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“And there’s nothing wrong with that!” a voice calls out from the doorway. Dorothy and Margaret, the elderly twin ladies who own the town hotel, are standing at the entrance, hands on their hips.
Margaret cocks a brow. “I’ve been called high maintenance all my life, and always take it as a compliment.” She pats her perfectly coiffed hair with an elegant hand, her silk blouse and pressed salmon-colored trousers adding to the overall effect.
Her sister, Dorothy, is the wild child of the two, with long silver hair braided over her shoulder and a leopard-print wrap dress. Different style, but no less stylish. She nods at Margaret’s words and tuts at me.
I just grin and jerk my chin at Sven, who starts making coffee.
Dorothy glides toward Trina and hooks her arm through my sister’s elbow. “Now, you’re next, mm?”
Trina frowns. “What?”
“Your motorcycle man.” She beams.
Trina, looking slightly freaked that Dorothy already knows about her escapades this morning, shoots me a panicked glance.
I just laugh. She’ll get used to this town quick enough.
Dorothy leans her head against Trina’s. “He’s going to sweep you off your feet and ride off into the sunset with you. First Fiona, then Simone, then Candice, now you! We just need to get Jen and Fallon to stop messing around, and everyone will live happily ever after!”
Trina wrinkles her nose, and for a brief moment looks exactly like her daughter, Katie. “I don’t believe in happily-ever-afters, Dorothy.”
“Oh, that’s just the divorce talking.” Dorothy waves a hand. “Look at Candice. She was mopey for years!”
Um, excuse me? Mopey? “My husband died, Dorothy,” I deadpan.
Dorothy ignores me. “Lottie!” She crosses the café to go kiss my mother on both cheeks, then takes her time hugging Blake, squeezing his shoulders, kissing both of his cheeks, patting his hair, stroking his arm…
I grin and shake my head while Margaret studies Trina.
“You okay?” Margaret asks quietly.
Trina nods. “Yeah. Fine. But I’ll probably need a new car in the not-too-distant future.”
“Get that good-for-nothing ex-husband of yours to pay for it.” The older woman harrumphs, and I hide my grin while she orders a coffee.
Then, like a hurricane, Simone and Fiona—the two women who co-own the café along with me and Jen—blow through the door. Simone pumps a fist in the air. “Fiona’s venue just confirmed! She’s getting married to the man of her dreams at the old cannery on the coast! It’s happening on the first of December, and we’re going to have the best time!” She squeals and throws an arm around Fiona’s waist, leading the laughing woman to the counter.
My mother jumps up to congratulate Fiona, who’s already being smothered by Dorothy and Margaret.
Trina glances at me, a sad smile playing over her lips.
Then Jen appears in the doorway to the kitchen. “Have you decided on a cake flavor yet, or what?”
“Oh, give her a break, Jen!” Simone calls out, laughing as Dorothy hugs her tight. “You made my wedding cake in twenty-four hours! You have like a million weeks to do this one. You’re a master baker. You can do it!”
Jen purses her lips, but I think it’s mostly to stop from smiling. As congratulations are exchanged and coffees are made, I drift closer to my best friend and the most talented baker I’ve ever met. “You okay?” I ask Jen. “What’s going on with your recipe book?”
“Amanda is coming back next week to go through the recipes I have so far.” Her lips twist, and her eyes dart back to the kitchen. Fallon, our amazing chef, dances around the space like he was born to make food for people. When Jen looks at me, she lets out a long sigh.
Amanda works in publishing, and she happens to be Fallon’s ex-girlfriend. With Jen agreeing to work with her, she’s basically torpedoing whatever budding romance was occurring between her and Fallon. Now Amanda visits Heart’s Cove on the regular, and everyone can see the way she looks at Fallon. I don’t blame Jen for stepping back.
“You don’t know that they’ll end up back together, Jen.”
She gives me a quick, jerky nod. “Yeah. Whatever. Better get back to work.”
“Let’s have a celebratory dinner! Our place,” Simone calls out. “Everyone’s invited. Wes will fire up the grill.” She beams at me, then shifts her eyes to Trina. “And don’t think you’re getting off without telling us all about your motorcycle ride this morning, Trina. You’re one of us now. That means you got beans, you spill ‘em.”
Trina gapes. “How in the world do you know about my motorcycle ride? It happened a few minutes ago!”
