Their Last Second Chance Page 5

  Chapter Four

  An hour later, Melanie had a job at the Stone Gap Gazette, an assignment to interview Stone Gap’s oldest living resident and a plan. The sense of failure that had plagued her since her divorce and losing her job began to lift.

  The position she’d gotten wasn’t the job she needed, or a job that would turn her life around, but it was a step in the right direction. Plus, with some more serious clips on her résumé, she could drag herself out of the land of waterproof mascara options and into a career with meat. A career that made her feel like she was using her writing powers for good, not for evil white lies.

  Except this job came at a price she wasn’t sure she could pay, despite her earlier confidence in the diner.

  The job interview had gone well at first, with Saul complimenting her work at City Girl. “It isn’t the kind of thing we run in the paper here, of course.” He chuckled. “This town isn’t exactly big into the latest trends in platform heels. But you have a nice writing style. I really liked that piece you did on those college grads who moved to New York. That whole ‘first year in the city’ story was really well done.”

  She blushed. It was the one set of articles at City Girl that had kept her there, thinking maybe the series would do so well that the magazine would commission more stories like that from her. Instead, a new editor had come in, and the magazine had shifted even further away from anything with depth. When Melanie had complained about the lack of scope and the inanity of most of what she wrote, the new senior editor had simply said, “Perhaps it’s best if we part ways.”

  Just like that, Melanie was out of a job. She’d come home that day, hoping Adam would finally step out of his self-absorbed self and offer her some comfort, or at the very least a glass of wine and some dinner. But Adam hadn’t been there. Not that day, not that night. Not for the entire year before, heck, not for most of their marriage. Adam had turned out to be a self-centered man who did what pleased him, and who had sucked Melanie in with an irresistible charm and an almost pouty I need you attitude when she’d met him.

  The day she’d lost her job, Adam came home late the next morning, and before she could confront him or tell him about her job, he’d told her he was in love with Cheri of the heart-dotted letters. She gets me, he’d said. She gets what’s important to me. You’re way too serious, Melanie.

  She’d scraped by through their quickie divorce and the year since on some freelance work, her savings and the small settlement with Adam, but by this point, she was near the end of her rope. She sat across from Saul in a room that still smelled like ink and paper, even though the Stone Gap Gazette had long ago switched to digital printing, and felt that first sense of light at the end of the tunnel.

  “I heard there was a fire and a family got rescued,” Melanie said. “I was thinking that might—”

  “I’ve been trying six ways to Sunday to get an interview on that one and haven’t been able to. For now, how about you get your feet wet, show me what you can do? I’ll start you off with a piece on Evelyn Ross. She’s our oldest living resident, celebrating her hundred and second birthday this Tuesday. If you can get me that by Friday morning, I can put it in the next edition.” He slid a piece of paper with Evelyn’s contact info across the desk. “Eight hundred words, with all those tips on living longer. I’ll pay you by the piece, a hundred dollars. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

  “Can do. Thank you, Mr. Richardson.”

  “Call me Saul. Nobody ever calls me Mister anything unless they’re trying to sell me something. I’m not much for formality, anyway.” He chuckled again.

  Melanie got to her feet. All those interviews, all those résumés sent out, and finally—finally—she had a job—well, okay, a few pieces to write. Once she used these more serious clips and her restored confidence to springboard back into a career in New York, she could tell Abby the truth about what had happened in the last year. They’d have a good laugh, and Abby would see she didn’t have to worry so much about her little sister. “Thank you again, Saul. I appreciate the assignment.” She started to turn away.

  “You know, I was thinking...”

  She turned back. “Yes?”

  “About what you said earlier. Maybe you could do that story on the fire. You’re new in town, determined to get the story...maybe you can sweet-talk your way into finding out what happened over at the Kingston house the other night. Lord knows I’ve tried, but those folks see me coming and lock their door twice. Whole damned town is talking about it, except the family and that guy who rescued them. Harry? Harvey?”

