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The reason, undoubtedly, was my literal run-in with Ava.
It was irrational. I’d put her out of my head for years now. When word had spread Saturday that her aunt died, my siblings had been all over me about it, but I’d managed to stuff those memories, those regrets, down even with their harassment. Seeing her this morning, though, in the flesh…touching her… Those ninety seconds on the sidewalk had opened the vault in my mind where I’d shoved all things Ava Dean.
Remembering I needed to check the schedule for the rest of the week to account for Joey going out of town for a memorial service, I headed into my office, not upset by the prospect of getting away from Zinnia in case she had more questions. On a piece of scratch paper, I jotted down Joey’s remaining shifts so I could find someone to fill them. I stood and shoved the note in my pocket as my pixie-sized sous chef appeared in the doorway.
“We open in twenty-two minutes,” I grumbled to her.
“Which means you should just be straight with me so I can get back to work.” She sat on one of the visitor chairs on the opposite side of my desk and gave me a challenging look even as I remained on my feet. “Those photos from earlier look fantastic, Cash. And the copy Seth and Kennedy cooked up…it’s so good. The best advertising I’ve ever seen come out of Henry’s. It represents the dishes perfectly and conveys what we are—a foodie’s dream marriage of Southern cooking, craft beer, and vacation on a plate.”
I grinned in spite of myself. “You’ve been listening to Kennedy all day, huh?”
“The woman nailed it, as she herself would say. We could not present Henry’s in a more accurate, tempting light. Whatever you’re paying her, you’re getting your money’s worth.”
“We’ll see if we get on the show.”
“If we don’t, it’s because we’re not the right fit, not due to anything lacking on our part.”
I nodded, knowing what she said was true even if I didn’t like it and would have a hard time accepting it.
When Zin didn’t make a move to get back to work, I glanced at my watch. “Nineteen minutes.”
“The sooner you tell me what’s really wrong, the sooner I can return to my duties.”
I inhaled slowly, gathering my patience, sizing her up, determining how deeply she was digging in. She’d worked here for three years. I knew her well. She was at least as stubborn as Seth when he was in money-manager mode.
“Does it have something to do with running into your ex in front of the hardware store?” she asked, bold as can be.
“Since you weren’t in Dragonfly Lake back then and wouldn’t know my ex from the Virgin Mary, I can only assume you’ve been listening to gossip,” I muttered. I’d been in the kitchen all day and hadn’t been tuned in to the outside world—or the bullshit the locals brought in with them.
“Interesting stories going around,” she said with a spark in her knowing eyes. “You can tell me the truth.”
Because this was Zin and I trusted her more than I trusted most people, I took the time to explain. “There’s nothing to tell. I bumped into my ex, who’s in town for her aunt’s funeral—”
“Phyllis Sharp, right?”
With a nod, I continued. “I was sidetracked, thinking about which dishes to do for theSmorgasbordposts, and I nearly ran her over on the sidewalk. End of story.”
“Except…not. Otherwise you’d be more on your game today.”
“You said yourself I’ve never plated prettier,” I threw back at her.
“There was too much salt in the grits.”
Fuck. She’d noticed that. Kennedy had sung its praises, as had Mead, who’d taken a few minutes to watch the process. But Zin was correct. I suspected I’d salted the grits twice.
“Uncharacteristic mistake for you,” she said, crossing her arms.
I sank into my chair, letting out an exhale, not really knowing what to say, because though Ava had flitted around in my thoughts all day, I hadn’t had a chance to think clearly about her, about why that collision was affecting me this much.
“I heard she ran away from you today.” Zin’s tone was compassionate now, not teasing.
“She was pretty much horrified to see me.” Just saying that out loud made my chest tighten, and that pissed me off.
“Did you hurt her in the past?” When we were in the kitchen, I appreciated Zin’s directness, but right now, I hated it. “You did,” she said quietly when I didn’t answer.
“I mean, I don’t know.”
Hell. I did. I’d always known. I’d just buried it all for so long I liked to tell myself none of it mattered anymore. In my day-to-day life, it didn’t. It hadn’t, anyway, until she’d come back.
