Two Last First Dates Page 8

  I wasn’t faced with a mouse or a rat or even an intruder. Just Dad, slumped in one of our deck chairs. I took in the empty cookie and chocolate wrappers dropped carelessly on the floor.

  “Dad?” I questioned in shock.

  He looked up at me, his mouth opened midway to take a fresh bite of the bar in his hand.

  “What are you doing?” I glared at him.

  He lowered the bar and smiled weakly at me. “I was hungry.”

  I put my hands on my hips and raised my eyebrows at him. He had the decency to look guilt-stricken as he pushed the remainder of the bar back into its wrapper.

  I walked over to him, leaned down, and picked up a box that was sitting by his feet. I peered inside and gasped as I saw rows of what I knew were his favorite bars, lined up neatly, almost a third of them gone.

  “Did you get this from work?”

  “Yes,” he replied, still looking shame-faced. “I paid for them.”

  I guffawed. As if paying for the bars made this okay. “How long have you been hiding away, eating this . . . junk?” I may spend my days now baking sugar-laced cakes and treats—and eating a few of them, too, I admit—but at least they were actual food. These bars were full of unpronounceable crap and a bunch of numbers, barely food at all.

  “Just a short while.”

  I scowled at him, tapping my foot.

  “Okay, maybe more than a short while.”

  I shook my head, letting out a heavy sigh. I studied my dad’s face. “Why are you doing this, Dad?”

  “I always liked a treat after dinner, you know that.”

  I squatted down next to him and put my hand on his. “Do I need to tell you again why you shouldn’t be doing this?”

  He hung his head. “No.”

  I chewed the inside of my lip, willing the tears prickling my eyes to disappear. “I’m going to have to get rid of this stuff, you know that, right?” He nodded. “Do you think . . . Could you try a little harder? Please?” My voice cracked as I lost the battle to hold back the tears.

  Dad looked up at me in alarm. He gripped my hand. “Oh, honey. I will. I’m sorry.” His eyes were glistening as he smiled at me.

  I nodded at him, not trusting myself to speak again.

  “Come here.” He pulled me in for a hug. He smelled of chocolate, an aroma I had associated with him since I was a little girl and we’d share a bar, sitting on the front steps.

  When I regained my composure, I said, “You can’t keep doing this, Dad.”

  He nodded, his face grim. “It’s been so hard. But I’ll try. Honestly, I will.”

  I studied his face. I nodded. “All right. I guess I’ll have to trust you.”

  “Look, there’s a group Janice from work told me about. She joined it when she was diagnosed a couple of years back. Sort of a support group, but it sounds like they have some fun, too. Maybe I’ll go to that?”

  I smiled at him, despite the rock in my belly. “Sounds good.” I pushed myself up and extended my hand to help Dad out of his seat. He grabbed it, and I hauled him up—not an easy feat with a man of his size.

  I collected the discarded wrappers and put them in the box. I opened the garage door, and, without a word, Dad and I walked outside to the large trashcan. He lifted the lid and I dropped the box inside. It landed with a loud thud at the bottom.

  “I guess you won’t be wanting that salad now.”

  He laughed as he took my arm in his and we walked back inside the house. “I’d love that salad.”

  I swallowed down an uncomfortable feeling. I knew all about Dad’s secret now, but he still had absolutely no clue about mine.

  * * *

  After Bailey and I had closed for the day later that week, we sat down together for me to show her the work I’d done on the website. I was proud of it and excited to show it to her. I’d compiled the best photos I’d taken into a tiled home page, with the Cozy Cottage name and a gorgeous, smiling shot of Bailey front and center. I’d chosen the font carefully, trying to capture the homey feel of the place without being cutesy, and had shots of the food, the coffee, and Will and Cassie, smiling and enjoying their food together.

  I sat on the edge of my seat. I watched Bailey’s reaction closely as she looked at the homepage for the first time. Slowly, a twitch of a smile grew, spreading across her face, lighting it up.

  “Oh, Paige. This is gorgeous,” she declared, her eyes wide.

