Chapter20
Bryan stood in the kitchen of The Sandpiper, staring at the paperwork for a shipment of produce that should have arrived an hour ago.The delivery truck was late, which meant his morning schedule was already falling apart.He wiped his hands on his apron and checked his phone again.
Nothing from the supplier.Nothing from his loan officer.Nothing from Cassidy.
He told himself that last part didn’t matter.She was busy with festival logistics.He was busy running a restaurant, coordinating the fishing schedule, and managing a dozen other things that didn’t leave room for checking in with his co-chair every five minutes like some lovesick teenager.
Except he’d been thinking about her every five minutes since they’d danced together at the fundraiser.
“You’re hovering again,” his mother said from behind him.
“I’m waiting for the produce delivery.”
“You’re staring at your phone like it personally offended you.”His mother moved past him to check the prep station.“That’s different.”
He shoved the phone in his pocket.“The delivery’s late.”
“Uh huh.”His mother’s tone suggested she wasn’t buying it, but she let it drop.“Lucy called.She can’t cover lunch service today.Her dog is sick.Needs to run him to the vet.”
Perfect.Another hole in the schedule.Bryan mentally shuffled staff assignments while his mother continued her inspection of the kitchen.The morning light filtered through the windows overlooking the Gulf, catching on the vintage photographs of fishing boats that lined the walls.His grandfather smiled down from one of those frames, standing on the deck of Mary Catherine with a day’s catch spread before him.
What would his grandfather think of the mess Bryan had made of things?The struggling restaurant, the declining catches, and the loan extension still pending.The fact that he’d let himself fall for a woman who’d be leaving soon.Very soon.
“I’ll cover lunch,” he said.
“You’re already working a double.”
“I’ll manage.”
His mother crossed her arms and studied him with the particular intensity that had extracted confessions from him since childhood.“What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing’s going on.We’re short-staffed, and I need to figure out where that produce shipment is.”
“I’m not talking about the restaurant.”
Bryan turned away to check the walk-in cooler inventory, but his mother followed.
“Bryan Lucas, you look at me when I’m talking to you.”
He faced her reluctantly.She’d pulled her graying hair back in a neat bun, and she wore the same determined expression she’d worn when he was sixteen and trying to lie about where he’d been on Friday night.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“You haven’t been fine since the fundraiser.”She tilted her head.“Or maybe you were fine at the fundraiser.That’s the problem.You looked happy for the first time in months, and now you’re back to this.”
“Back to what?”
“Carrying everything alone.”She reached up to pat his cheek.“I saw you dancing with Cassidy.I saw the way you looked at her.”
“She’s leaving after the festival.”
“Is she?”
“Her sabbatical ends.She’s got a whole life in Chicago.”
“And you’ve got a whole life here.”His mother smiled gently.“Sometimes those things work themselves out.But only if you give them a chance.”
The delivery buzzer sounded from the back entrance.Bryan grabbed the opportunity to escape.“That’s the produce.”
