That’s hardly surprising. It takes a lot to gain my brother’s trust—and Athena is starting at the bottom of a steep mountainous incline.
She shakes her head, the downward curve of her mouth making me somewhat sympathetic to her situation. Assuming she’s who she says she is.
She has a letter from Kenda. It’s possible she forged Kenda’s handwriting, but that seems like a rather elaborate scheme. It would be one thing if she was on her own, but she’s got the welfare of a child to consider.
The welfare of a child who needs somewhere to stay while I figure this all out.
My phone pings on the coffee table with a message from Maxwell. The draft for the studio’s contract is in my inbox.
A message indirectly reminding me that not only do I possibly have a daughter, I have a book due in three months and three weeks.
“It’s a good thing you’re a free agent. Because your partner and kids wouldn’t get to see you for the next four or so months.”
Shit.If Peony really is my daughter, how the hell am I supposed to deal with all this drama and finish the book on time?
How the hell am I supposed to not screw everything up?
4
ZARA
Jessica walksinto the kitchen as I’m dicing a tomato. Her golden-brown hair is pulled up under a hairnet, and her mouth curves into a crooked smile. The thick, diagonal scar from the corner of her mouth to her jaw fights a full smile, but it doesn’t distract from the happy glow in her eyes.
“Looks like someone recently got some.” Keshia chuckles, measuring flour and pouring it into the industrial mixer.
“Maybe I’m just having a great day,” Jess singsongs.
I laugh, the sound a low rumble in my throat. “No, you definitely had a little action before coming here. And I bet if I visited Troy, I’d find him humming.”
Jess grabs an apron from the hook on the wall and loops it over her head. “Hmm. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him hum.”
“She’s deflecting.” Keshia puts her hands on her hips, her smug look almost comical.
“Yep. She definitely is.” I grin at my friend who has lived in Maple Ridge for a little more than a year. When I first met Jess, she was struggling with complex PTSD. She’s far from fully healed yet, but she is doing a lot better. Thanks to Troy—one of Garrett’s brothers.
“That boyfriend of yours must be doing something right.” Keshialaughs, a wistfulness in her expression I don’t want to examine given my own sorry sex life.
“I just spoke with Sabrina Duncan,” Jess tells us, clearly wanting to change the direction of our conversation. “Did you know she’s selling her store?”
“She is? Why?” I put my knife on the butcher block.
“She wants to move to Texas, where her grandbabies live.”
“I do know she misses seeing them every day.” Speaking with them on Zoom is just not the same as doing so in person. “I wonder if she has anyone interested in the store?”
Jess walks to the island counter. “We didn’t exactly get into that. She started showing me photos of her adorable grandkids.”
The square footage of Mountain Lore would be perfect for Picnic & Treats. Lord, the things I would do if I could expand the café. But for that to happen, it means the space has to become available for lease. And that won’t happen if someone buys the business from Sabrina.
I tap my finger on my leg as I contemplate the possibilities. “I think I’ll ask Sabrina before I go home about her plans. I’m curious what they are.”
“Curious for any reason?” Jess scoops the steamed jasmine rice into a bowl for the order she’s working on.
Eyebrows raised, Keshia looks over her shoulder at me, the same question echoed in her delicate features.
“I might have been thinking lately about what I would do if I could expand Picnic & Treats.”
Jess stops ladling the rice into the bowl and turns to me. “You have?”