  I beamed at her. “You like it, then?”

  “Like it? Are you kidding me? I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve captured the essence of the café and made it look really chic and elegant and cozy, all at the same time.” She looked in wonder from the screen to me. “You have a real talent for this.”

  “Do you think so? Thanks. I loved doing it. Let me show you how it works. See the menu tab there?” I pointed to one of the tiles. “Click on that and it’ll take you to the menu choices for lunch and snacks. If you ever decide to do dinner, you could offer that here, plus I made seasonal variations, since you change the menu during the year.”

  She studied the screen. “It looks fantastic. Oh, look at Cassie there. She looks like a model!”

  I peered at the picture. It was one of Cassie laughing with Will as they sat outside under one of the café’s umbrellas. They looked so happy, so connected. Looking at that image right now, how did I not know how they felt about each other? I swallowed down a lump. “Yeah, she sure does.”

  I took Bailey through the rest of the site and showed her what I’d done on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter, carrying the same branding across all the platforms. “And here is my design for the coffee coupon you wanted.” I showed her a graphic I’d mocked up with the words “Cozy Cottage Café Coupon” and an illustration of a cup of coffee with steam coming out the top. “I haven’t uploaded it yet, but as soon as you say to pull the trigger on the promotion, it’s ready to go.”

  Bailey shook her head. “Paige, I’ve said it before: you are a Godsend. This is amazing. Thank you.” She collected me into a hug, and I breathed in her perfume. “You have to let me pay you for this.”

  I waved her offer away with my hand. “No, don’t be silly. I’m happy to help you out. I’ve got loads of ideas for future promotional stuff, too.” I pulled up my marketing plan for the café.

  “Wow, you really have got a lot in there,” Bailey said as her eyes scanned the page. “Free Wi-Fi and a work zone?”

  “Yes. A lot of cafés are doing it. You provide power outlets at tables so people can plug their devices in and work on the free Wi-Fi. If you get one of those unlimited plans AGD offers, you would know exactly what your costs would be each month to run it. The café is in the perfect location for this, and you’ve got the space.”

  Bailey looked around the room. “Yes, I guess I do. As long as they buy things while they’re here.”

  “Oh, they will, believe me. With your food, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with that. Having this sort of thing on offer will attract customers throughout the day, filling in those quiet times I’ve noticed you have. Once they’re here, they’ll eat, trust me.”

  Bailey nodded, sucking on her lip. “I think you may be onto something with that.”

  “And it wouldn’t be too costly to set up. Just moving some furniture around, setting up the Wi-Fi, and putting in some more power outlets. It’s worth a shot, right?”

  She grinned at me. “I like this idea. What else have you got?” She read the next couple of ideas on the screen. “Local artists and musicians?”

  “Yes! I thought we could offer some space for local artists to exhibit their work, even have exhibition openings, that sort of thing. You could set musicians up over there”—I pointed at an area at the back of the café—“and charge a small fee for admission, say five dollars. Solo artists or duos would be best for the space. With enough in attendance, ticket sales could cover the musician’s fee, and then you make money from food and drinks. It would mean opening in the evenings
, but I’ve got some thoughts about that, too.”

  She raised her eyebrows, quite possibly in alarm. “You do?”

  I stood up, aware this idea may seem a step too far for her. “Come with me.”

  Bailey followed me out into the kitchen. “See that area there?” I gestured at a disused section at the back left of the kitchen where Bailey had empty boxes and other miscellaneous items stacked. “If we opened in the evenings, we could convert this space to use for things like plating and we could offer light meals, kind of like we already do for lunch.”

  “You want us to serve dinner?”

  “Yes! I think it’s a massive untapped market for this place. We could put some candles on the tables and . . .” I trailed off when I noticed the look on her face. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. Dinner? Musicians? The free Wi-Fi and work space thing is great, but this? It’s a lot to take in.”

  “But don’t you see how amazing it could be?” I wasn’t going to let her reaction diminish my enthusiasm. “You don’t need to do it all at once. You could take baby steps. Coupons first, then maybe introduce one night a week with some entertainment. That sort of thing.”

