Page 19

Best Believe

When I arrived at the store the following Sunday morning, I turned on the lights to my office to find it empty of any and all furniture. My computer was gone. Just a few loose power cords left as evidence that it had ever been there. The filing cabinet had also been removed, right along with the framed pieces of grocery art on the wall, two of which I had purchased with my very own money.

“Well, damn.”

I stood in shock with my hands on my hips, once again wondering what it was like to be someone as self-serving as Donald Fucking Faber. My ability to do my job had been stripped right out of the building, without any kind of notification of what was next. Even worse? When I attempted to call Mr. Faber, I was sent to voicemail each and every time.

“What now? Do we lock up and go home?” I asked Henrietta as she logged into to her checkout station. As my longest-standing employee, I looked to her for advice most often. We’d be opening our doors in thirty minutes, and though I still had access to our vendor accounts via my phone, I felt like we were operating this place with one hand tied behind our back.

Henrietta didn’t hesitate. “I think we just take the reins and keep this place afloat until she sinks like the grocery store version of the Titanic . It’s the least we can do.” She finished her login and turned to me with soft eyes. “I love this place. I won’t be the one to walk away when it needs me.”

“I admire your loyalty, Hen. I’m just worried that the lights and water are going to be the next thing to go, and without evidence of a sale, we’ve been abandoned by our self-involved former leader.”

“Excuse me.”

Henrietta and I turned in surprise to see two men, one in a maroon sweater, one in a sport coat, both looking like they stepped out of a department store ad. Neither from the Bay. “So sorry. We’re not open for another fifteen minutes.” But I also hadn’t unlocked the front doors, which left their presence a mystery. “How did you get inside, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Should have led with that. I’m Brent Carmichael,” Sports Coat said. He held up a key. “We’re from BeLeaf Foods, the new owners. We’re scheduled to meet with Savanna Potter at eight a.m. We’re a few minutes early.”

I looked to Henrietta and back. “Um, I’m Savanna, but no one told me we had a meeting, or that you had officially bought the store. That’s…wonderful news.”

The two men looked at each other in confusion. “I apologize. Don told us when we signed the papers that he’d be transitioning the employees and the building, but then he stopped speaking to my office altogether, which I’ll admit was…unusual.”

“He probably got in a fight with his hussy girlfriend,” Henrietta offered. “She has too many opinions and too tight an ass.”

My eyes went wide. So did Brent’s. I gestured behind me to move us forward. “We can head to my office for that meeting, but I have to warn you, Mr. Faber has removed all the furniture and office equipment.”

Maroon nodded politely. Bless him.

“It looks like we’ve been burglarized, and I would hate for that to be your first impression.” My heart hammered. “I promise you, we’re a fantastic little store. You’re going to love us.” I was willing that to happen, hoping to keep my little grocery store family together. I needed these guys to like us.

Sweater held up a hand. “Why don’t you walk us around the store, then? I’m Peter and I’ll be overseeing operations. I’d love to hear your thoughts on what works around here and what could use a second look.”

Well, if that wasn’t music to my ears. I grinned at him.

“I have a lot of ideas. But mainly, I want you to know how much I love this place. I don’t know what your plans are, but the people of Dreamer’s Bay are the heart and soul of this store, and that starts with my employees.”

Brent nodded. “And you’re worried we’re going to come in and clean house.”

“A little. Yes. If I’m being honest.”

“Everything I’ve seen tells me that you’re good at your job, Ms. Potter. The previous owner thought so, too. I think we have a place for you here, but we’ll need to discuss terms and get you trained under the BeLeaf system.”

“Well, I beleaf that’s the best news I’ve heard in a while.” I smiled at my own joke and waited for them to join me. Apparently, they’d heard it before. I swallowed. “And my employees?”

“The staff, as it stands on the books, looks a little thin,” Peter said. “We might need to hire a few more folks to fill in the perceived gaps in service. We have incentives for full-timers.”

“The benefits we offer are excellent,” Brent said.

That was better news than I could have even hoped for. I wanted to leap into the air, high-five Peter, and backflip my way back to the front of the store to tell Henrietta that we just might be saved. Hell, I wanted to announce it over the intercom knowing I had two more employees working in the back storeroom who would appreciate the news. Instead, I smiled, thanked the new bosses, and took them on a more informative tour than I knew Faber would ever be capable of. I showed them the tricks we’d put in place to get the produce misters timed out perfectly.

