Page 205 of The Havenport Collection

Luke

I loved Jackie’s Diner. I had been coming here since I was a kid.

My mom used to take me here for pancakes to celebrate good report cards.

We didn’t have much money, and restaurants were out of the question.

But we splurged when we came here. My mom always got eggs Benedict, which in my childhood mind was the fanciest breakfast I could even imagine.

And I would get a sky-high stack of chocolate chip pancakes and eat every last crumb.

The vintage diner sign outside was the same, but the interior had been recently renovated.

The red vinyl booths and shiny chrome lunch counter evoked nostalgia, and it was working on me.

Mom and I would sit in the booth for hours, soaking up all the Havenport energy before heading home to our apartment in Westbury, bellies full and spirits soaring.

I had so many happy memories here. So it was no surprise I was a regular.

Astrid and I met here to discuss business a couple of times a week, and it worked in my favor as she was much less scary when you fed her.

I was lucky and privileged to call Astrid my friend.

She was fierce, loyal, and frighteningly smart.

I had the very good fortune to meet her last year after she left one of the world’s top law firms. I convinced her to come work for me at the crisis center and, eventually, to help me manage some of my business affairs.

She was beautiful, in that untouchable, supermodel way, but I wasn’t attracted to her like that.

She had a boyfriend, Declan Quinn, a scary motherfucker and overall decent dude, and they were crazy in love with one another.

But she was one of the few people on earth who called me out on my bullshit, and I was grateful to have her in my corner.

She was also one of the only people in my Havenport circle who really understood what I did and why I did it.

I had let her in, told her my history, and she got me.

She understood why I was so dedicated to the crisis center.

And she shared my passion for helping families in need, throwing herself into the work, setting up a legal services clinic for our clients, as well as handling most of the day-to-day legal work on her own.

“Hello, Lucas, you look so handsome today.” Jackie winked at me and filled my chipped coffee mug. She had not aged since I was a child. Her silver hair was wrapped up in an elaborate beehive, and she wore a powder-blue uniform and frilly apron.

“Astrid, darling. Thank you for helping us with that pesky supplier issue. Breakfast is on us today.”

Astrid beamed. “Thanks, Jackie, and it was no problem. You know I love to negotiate contracts.”

Jackie leaned forward and pinched her cheek. “You are family now, dear; you’ve only been here a year, but we’re keeping you forever.”

Astrid blushed.

“If only the big lug would get off his ass and propose,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “You’re not getting any younger.”

I laughed while Astrid pretended to be very interested in her coffee cup. Jackie had run this diner with her husband, Joe, for decades. They were both in their seventies with the energy of people half their age. They also happened to be the epicenter of the Havenport gossip network.

She pulled a pen out of her intricate beehive hairdo and pointed it at me. “Let me guess— veggie omelette, no cheese, side of fruit?”

I laughed. I was apparently that predictable. “No, actually, I’m going to mix it up today. Eggs Benedict, please.”

“Great choice, cutie.”

We ate and caught up, and by the time we got down to business, Astrid was on her third cup of black coffee and second stack of pancakes.

After talking through some of the investment proposals I had received recently, we turned to the crisis center.

“You can’t throw money at this one, boss.”

“Trust me, I wish I could.” The crisis center was headquartered in an old mill building near the mouth of the river.

It functioned as administrative offices, emergency housing, therapeutic center, and part-time daycare.

Maintenance had been deferred for years, while random additions and renovations had only made the situation more complicated.

“Real estate here is crazy, and the zoning issues alone make almost every available property a no go. And getting permits to renovate the main building will take months.”

“Not to mention the displacement.” The crisis center was in desperate need of more capacity.

Housing units, medical facilities, classrooms, and training centers.

There was so much need and no local properties could work.

If we renovated the old mill building, not only would it be extremely expensive and slow, but where would everyone go?

Where could women and children get the services they needed?

Where could the kids play and learn while their moms did job training and counseling sessions?

It was a no-win situation and one that had been weighing on me recently.

I felt personally responsible to fix this problem. And I needed to figure out a solution. But between the limited funds, tight timeline, and myriad of zoning and permit issues, it felt impossible.

After Astrid headed out, I decided to get another cup of coffee and dig in to my overflowing inbox. No sooner had I opened my laptop when I saw a small figure approach my table.

“Lucas. You are looking well.”

I smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Rossi. Lovely to see you.” The older woman was dressed in a pink tweed suit with matching nails. Her posture was perfect, and she had not a single hair out of place. We had met several times, mainly at charity events, but I knew she was a force to be reckoned with.

She was quite spry for her age, which I estimated to be early eighties. Something about her carriage and her attitude reminded me of her granddaughter. There was a certain toughness, a certain take-no-shit attitude, that I assumed Nora had inherited from the family matriarch.

“Do you mind if I sit, dear?” she asked, already moving into the booth.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Rossi?”

She steepled her fingers and leaned forward. I appreciated that she was the type of person who cut to the chase.

“I know you are a dedicated volunteer, Lucas.” I inwardly groaned. The last thing I needed was getting roped into another town committee. “But also a very busy man.”

I nodded, wishing I had left with Astrid and headed home.

“This Friday night is the Senior Center Valentine’s Dance,” she said, giving me a sweet smile.

“That sounds lovely,” I replied.

“Do you have plans, dear? A special lady in your life?”

I sputtered for a moment, uncomfortable discussing my dating life. “No.”

She tittered. “Oh dear. Forgive me—I’m old fashioned, and I know I shouldn’t assume. A man?”

I shook my head. “No, no man either.”

“Some kind of pansexual throuple?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, but her face was totally placid.

I almost spit my coffee out. Yes, this woman was definitely Nora’s grandma. “No, ma’am. I am single. And straight. But no girlfriend at the moment.”

“Wonderful! Then you’re free on Valentine’s Day to volunteer.”

Shit. I walked right into that one.

“We are desperately in need of some more men at the dance. You see, the numbers are way off, and there are never enough male dance partners. Some young blood like yourself would really liven up the night. And since you’d otherwise be alone in that big house of yours…

” Her tone was friendly and sweet but her facial expression read “defy me at your peril.”

I tugged at my collar. How could I possibly say no? “Well…” I started. “I’m very busy at work at the moment.” It was lame, but how else could I politely get out of spending my Friday night with Havenport’s seniors?

“Do you know my granddaughter, Nora?” Her face was a mask of innocence. “She comes every year. I chair the social committee, so I recruit her to help me with things. She’s always so bored with no one her age to talk to.”

Nora was going? To a senior citizen dance? On Valentine’s Day?

I sat up a little straighter before I realized my error.

Mrs. Rossi could see the change in my demeanor and knew she had me. A self-satisfied smirk spread across her face. “So you’ll be there? Senior Center. Seven o’clock.”

She got up, sliding herself out of the booth with grace.

“And Lucas,” she said, stopping abruptly, “wear a suit, clean yourself up.” She waved at my hoodie and stubble, and I felt chastened.

I was supposed to be a businessman, an expert negotiator.

This elderly woman had just raked me over the coals.

But one mention of Nora’s name, and my body betrayed me.

I sat and sipped my coffee, trying to recover from that encounter. What had I just gotten myself into? And why wasn’t I more upset about it?