Page 136 of Death of a Grill Master

Chapter 43

The knock on Hayley’s door was hesitant, but persistent—like someone both eager and terrified to be there. Leroy bounded to the entryway, yipping like a creature convinced the world was full of postal workers and burglars.

When she opened the door, Doug Marsh stood on her porch with the strangest bouquet she’d ever seen. No roses, no lilies——instead, long stalks of fennel fanned out like green fireworks, bound together with cinnamon sticks and dried red chilies. The scent was half farmers market, half Christmas.

Hayley raised an eyebrow. “Either you’re launching a spice company, or you’ve gotten into some very strange foreplay.”

Doug grinned, a little sheepish. “Actually … both. Kind of.”

He stepped inside, glancing around like he wanted to make sure no one else was listening. “I’m here because I need your opinion before I talk to Liddy. You know her better than anyone.”

“Why not just go straight to her?” Hayley asked, closing the door.

“Because if it’s a bad idea, I don’t want her to turn me into one of her dramatic cautionary tales,” Doug said. “And because … the timing’s important. I’ve been cleared of everything. No more suspicion. No more whispers about that gun or Hank. I can finally start something new without half the town looking sideways at me.”

Hayley tilted her head. “And?”

“And,” Doug said. “I want Liddy to come with me. Not just for the business, but for … me.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you asking me to bless your … whatever this is?”

“Your blessing, your advice, and maybe a pep talk,” Doug said. “You’ve been friends forever. You’ll know if I’m crazy.”

“Oh, you’re crazy,” Hayley said. “But that’s never stopped Liddy before.”

Doug paced while Hayley texted Liddy an urgent come over right now message. Ten minutes later, Liddy breezed in, wearing oversized sunglasses and a scarf like she’d just stepped off a yacht, even though the only boat she’d been on lately was Mona’s lobster boat.

She froze at the sight of Doug holding the spice bouquet.

“What is this?” she asked.

Doug launched in before his nerve failed. He told her about the plan—hanging up accounting and opening a spice company in Santa Fe. The test recipes. The branding ideas. The market for Maine-meets-Southwest flavors.

And then he got to the real pitch.

“I want you to come with me, Liddy. Not just as a partner in the kitchen. As … my partner.”

Liddy’s mouth opened and closed twice. “You mean—leave Bar Harbor?”

“Come to Santa Fe,” Doug said, holding out the bouquet. “Help me build something—spice blends, a brand, a whole life in the sun.”

Liddy’s smile wavered. “I’ve built my own company here, Doug. My clients, my listings—it’s taken years.”

Doug’s grin didn’t falter. “And you can do it again there. Different-style adobe instead of clapboard, courtyards instead of wraparound porches. Still the same hustle, still the same Liddy Crawford charm. You’d just swap out the ocean view for a mountain one.”

Liddy tilted her head, the corners of her mouth twitching as the idea started to land. “Adobe,” she murmured, tasting the word like a new cocktail. “Kiva fireplaces. Big wooden doors. Clients in turquoise jewelry instead of fleece jackets. And I wouldn’t have to scrape ice off my windshield six months out of the year.”

Hayley could practically see the mental real estate listings forming behind Liddy’s eyes—her name printed in bold over sun-washed stucco and hand-painted tiles.

Liddy was already pacing the kitchen, rattling off half-formed to-do lists: “I’ll have to tell my clients, list the house, book a flight—oh my God, what do people even wear in Santa Fe? And when are we leaving?”

Doug shrugged. “Soon. Next week?”

“Next week?!” Hayley sputtered.

That’s when Bruce wandered in with Leroy at his heels, stopping short when he clocked the scene—the bouquet of dried chilies on the counter, Doug looking smug, Liddy looking like she’d just been handed a crown and a subpoena.

“What did I miss?” Bruce asked.