Longing for Home

“Can’t you just substitute? Nothing wrong with chicken patties. Smear ’em with a little mustard and—”

“I’m calling my supplier.” Kate veered toward the oversize closet that passed for her office. “Don’t leave,” she called over her shoulder.

“I’m on a tight schedule today, Kate.”

“Five minutes,” she ground out. “Help yourself to coffee.”

Doug’s lips peeled back into a wide grin, unveiling a gold-capped incisor. “Okay.”

Kate took two laps around the desk, debating whether it was too early to call the Jensens, who owned a small farm several miles from Mirror Lake. The couple had stopped in and introduced themselves early in the summer. Kate had never ordered from them before but she had a soft spot for family-owned businesses.

The first order she’d placed was for the meat and fresh produce for Abby and Quinn’s wedding.

Farmers were up with the sunrise, weren’t they?

Kate took a deep breath and dialed the number. Just when she was about to hang up, a young woman answered.

“North Star Organics. Amber Jensen speaking.”

Kate took a deep breath, praying that once she explained the situation to Amber, the mistake would be rectified and all would be right with the world.

The absolute silence on the other end of the phone told her otherwise.

“I’m really sorry, Miss Nichols. My parents left for the Upper Peninsula yesterday to visit my grandparents and they won’t be back until Monday.”

Monday.

Kate closed her eyes. “It’s very important that I get the order today. There has to be someone there who can help me out.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Amber sounded as if she were on the verge of tears, which made Kate feel even worse. “It’s the first time my parents put me in charge and I promised my dad he wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“It’s okay.” Kate wasn’t sure how she found herself in the role of comforter when she was in dire need of some comfort herself! “I’ll figure something out.”

“You’ll order from us again, won’t you?”

“I’ll talk to your parents when they get back.” It was the only promise Kate could make.

The response was a faint sniffle. “All right.”

“These kind of things happen,” Kate heard herself say. “It’s all part of owning a business. It will work out.”

Please let it work out.

At this late date, Kate wasn’t sure where she would find what she needed, but she wasn’t quite ready to release the mental image of her main entrée. Chicken, slow cooked to perfection, with a drizzle of her famous maple-syrup and cranberry glaze, nestled on a bed of wild rice pilaf. If worst came to worst, she would just have to revise the menu.

Abby wouldn’t mind. Kate couldn’t count the number of times over the past few months she had heard her friend say, “we aren’t going to sweat the small stuff. The wedding is only a day, the marriage is forever.”

It was good to know Abby felt that way but there was another opinion to consider and it wasn’t Quinn’s. Alex Let-Me-Hire-A-Real-Chef Porter would never let her forget it.

“Thank you so much for not yelling, Miss Nichols,” Amber said. “And—”

Don’t say it, Kate thought.

“Have a nice day!”

“Right.” Kate hung up the phone with a sigh, knowing Doug would be champing at the bit to get back on his route…

“Hey, Kate! Over here.”

Or maybe not.

The truck driver was sitting at a booth near the window and he raised his fork in a mock salute. “The guy in the kitchen gave me this while I was waiting. Apple pie counts as a fruit, right?”

Knowing how busy she was getting ready for the wedding, Grady must have slipped in a few minutes early.

“Thanks, Grady!” she called.

“You’re welcome.”

Kate strangled on her next breath as Alex sauntered out of the kitchen.

Chapter Five

“What are you doing here?”

Alex showing up at her café at the crack of dawn was beginning to be a habit.

“I was out for a run and saw the lights on.”

And it wasn’t fair, Kate thought, that Alex looked better in black sweatpants and a plain cotton T-shirt than most men did in a tux. She tore her gaze away from his lean but solid frame and looked pointedly at the clock on the wall.

“The café isn’t open yet.”

“Doug let me in.”

“Really.” Kate wasted a scowl on the truck driver, who was so intent on tunneling his way through the massive piece of apple pie that he didn’t even notice.

“He mentioned that you’re having a little trouble with the order for the reception.”

“No trouble,” she denied sweetly.

“You got your chicken?” Doug had surfaced for air.

Not exactly, Kate wanted to say. But she couldn’t with You Know Who standing right there.

Alex gave her a measuring look. “You’d tell me if there was anything wrong.” It wasn’t a question. “This is Abby’s wedding and we want to make sure everything goes the way it should.”

Translation: the way Alex Porter thought it should go.