Longing for Home (12 page)

Making sure the lines of division remained firmly in place.

Mulligan and Lady trotted past the doorway and Alex remembered another promise he’d made to his sister.

“Come on, you two. Time for the last walk of the day.”

The dogs ignored him and continued on, as if someone had set them on a mission.

Reminded once again why he preferred fake houseplants to living creatures, Alex followed.

By the time he reached the kitchen, Mulligan and Lady lay stretched out on the rug in front of the sink, gnawing on biscuits roughly the size of a shoebox.

They actually smelled good, too. Reminding him that he’d worked through supper.

Alex opened the refrigerator, hoping to find some chicken leftover from the reception. What he saw was a plate piled high with food. Meat loaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans. A slice of blueberry pie, so large it drooped over the sides of the plate, sat on the rack above it.

Before he could change his mind, Alex punched in a number on his cell.

“Thank you.”

For a moment, the absolute silence made him wonder if he’d called the wrong person. But there was no mistaking the laugh, husky with surprise, that followed.

“Not too plebeian for your tastes?”

“I’m starving.” Alex removed the plate from the fridge and slid it into the microwave.

“That doesn’t answer my question, but I figured you might be,” Kate said drily. “You didn’t come out of the office all evening.”

Alex didn’t point out that she hadn’t left the kitchen, either. Not until she’d slipped out of the main lodge to deliver a bowl of popcorn and a pitcher of lemonade to the Gibsons’ cabin.

Alex sent his staff to expensive corporate training events to cultivate that kind of attention to detail, a quality that seemed to come as naturally to Kate as breathing. He was amazed at the way she took care of people.

The way she was taking care of him right now.

“The Gibsons want breakfast delivered to their cabin in the morning, so I’ll be back at five,” Kate told him.

“You must be looking forward to putting your feet up.”

“I have a city council meeting at eight but they only last a few hours.”

“I can’t believe that in a town the size of Mirror Lake that it would last more than five minutes.”

Instead of taking offense, Kate chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

The sound went straight through Alex, cutting a path through his defenses and making him forget why he’d decided it was best to keep his distance from a certain sassy, redheaded café owner.

“What’s on the agenda for tonight?” The timer went off and Alex plucked Kate’s apron from the hook on the wall, wrapped it around his hand and used it to remove the steaming plate from the microwave.

“Our annual Reflection Day celebration is coming up in September. There’s a parade on the lake. Craft and food booths in the park. A lot of planning goes into it.”

“And a lot of work.” Alex propped open the door of the fridge with one shoulder and reached for the pitcher of lemonade.

“That, too. But it’s fun.”

Fun? Alex didn’t think he’d ever used the words “fun” and “meeting” in the same sentence before.

A moment of silence stretched between them, but it was the comfortable kind. The same thought must have occurred to Kate.

“Wow.” She sounded bemused. “I think we’re actually having a conversation instead of an argument.”

“That isn’t possible,” Alex said firmly.

“Of course it is.”

Silence. And then Kate’s laughter started where his ended, linking them together.

“Maybe you’re right. We’re arguing about the fact that we aren’t arguing.”

Alex realized he was still smiling as he sat down at the table.

He heard a car door slam in the background and then a chorus of voices, telling him that Kate had reached her destination.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a nice dinner,” she murmured.

Alex was used to eating alone. Preferred it most of the time. But as he hung up the phone, he realized that something was missing—something that would have made the evening a lot more enjoyable.

Kate’s company.

That scared him more than the green beans.

Chapter Thirteen

“H
ey, Kate! You forgot something!”

At the sound of Haylie Owens’s voice, Kate glanced over her shoulder and saw the teenager dashing across the church parking lot to catch up to her, waving her cell phone.

She braked and turned Penelope around. “Thanks. I wouldn’t have noticed it was gone until tomorrow morning.”

Haylie grinned. “I would miss mine if I set it down for five minutes. Mom says it’s superglued to my hand.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday.” Kate reached for the purse looped over her shoulder but Haylie leaped forward, a horrified look on her face.

“Careful! You don’t want to wreck your manicure.”

No, Kate planned to assign that task to the bottle of nail polish remover stashed in her linen cabinet. One of the girls at the makeover party had painted Kate’s nails with a color called Ocean Waves, a sickly shade of bluish-green that she had secretly dubbed Sea Sick.

It matched her eye shadow perfectly.

“I had a lot of fun tonight. And the brownies were awesome!” Haylie jogged backward a few steps and the light from the streetlamp glinted off the rhinestone barrettes in her hair. “Rob’s picking me up in a few minutes. I wonder if he’ll recognize me.”

“He might not.” Kate wouldn’t have that problem. Even with false eyelashes, a thick veneer of foundation covering her freckles and her curls held captive by a large, tortoiseshell clip, Kate knew she would still resemble one of Santa’s elves.

