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If I could whittle down my emails, then I'd feel better spending a few hours with Cara.
“There are two in town and I'm sure they have it. But I think they're both closed by now.”
“It's four in the afternoon!” Shit. Shutting the fridge door with more force than necessary, I wondered how a coffee shop stayed in business with those hours.
“They open at five a.m. though.”
Five. I could do five. I was on east coast time anyway and could get that brief emailed to my boss before he even arrived at the office. After that, I could get in a few hours of work before my meeting at ten.
“I'm hanging up now so you don't change your mind. The Barking Dog. Eight o'clock.”
After putting the phone back on the base on the wall, I went over to the coffee maker and grabbed the pot to fill at the sink. Some people might survive on junk food. I survived on coffee.
CHAPTER THREE
CATHERINE
“Since you own the house, you should stay, or at least keep it and use it for vacations,” Cara said as she stirred her straw around in her drink.
The Barking Dog was more brewpub than dive, with a wall of booths, high top tables and the original bar that had a mirror behind it and a brass rail. The owners had done a fantastic job of making it look like a Wild West saloon, but without the spittoons and poker tables.
I'd joined Cara and her husband, Mike, at one of the booths.
When I'd received the first email from Charlie's executor, I'd recognized the name immediately. Sam Kane.
God. Sam fucking Kane.
I'd been surprised, for he was only a few years older than me, but if he were one of the few attorneys in town, it was logical for Charlie to use him. But Sam Kane. It had been a simple school girl crush I'd had on him, furtively glancing at him whenever he'd hang out with Cara's brother, Declan. They'd been in high school together and I remembered, when I was at Cara's house, them making tons of food and eating it all while watching movies.
I'd been the outsider, just visiting from New York, but I'd been—gah!—all knobby knees and braces. I hadn't even discovered hair product to tame my wavy hair back then. I hadn't even had boobs. As the friend of a kid sister, I knew they didn't even take notice of me. Why would they have? The last summer I'd come to visit I'd been only twelve. Twelve! What high schooler even glanced at a twelve year old? When I never went back to Bridgewater for the summers anymore, Sam Kane slipped from my mind.
But now… now he filled my every thought. Was he as cute as I remembered?
“Earth to Katie,” Cara singsonged.
I blinked, refocusing on my friend and her husband. It was weird to hear that nickname again. I was never Katie to my parents. I'd only been Katie when in Bridgewater.
While Cara was a petite redhead with peaches and cream complexion, Mike was built like a football linebacker and was quite tan. If it weren't for his quick smile and the tender looks he sent his wife's way, I'd be a little intimidated.
I spun my vodka tonic around on the cocktail napkin. “It's not mine yet. I have to sign for the deed tomorrow.”
“Whatever,” Cara replied, waving her hand. “You lawyers and your official signatures. It will be yours.”
“It does feel weird almost owning property so far from home,” I replied.
“You could make this your home. With that property free and clear, it would be cheaper than living in New York.”
I almost snorted out my drink. “Anything is cheaper than New York,” I countered.
Mike grinned.
“I live in a shoe box apartment, but I'm never there except to sleep.”
Cara looked up at her husband. “See?”
I glanced between the two of them. “What?” I asked, a little worried.
“You work too hard,” Cara offered. “You need to live a little.”
