Bobbi Lee Blanchard grasped her former bossâs hand and shook it firmly. âThank you for agreeing to sell me the restaurant, Max. You have made me one happy Carolina lady.â
She walked out of the kitchen of the Bayberry Cove Kettle and joined her two best friends, who were enjoying the dinerâs famous apple pie. Hardly able to contain her good news, Bobbi sauntered up to their table and said in her sweetest Southern-belle-waitress voice, âYâall want more pie?â
âDonât tempt me,â Louise answered.
Vicki gently rocked the stroller next to the table. âNone for me, either. Itâs Coryâs nap time. You can give me the bill, though.â
Louise gave Vicki a familiar look. The two women had been friends in Florida for years before settling in the small North Carolina town on the edge of Currituck Sound. Every time they came to the Kettle, they argued over who would pay. Today, Louise won. She picked up the check and patted the booth beside her. âSit down, Bobbi Lee. Itâs obvious you have news that youâre just bursting to tell us.â
Bobbi stuck her pencil through a tight curl in her salon-colored wine-red hair and settled her admirable derriere next to Louise. Her two friends had it all over her in their gym-toned bodies, but Bobbi liked her figure.
âI wondered when you were going to notice,â she said.
âYou Southerners have an expression about the kind of grin youâve been wearing since we came in,â Vicki said. âOnly I donât use that sort of language in front of babies. Whatâs going on?â
Bobbi sat straight and threaded her fingers together. âYou are looking at Bayberry Coveâs newest entrepreneur, ladies. Guess who just arranged to buy this restaurant!â
âYou, our recently redheaded friend, are the owner of the Kettle?â Louise said.
âYes! Exactlyââ she consulted her rhinestone-studded watch ââeight minutes ago, I made a deal with Max. Heâs all set to start his retirement in Arizona, and heâs agreed to let me make payments on the Kettle once a month.â She smiled slyly at Louise. âOf course, I told him my very own personal attorney, Miss Louise Duncan, would draw up the papers.â
âOh, congratulations, honey,â Vicki said.
âIâll have to charge you for the legal work,â Louise said. âIâm pretty expensive. Gonna cost you a lot of slices of pie.â
Bobbi grinned. âYou got a deal, counselor. Now all I have to do is convince Mason Fletcher to negotiate a reasonable lease between him and me for this building, and Iâm in businessâmy very own business!â
A troubled glance passed between Vicki and Louise. Bobbi knew what they were thinking; old Mason Fletcher, whose investments included nearly five blocks of downtown Bayberry Cove, was nobodyâs pushover. But Bobbi was sure she could strike a bargain with him. She had to. Sheâd already promised her son, Charlie, that if he finished up the semester at the junior college with good grades, she would find the money for him to go to North Carolina State. She knew Charlie would keep his end of the agreement, and nothing was going to keep her from seeing her firstborn achieve his dreams.
âIf anyone can negotiate with Mason, itâs you, Bobbi Lee,â Vicki said. She looked out the window. âAnd speak of the devil, here he comes now.â
Bobbi followed her gaze. âLooks like Iâd better get a plate of pie à la mode ready.â
âBetter make that two plates,â Louise said, tapping the windowpane. âThough Mason may not need the pieâheâs already bringing a two-legged hunk of something sinfully delicious with him.â
Bobbi leaned over Louise and peered at the two men walking through the manicured park at the charming center of Bayberry Cove. Old Mason, whoâd vacated his personal bench in the park, had his cane in one hand and the other firmly clasped around the elbow of a younger man. They were heading directly for the Kettle.
âWho is that guy?â Vicki asked.
âAnd why havenât we ever seen him before?â Louise said. âDo you know him, Bobbi Lee?â
âI donât think soâ¦â
She stopped midsentence and squinted. âWait a minute. Is thatâ¦? No, it couldnât be. He hasnât been back in years.â But it was him. Bobbi recognized the sun-streaked brown hair, the self-assured walk and the athletic build of the teenage boy whoâd been the target of her adolescent infatuation twenty years ago. âItâs a sin against nature for a fella to look that good after all this time.â
Louise chuckled. âI agree, sister. The town doesnât know what it missed.â
âWhy would he show up now, though?â Bobbi said. âHeâs only made a few trips home to Bayberry Cove since his aunt Buttercup died.â