A pickup truck swung into the parking lot and stopped long enough for Haylie to climb into it. Kate unzipped her purse and was about to drop her phone inside when the tiny screen lit up.

Three missed calls.

Kate scrolled through them.

Alex Porter. Alex Porter and…Alex Porter.

Three in a row. Each one approximately, oh, let’s see, thirty-two seconds apart.

That could only mean one thing.

He’d seen the flyers.

Should she call him back?

Kate glanced at her watch and decided against it. It was almost eleven o’clock, so Alex would just have to wait until morning for a full explanation, that was all there was to it.

Kate felt a pang of regret that the brief—very brief—cease fire they’d enjoyed on the phone the previous night was about to come to a screeching halt.

Because Alex had released his inner despot and made an executive decision to cancel the afternoon tea on Thursday and Kate had…well, she’d
vetoed
it, that’s what she had done.

No matter what Alex thought, it was too late to cancel. Kate had already planned the menu and Zoey had offered to play the piano while Emma helped her serve. Her friends were almost as excited about the event as the guests who’d reserved a table.

Before Kate had left the inn for the day, she’d tacked up one or two—
possibly ten
—flyers to remind the guests of the upcoming event.

Now she battled a niggling sense of guilt. Maybe if Alex had given her a good reason
why
he’d made the decision, she wouldn’t have taken matters into her own hands.

I’m canceling it
.

That’s all he’d said. If Kate had chosen a more subtle way to say “No, you’re not,” it was only because she was shorter than him by a foot and didn’t have the innate ability to raise one eyebrow.

A girl had to work with the gifts she’d been given.

Kate pedaled down Main Street and coasted through the alley behind the café, hoping she could make it up to her apartment without being seen. Not only were her curls now waging war against the hairclip, one of the false eyelashes had come unglued and was flapping against her cheek like a loose shutter.

Her cell phone began to vibrate inside her bag and Kate blew out a sigh.

Was the man nocturnal?

She ignored it, letting it jump around inside her purse as she unlocked the door and let herself into the apartment. Catching a glimpse of herself in the antique mirror hanging above the coat rack, Kate winced.

Just as she’d suspected. She looked as if she’d wrestled with a rainbow. And lost.

Ethel and Lucy wandered up to greet her, not at all put off by the new disguise.

The cell gave one final, indignant chirp and was silent. Finally. She changed into her favorite pair of sweats and was attempting to peel off the remaining eyelash without removing the real one underneath when the phone rang again.

“Fine,” she muttered, tracking the sound back to her purse and flipped it open without looking at the number. If he really wanted a showdown at midnight rather than high noon…

“Thank goodness,” a voice said.

A voice that didn’t belong to Alex.

The smell of bacon frying lured Alex to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mr. Porter!”

Alex stopped short at the sight of Irene Gibson sashaying around the kitchen, a colorful apron knotted around the waist of her denim jumper.

“Mrs. Gibson.” His gaze bounced from the bowls lined up on the counter to the bacon sizzling in the cast-iron skillet on the stove.

“How are you doing this morning?”

He’d been doing fine. Until now. “Where is Kate?”

Humming under her breath, Mrs. Gibson opened the oven door and peeked inside. “I have no idea. Don’t these scones smell marvelous? Real Door County cherries. Charlie had a hankering for something sweet this morning so I thought I’d whip up a batch. Would you like a cup of coffee? I just made it.”

“You made the coffee. And the scones.” Something was wrong with this picture.

“Charlie and I were getting hungry, so I thought I better rustle up some breakfast before we go hiking.”

Alex’s back teeth came together. There was no sign of Kate because Kate wasn’t here.

One of the guests was preparing her own breakfast. In the bed-and-
breakfast
.

“Excuse me a minute.” Alex walked onto the deck and punched in Kate’s number but the call went right to her voice mail.

“This is Kate. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

He shut the phone off.

“This is the day that the Lord made and it’s a fine one, isn’t it, Mr. Porter?” a cheerful voice boomed behind him.

Alex hadn’t realized he had company. Charlie Gibson sat in one of the wicker chairs, one hand holding a steaming cup of coffee, the other resting on the Bible in his lap.

He managed a tight smile. “Good morning, Mr. Gibson.”

“Charlie, remember.”

“Charlie.” Discreetly, Alex hit the redial button and heard the same chipper response. “Have you seen Kate this morning?”

Irene sailed over, holding a tray of scones. “Are you going to join us, Mr. Porter?”

“Irene makes the best scones in the state of Wisconsin.”

His wife blushed. “He’s just a wee bit prejudiced.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Gibson.”

The couple looked at each other.

“Sorry for what, Mr. Porter?” Irene finally ventured.

“That Kate wasn’t here to make your breakfast this morning.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Charlie shook open a linen napkin. “Irene loves to putter in the kitchen.”

Alex searched their faces for frustration or resentment but couldn’t find either. Apparently the couple didn’t mind making their own breakfast.

But he did.

