suspiciously like me catching murderers and art forgers while serving up recipes every few chapters.”
My mouth fell open. “I had no idea you’ were a writer.”
“I’ve always messed around, filling up journals and stuff. I even won a short story contest once,” she said smiling. “Just didn’t have time to work at it much. Now I’m going to make the time, see if I can cook up a story as good as my omelets.”
“You’re the best storyteller I know,” I told her truthfully. “I can already imagine how good your mysteries will be. I’m going to buy every single one in hardback and keep them on my shelf of favorites. Then I’m going to cry while I read them because no matter how good they are, it’ll mean you’re not downstairs anymore.”
She shook her finger at me. “Stop trying to guilt me into staying.”
“I’m not. It’s my way of saying I’ll miss you.”
“It’s not like we’ll never talk again. That’s not what family does.”
I rose and walked to stand behind her, wrapping her in a tight hug. “I love you, Miss Mary.”
She patted my arm. “Same, baby.”
“My parents will be shocked,” I said, going back to my seat. “You’re the only tenants they’ve had in this spot.”
“Forty years is a good run, but they’re only ten years or so from retirement themselves. They’ll understand.”
“I need to go upstairs and throw myself on my bed and wallow in my misery.”
She tsked at me. “Stop that. You’re not going to guilt me into staying, but that was good enough to guilt me into getting you a bowl of banana pudding.”
I grinned at her.
She shook her head. “I played right into your hands, didn’t I? That was some Dylan-worthy shenanigans.”
“There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for your banana pudding, and there isn’t much your banana pudding can’t cure.”
“True enough. I’ll get you some, then we’ll talk about a timeline for closing.”
The words made my stomach clench again, a pang that told me exactly how bad I was going to feel when Miss Mary closed her doors for the last time. She braced herself to stand, but I waved her back down.
“I’ve got this. Two servings of banana pudding coming up.”
We spent the next hour going through the calendar, choosing a date, and talking about how to arrange the sale of her kitchen appliances, ideally to the new tenant.
“Every single part of this makes me sad except one,” I said as we were wrapping up.
“What’s that?”
“Imagining you and Mr. Douglas tooling around everywhere, loving on grandbabies and fishing? That part doesn’t make me sad.”
“You said it.” She sat back, smiling, her mind wandering off somewhere else. Maybe to their fishing camp.
“I’m going to get out of here and go schedule a photographer. I’ll make sure it’s after closing. I only have one condition to officially accept your intent to vacate.”
“Tell me.”
“Will you help me find the new tenant? Please? You know the Bywater better than anybody, and I don’t want to mess up and put the wrong tenant in here.”
Miles will want this place, my brain said.
Shut up, I said back. I did not need that kind of complication underfoot twelve hours a day.
“You’re a pro. You’ll do fine, Ellie.”
“Please, Miss Mary? It won’t feel right unless the new tenant has your blessing.”
She gave a slow nod. “All right. I suppose it does make me feel better to have some say in who takes up after I leave.”
I gave her another hug full of relief, then headed upstairs and spent the next two hours trying to answer emails while my mind tried to figure out what to wear for my “not date.”
“Dear brain, you are very stupid,” I announced when I had to rein it back for the dozenth time. It answered by flashing an image of a cute red top that would look good with jeans.
I groaned and shut my laptop before I could click open Miles’s YouTube channel. Again.
I had a bad feeling that it wasn’t Miles who needed to be reminded that this wasn’t a date.
Chapter Eleven
“He’s a jerk, and I’m ordering,” Chloe announced at seven-thirty.
I couldn’t disagree. Miles was late again, and even though Chloe and I had ordered drinks while we waited, I felt bad for taking up a four-top that could have earned the restaurant more money if it actually had four people at it.
“Let’s do it,” I said. “Let’s get the lemongrass chicken tacos and a couple more Sazeracs.”