Longing for Home

Alex shot her a grim look. “That’s not all it means,” he pointed out. “They won’t be able to take over the inn while you go on your honeymoon, either.”

“What’s important is Jessica and the baby’s health,” Abby said softly. “If it means delaying our honeymoon trip for a little while, then that’s what we’ll have to do.”

Quinn nodded. “We already prayed about it and we trust that God is in control of the situation.”

Kate felt the sting of tears in her own eyes. Before he’d met Abby, Quinn had been angry at the world—and God. “You’re right. He knows what you need.”

“So do I,” Alex said. “You need a temporary manager. I can take over while you’re gone.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to him in amazement.

“You?” Quinn was the only one brave enough to voice the question.

“Don’t look so surprised. I do own four hotels,” Alex reminded his future brother-in-law.

The couple exchanged a look.

“But this is a bed-and-breakfast,” Abby said.

“Your point?” The eyebrow lifted.

“You don’t know how to cook,” Quinn said bluntly.

To Kate’s astonishment, Alex didn’t deny it. She glanced at Abby and found herself on the receiving end of a bright smile.

Oh, no.

Kate could read her friend’s mind. Now she could only hope that Abby could read hers.

Don’t say it, Abby.

But Abby did say it. Out loud.

“Kate does.”

Chapter Four

“What?”

“What!”

The words collided in midair. Alex’s came out like a pistol shot while Kate’s was just as loud but sounded more like a…oh, let’s be honest…a squeak.

“Alex knows how to run a hotel and you know how to run a kitchen.” Abby’s gaze bounced between Kate and Alex, as if daring them to disagree. “It makes perfect sense.”

Kate swallowed a groan. How could she say no to her best friend? But following that line of reasoning, how could her best friend expect her to work alongside a man who assumed her main culinary achievement was corned beef hash?

It wasn’t that Kate didn’t want to come to Quinn and Abby’s rescue. She did. But that didn’t mean she wanted to share a lifeboat with Alex Porter!

Kate reached for an excuse. Any excuse.

“I’m not sure Grady can manage without me,” she stammered, silently apologizing to her cook, who had fed platoons of hungry soldiers for years. “And I don’t have Alex’s minions to call on for help.”

“Did you,” Alex said softly, “just use the word minions?”

“It’s the only one that fit,” Kate admitted.

Quinn clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a sudden coughing fit.

“You’re right, Kate.” Abby mustered a brave smile. “Half the town depends on you, not just Grady. It isn’t fair to ask you to split your time between here and the café. The inn offers a full breakfast every morning in addition to afternoon tea once a week. You wouldn’t have a minute to yourself.”

Kate should have been relieved that Abby had let her off the hook so easily, but all she felt was guilt.

“Don’t worry, Abby.” Alex muscled his way back into the conversation. “I’ll reassign a real…” He caught himself. “A chef from one of the hotels.

“I’m sure given the right incentive, I can convince one of my—” He paused and stared down at Kate with a glint in his eyes, as if he knew she was silently filling in the blank with the word “minions.” “—employees to take your place for two weeks.”

Some of the worry lifted from Abby’s eyes but not all of it.

And Kate knew why. Alex’s “right incentive” translated into the right amount of numbers added to someone’s weekly paycheck.

Kate chewed on her lower lip. She and Abby had more in common than their faith and a love for the community they called home. They understood what it meant to be the sole owner of a business. For Abby to leave her kitchen in the hands of a stranger was the equivalent of leaving a beloved child in the care of a babysitter rather than a trusted friend or family member.

In this situation, Abby had both—if Kate could put aside her misgivings about working closely with Alex.

Kate drew in a breath and released it with a silent prayer.

We can do it for two weeks, can’t we, Lord?

“I’ll talk to Grady,” she said. “The café closes at two every day. That should give me plenty of time to drive over to the inn and get a head start on breakfast for the next day. Thursday is my day off, so that’s when I’ll host the afternoon tea.”

“Really?” A smile bloomed on Abby’s face. “Are you sure? I know it’s asking a lot.”

“Missy is leaving for college at the end of the month and she’s been asking for more hours. She might be willing to open right away in the morning and as long as I keep up with the baking, Grady can handle the kitchen.”