“Sit down, sit down,” Irene clucked. “There’s plenty for everyone.”

“I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Gibson, but I have to track down Kate.”

Charlie chuckled. “Good luck with that, son. That girl reminds me of a hummingbird—never lands in one place for very long.”

And that was the trouble, Alex thought grimly as he excused himself. The plate of steaming cherry scones was proof that she was too busy. It was the reason he’d decided to cancel the afternoon tea, to scale down some of her duties, but the flyers plastered around the grounds told him that Kate hadn’t seen it that way.

“I’ll wrap one up and leave it on your desk for a midmorning snack,” Irene called after him.

“Thank you.”

Cody Lang was pushing a battered mountain bike up the driveway when Alex rounded the corner of the main lodge.

“Hey, Mr. Porter. Where’s Kate?”

“I have no idea.” But he planned to find her.

Disappointment skimmed the surface of the boy’s eyes. Alex remembered what Kate had said about Cody’s home life and paused.

“Mrs. Gibson made a batch of scones this morning. You can have mine if you’d like.”

“Thanks!” Cody abandoned the bike and sprinted toward the inn.

Five minutes later, Alex was pulling up in front of the café.

Penelope—Alex inwardly cringed that he thought about a bicycle in terms of a name—was propped up against the side of the building.

The breakfast rush was in full swing. Missy Martin skipped from table to table and Grady’s off-key whistle ricocheted around the kitchen.

Alex pushed through the swinging saloon-style doors and ran into Grady’s scowl.

“Complaint cards are by the cash register,” the old cook barked out.

“I’m looking for Kate.”

“Then you should be looking at the bed-and-breakfast, ’cause that’s where she is every morning ’bout this time. Order up!”

For the first time, Alex felt a stab of concern. He’d assumed Kate had overslept or gotten waylaid by one of many people who looked to her to fix the town’s problems.

“She didn’t show up this morning.”

Something in Alex’s expression must have registered with Grady, because he frowned. “I haven’t seen her, either.”

“I’ll be back.”

Alex took the stairs up to Kate’s apartment two at a time and knocked on the door.

Just when he was about to call Jake Sutton, the knob rattled and turned.

“Kate, what—”

“Shh.”

Alex’s gaze dropped two feet. Through a narrow crack in the door, a boy about seven or eight years old stared up at him.

“Are you a p’liceman?”

“No—.”

The door began to close again.

“Wait!” Alex managed to wedge his toe into the gap before it shut. “I’m looking for Kate. Can I come in?”

“Nope. You’re a stranger.”

“Not to Kate. I’m her boss.” If Kate was within earshot, that statement alone would bring her running. “She didn’t show up for work this morning.”

Wary blue eyes studied him. Alex could have easily pushed the door open but some inner prompting warned him against it. He knelt down until he and the boy were eye level.

“I’m Alex. What’s your name?”

“Logan J. Gardner.”

Alex’s lips edged up in a smile. “Can you let Kate know that I’m here?”

The boy shook his head and a swatch of pale, white-blond hair fell across his eyes. “She’s sleepin’.”

“Sleeping?” At eight-thirty? Alex tried unsuccessfully to see inside the apartment.

“But I’m hungry.” Logan glanced over his shoulder. “She said we could have blueberry pancakes for breakfast this morning.”

We?

“Kate doesn’t like people to be hungry,” Alex said slowly. “I’m sure she won’t mind if we wake her up and remind her about the pancakes.”

Hunger trumped the boy’s initial caution.

“Okay.” Logan edged away from his post.

Alex stepped inside. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. The shades were drawn over the windows. His foot caught on something and he shook it free. Looking down, Alex saw a stained backpack stamped with the face of a popular cartoon character, the contents scattered around it.

He had visited Kate’s apartment and seen firsthand the meticulous condition she kept the kitchen at the inn. The disarray wasn’t in keeping with the Kate he was getting to know.

“See?” Logan pointed to the sofa.

Alex’s heart jumped in his chest.

Kate was sound asleep, her arms wrapped around a little girl whose wispy hair was the same shade of platinum as the boy’s.

“That’s Tori.” Logan shuffled closer, his eyes dark with apprehension. “She likes pancakes, but she doesn’t like strangers, either.”

Alex didn’t miss the “either” and summoned what he hoped was a reassuring smile before bending down.

Kate’s cheeks were flushed with color, her breathing slow and even. The thick fringe of russet lashes clashed with the lavender shadows below her eyes.

Was she sick?

“Kate?”

A pair of eyes popped open. Blue, not green.

And then a piercing scream rent the air.

Kate sat up so quickly she almost dumped Tori onto the floor.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she rasped.

The screaming intensified as Tori’s thin arms locked around Kate’s neck.

As Kate tried to comfort her, several things began to penetrate the fog in her brain. A sliver of sunlight—bright sunlight—edged the windowsill, which meant she’d slept through the alarm.