  I watched as she chewed on her lip once more, deep in thought. After a moment, during which I wondered whether I’d completely overstepped the mark, she said, “Shall we sit down?”

  “Sure.” Intrigued, I followed her out into the café, back to the table we were sitting at earlier.

  She placed her clasped hands on the table. “Look, the thing is I own this place with a partner.”

  “Yes.” This wasn’t news; she had mentioned it before.

  “And we’ve talked about doing a few of these types of things in the past. In fact, I even had an artist lined up to do an exhibit at one stage, but, well, she likes things the way they are.”

  “Does she get involved in the running of the café?” I hadn’t seen anyone who looked like she might be Bailey’s business partner in my time as either a frequent customer or member of staff. She was a woman of mystery, with a set of handcuffs tying Bailey’s hands.

  “No. That’s why I’ve been doing all the books and things I haven’t spent much time on before. She’s . . . taking a step back.”

  “Okay. Well, I just wanted to show you some ideas. It’s up to you what you do with them. I’m just the hired help, after all.” I shrugged and smiled at her.

  She placed her hand on mine, and for a moment, I thought I detected tears welling in her eyes. “Paige, you are so much more than that. And these ideas? They’re great and I would love to do them. Let’s just hold off for now, okay?”

  “Sure.” I wanted to ask her more. I wanted to know who this partner was who wouldn’t let her do anything with the café. I wanted to help her, to be there for her, but I didn’t know where to start.

  Bailey jumped up from the table, bringing me back to earth. “Look who’s here!” she exclaimed, her tone bright.

  I looked up at the door and saw Marissa waving at us. She was dressed head-to-toe in exercise clothes, looking slim, energetic, and healthy, her blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail. She looked like Workout Barbie on her way to a class—I know, my Workout Barbie went to many such a class when I was a kid.

  Bailey unhooked the front door and Marissa came sailing into the room in a puff of energy. “You haven’t started without me, have you?” She dropped her keys on the table and pulled a chair out to sit on.

  “You look sporty,” I commented, pointing out the obvious. Marissa was usually dressed in slick and stylish corporate attire, her hair perfectly styled, her heels high and sexy—not like an advertisement for a gym.

  “I’m about to go on a run with Cassie. It’s a One Last First Date thing. I’ve got to look my best, right?”

  My eyes skimmed over her perfect physique, encased in tight Lycra. I squirmed in my seat, feeling the waistband of my skirt digging into my belly, my newly acquired muffin top poking out uncomfortably above. Somehow, a while ago, I’d got out of the habit of exercising. I used to enjoy a run or a swim, loving being outdoors and the way exercise made me feel—more afterward than during, of course. But then I simply dropped it and started spending more and more time on my own, hiding under my duvet, putting off facing the world. It could have been because of the drudgery of my job, or because Will had chosen Cassie.

  Or it could have been all of it.

  “Hey, you should come with us! We’re training for the next Color Run. It’s so much fun,” Marissa declared, her eyes shining with excitement.

  “Um, no,” I replied instantly, not even having the vaguest idea what a Color Run was and not wanting to know, either. Something to do with laundry? Running your clothes to the laundromat? I had no clue. “But thanks,” I added so as not to offend her.

  “Aw, come on! It’ll be so great. Have you ever done a Color Run before?” Marissa asked, not letting this thing go.

  “Isn’t that where people throw colored powder at you as you run past and you end up covered in the stuff?” Bailey asked.

  I scoffed. That sounded like my own special kind of hell.

  “That’s the one. It’s only a few miles, so hardly taxing, but I figured it was a good start. And it’s amazing fun. I did one in Sydney a couple of years ago. It’s not far away, which is why we’re in training.” Marissa turned back to me. “Come on, Paige. Say you’ll do it with us. Please.”

