This revelation added another dimension to their off-balance relationship. Layla pressed her fingers against her temple.
“Too much drama, I know,” Joan said. “But he said taking back the invite was out of the question. Considering how you two met last year at this time, he wanted to play it safe,” Joan said.
He did give her several chances to back out of going with him.
“Brant told you?”
“Oh, yes,” Joan said through gritted teeth. She pushed a few things around on her desk. Her brow furrowed, but she smiled. “And I properly chewed him out for that. But he admitted it was a mistake and said the misdirected text was a silver lining. It gave him a chance to get to know you, make it up to you. He hoped the dinner would lead to something more.”
Layla looked down at her lap. She’d been twisting her hands together during their conversation. This woman wasn’t obligated to spell it out for her. Yet Layla had learned more about Brant in these last five minutes than she’d discovered in the last six weeks.
“When will Brant be back?”
Joan stood now that Layla was ready to leave.
“I’m not sure, but he’s working in downtown St. Paul.”
“Where exactly?”
Joan grinned. “The Starlight Cafe.”
“Maybe I should just call him later.” Layla bit her lip, thinking. “I don’t want to get in the way.”
Her smile broadened. “You won’t. Trust me.”
Layla thanked her. Joan stood in the doorway as Layla left the porch, plugging the Starlight Cafe into her maps app.
“He’s a one-of-a-kind guy,” Joan said in parting. “But then, you probably already know that.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Brant leaned forward in the lift basket, gripping one bottom corner of the ten-by-twenty-foot fiberglass panel. In a second lift ten feet away, Jeff held the other corner. There were five guys on the roof, peering over the edge at him, ready for the signal to lower the panel against the brick sidewall of the Starlight Cafe.
Cables attached to the panel would be secured to the roof once they had it in place. On top, Aaron Ingrahm held the middle cable in his gloved hands. Aaron was offensive-line large, and perfectly capable of manning the center cable by himself. Brant didn’t want to chance either one of the side cables slipping from their hands, so he’d assigned two guys to each corner. The panel didn’t weigh much, but the maneuver had to be smooth, lest one or more of the dozens of lights broke. Then he’d have to haul the thing back onto the roof for repair. This afternoon had been devoted to fulfilling Aaron’s wish: to propose to his girlfriend with one of Brant’s custom-made light panels.
What he didn’t do for his friends.
“Are we secure?” he called.
Above, Aaron nodded.
“Okay. Easy now.”
It took five minutes of slow and steady work, but the panel was lowered into place without any hiccups.
“Double-check that those cables are secured to the U-bolts,” he told Jeff, who was already extending his lift to get onto the roof. “I’m heading across the street for the test.”
A minute later, he climbed from the basket and made his way across Mercy Avenue. He leaned against the wall of Persephone’s Market, out of the way of sidewalk traffic, to check phone messages. It would be several minutes before Jeff was ready for test mode. In the meantime, he’d check in with Joan too.
“Are you still at the site?” she asked as soon as she answered.
“Yes. Why?”
“No reason. Just wondering.”
“Is there something I need to get back for that slipped my mind?”
“Nope.”
