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“Other than being on your look-out crew? He sometimes stops at Get Lost to toss his coffee cup, or he’ll give an untouched cup to whoever is working.”
“And he organized the baking practice for you,” Harper reminded her, sounding like she was on board Penny’s crazy-train idea of Lucas flirting with her.
“I don’t think he’s a bad guy, Maggie. And I know he wasn’t happy about beating you. He looked almost as defeated as you did when they announced the winner,” Penny said.
“Were you two drinking before you got here? Lucas is not flirting with me. He’s pestering me.”
“But what if he wasn’t?” Harper asked right before the oven timer buzzed.
“Time’s up,” Maggie said, tossing the unfolded towel back into the laundry basket.
“You set a timer on us?” Penny asked.
“No, I set a timer to remind me it’s bedtime. I’m opening.”
“You know your phone has a timer on it,” Harper said.
“This is more effective.” Maggie opened the front door for them. She didn’t want to explain it was too easy to hit the snooze button on her phone’s alarm, but the oven timer would go off every minute until she hauled her butt off the couch to turn it off.
“Rude. We’re not done with our ciders. Some hostess you are,” Harper scoffed.
“Forced hostess,” Maggie said, holding the door open wider and gesturing for them to pass. They didn’t move. “Guys, I have to get up before the sun and I still need to take a shower.”
“Why don’t you take your shower, and we’ll let ourselves out?” Penny suggested.
“Fine,” Maggie huffed. Harper snagged her hand as she walked past, forcing her to turn back to them. “What now?” Just because she agreed to let them stay didn’t mean she had to be pleasant about it.
“You know, we’ll keep hounding you until you’re back to your usual sunshiny self,” Harper said. Maggie sighed, knowing they’d make good on their loving threat.
“I know. I just need a few more days to wallow, okay?” Penny and Harper nodded, both looking relieved. “Finish your ciders and go. I’ll lock up after my shower.” An unlocked door was the least of her worries. When her parents had renovated Marketplace Main, they’d installed security for the condos that rivaled Fort Knox. Plus, she and Penny were in the end units, so no one walked by their doors.
Maggie was secure in her apartment, but not in her future. She’d had a plan. She’d had a vision, but he’d ruined it. But what if it wasn’t intentional? What if he was flirting?
Maggie stifled a yawn as she reviewed the sales forecast for the next month and compared it to the labor budget. It was a lot easier to stick to the budget when Jack committed to some shifts, but he complained his knees ached after a few hours. And he hated the bookwork and marketing, so he wouldn’t take those back so Maggie could work up front. Why bother? she wondered, as she rubbed her temples. Hitting certain targets each month earned her a bonus. But why knock myself out when my future is unclear?
It had been several days since the intervention, and Maggie had almost crawled out of her funk. It helped that her sneaky sisters had tidied up her kitchen, folded her laundry, and hauled out the garbage and empty pizza box tower while they’d finished their ciders.
They’d given her a clean slate, and Maggie didn’t want to waste it. Fall was in the air, and it felt like she had a new beginning. But she was clueless about what it was. Maggie mourned the dream of owning Brewster’s, and she would until something else came along.
But with a chill in the air, she’d made a big pot of roasted acorn squash soup and apple cornbread muffins. She shared some of it with Penny and brought a container to Harper at the newspaper. And last night she’d made leaf-shaped shortbread cookies, decorating them with thin iced veins. She planned to give them to Get Lost’s book club meetings that evening. She’d done it in the past, and the members had always loved them. Right now, Maggie would take all the love and appreciation she could get. It helped smother the Loser voice that rang in her head.
As she’d cried while cutting onions for the soup—forgetting Nanna’s trick of putting a damp paper towel at the top of the cutting board to absorb the oil—and rolled the shortbread dough, and in almost any quiet moment, she kicked around Penny’s crazy idea that Lucas had been flirting with her.
Maggie had limited experience with men, or flirting, so she couldn’t say if Penny was right or wrong. But if Lucas had been flirting, shouldn’t she have picked up on it? Or maybe he was as bad at flirting as she was at sensing it? But that didn’t make sense. She’d seen the way fans—female fans—flocked around him, and he charmed all of them, making each woman feel as if she was the most important.
The only thing she knew was that if she’d misinterpreted his actions, it changed everything. Instead of being a pest and trying to ruin her life, he was just a nice guy wanting to spend time with her—whether on a school committee, organization, or just stopping by her workplace to see her. And before the competition, against her better judgment, she’d started to like him. He was kind and helpful, and she loved the way he was with Nanna and Grandad. And he’d known what she’d needed, and he’d made it happen. For her.
She’d struggled in front of crowds for most of her life. Freezing when all eyes were on her. Her mom had forced, bribed, and cajoled her into the debate club during high school. It had helped, but it hadn’t cured her, especially when the stakes were high, like at the baking contest. Somehow Lucas had sensed that, and he’d created a non-threatening way for her to practice in front of a crowd.
Being mad at him isn’t serving me. Maggie chewed her lip as she tapped her pencil against the desk and contemplated burying the hatchet with Lucas once and for all. She had a fresh slate with her apartment, why not with the man who seemed to have her best interests at heart? A hunk of a man with a spark in his eyes and a smile waiting to burst forth.
But why would he buy coffee and not drink it? she wondered, thinking back to Penny’s comment about how he’d give away his drinks. Why wouldn’t he order something he liked? What a waste of money.
Maggie shook her head, wishing she could be that frivolous. Her hand froze over the keyboard as reality hit her over her head. But I can. If I’m not saving to buy Brewster’s, I can spend money.
For the last few years, Maggie had maintained a strict budget by surviving on thrift stores, secondhand clothes—difficult with her height and build—and not going out much with friends. But now, with buying Brewster’s an impossibility, she could loosen the purse strings. Live a little. Toss out the money tracker she carried with her everywhere. Carry her credit card in case something caught her fancy instead of limiting herself to cash. And if she was throwing caution to the wind? Buy her own car. No more mooching off Penny, not that her sister ever complained. Maggie almost bounced in her seat at the prospect. No more waiting until the future to live. I can live now.
“Hey,” Vivi said, leaning against the door and scaring the bejesus out of Maggie.
