Chapter Five
Butler’s Bake Shop sat smack at the center of downtown Willow Grove. On either side of Town Hall Road, visitors perused boutiques, antiques and historical buildings. Cafés and sweet shops, like the old-fashioned ice cream parlor on the corner, drew tourists in from the city and beyond. But the locals preferred Butler’s.
It was quaint without being overly charming, the kind of place the hometown crowd could appreciate.
And for Beth, Butler’s was chock-full of memories. Being the best friend of the owners’ daughter, she’d practically grown up sitting on the last bar stool, closest to the kitchen, a plate of freshly made french fries between her and Callie. They’d watch Callie’s parents, JimBob and Verna Butler, maneuver their way from the kitchen to the main floor, chatting up their loyal patrons.
If Beth didn’t know better, she’d almost think JimBob and Verna had no interest in appealing to tourists. They’d done little to keep the place updated, and they didn’t even have a website. In many ways, they were Willow Grove’s best-kept secret. After all, they made pot roast and mashed potatoes that would rival Paula Deen’s.
The morning after the disaster of a family meeting, and after a restless night of practically no sleep, Beth walked in and spotted Callie waiting on someone near the back set of booths.
Beth made a beeline for the same booth near the back that she’d claimed since she was twelve years old, which was about the time the bar stool became “uncool.” Callie gave her a quick nod, then turned her attention back to her customer—a handsome stranger Beth hadn’t seen before.
Odd. He must’ve wandered in. Goodness knows he couldn’t locate Butler’s on his iPhone.
“I’ll be right back, Beth,” Callie said, then whisked off toward the kitchen.
Before Beth could respond, Dina Larson locked eyes with her from a table right in the center of the room.
And this was the downside of strolling into places where only the locals seemed to gather. Dina had moved out of town not long after high school, and Beth would’ve lost track of her if it weren’t for Ginny Larson, Dina’s grandmother. Ginny had a way of broadcasting Dina’s latest.
“Did you hear about Dina’s engagement party? It happened on a yacht right next to Navy Pier. It cost a fortune, but her fiancé is R-I-C-H rich, and he said, ‘Only the best for my Dina.’”
Beth forced a smile and reminded herself to be nice.
Dina’s smile widened as she approached, and Beth noticed the woman’s teeth were perfectly straight and blindingly white. Beth’s smile faded as she felt suddenly self-conscious and worried that her teeth weren’t bright enough.
“Beth Whitaker,” Dina said. “I haven’t seen you in ages. My grandma told me you were still in Willow Grove. I must say, I was a little surprised.”
As Dina talked, Beth thought she detected a southern accent, which was odd since she and Dina had both been born right there in Northern Illinois.
“Oh?” Beth took a drink of water.
“Weren’t you the one leading the charge straight out of town senior year? I thought for sure you’d be a big-city girl by now. But then I never thought I’d be one, and just look at me.”
“Yeah, I think I heard you were living in Chicago now.”
“I am. I have my own ad agency.” Dina flashed her brilliant smile. “I run into Michael sometimes. He’s still there, you know.” She rolled her eyes. “I swear, that man is a complete idiot for what he did to you.”
Heat rushed to Beth’s cheeks.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Beth. I’m trying to stop being so blunt all the time. My husband says it’s off-putting.” As if on cue, Dina flipped her left hand in the air just long enough for the large diamond on her ring finger to catch the light.
“Anyway,” she went on, “I actually came over here because I heard you bought Fairwind Farm and I just could not believe it. I mean, there’s living in Willow Grove, and then there’s putting down roots in Willow Grove. Sounds like you’re in it for the long haul.”
Beth looked around to make sure no one was listening. She did not want anyone—least of all Dina Larson—thinking she’d done something as stupid as buying a dilapidated farm in Willow Grove. She needed to get as far out of town as she could, and fast.
“I tell you what. It’s brilliant. Absolutely brilliant,” Dina said, cutting off Beth’s mental gymnastics.
Was that sarcasm?
“I told my husband all about it, and he said we should try and buy it from you.” She let out a loud, ill-timed laugh, then studied Beth as if her statement warranted a reply. Beth couldn’t have conjured one if she tried.
“I should’ve known you had a plan, living here all this time. No way you were just hiding out here because some guy dumped you.” She grinned. “That is not the Beth Whitaker we know and love.” She punctuated every other word of her last sentence with tiny swats on the shoulder.
Beth stuttered, noticing a few errant stares in their direction. She supposed everyone knew about her and Michael. They were the homecoming king and queen. That made them Willow Grove royalty. Practically. And it also seemed to give everyone in town a right to have an opinion about their relationship.