The more Kate thought about it, the more she realized it could work.

Until the harbinger of doom spoke up.

“I still think you should let me hire a chef, Abby. Like you said, Kate has a lot of responsibilities—”

“None of which are more important than you and Quinn,” Kate interjected.

Alex cut her a look cool enough to flash-freeze a package of pork chops. “Do you realize you have a tendency to finish other people’s sentences?”

“Oh, yes.” For once Kate didn’t feel the need to apologize. “It’s a habit.”

“It’s also—”

“One of the things we love about Kate,” Quinn said smoothly before Alex could insult his new business partner.

The jade eyes narrowed on his future brother-in-law. “You just did it, too.”

“Only to avoid bloodshed,” Quinn murmured.

Kate found it interesting that no one had to ask what he meant.

“So, this is great.” Abby stepped from the shelter of Quinn’s arms to pull her brother into a hug. With her free hand, she motioned to Kate.

No, Abby! Not a group hug…

Kate gulped as Abby reeled her in, briefly linking the three of them together. For a moment, Kate’s shoulder brushed against Alex’s and the hint of lime in his cologne caused her traitorous nose to twitch in appreciation.

“You guys are amazing,” Abby murmured. “I won’t worry about a thing. Not with Alex managing the office and Kate in the kitchen.”

“And a line of yellow police tape strung up between the two,” Quinn murmured.

Kate made a face at him over Abby’s shoulder before she wriggled free.

“That means I’ll be running the day-to-day operations,” Alex said. “Handling reservations. Overseeing the staff. The hiring and the firing.”

“You won’t have to fire anyone.” Abby frowned at her brother.

“Of course not,” Alex said in that crushed velvet voice. “I just wanted to make sure I understood.”

He took a step away from Abby and smiled. At her.

Suddenly, Kate understood, too.

She might be in charge of the kitchen, but Alex was in charge of the inn in which that particular kitchen resided. Meaning that he was in charge of her.

Like it or not, she had just become one of Alex Porter’s minions.

“Are you listening to me, Alex?”

Alex jerked to attention, upsetting Mulligan, who had camped out at his feet in the gathering room. “I always listen to you.”

They both knew it wasn’t true but Abby gave him a patient look.

“I know you think that taking care of the inn for two weeks is going to be easy, but it will definitely have its share of challenges.”

Challenges. That about summed it up, Alex thought.

“I’m sure we’ll get along fine.” As long as Kate Nichols stuck to making tea, blueberry muffins and dainty finger sandwiches.

Quinn and Kate had left the inn over an hour ago, but Alex could still smell her perfume. Of course the woman wouldn’t choose something tame, like vanilla. No, she wore a stirring, heady scent that reminded him of the tangle of plumeria that grew outside the door of his condo in Hawaii.

He realized Abby was staring at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” he shot back.

“I’m talking about the challenges of running a small bed-and-breakfast…” Understanding dawned in Abby’s eyes. “You were talking about Kate, weren’t you?”

Alex avoided the question. “I don’t understand why you won’t let me bring in a professional.”

Abby shot him an exasperated look. “Kate is a professional. She’s one of the most respected business owners in Mirror Lake—” As if anticipating his reaction to that, she raised her hand like a crossing guard. “If you don’t trust her, at least trust me. I wouldn’t have asked Kate for help if I didn’t believe she was capable.”

“Capable isn’t always enough,” Alex said. “You know the Porter family motto.”

“Don’t tell me you still…” Abby paused. “Never mind. Of course I remember it. You had the words engraved on a plaque for my high school graduation gift. ‘Don’t settle for anything but the best.’”

“So you see? It’s not personal.”

“It never is,” Abby said softly. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Not as far as Alex was concerned. He had rules in place for that sort of thing. Most of the people he came into contact with strove to keep their professional and personal lives separate. He’d come to the conclusion long ago that life ran much more smoothly if he kept his entire life professional. No blurred boundaries. Minimal conflict. It worked for him.

He thought it had been working for Abby, too, until she’d broken rank and moved to Mirror Lake.

“It’s getting late.” Alex eased his foot out from under Mulligan’s bristly chin and rose to his feet. “Hopefully you’ll see things my way in the morning.”

