left, when she’d locked the door, she turned. A glass of red sat on the counter beside a slice of pepperoni pizza. Owen sat on a stool, with a glass and slice of his own.
God, yes, you could always count on Owen.
“Now sit down,” he ordered.
“Now I will. Thanks. Really, Owen, thanks.”
“It’s kind of fun, when you don’t have to do it every day.”
“It’s kind of fun even then, mostly.” She sat, took her first sip of wine. “Oh man, that’s good.” She bit into the pizza. “So’s that.”
“Nobody makes better.”
“You’d think I’d get tired of pizza, but it’s still my favorite thing.” Floating on exhaustion, she sighed her way through another bite. “Clare said you’re clear to load in. How’d the cleaning brigade do?”
“Good, really good. Still some to go, but we’re heading down to the wire.”
“I’d walk over if I could walk that far.”
“It’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Everybody who came in here today, tonight, from town or nearby talked about it. You must be so proud. I know how I felt when I was on the wire here, hanging the art, unpacking kitchen equipment. Proud and excited and a little scared. Here’s my place. I’m really doing it. I still feel that way sometimes. Not tonight,” she said with a weak laugh. “But sometimes.”
“You’ve got a lot to be proud of here. It’s a good place.”
“I know a lot of people thought your mom was crazy renting the space to me. How was I going to run a restaurant?”
He shook his head, thought her skin was pale enough to pass his hand through. The absence of her usual crackling energy made her fatigue seem only more extreme.
He’d talk her through the slice of pizza, he decided, so she had some food in her. Then he’d get her upstairs so she could get some sleep.
“I never thought she was crazy. You can do anyt
hing you set your mind to. You always could.”
“I couldn’t be a rock star. I’d set my mind on that.”
He remembered her blasting away on a guitar. More enthusiasm than skill, as he recalled. “What were you, fourteen?”
“Fifteen. I thought my dad was going to faint when I dyed my hair black and got those tattoos.”
“It’s a good thing they were fake ones.”
She smiled, sipped more wine. “Not all of them.”
“Oh yeah? Where— Hold that thought,” he said when his phone rang. “What’s up, Ry?”
He slid off the stool, listening, answering, looking out the glass door at the lights beaming on the inn.
When he clipped the phone to his belt again, turned, he saw Avery sound asleep, her head pillowed on the arms she’d laid on the counter.
She’d managed about half the slice of pizza, about half the wine, he noted. He cleaned off the counter, shut down the lights in the closed kitchen, walked back to shut off all but the security lights throughout.
Then he considered her.
He could carry her upstairs—she didn’t weigh much—but he wasn’t sure how he could carry her and lock up at the same time. Take her up, he thought, come back and lock up.
But when he started to lift her, she jerked up and nearly bashed his face with her shoulder. “What? What is it?”
“Bedtime. Come on, I’ll get you upstairs.”
“Did I lock up?”
“Front’s locked. I’ll get the back.”
“I’m okay. I’ve got it.”
When she pulled the keys out, he took them. But carrying her now just seemed weird. Instead, he put an arm around her waist, let her sleepwalk beside him.
“I just closed my eyes for a minute.”
“You should keep doing that, for the next eight or nine hours.” He supported her at his side, locked the door behind them. “Heading up,” he said and pulled her up the stairs to her apartment.
“I’m a little foggy. Thanks for all and whatever.”
“You’re welcome for all and whatever.”
He unlocked her apartment door, tried not to wince when he saw she’d yet to completely unpack from the move—fully a month before. He set her keys on the table by the door. “You need to lock up behind me.”
