The Accidental Fiance - Christi Barth Page 0,97

drinking it away, right?”

“Or you could try running?” Alex suggested in a super casual tone. One that carried zero judgment on her brownie totals and simply offered a different option.

He was good.

“Eating’s easier. I’m a chef. There’s always food around.”

“Really? That’s awesome, Nora. Where do you work?”

“Maybe nowhere.” And the sobs began again.

Sydney exchanged a panicked glance with Alex. It did feel good to have that wordless communication with him. “I’m really sorry, Nora, but I don’t know what I said to set you off.”

“Bill and I own The Lighthouse restaurant. He runs it, and I’m the head chef. Except he wants to buy me out. Get me out from underfoot. He’s already interviewing new chefs.”

That made sense. The low-life cheater undoubtedly got a guilt ulcer every time he looked at her. “Nora, you don’t want to have to see him every day. This is a good thing.”

“Make sure the offer’s fair, of course,” Alex added. “You have the high ground here—and hopefully a take-no-prisoners lawyer.”

“I do. I went all the way to Baltimore to hire a cutthroat who doesn’t know him or his family.”

“Good.”

“It’s not. If I leave The Lighthouse, what will I do with my days? Bill’s family has their fingers in so many businesses here in town.”

Sydney almost shielded her eyes from the metaphorical lightning bolt that struck her brain. The three of them, being together right now? It was meant to be. She could solve Nora’s problem. More importantly, she could solve Alex’s. Which would lessen her guilt—at least a little—about the part she’d played in him getting fired.

Maybe then she wouldn’t have to tell him?

She patted Nora’s hand. “There’s an obvious solution. You should go work at the Three Oaks Inn. They need a cook.”

Alex had been slouching against the wall. But at her words, he shot up straight, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “Not yet, we don’t. We can’t pay yet, either. Once we can, it sure won’t be at executive chef rates.”

“Nora, give us two seconds. Three, tops.” Sydney beckoned for Alex to follow her up the stairs. Then she pushed through the door to the balcony.

The music was louder up here. Sinatra. She hoped Cam had their grandmother on the dance floor for this one.

Sydney gave Alex a doublet hump on the chest. “Here’s where you thank me. This is the perfect solution.”

“Hardly.”

How did he not see the brilliance of this plan? “She needs you as much as you guys need her. It’s doubly perfect.”

“Sydney. I get that you want to snap your fingers and fix her. Life doesn’t work that way, though.”

“Says the man who won a hotel lottery.”

“Yeah, yeah. Look where I am now—stressed and strapped for cash. There’s no easy wins. There’s always a catch.”

Oh, she knew all about the false promise of an easy win. It was precisely what Excursions 365 had snatched away from her when they hadn’t given her the promised hosting gig.

This, however, was serendipity.

Sydney couldn’t give Alex his old job back. But she could help fix a gaping hole in the plan for his new job.

“Look, Nora just needs a place to go every day.”

The nonchalance in his shrug made clear how much that was her problem, and not his. “Then point her to the coffee shop over on Washington, by the college. This is a trained chef we’re talking about. A professional who will expect to be compensated appropriately. Not a kitten to be fostered and left alone to roam the inn.”

“I guarantee you she doesn’t need the money. Bill’s family has loads of money. Even a lawyer with the ink still wet on his degree could empty Bill’s pockets with cheating as the cause. Nora hasn’t flounced out of town. She wants to stay. She just needs someplace new to root herself.”

His eyes closed. Alex dragged a palm down his jaw. “You mean like the four of us are doing?”

“Yup.” She knew he’d manage to connect the dots eventually. “Now say thank you, Sydney.”

“I’ll say it later. After I say how much I like that bright brain of yours. And then I’ll move on to a few more things I like…”

“Let’s give her the good news.”

“Hang on. One step at a time,” he cautioned wryly, as they descended the steps with their rubber treads. “I’ll do the talking.”

Nora was on her feet. She’d wiped away the mascara streaks under her eyes. “I’m sorry. This is supposed to be a romantic night. I don’t want my problems to ruin it for

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