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“Absolutely. But, hey, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s all part of Roxie’s grand master plan.” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial hush. “You know, she probably asked you to work for her when she knew you were distracted. That way you couldn’t say no. She’s tricky, that one. I’d keep an eye on her.” At that, he stood from the table with a wink. “So, when do you start?”
Mouth gaping like a fish, she shook her head. “I have no idea. It’s a café, right?”
Quinn broke into a full, belly-rolling laugh. “Wow, you really weren’t listening to her at all. And here I thought that was a talent only I possessed. Alex, I ammostimpressed.”
He filled her in on all the details she’d missed. As it turned out, Roxie’s Comfort Food wasn’t a café. Not entirely. It was part bakery, part café, and, as of a few months ago, part catering company. It was open seven days a week, from six in the morning to two in the afternoon, except for Sundays, when they closed at eleven.
Located in the center of the island’s downtown district, or as Quinn sarcastically put it, its bustling three-street hub, Roxie’s place sold a variety of delectable treats ranging from pies, muffins, cobblers, and cheesecakes to lasagnas, potpies, and casseroles. The fare was traditional and gourmet and everything in between. For anyone who was the slightest bit weight-conscious, Comfort Food sold every possible guilty pleasure imaginable. However, according to Quinn, the food was worth the extra gym time.
When Alex returned to Joe’s house later that night with the navy-blue apron tucked securely under her arm, her thoughts were a chaotic tangle in her head. Everything was happening so fast. But she wasn’t quite sure if it wastoofast.
What she did know was that everything felt surreal.
She’d been on Hudson Island for only two days—two!—and she’d had more fun in those forty-eight hours than she had in years. With people she’d just met and already genuinely liked. It boggled her mind.
Glancing down at the apron, she shook her head. She’d agreed to start in two weeks, giving her injuries more time to heal. She still didn’t know what she’d be doing at Roxie’s, but one thing she knew for certain was that she was a disaster in the kitchen. Always had been, and likely always would be.
Well, if anything, the work would be interesting.
A job. An actual job. Holy crap.
It had been five years since she’d last had one. How was this her life?
Excitement and nervous anticipation fluttered in her belly.
“It’s now or never,” she murmured, blowing out a breath.
After triple-checking the locks on both the front and back doors, she climbed the stairs toward her bedroom. As she neared the landing, she slowed, losing momentum.
“A job,” she groaned. She lowered herself onto the top step. With her elbows resting on her knees, she put her head in her hands. Uncertainty and doubt took over, vanquishing the earlier excitement in a puff of smoke. “What the hell was I thinking?”
CHAPTERNINE
After another restless night of ominous and chaotic nightmares, Alex donned her oversized sunglasses to hide the healing bruises and dark circles under her eyes. She walked to Hudson Island’s quaint downtown and wandered about, people watching and checking out the local stores. It was a charming town, roughly the same size as the one she’d fled on the other side of the country.
According to theWelcome to Hudson Islandinformational kiosk she stopped by, the island, which was shaped like a number seven that was tilted at a forty-five-degree angle, was situated in the Puget Sound between the Quimper Peninsula and the center of Whidbey Island. Its sole downtown and main residential area were at the southern part of the island, along with the ferry terminal. In the center, organic farms and two state parks with extensive hiking trails stretched from shoreline to shoreline. Farther north, two award-winning wineries and a multitude of luxury vacation homes dotted the landscape. At the northeastern tip, a five-star wellness resort, along with a world-renowned golf course, attracted tourists from all over.
Joe had mentioned there was a lot of money on the island, but as she observed the fleece-vested people milling about, she couldn’t tell a millionaire from a farmer. Hudson Island was the textbook definition of the fabled Pacific Northwest attitude. Laid-back and cheerful, it reminded her nothing of Summerside, the snooty, second-home playground for the Boston elite. On paper, they were comparable: small boating communities with strong fishing industries and upscale resorts. In person, not so much. And that made her smile.
But her favorite part about Hudson Island? No one knew her.
For that alone, she was grateful.
Walking past a number of antique stores, she noted which ones she wanted to stop in and take a better look at later. In her pre-Preston life, she’d loved antique shopping. It had been a treat to find just the right piece for her apartment. Granted, she hadn’t had a whole lot of money at the time, so finding something she could afford had been rare. But on those occasions, she’d been thrilled. Preston, on the other hand, was all about interior designers and the most extravagant and ostentatious pieces. He’d put an end to her collection. Nevertheless, now she was free and could do whatever she wanted.
She continued to meander along the town’s three main roads and was surprised by the variety of shops she encountered. There was a yarn and fabric store, a bookstore, and several clothing and art boutiques. Along the city park and beachfront was an ice cream parlor, a candy store, and a coffee shop.
The slow pace and mix of tourists and locals charmed her. It seemed everyone she passed gave her a smile or a nod of acknowledgment. Alex welcomed the friendly anonymity with open arms.
In Summerside, if someone hadn’t personally known her or Preston, then they’d at least knownofher. She’d participated in committees for the Art Council, the Rotary Club, the Humane Society, the Chamber of Commerce, and half a dozen more organizations. It had been endless.
What had frustrated her the most was that even though she’d been in those positions, no one had taken her seriously. She’d just been the pretty wife of one of the town’s most influential men. Everyone had been perfectly accommodating to her only because they’d recognized she’d be running the town’s social show someday.
Whatever she’d wanted, they’d given. No questions asked. And that had been the problem. All those people and not one of them had been someone she could trust. Someone she could confide in. And none of them had been brave enough to rock the boat by daring to ask if she was okay.
She let out an unsteady breath. This was her chance. Perhaps the only chance she had left. And she’d better make it count.
No.
