He began rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher. “I suppose it’s more fun, though, being in the center of Portland. More to do.”
“I’m busy enough getting up to speed on this new career. Securing permits, designing the space, hiring the staff, creating employee manuals, learning the laws about food handling, and, well, just everything.” She wiped down some of the empty counters, then rinsed and wrung the dishrag. “No time for anything else, really.”
Again, he noted tension in her shoulders and face. Clearly she hadn’t yet moved on with her personal life. He hated the image that came to him then, of her sitting in her condo, surrounded by objects but no people. No laughter. Colby used to laugh easily.
“The work hours of this industry make it tough, but don’t neglect your personal life.”
She playfully slapped his shoulder. “I don’t need another mother. One is more than enough.”
Ah, yes. She’d always view him like a family member. He raised his hands. “Fair enough.”
“I should go.” She went to get her purse.
“Hang on.” Alec strode to the table and plucked the tulips from the vase. After soaking some paper towels in cold water, he then wrapped them around the base of the stems and secured them with a rubber band. “Take these.”
Her mouth opened, just a little. Just enough to tell him that he’d surprised her . . . in a good way. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear his feet had left the ground.
“Thanks, Alec. For the flowers, the meal.” She smiled at him. “For proving me wrong. That’s not something I normally enjoy. I’d better watch out for you.”
“Perhaps you ought to.”
She laughed, completely unaware of how serious he was. He wanted her, but he couldn’t have her. My God, he could’ve saved her husband’s life if he’d only mentioned the damn note to her or anyone in her family. If he would’ve forgiven Mark.
If she knew the truth, she’d hate him.
“What’s wrong? You look sick.” When she touched his arm, he flinched.
“Nothing. Sorry. My mind wandered.” He opened the door, now desperate for her to leave. “Drive safely.”
Chapter Four
“I can’t stay too long because Mom’s waiting for me.” Colby sat on the world’s least comfortable, ultramodern barstool at the marble island in her father’s massive kitchen. As with most things, Jenna favored the style of the wood-and-nickel stool over other considerations such as comfort. Colby sipped the Earl Grey iced tea her father had handed her and set aside her mental to-do list for the moment.
“How’d things go with Alec last night?” He sat beside her, his long frame dwarfing the stool.
The memory of Alec’s intent expression as he sweetly bundled up that bouquet of tulips warmed her chest. That meal had been more memorable than chicken marsala—elegant without being fussy. The music, flowers, candles, and presentation had made her feel pampered and relaxed, which was precisely what she wanted A CertainTea to do for its guests.
Of course, her dad only cared about the bottom line.
“We came to an agreement about making changes.” Alec had also offered to reimburse her for having to reprint new menus. An offer she’d declined because, honestly, Alec needed a fresh start as much as she did.
“Good.” Her dad smiled, his brown eyes lit with a bit of humor. “I’m glad you compromised. Your brother’s been concerned about Alec. And I knew you were smart enough not to ignore his feedback.”
Although somewhat manipulative in his tactics, Alec had proved his point, and they’d had a productive discussion that morning with the staff about next steps. She assumed his high-handed way of establishing authority with the cooks stemmed from the fact that he hadn’t been involved in hiring any of them. If he didn’t settle down once they all got to know one another, she’d be playing mediator every day—the opposite of what she wanted. Of course, her dad played mediator every day at work.
“How can you stand being in the middle of Jenna and Hunter all the time?” If she had to work with those two every day, she’d be pulling out her hair. “Isn’t it exhausting?”
“Sure.” He nodded. “Then again, you know something about that from being in the middle of your mom and me for so long.”
“Not every day, though.” Even she heard the whoosh of relief in her voice.
Her father laughed. “I’ll take dealing with Jenna and Hunter every day to dealing with your mom any day.”
“Be nice, Dad.” Colby understood her parents’ inherent incompatibility, but she wouldn’t let him pick on her mom. “If it weren’t for her early love of green tea’s health benefits back in the eighties, you might never have started CTC.”
“Sorry.” He patted her hand without acknowledging the truth of her remark. “I’ll give Leslie this much—you and Hunter turned out great, and I can’t take much credit for that.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Colby couldn’t mask the surprised grin prompted by his confession. Truthfully, the quiet admission of his absentee-father status was the closest he’d ever come to an apology. “I’d pass along the compliment, but she’d probably faint from shock.”
“Actually, this topic leads to why I asked you here. I need help with Gentry.” His smile evaporated as deep grooves lined his forehead. “She needs . . . ah, hell, I don’t know what she needs, but some direction would be nice. Honestly, she’s more like your mom than you are.”
At twenty-five, Gentry hadn’t yet accomplished much more than provoking her parents. Having been raised by a series of nannies, she’d predictably gone through a healthy dose of teenage rebellion, the inky evidence of which still decorated her left wrist and ankle. After dropping out of college for a while “to travel,” she’d tried photography. When that didn’t take, their father had coaxed her back to college. Still a few credits shy of graduating, Gentry was no closer to setting any serious goals.
“Maybe Mom and Gentry don’t always have their feet on the ground, but in some ways I think they get more out of the journey than we do.” When her father shot her a cockeyed stare, she added, “I talked to Gentry a few days ago. She’s found work as a live mannequin and has started dating a new guy.”
“The hot dog guy, for chrissakes.” He drummed his fingers on the counter.
“Hot dog guy?”
“She told us he was an entrepreneur,” he snorted. “Turns out he’s a hot dog vendor in the city.”
Colby smothered a grin at her sister’s way of goading her parents. “To be fair, she didn’t lie.”
Her father rolled his eyes, then he glanced at the floor, frowning. “Nothing in her life has any permanence.”
The concern in his voice cut through any humor Colby might’ve found in the situation. Like her dad, she worried about her sister’s untethered way of drifting through life. Enjoying the journey had its merits, but so did security and purpose.