“I have a lot of ideas for store promos, but I do realize that BeLeaf likely has their own.”

“That’s true. We do,” Brent said. He was easy to talk to, which I appreciated. I could imagine him and Kyle shooting the breeze over a beer. “And you’ll be oriented to all of them, but we’re not one size fits all. We want this branch of BeLeaf to have that small-town vibe. It should be unique and stand on its own.”

“I can definitely do unique. I once pitched a choir of singing pumpkins for our Halloween display. Sadly, it never saw the light of day.”

“And maybe it should have. You know your customers. We welcome your ideas, and if they’re a fit for your store and our brand, we’ll be happy to green-light them.” He offered me his hand and I shook it, noticing the bandage on the other. Kyle had done that, and my heart squeezed with pride. “Now, I’m going to let Peter get the lay of the land. He has a lot to go over with you once you get your morning kicked off right. I’ll be in touch.”

I watched as Brent Carmichael strode right out of my store, leaving it very different than when he’d arrived. I turned to Peter, who smiled at me warmly. I liked my new boss. I liked my new prospects. I adored the woman who’d slept in my bed the night before, and maybe, just maybe, I was on the path to getting my life right where I wanted it to be.

* * *

With autumn in full effect and Thanksgiving now just around the corner, homes were beginning to smell like cinnamon and pumpkin. Turkeys were moving out of the store faster than we could stock them, and a general hum of excitement moved through the chilly air. My sweater drawer was getting tons of action, too.

“I love you in sweaters,” Kyle said to me one morning before work. She stayed at my place more nights than she didn’t during the week, and we floated over to the beach house on weekends for a dose of the fresh sea air.

I looked back at her, still lounging in bed in plaid pajama pants and a tank top I very much would have enjoyed removing. As I wrestled to get my earring secured, I sent her a smile. “I’m obsessed with sweaters. Especially the lightweight ones you can trot out when you don’t necessarily need a jacket. There are sweater levels, you see. And I take full advantage.”

Her mouth fell open. “I had no idea you were so opinionated about and well-versed on the topic. I’m more than a little attracted to you right now. Sweater me this. Oversized or fitted?”

“Both. Fitted for work. Oversized for movies on the couch, with an occasional crossover appearance.”

“I like it. I like you. Take the sweater off.” She was being playful. We’d gotten to the point where I could easily decode her looks. When she was serious about us blowing off our jobs to get naked, her posture moved to perfect and her eyes took on a dark and determined quality that sent a shiver through my body every damn time.

“Later. That’s a promise.” I tossed in a wink.

“That image will carry me through my day. You realize that, right?”

“Why I said it. Hey, did you ever hear what your Thanksgiving schedule looks like at the hospital?”

She fell onto her back and her hand went to her forehead in thought. “Yeah, I think I’m six to two.”

“We can eat at three. BeLeaf is closing us entirely for the holiday, which is more than Faber ever allowed.”

“But if we eat at three, then I won’t be able to help. You can’t feed all those people on your own.” This would be my second Thanksgiving without my Aunt Lindy, and I’d since taken over her tradition of hosting. So far, I had Devyn and Elizabeth, Jonathan and Christian, and Kyle and me on the attendee list. Some of the others had two Thanksgivings to hit up that day, so I was juggling schedules.

I shrugged. “No need. Jonathan will help, Elizabeth and Devyn are bringing a green bean casserole, and I’ll put a glass of wine in your hand as soon as you get here.”

“What? No.”

“Or you can jump in wherever you want. Your choice.”

Kyle slid out of bed and stalked over to me, clearly on a mission.

“What?” I asked, watching her in curiosity.

She held me at my waist. “I need to be front and center when I say this.”

“Okay.” I ran my hands up and down her bare arms.

“I want us to be a partnership. Equals. You can bet that I will never kick back with a glass of wine and socialize with guests while you work to prepare an elaborate meal. That will never happen.”

I melted a little at how much she seemed to care. “I hear you. And I love that.” She’d used the word partner , and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was taking that step in her head. Did it mean anything, her use of that word? “You said partnership. As in partner?”

“I did say that.” She didn’t hesitate, and she still had that spark of intensity behind her eyes. “And yes. Partner. Girlfriend. Significant other. Whatever you want to call it, I want to be it.”

“No.” I said it in disbelief rather than rejection.

“No?” She searched my eyes.

“No. I don’t mean no . It was more like NO,” I said, emphasizing the disbelief. “So, it’s a yes. A hell yes.”