“Is this a good time to mention that placing a tape recorder under a person’s pillow and playing subliminal messages only works in the movies?”

“That’s what you think.”

Abby grinned. “Good night, bossy older brother.”

“Good night, annoying little sister.”

Just as he reached the door, one of the decorative sofa pillows smacked him in the back of the head. Alex caught the tasseled grenade before it hit the floor and lobbed it back.

“Does O’Halloran know about your temper?”

“Quinn calls it spunk.” A hint of mischief stole into his sister’s eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that I tweaked the Porter family motto a bit.”

“That’s it. I’m calling my attorney.”

Abby ignored him. “Now I live by the motto ‘Don’t settle for anything but God’s best.’ And, in this case, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Kate understands that what makes people repeat customers isn’t only the food on the table, it’s the feeling they get at the table.”

Feelings?

Alex was pretty sure that ‘feelings’ didn’t account for the success of the four hotels in the Porter chain. His guests returned because they wanted a professional staff waiting in the wings, poised to meet their every need—not a buddy.

An image of Kate, claiming an empty chair at the tableful of men who were discussing the dangerous potholes on Oak Street, came to mind. He would have fired her on the spot for that kind of familiarity.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I know you’ve been spending too much time in the ‘Kum ba yah’ circle since you moved here.”

Abby chuckled. “You’re welcome to take my place at the campfire while Quinn and I are on our honeymoon. Kate can teach you the words.”

The sarcastic comeback Alex was about to make was suddenly hijacked by a redheaded sprite.

This is Abby’s more—and that means it’s perfect.

He pushed the memory aside.

Learn something from Kate?

What did she know about ‘more’? She lived in a backwoods town with a population of less than a thousand. The dining room of her café was smaller than the master bathroom in one of his suites.

Abby clucked her tongue. “I know that look, Alex.”

“What look?”

“Don’t sell Kate short. She’s taught me a lot about friendship…and faith…since I’ve known her.”

Then she definitely had nothing to teach him. Alex had closed the door on both those things a long time ago.

“Doug…you…chicken!”

The burly truck driver, who’d been filling out the inventory receipt, glowered at Kate. “Didn’t Mrs. Carlson tell you not to call me names?”

“That was in second grade,” Kate huffed. “And I didn’t… I’m not calling you names! I’m talking about the chicken that was supposed to be on the truck today.”

The chicken that was to serve as the main entrée for Abby and Quinn’s wedding reception.

“It’s there.” Doug’s platter-size palm thumped her gently on the head as if she were a golden retriever puppy. “I saw it.”

Kate felt a headache sink its talons into the back of her skull. The café was the first stop on Doug’s predawn run and she was glad she’d checked the order before he’d left. Most of the time, he unloaded the boxes straight into the walk-in freezer while she signed the paperwork.

But the past forty-eight hours, Kate had gotten a little paranoid.

One of the freezers had died two nights ago, forcing her to dispose of half the inventory. Her best waitress had had a family emergency and Kate wasn’t able to find a replacement on short notice. So instead of devoting precious hours on the prep work for the reception dinner, she’d had to wait tables instead.

To top it off, the ’57 Thunderbird she’d inherited from her grandfather had thrown another temper tantrum and refused to leave the garage. To get from Point A to Point B, Kate had to make do with the canary-yellow Schwinn she’d received on her twelfth birthday.

And let’s not forget that you and Alex Porter are about to become temporary business partners.

Kate suppressed a shudder. There was no denying it. The man managed to get under her skin—like a splinter. If she didn’t know better, she might think he was responsible for all the obstacles that had been thrown into her path.

“I saw a box marked chicken,” Doug said in a soothing voice. The voice a person used when talking to small children. And golden retriever puppies.

“What you saw was a box of frozen chicken patties.” Kate’s back teeth snapped together on the last word.

“So what’s the fuss?”

“The fuss…” Kate cleared her throat to open a passage in which to breathe. “Is that I didn’t order a box of frozen chicken patties. I ordered fresh, free-range chicken cut into kabob-size pieces.”

“Huh.” Doug scratched the back of his head. “That’s weird.”