  “Harris.”

  Saul arched a brow. “Do you know him? That contractor fellow?”

  “A...a little.” As in I used to be in love with him, and when he smiles at me, I lose my concentration. Yeah, just a little.

  “You get that story, and you’ll be the envy of all the papers in a five-county area. Hell, I’ll be the envy of all those papers, and I’ll get a much-needed boost in subscriptions if they see that this little paper is doing big things. Editors love that feel-good, happy-ending stuff. It’s the kind of scoop that can get you hired at the Charlotte Observer.” He gave her a long, assessing glance. “Because I get the feeling you aren’t much for small-town life.”

  “Well, I...” She didn’t know what to say. If she admitted she saw these assignments as a stepping-stone, then Saul would undoubtedly rescind his offer of work, and that would ruin everything. Her reboot would be dead before it got off the ground.

  “It’s okay.” He gave her a soft smile. “I once dreamed of bigger things, too. Until I fell in love and settled in this sleepy little town for good. Stone Gap has been good to me, so I have no regrets.”

  Melanie just smiled.

  “Anyway, I’m glad to have the help, even if it’s only for now. God will take care of the rest when it comes time.”

  She wasn’t sure about the heaven-sent help, but she kept that to herself. “Thank you for the job. You can count on me, Saul.”

  Except as she walked down Main Street, she wasn’t so sure Saul had put all his eggs in the right basket. A profile on the oldest living resident would be a piece of cake. Getting close enough to Harris again to get him to open up about what was clearly a sore subject—

  Not easy at all. Mainly because getting close to Harris came with a whole other list of problems. Already, images of him danced around the edges of her thoughts. The memory of him touching her, the yearning need she’d felt last night, thinking of how good he kissed, how much she’d missed those touches, all of that hanging on the edges of the pain from years ago.

  Yeah, not easy at all.

  Melanie ducked into Betty’s Bakery, a quaint little shop nestled between George’s Deli and a small patch of land converted into a playground to honor a fallen hometown soldier. At the bottom of the sign for the park, she saw the words Built by Jack Barlow. She wasn’t surprised. The man she had met earlier clearly cared about this town and seemed the type to give back with something like this. Maybe that was the kind of thing that kept the town talking about the Barlows, rather than whatever things they’d gotten into trouble for when they were boys. It was another of those small-town touches that made Melanie feel like she was ten million miles away from New York.

  Abby was sitting alone at a small white wrought iron café table inside the bakery, with a set of plates and silverware beside her. “You’re here! I was getting worried.” Abby shifted her purse to the floor to make room for Melanie to sit beside her.

  “Sorry. I was meeting with the editor of the paper. I picked up an assignment for while I’m here.”

  “You did? That’s great. But...you’re so busy already with the magazine. Are you sure you can take on the extra work?” Abby touched her sister’s cheek. “You work so hard, and I worry about you.”

  Melanie covered Abby’s hand with her own. If only Abby knew how little Mel
anie had actually worked in the last year. “You have enough to worry about for the next couple of weeks—heck, all the time. The wedding, Ma, your kids, your job. Just let me worry about me, okay?”

  Pink and white shantung draped the walls of the cake-tasting room. Rhinestones beaded the edges, circled the tables, encrusted faux tiaras at the place settings. The place was less bakery and more bridal suite on steroids. “Speaking of which, where is Ma? I thought she was coming, too.”

  The door to the shop opened just then, and their mother strode in. “Goodness, do we ever get a break from the heat here?”

  Melanie opted not to have the heat argument again, especially given the temperature outside was in the low seventies. Instead, she pulled out a chair between her and Abby. “Cake will make everything better.”

  “Only if it’s good cake,” Cynthia said, not so sotto voce. “I’ve been to some bakeries where I swear they learned to bake at a fast food restaurant. Just horrible.”

  “This is a great bakery, Ma,” Abby said. “I’ve met the owners. They’re lovely people.”