“I’m trying to follow all of that.”

I skipped the words, threw my arms around her neck, pressed my body to hers, and kissed her madly, passionately, and deeply until she came up for air with a smile. “Okay. That’s a total yes. I happen to be brilliant when it comes to decoding your kisses. We’ll work on the words.”

“Mm-hmm,” I said, stealing another kiss. “A double yes with a cherry affixed to the top.”

“You’re my girlfriend?” she asked, with a graze of her lips to the underside of my jaw. My midsection went all fluttery and my cheeks warmed. What a way to head into work. Didn’t matter. I was on a high.

“Duh. That’s my other name. Kyle’s Girlfriend. Yours is Soap Opera Doctor.”

She laughed. “I’ll change my nameplate at work.”

I felt lighter, but also like someone had just removed the net from below my trapeze walk. Exhilarating and risky. But this time it was okay. All of this was. I could face my fears if it meant I could settle into happiness with Kyle Remington, who occupied most of my thoughts and all of my dreams for the future. She had for a long time now, whether I’d wanted to admit it or not. But there was a steady momentum building in all aspects of my life, and I wasn’t about to shy away now.

“Does that mean you’re staying? In town, I mean.” We hadn’t discussed logistics because we’d been so careful about not defining our relationship just yet. Now that we were, it presented a few key questions. Namely, did she live here now? If so, would she be buying Dan’s place? Moving in with me?

“Well, I like the town. I feel like the slower pace has taken a little bit of the stress off my job. That’s been helpful in getting back into the swing of practicing again.”

“But you’re not sure.”

“I wasn’t letting myself go there just yet, but maybe I need to.” She’d hesitated, and that was telling.

“I’m not saying long distance is off the table, but it would certainly be hard not seeing you every day.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kyle said. “We have a lot of Thanksgiving dinners to cook in our future, and I will wholeheartedly take on mashed potatoes, because I have a butter technique that will rock your world.”

“Don’t turn me on with butter in the morning.”

She blinked. “A sentence I never thought I’d hear.”

“Just another example of how unique we are. Thereby, awesome. Okay, gotta run.” I tapped her chest. “Save the people of Dreamer’s Bay from the illnesses and injuries that plague them, all right?”

“On it. Kiss me?”

“Best request ever.” We shared a dizzying kiss. We were so good at this, I thought, as our lips clung for an extra beat. Happy sigh .

“I hope your day is awesome.” She took a step back and smiled, wearing pajamas in my kitchen. “We’re going to have Thanksgiving together.”

“It’s my favorite holiday. And I’m going to spend it with my favorite person.”

We shared the moment, smiling and reveling in this newfound domesticity. And then it occurred to me: These were all my friends. What about people she might want there? “Is there anyone you want to invite? The more the merrier.”

“Not this year. I want to focus on you and life here.” She lifted a shoulder. “I’ll call my family. I’ll FaceTime Jocelyn. We’ll invite them next year, right?”

Next year . I closed my eyes and absorbed the meaning. Warmth hit and spread from my chest to my limbs. “Yeah, of course.”

“Oh, and before you go…”

“Yeah?”

“Did you consider asking Jake? And maybe even Charlie?”

“Oh. I don’t think Charlie’s quite ready to break bread together, given our last conversation. Maybe he’s another one for next year’s list. But Jake is…trickier.” I didn’t know what to say. Because I had entertained the thought for all of three seconds before the intimidation factor had taken over and I’d shoved the concept to the side. “Might be too soon for that, too.”

“Dessert then?” She held up a hand. “I don’t want to push, but it might be nice for you to have…family there.” She’d said the word delicately as if not sure it was allowed. I appreciated her sensitivity.

“Dessert,” I repeated. Not nearly as big a time commitment, and dessert came with a come and go whenever casualness I could latch onto. “Maybe dessert. I’ll think on it.”

By the time my lunch break was over, I’d sent an invitation to Jake’s fairly dormant-looking Facebook page inviting him and Peggy for coffee and dessert. He probably didn’t even use the old account and wouldn’t see the message, but at least I’d made the effort and could feel good about that. But by late afternoon, when I hung up my newly acquired BeLeaf apron for the day and headed into the parking lot—now lit up with a bright green BeLeaf sign—I had a message in my inbox.

Yep. Would love it. Peggy says she’ll bring her famous apple pie. See you then.

Well, hell. I stared down at my phone in surprise. It seemed we were doing this.