“It’s worse than weird, Doug. I need that chicken for Abby and Quinn’s wedding reception. Tomorrow.”

“Can’t you just substitute? Nothing wrong with chicken patties. Smear ’em with a little mustard and—”

“I’m calling my supplier.” Kate veered toward the oversize closet that passed for her office. “Don’t leave,” she called over her shoulder.

“I’m on a tight schedule today, Kate.”

“Five minutes,” she ground out. “Help yourself to coffee.”

Doug’s lips peeled back into a wide grin, unveiling a gold-capped incisor. “Okay.”

Kate took two laps around the desk, debating whether it was too early to call the Jensens, who owned a small farm several miles from Mirror Lake. The couple had stopped in and introduced themselves early in the summer. Kate had never ordered from them before but she had a soft spot for family-owned businesses.

The first order she’d placed was for the meat and fresh produce for Abby and Quinn’s wedding.

Farmers were up with the sunrise, weren’t they?

Kate took a deep breath and dialed the number. Just when she was about to hang up, a young woman answered.

“North Star Organics. Amber Jensen speaking.”

Kate took a deep breath, praying that once she explained the situation to Amber, the mistake would be rectified and all would be right with the world.

The absolute silence on the other end of the phone told her otherwise.

“I’m really sorry, Miss Nichols. My parents left for the Upper Peninsula yesterday to visit my grandparents and they won’t be back until Monday.”

Monday.

Kate closed her eyes. “It’s very important that I get the order today. There has to be someone there who can help me out.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Amber sounded as if she were on the verge of tears, which made Kate feel even worse. “It’s the first time my parents put me in charge and I promised my dad he wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“It’s okay.” Kate wasn’t sure how she found herself in the role of comforter when she was in dire need of some comfort herself! “I’ll figure something out.”

“You’ll order from us again, won’t you?”

“I’ll talk to your parents when they get back.” It was the only promise Kate could make.

The response was a faint sniffle. “All right.”

“These kind of things happen,” Kate heard herself say. “It’s all part of owning a business. It will work out.”

Please let it work out.

At this late date, Kate wasn’t sure where she would find what she needed, but she wasn’t quite ready to release the mental image of her main entrée. Chicken, slow cooked to perfection, with a drizzle of her famous maple-syrup and cranberry glaze, nestled on a bed of wild rice pilaf. If worst came to worst, she would just have to revise the menu.

Abby wouldn’t mind. Kate couldn’t count the number of times over the past few months she had heard her friend say, “we aren’t going to sweat the small stuff. The wedding is only a day, the marriage is forever.”

It was good to know Abby felt that way but there was another opinion to consider and it wasn’t Quinn’s. Alex Let-Me-Hire-A-Real-Chef Porter would never let her forget it.

“Thank you so much for not yelling, Miss Nichols,” Amber said. “And—”

Don’t say it, Kate thought.

“Have a nice day!”

“Right.” Kate hung up the phone with a sigh, knowing Doug would be champing at the bit to get back on his route…

“Hey, Kate! Over here.”

Or maybe not.

The truck driver was sitting at a booth near the window and he raised his fork in a mock salute. “The guy in the kitchen gave me this while I was waiting. Apple pie counts as a fruit, right?”

Knowing how busy she was getting ready for the wedding, Grady must have slipped in a few minutes early.

“Thanks, Grady!” she called.

“You’re welcome.”

Kate strangled on her next breath as Alex sauntered out of the kitchen.

Chapter Five

“What are you doing here?”

Alex showing up at her café at the crack of dawn was beginning to be a habit.

“I was out for a run and saw the lights on.”

And it wasn’t fair, Kate thought, that Alex looked better in black sweatpants and a plain cotton T-shirt than most men did in a tux. She tore her gaze away from his lean but solid frame and looked pointedly at the clock on the wall.

“The café isn’t open yet.”

“Doug let me in.”

“Really.” Kate wasted a scowl on the truck driver, who was so intent on tunneling his way through the massive piece of apple pie that he didn’t even notice.

“He mentioned that you’re having a little trouble with the order for the reception.”

“No trouble,” she denied sweetly.

“You got your chicken?” Doug had surfaced for air.