  “We’ll see. Considering what they charge, they’d better be.”

  Abby and Melanie exchanged a look. Hope warred with frustration on Abby’s face. Melanie crossed her fingers under the table. Maybe Ma would love the cake so much she wouldn’t stop eating to complain and criticize.

  And maybe the moon would suddenly turn to gold, too.

  A buxom woman with gray hair in a tight bun bustled out of the kitchen, balancing cake samples and some napkins. “Hello, Abby and family! You must be the mother of the bride and the lovely maid of honor I’ve heard so much about.” She put down the plates and shook with Cynthia, then Melanie. “I’m Betty, the owner of this bakery, and the wife of the one next door.”

  Melanie laughed. That was kind of cute, husband and wife owning businesses right beside each other. That way they were together, but not together. She couldn’t imagine being connected with someone like that. Part of what had kept her and Adam together as long as they were was the fact that they were rarely in the same space. He traveled often, and that meant every visit home became a honeymoon. It wasn’t until he was in town for several months that she realized they had almost nothing in common. He’d been so charming when they dated, and the fraction of time they’d spent together between his assignments had been romantic and short. Probably because anything more than a week together would have opened her eyes to his real personality.

  She turned her attention back to something that rarely disappointed—dessert. The cake samples filled the small table. White cake, chocolate cake, buttery pound cake. Melanie pressed a hand to her stomach. “Oh my God. Every slice looks amazing.”

  “I think this might be my favorite part of wedding planning.” Abby picked up a fork and aimed for the first slice. Betty explained it was a vanilla sponge with a raspberry center, which Abby dug into, while Melanie opted to try the chocolate cake with layers of caramel.

  They rotated the plates, trying a bite of each. Ma took small bites, without commenting. Betty filled the awkward silence with wedding disaster stories, including one where a bride accidentally fell in the hotel pool on her march down the temporary aisle bridge. Soon Abby and Melanie were laughing, and the tension with their mother had disappeared. Almost.

  Melanie couldn’t help but feel sorry for Abby. She could see the disappointment in her sister’s face every time she glanced at Ma. Abby had undoubtedly dreamed that their mother would be enthusiastically involved, but history had already dictated the opposite. Ma hadn’t been hands-on with Abby’s first wedding and had complained that it was too far to go to New York to help with Melanie’s. And throughout their lives, even when she’d been there for important events, she’d never seemed proud or excited. Why would either of them expect anything different from her now?

  Abby narrowed her cake choices down to the raspberry-filled one and a peanut butter cake drizzled with chocolate ganache. “I can’t choose. I love them both.”

  “Then maybe have each tier a different flavor?” Melanie said. “That way, we get the best of both worlds. It’s your wedding. Do it up big—in cake, at least.”

  “That’s a great idea. I can do two different tiers, easily, the raspberry on one and chocolate on the other.” Betty began writing up the order. Melanie stacked the empty plates—they’d done more than tasted; they’d eaten every last bite.

  “An awful lot of expense to have two different flavors. Like that monstrosity you had at your wedding. Half went uneaten. Such a waste,” Ma said. “Melanie, tell her.”

  Okay, so maybe the cake at her wedding to Adam had been over-the-top and one of many extravagant purchases that day that Ma had criticized. Long after the bills were paid, Melanie had realized the overdone flowers and towering dessert had been her focus in the weeks leading up to the wedding—instead of the mistake she was making in marrying Adam. Her sister, however, wasn’t making a mistake. Dylan clearly loved her, loved the boys and was an all-around great guy. If Abby wanted a ten-tier cake with dancing marionettes, that was fine with Melanie.

  “It’s Abby’s wedding. I think she should do what she wants.” As Melanie handed the empty plates to the shop owner, Abby grabbed her sister’s hand.

  “Mel, where’s your wedding ring?”

