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She shakes her head. “It would be too tough in the meantime. Truthfully, the business from the inn is what kept us going. It paid the bills. I’m not sure what the new owners are planning – but that’s not our problem.”
“That offer to come with us was not made in jest,” she says. “You have a place with Clive and me.”
“I appreciate it,” I say. “I’ll visit for sure.”
“Come on in,” she says. “Let’s drown our sorrows over a raspberry cobbler.”
“My stuff,” I say, in a daze.
Jordan wheels my bike in, cart and all. There’s hardly anyone in the bakery. Clive lifts his head and doesn’t flinch as she rolls the bike and cart in. She pours me a black French roast and cuts a large square of cobbler for me.
“I am going to be on a sugar high for sure,” I say, but I accept it. I try to limit my sugar consumption, so for me, this is the equivalent of doing shots of sugar. The sweet tartness of the raspberry cobbler is addictive. If I could capture the taste of it as it hits my tongue, I would.
As I savor the cobbler, I think about Jack. I no longer know how I feel about him. I get that he isn’t buying thebakery. However, I still hold him partially at fault for essentially dismantling Dove Point, a once-tight community of working-class people and small businesses who couldn’t afford to be in Malibu.
I’m mystified why people are so willing to leave Dove Point. I can’t remember if people started selling because Jack was offering prices they couldn’t refuse or if Jack came along after people began to sell and took the opportunity to assemble enough parcels, one of which the inn sits on, to allow him to build a statement office complex.
I take a couple of bites of cobbler and a swallow of coffee before I hold my head in my hands and sob silently. Jordan rubs my shoulders.
“I just need to get this out,” I say. “It’s long overdue.”
She sits next to me.
“You’re going to think I’m a traitor,” I confess.
“How’s that?” she asks.
“I’ve been kind of negotiating with Red Hawk Realty,” I say. “Which will sound idiotic and foolish when you hear all of it. But I truly thought I could buy some time to save the Calypso.”
“Un hunh. I get it,” she responds.
“Well, stuff happened between Jack and me,” I say quickly just to get it out.
“You?” she raises her brows. “AndtheJohn Huntington Houston, III?”
“Yes,” I say bluntly.
“So that he wouldn’t tear the inn down?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “It’s weird. That’s one idea I didn’t come up with. I chained myself to the inn’s porch – naked – to try and make him stop the demolition. Sleeping with him just happened. Oh, I am such a doof bag.”
“I am sure he was charming,” she says. “But probably playing you, sweetheart.”
“He may be. I never intended to sleep with the enemy.” I say, feeling another wave of tears coming on.
She takes over my fork and loads it for me. She feeds me herself. Then, she steals a fork from another table and helps herself to a bite.
“This is the best stuff in the world,” I say through tears.
I sip more coffee. It’s still hot and fresh; it hits the spot.
“The worst part of all,” I say. “Besides, the fact that you’re leaving and the Calypso is coming down is that I’ve hurt Todd’s feelings.”
“Did you tell him?” she asks, like that would be bad. “About Jack and you?”
“It just happened last night,” I say breathlessly. “You’re the only one I’ve told. But he thought something was happening between us. And he was right.”
“Were you and Todd a thing?” she asks.