  I looked at Marissa. Her eyes were so liquid brown and pleading, she could give a puppy a run for its money right now. I let out a sigh. I did need to get out of my funk and try to lose this muffin top, and “a few miles” didn’t sound too horrendous. I shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Awesome! You can be in our team.” Marissa beamed at me. “We can all look fabulous for our One Last First Dates.”

  “Marissa, I didn’t think you were particularly into the pact,” Bailey commented, raising her eyebrows.

  She shrugged. “I figured, why not? It’s worth a shot. I know I’ve maybe been a bit cynical about it in the past”—she shot us a look when both Bailey and I scoffed at her blatant understatement—“but look at Cassie. She’s so happy now. I want what she has.” She glanced at me, scrunching up her face. “Sorry.”

  I shook my head. I wanted what Cassie had too, only a little more specifically than Marissa. “Don’t be. I’m fine.” And if I wasn’t one hundred percent fine right now, I knew I would be. And it was a nice feeling.

  “That’s really good to hear.” Marissa smiled at me before turning her attention to Bailey. “You haven’t started without me with the thing, have you?”

  Bailey shook her head. “We were doing some café stuff. We haven’t started.”

  I narrowed my eyes at their smiling faces. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, Marissa and I have made progress.” Bailey said, her smile broadening into a grin.

  “With what?”

  Marissa had also started grinning at me now. It was unnerving.

  “Your Last First Date,” Marissa replied, sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms, looking thoroughly satisfied with herself.

  “You have?” If I had been drinking coffee, I would have spat it out all over the table.

  “Mm-hm.” Marissa looked like she was about to pop. She leaned forward. “Look, I know you said you wanted to give up on this whole thing, but we think you just haven’t met the right guy yet. So, we decided that—”

  “It’s okay. I want to,” I interrupted, thinking of Adonis Guy Marcus.

  “You do?” Bailey asked.

  I nodded, trying to suppress a grin as I imagined our Last First Date together. I knew it would be perfect, just like him.

  “Oh, Paige, you are not going to regret this,” Bailey said, shaking her head.

  “Should I tell her, or do you want to?” Marissa asked Bailey.

  There was a “you say it” no “you say it” conversation that went on for some time. Too long, truth be told. Eventually, in exasperation, I said, “Will
one of you please just say it?”

  “We’ve found someone for you!” Marissa declared.

  My belly performed an elaborate twist. “You have?” I squeaked.

  “Yes, and so far, we think he’s absolutely the guy for you.” Marissa beamed. “This living vicariously thing is really great. But”—Marissa put her index finger in the air—“we still need to do all the vetting and so forth before we let you know who he is.” Marissa turned to Bailey. “Oh, you know who we should bring in on this? Cassie. She vetted Parker to within an inch of his life before she went on her One Last First Date. I bet she’d have some good tips for us.”

  “Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” Bailey agreed.

  “Hang on,” I said, interrupting their discussion about some mystery man who could possibly be my future husband. “Are you saying you’ve met someone for me?”

  “Yes!” they both said. “Have you not been paying attention?” Marissa asked, her eyes wide.

  I shot her a look.

  “And although we can’t tell you who it is yet, he was here a couple of days ago,” Bailey said, mysteriously.

  My eyes got huge. “He was?” I breathed. Marcus. He was here a couple of days ago. It has to be him! I tried my best to suppress a smile. Failed. Marcus. It was Marcus!

  “You’re pumped, I can tell,” Marissa said. “Oh, Paige. This is going to be so great. You are not going to regret giving up becoming a sad old spinster,” she gushed.

  “You’ll have to hold tight until we find out everything we need to know, though,” Bailey warned.

  “Sure. No problem.” I grinned at them both. “Can I ask a couple of questions?”

  Marissa and Bailey glanced at one another. “As long as they’re not too specific,” Bailey replied.

  “All right.” I bit my lip, thinking of nonspecific questions that could point to Marcus. “Is he tall?”

  They nodded. A good start: Marcus was tall.

  “Does he have olive skin and look like he was sent down from the heavens?”

  “What?” Marissa said with a chortle. “Too specific. We can’t answer that one.” Bailey agreed.