to think he’d showed any hesitation.
But the widows did hear about the gift the next evening, when Emily had them over for dinner, along with Monica and Brooke. Emily gave everyone a tour of the restaurant, blushing with pride at all the praise, realizing what an accomplishment it had been to turn that disaster she’d seen the first night into a building any business would be happy to buy. The widows discussed the varied businesses that might go there, while she served dinner buffet style since she didn’t have a big enough table. She could picture a boutique restaurant, or maybe an exclusive shoe store, or even a bakery—run by somebody else, she told herself. And the more she looked around at these dear ladies, so concerned about her and the town, the more she felt she couldn’t go on keeping the secret about Leather and Lace’s interest. So she told them, then tried not to wince as she awaited their reaction.
After a momentary, bemused silence, Mrs. Thalberg asked, “Do they have a website?”
Soon, they were crowded around Emily’s laptop, oohing and aahing over the sometimes tasteful, sometimes raunchy, Leather and Lace catalogue.
Emily was shocked and delighted by their open minds and couldn’t help saying, “You know, Nate wasn’t certain you’d approve.”
“Young men can be so conservative,” Mrs. Palmer drawled, rolling her eyes.
As they debated the function of several of the garments—Emily kept her lips pressed together to keep from roaring with laughter—she served the raspberry torte she hadn’t taken to the Thalbergs. That launched a whole new discussion about the overworked pastry chef at the Sweetheart Inn, and all the upcoming summer weddings. Emily frowned at Monica, as if she had set the whole thing up.
After Brooke drove the widows home, Monica stayed to help Emily clean up.
“Okay, do you have a confession to make?” Emily demanded sternly.
Monica frowned, looking confused. “About what?”
“There was a lot of talk about having only one pastry chef in town. You’re the only one I discussed it with.”
“I said nothing. Scout’s honor,” she added solemnly. “But . . . have you given it any more thought?”
Emily sighed and sank down on the love seat. “When I made that flower delivery to St. John’s today, I sat there in peace for a while, hoping to find answers, but I’m just as clueless as ever. Then a wedding party began to arrive, and I found myself wondering where their reception would be, and about the cake—and I’ve never done a wedding cake in my life!”
“You know you don’t have to do wedding cakes,” Monica said, sitting in a chair opposite her. “That’s kind of a specialty, I think.”
Emily crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.
“Stay open-minded, Em.”
“I’ve been open-minded, but I have to go home. I start school in the fall, and I can’t just throw it away because of one different idea. I’m not that . . . flighty. Getting the money to start my own business would be hard, and how could I support a child never knowing if I’d make enough to cover the bills that month?”
Monica nodded sympathetically.
“I’m enrolled at Berkeley,” Emily insisted. She rose to her feet to continue taking dirty dishes to the kitchen, refusing to meet her friend’s curious eyes.
Chapter Twenty-one
Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, Nate couldn’t get the image of Emily in that little lace number out of his mind. Not that he’d let her wear it for that long, but still . . . The lingerie stood for something—for Emily leaving. She might have a buyer for the building, then she’d be gone. Maybe he could wait until then to break up with her. That had been the plan all along.
But he was hurting her already. He knew she thought he’d go to the Sweetheart Inn with her. It was one thing to help her to take concrete steps to find her father, and another to be there while she met him. It would be a momentous, emotional moment for her, and he didn’t want to influence her opinions or decisions.
Tuesday morning, just after sunrise, Nate and his brother and sister were already up in the White River National Forest, riding their grazing allotment, looking for sick cows, broken fences, or evidence of coyotes or other predators. It was usually a peaceful time, with the weather breezy and cool on the mountain, the smell of pine as well as the grass so necessary to the herd. And so far they’d seen nothing unusual,