Inhaling, she smiled. The comforting aromas of coffee, brewed tea, warm syrup, and fryer oil hung in the air like a familiar hug. Thank goodness she couldn’t gain calories from a sense of smell.
Still smiling, she slipped into the back, brushing her ponytail off her neck as she stepped into the kitchen, and grabbed one of the cold bottles of lemonade from the fridge. Pete and Belinda were chatting through the pass-through opening, debating the best dessert combo for the weekend special.
“Back in five,” she told them, holding up her bottle before stepping into the office.
Annie sat at the small desk, flipping through some receipts with her reading glasses perched low on her nose. A purple scarf covered her freshly trimmed hair, and her wrist brace was now a less bulky model, though still snug enough to remind her to take it easy.
“You hiding back here for the air conditioning or the peace?” Laurel asked, leaning a hip against the doorframe.
Annie didn’t look up. “Both. And the company’s not bad either.”
Laurel smiled and came in, flopping down on the extra chair beside the desk. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better,” Annie said, setting the receipts aside and pulling off her glasses. “Which is good, since round two is coming up next week.”
She nodded, sobering. “You nervous?”
“No.” Her aunt gave her a sideways glance. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t more eager for this to be behind me than I was the first time.”
“Well, after this one, you’ll be all set,” Laurel said, offering her a hopeful smile. “No more surgery. No more stitches. Just healing and me running this place and the storefront building into the ground while you recover.”
Annie snorted. “You’d have to try pretty damn hard to do worse than Pete’s special this morning.”
“That bad?”
“I’m not saying it barked back, but I’m also not saying it didn’t.”
Laurel laughed, the sound easing something tight in her chest. “Baloney. Pete never made a bad dish in his life, and you know it.”
Annie reached out and patted her knee. “You’ve been good to me, kiddo. This place, the building…you’ve stepped into a whole storm and haven’t once backed down. I see it. I’m proud.”
A warm lump swelled in Laurel’s throat, but she forced a smirk. “You getting all sentimental because you’re hopped up on pain meds again?”
“Don’t push your luck.” Her aunt snorted. “I mean it. I’m grateful. And not just for the help. You’re part of this place now.”
Laurel’s heart stuttered.
Part of this place.
It wasn’t the first time someone had said it, but it was the first time it felt like the truth.
Before the emotion could dig in too deep, Annie added, “So, just do me one favor.”
Laurel tilted her head. “Anything.”
“Try not to let that brooding Delta boy distract you too much. We’ve got customers who still expect pie, or at the very least, coffee first thing in the morning.”
She groaned, rolling her eyes. “It was one late shift. And only by five minutes.”
“Five and a half.” Aunt Annie raised a brow, her blue eyes twinkling. “And one very telling smile when you walked in this morning.”
Unwilling to go there, Laurel sat back as she changed the subject. “So…have you thought about a name for the building yet?”
Annie blinked. “The old furniture store?”
She nodded. “It’s more than just that now. With everything you’re building—those storefronts, the apartments—it feels like it deserves something new. Something that still commemorates him.”
For a moment, Annie didn’t answer. Her gaze softened as it drifted toward the framed photo on the shelf behind Laurel. She knew the one. It was taken over two decades ago. Her aunt and uncle stood on the store’s front steps, both grinning, arms around each other, laughter caught mid-moment.