  Melanie froze. She had forgotten all about her ring. The day Adam left her, she’d put it in her jewelry box and hadn’t taken it out until last month—when she’d sold it to help pay the bills. The alimony she’d been awarded had been minimal, mainly because they’d been married such a short time and Adam was supposedly “still struggling” in his career. Plus, she’d had a job when she got divorced, all part of the alimony equation. Now she had no job, no ring, no savings. “Uh, I forgot it at home.”

  Abby’s brow furrowed. “Are things okay between you and Adam?”

  Here was Melanie’s opportunity to come clean. To say, actually, nothing is okay right now. She started to open her mouth, but her mother interrupted first.

  “Of course they are,” Ma said. “Melanie is finally settled down with a handsome, employed young man. Took her long enough to figure out her life, I might add. I’m glad that both of you girls have your lives on track.”

  And she gave Melanie a smile. The first genuine smile Melanie had seen since she arrived. The little girl in Melanie who’d been seeking approval from the day she was born just nodded and agreed.

  Chicken.

  * * *

  Harris tucked the rebuilding plans into the pocket of his jacket, thanked the building inspector, then headed out to Main Street. He’d hired a truck and a few men with strong backs, then spent the morning out at the Kingston house, assessing the damage and making a plan for demolition and rebuilding. Nearly everything had been lost to the flames, but the material things could be replaced. Harris had already set up a fund at the Stone Gap bank, because people wanted to help. He was also working on finding the family a rental house near the school system so they could move out of their cramped relative’s home. In the meantime, the plans for rebuilding were nearly approved. A couple more days and the planning commission would meet, and hopefully everything would go off without a hitch.

  Harris was more concerned about John’s state of mind. He’d tried to call the other man several times, but more often than not, the calls went to voice mail. He’d kept to himself yesterday, quiet and depressed. Harris knew John blamed himself for the fire, but Harris also knew John was placing the blame in the wrong place.

  Harris checked his cell phone. No return text or calls from John. He placed another one, but once again, the call went straight to voice mail.

  Guilt pressed on his chest. He should have paid closer attention to his friend in the days before the fire. Or answered the phone when John had called earlier that night. Harris had made the mistake of thinking all was well, then John had been hit by one more blow, and the delicate
edge he’d been teetering on had broken.

  Harris sighed and tucked the phone away. Maybe John just needed a little time to process what had happened. Or maybe it was better if Harris stayed away before his father got wind of what he was up to.

  For years, Harris had been trying to right the wrongs of the past, undo at least some of the damage done by his father’s ruthless business decisions. Pay the penance for mistakes he had made. But the list was long, and at some point, someone was going to put the pieces together, and Harris’s efforts to try to heal the wounds of the past would be discovered.

  Deep down inside, he knew these decisions hadn’t been his. But he had been the executioner, and that meant a large percentage of the responsibility fell on his shoulders. His father would never make it right, but Harris would, the best he could.

  And still it wasn’t enough. Never enough to lift that horsehair shirt of guilt.

  Just then the door to Betty’s Bakery opened, and Melanie stepped outside. She had her dark hair down and wavy today, the long tresses skating over her shoulders, tickling the small of her back. She was wearing jeans and little black boots that added a few inches to her height. Her plain white T-shirt was offset by a caramel leather jacket that had been well worn and loved. She looked sexy and dangerous, all at once.

  He thought of that late night on the back deck of the inn. How close he’d come to kissing her. How much he still wanted to. It was as if a part of him kept forgetting her cheating on him, the pain of that betrayal, how much it hurt him in the weeks after they broke up.

  What would happen now if they tried again, as adults? Without the immaturity they’d had when they were eighteen? Would their relationship be more nuanced? Richer? Stronger? Or was he just caught in some reminiscent time warp?

  Was he really that desperate to see if her touch would still ease his soul, as it had all those years ago? Back then, being with Mellie had been the only place where Harris could forget his life for a moment. Forget who his father was. Forget the expectations that waited for him. Forget the detritus that followed him like a stubborn shadow.