Not exactly, Kate wanted to say. But she couldn’t with You Know Who standing right there.

Alex gave her a measuring look. “You’d tell me if there was anything wrong.” It wasn’t a question. “This is Abby’s wedding and we want to make sure everything goes the way it should.”

Translation: the way Alex Porter thought it should go.

“Really. Nothing is wrong.” Nothing that fervent prayer and a few phone calls wouldn’t fix, anyway.

Alex didn’t look convinced. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do. We are business partners.”

“Not until Monday,” Kate reminded him.

“You took on a partner?” Doug’s head lifted like a hound on a scent trail.

“No!” Kate choked out. “I mean…Alex and I…our relationship has nothing to do with the café.”

Seeing the gleam of interest in the man’s eyes, she realized she shouldn’t have used the word “relationship.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Doug!”

“Don’t worry.” Doug winked at her. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“There is no secret,” Kate hissed. “We’re helping out Abby and Quinn. That’s all.”

“I get it.” Doug lumbered to his feet and gave Alex a good-natured jab in the side with his elbow. “You’re a lucky guy. Kate’s one in a million.”

“Oh, I figured that out right away,” Alex drawled.

“Don’t encourage him,” Kate said in a terse whisper.

Alex might frequently make the society pages of the Chicago newspapers—not that she’d looked—but it paled in comparison to how many people the unofficial grapevine of a small town could reach.

Doug’s truck route zigzagged through the entire county. By sunset that evening, everyone he’d come into contact with would be speculating about Kate’s relationship with Alex Porter.

Business relationship, she corrected herself.

The idea that she and Alex would—could—ever be anything else was…well, it was laughable.

Not only did Alex move in a social sphere far above that of mere mortals like herself, from what Kate had gleaned from her conversations with Abby, he also lived his life by a strict set of guidelines. The Grand Plan, Abby had ruefully called it during one of the times she’d lamented about her older brother.

Abby hadn’t gone into detail, but it sounded as if everything on the list revolved around work.

That was something that Kate could understand. She devoted the majority of her time and energy to the café. But to her, it was less about serving food and more about serving people.

She and Alex Porter would never see eye-to-eye. His goal was to build an empire. Kate’s was to build a life.

“Thanks for the pie.” Doug reluctantly moved the plate aside, mopped his face with a napkin and pushed to his feet.

“You’re welcome,” Alex said.

Kate waited for him to follow Doug out the door. He took over the empty booth instead.

“I’ll have coffee.”

“I’m sorry.” Kate tried to look as if she meant it. “The café isn’t open yet.”

Alex consulted a wristwatch that resembled the control panel of a jet. “It’s six o’clock.”

Kate glanced at her watch. The one shaped like a wedge of cheddar cheese that she’d won in a drawing during Dairy Days.

It was six o’clock.

“One coffee, coming up.”

Kate no longer believed that Alex had come to Mirror Lake to check up on her.

He’d come to Mirror Lake to drive her crazy.

“You summoned?”

Alex glanced up and saw Quinn standing in the doorway of Abby’s office.

“Very funny. You could always moonlight as a stand-up comedian if you don’t make enough money in the security business. Or, here’s a thought.” He leaned back in the chair and considered his future-brother-in-law. “You could marry an heiress.”

“Watch it or we won’t invite you for Christmas.” The tone was mild enough, but Alex didn’t miss the flash of warning in Quinn’s pewter-gray eyes.

“Who needs an invitation?” Alex hid a smile. No doubt about it, O’Halloran loved his sister. And he was protective of her. Alex had recently come to the conclusion that the guy might—just might—be good enough for Abby.

No point in telling Quinn that, though. Maybe on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Or the fiftieth. As skeptical as Alex was about “happily-ever-after,” there was something in the way Abby and Quinn looked at each other that told Alex they just might make it that far.

His sister had been floating around the place all day, smiling and humming as she took care of the last-minute wedding details. The last of the guests had checked out before lunch. Abby’s decision to close the inn for the weekend had been a good one. Like ants at a picnic, a steady stream of people had been coming and going all morning, sprucing up the grounds and the stone chapel in the woods where the couple planned to exchange their vows.