A Moment Like You (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,80
going to ignore me. She’s a New Yorker. Unlike the people in this town, we don’t talk to strangers just for the sake of it.
She places her order, repeats it three times, then she has her repeat it back to her before she pays.
“Hey, Sophie, same as usual?” Barb, the owner, asks.
“Yes, Barb. Thank you,” I answer. She looks at Martina and then at me and asks, “How are you holding up?”
“I’m doing marvelously. My parents will arrive next Monday. New York isn’t as appealing as it used to be for them. Would you please make sure to have rice milk in stock? I can bring you some if you need me to.”
Mom only drinks rice milk, and Barb makes sure to have some so she can have a tea latte. Blaire introduced her to it, and she loves them.
Barb looks at me for a heartbeat and says, “Yes, please. Just in case my supplier doesn’t deliver it on time.”
“You got it.”
“You’re from the city?” Martina asks.
“Queens,” I answer, omitting that I have a place in Manhattan.
“Do you have family here?”
Technically, the Aldridges are my family but I don’t answer that. Instead I say, “No, I live here.”
“Why would you live here willingly?”
“I manage…never mind. I work in the next town.”
She gawks at me. It’s obvious that I’m doing something wrong. “How do you do it?”
“What?”
“Live in this town? There’s nothing to do. If I want coffee after three, this place is closed. The diner is filled with fatty food. The restaurants are always maxed up; I can’t get a reservation until the end of September.”
“Talk to the owners,” I suggest. “They can get you in.”
She smiles. “My…my boyfriend is one of them. He insists on eating at home with his family. They are too family oriented. I have five meals a year with my family—that’s the norm, right?”
I shake my head, trying not to react to her comment of my boyfriend.
“When my parents are in town, we eat with them almost every day so…I guess it’s up to each person,” I tell her and then feel bad for her because she seems lonely.
If I didn’t have my girls and work, I’d be bored to tears.
“Try the bookstore,” I suggest. “There’s a candle place in Happy Springs where you can make your own candles. Try the winery too.”
“Happy Springs is the town next door, right?”
I nod.
“The best excuse to avoid walking around town is to volunteer during the festivals. Next weekend I’ll be in the information booth handing out maps and answering questions to tourists.”
She smiles and grabs her coffee once it’s ready. “Thank you. You’re the only nice person I’ve encountered in this town.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m at my house in Henry’s office making decisions about the future of Merkel. We’re on a conference call with Santiago, the legal department, and thank God, Pierce is with us today. Being in the same room with Henry is painful. Around noon, as I’m about to order food from the restaurant, the hostess arrives with lunch boxes.
“You know what I need?” Pierce asks. “An assistant. Henry is keeping me busier than I thought I’d be when we first moved here.”
“I can find you one if you send me your requirements,” Santiago offers. “If this is all, I have to go back to work. Please send me the paperwork when you have it ready and the timelines when they are set.”
“Thank you, Santi,” I say, ending the call.
“It sounds like your brother is planning on moving,” Henry starts the conversation once we hang up with Santiago.
“Yeah,” I answer. “Would you be needing anything else?”
“Awkward,” Pierce whispers.
“It’s not,” I argue, but he’s right.
Henry and I don’t speak much, and when we do, it is painfully serious and too professional. I’d rather be fighting with him than having this polite exchange that tears my heart into pieces.
“You lost your spark,” Pierce insists. “Being around you two is depressing.”
Is it? I haven’t noticed, probably because when I’m around Henry I try to shut down all my emotions and focus on work.
“Well, if you don’t require anything else, I’m leaving. I have to drive down to Portland.”
“I can fly you,” Henry suggests.
“No, but thank you for the offer,” I decline, making my way outside the house and toward the garage.
He catches up with me and says, “At least let Vance fly you.”
“I can drive.”
“Soph, please,” he begs me. “I understand that you’re capable of driving and doing anything you set your mind to, but I just want