Buns (Hudson Valley #3)

Ashley didn’t seem like a woman who’d ever had a hair out of place, a dress that was wrinkled, or forgotten a birthday. She had engraved stationery. She drove an immaculate car. This was a woman who’d lived for a finger sandwich.

None of this I knew for certain, mind you, but I’d been around enough of these types my entire adult life. But she wasn’t snobby. She was likely a genuinely good person, the kind you think you’ll hate immediately, but she’s so darn charming it’s impossible to do so.

I didn’t know her. I barely knew Archie for that matter. But staring at this gorgeous woman, cut down in her prime, I could see she was a perfect match for her husband.

A husband who was still wearing his wedding ring.

I allowed myself another moment to study this seemingly perfect woman, and when I was done tallying up all the many ways I was her total opposite, I went back to my room.





Chapter 12


“Is it weird that there’s this internationally known, highly rated resort twenty minutes from where I grew up and still live, and to this day I’ve never spent a night there?”

I was sitting across from Chad Bowman, town councilman and perpetual high school crush, listening as he told me his impressions of Bryant Mountain House. After meeting him at Callahan’s, we’d made plans to get together to talk about ways Bailey Falls and the resort could help each other out. I’d also wanted to pick his brain on how the town saw the Bryant family, and what they could do to win them back around, as it were.

“It does seem strange,” I agreed, scooping up another bite of my blue-plate special. It made sense that we’d meet at the diner since I’d promised Trudy I’d stop by the next time I was in town. And once I found out the special of the day was chicken and dumplings? Heaven. “But surely you’ve been up there before.”

“My family always made a point of going to their Easter brunch, we never missed that, and then when Logan and I moved back here we’ve gone hiking up there a few times, bought the day pass.”

“Easter brunch. Roxie talked about that too.”

“Oh yeah, everyone brought their kids up there when I was growing up. We always did Easter, sometimes we’d go for the Christmas dinner if my mom didn’t feel like cooking, but we never missed Easter. Egg hunt on the lawn, then brunch with those fucking killer hot cross buns.”

I scribbled in my notebook. “Roxie mentioned those too, they must be really good.”

“If I could figure out how, I’d have those buns in my mouth every single day.”

“Watch your mouth, Chad, this is a family establishment,” Trudy said as she sailed by with a tray of drinks. Ten seconds later she sailed by again, this time whacking him on the head with a stack of menus.

“Trudy, get your mind out of the gutter, you’re as bad as your daughter.” He grimaced, rubbing his head. He looked at me. “You knew what I meant, right?”

I blinked innocently. “All I heard was how much you loved those buns.”

“I’d kill to sink my teeth into a pair of those buns right now . . . ow!”

“What did I just tell you?” Trudy asked, leaning over the back of the booth and leaving a bright pink lipstick–stained kiss on his cheek. She winked at me. “How’re those dumplings?”

“They’re amazing, like light and fluffy balls.”

Chad raised his eyebrows, waiting.

Trudy said nothing.

“You’re not gonna smack her for talking about balls?” he asked.

“Now who’s got their mind in the gutter?” Trudy sang out, exiting stage left but not before landing one more good whack on Chad’s head.

“Honestly, I don’t even know why I come in here anymore,” he grumbled, leaning over the back of the booth and making sure everyone heard him say, “the service is terrible!”

“Says you!” came the reply from the kitchen, where Trudy had just disappeared through the swinging door.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing away his now-empty plate, “where were we?”

“Buns.”

“Right!” He rubbed his head absently, no doubt still feeling Trudy’s thwap. “The thing is, other than those holidays, it never really felt like the resort was a part of the town. I mean, don’t get me wrong, almost everyone I know has had at least a summer job at one time or another, but it always felt . . . detached from the town itself. It was always filled with rich families who came up to get away and sometimes they’d come down into town and marvel over how adorable our little country hamlet was, but then they’d go back up there and relax in their rocking chairs and play their croquet and have their fancy afternoon tea. Not that there aren’t rich people here in Bailey Falls. And not that we don’t have fancy afternoon tea, because Hattie Mae’s tea shop over on Elm Street serves traditional English cream tea every day at three on the dot. But I don’t know . . .” He sighed, his eyes going a bit dreamy. “Bryant Mountain House always just felt a little too highbrow for me. I can afford to stay there now, but do I really want to? Eh.”

“Eh?”

“Eh. I’ll get around to it. I must admit, I’ve always wondered how it is at nighttime. All those long hallways. Is it creepy?”

I snorted, thinking back to my first few nights there. “A bit. But we’re working on that. And I’m working on a plan to make it more accessible to townsfolk, as I’m calling you all in my head.”

“Makes us sound like characters in a Dickens classic.”

“There’s something very classic about everything up here, the hotel, the town, the people.” I scooped up the last bite of chicken. “The dumplings.”

“Don’t let Roxie hear you, she and Trudy fought for a week when she tried to change that recipe.”

“Change it, why would she change it?”

“She wanted to add kale.”

“No.”

“Yes. Trudy put her foot down.”

“Listen, Roxie is my girl. But kale does not belong in chicken and dumplings.”

“I hear that.” He laughed. “But I know what you mean about this place, there’s nowhere else quite like the Hudson Valley. Logan and I were both living in the city, that’s where we met. But we knew once we were ready to settle down, we wanted a small town. He came home with me one weekend to meet my family, took one look at the town square and started looking at Realtor sites that very night.”