“After all, it was you who pushed me to do better during high school. If it weren’t for you, I might not have gotten my scholarship to Northwestern, and then I never would’ve gotten the job at Pierce Advertising, and if I hadn’t gotten that job, I wouldn’t have met my husband and we wouldn’t have started our own agency.” She paused and looked at Beth. “It’s like I owe all my success to you.”
Well, at least she could take solace in that.
“Anyway, I knew you were just biding your time, waiting for the right opportunity to come along. Obviously. I told my granny that, and she didn’t believe me. Said she was sure you were the latest victim of the Willow Grove vacuum. You know how this town is, sucking people back in to watch their lives slowly rot away. You can’t chase dreams here, Beth. It just doesn’t work that way.”
Beth didn’t respond.
“Unless, of course, you have a genius idea like this one. Get yourself a piece of the tourism pie—and then, after you get it up and running, you can add it to your résumé and get out of Dodge. The place will practically run itself if you hire the right help.”
“I didn’t buy—”
“It’s impressive, Beth. Smartest thing ever. Seriously, my daddy always said that old farm was what started it all. Said Fairwind put Willow Grove on the map. People just loved that place when we were kids.”
Beth smiled. “They did.”
“Well, I can’t wait to see what y’all do with it. We’ll be sure to keep checking in on your progress.”
Beth had no doubt.
“And if you do decide to sell . . .” She pulled a small white business card from her purse. “Smell that. I sprayed it with this really expensive perfume my husband brought home after his last trip to Paris.”
Beth touched the card to her nose absently.
“Isn’t it the most delicious thing you’ve ever smelled?”
“It’s nice,” Beth said.
“Okay. Good to see you again, Beth.” Dina leaned over and pulled her into one of the top most awkward hugs of all time, then sauntered away.
As she did, she revealed Callie standing behind her, wearing a dirty apron and an exasperated look. “You did what?” She sat down next to Beth, setting a tray of undelivered food on the table in front of her.
Beth glanced at the handsome stranger, who eyed the food. Callie seemed oblivious.
Beth picked up the tray and walked toward the guy. “I take it this is yours?”
The man looked up at her. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, complemented by dark-brown hair. “Egg-and-cheese sandwich?”
Beth looked at the plate. “Side of home fries.”
“Yeah, that’s mine.” He didn’t smile, but he didn’t frown either.
“Sorry about my friend. She’s usually a much more attentive waitress.” Beth set the plate in front of him. “Did you need more coffee?”
“That’d be great. Long night.”
She grabbed the pot from the counter and poured him a fresh cup, resisting the urge to ask him why his night had been long, who he was and how he’d managed to find himself here in Willow Grove. “Anything else?”
“Have you done this before?”
She laughed. “Not for a really long time.”
“Well, thanks.”
“If you need anything . . .” She pointed at the booth where Callie still sat, anxiously waiting for Beth’s return and far too happy to allow her friend to do her job for her.
“I know where to find you both.” He smiled. Not just any smile. The kind that could make a girl want flowers.
Beth smacked that idea away like a pesky fly and forced herself to smile back, begging herself to play it cool.
But photoshopped-blue eyes. Messy dark hair. The perfect amount of facial hair to accent chiseled cheekbones. “Cool” wasn’t an option.
“Beth, stop gawking and get over here.” Callie’s voice—too loud, too embarrassing—pulled her back to the counter, mortified.
“Gawking? Really?”
“What? I was gawking too. He’s almost as cute as your brother.”
Beth rolled her eyes.
“I cannot believe you bought a farm and didn’t tell me. And Fairwind of all places. Didn’t you have your first kiss in one of those barns?”
Beth gasped. “I had completely forgotten that.”
“You forgot?” Callie looked horrified. “How could you forget Tim Porter”—she said his name with a breathy sigh—“taking your hand and leading you away from the rest of the class”—back to the wistful voice then—“gently leaning you against the wall and covering your lips with his?”
Beth stared at her.
“How could you forget? The rest of us were so jealous.”
“I’m not the one with the faulty memory,” Beth said. “Class field trip. Ninth grade. Tim Porter dragged me behind that stinky barn on a dare and planted the wettest, most awkward and disgusting kiss, half on my lips and half on my chin.” She shuddered at the memory. “I swore I’d never kiss anyone again.”
When Callie shook her head, the messy brown bun on top of her head bobbed from side to side. “That’s not how I remember it.”
Beth glanced at Mr. Handsome, surprised when their eyes met and she detected the slight trace of a smile on his face. Great. He’d overheard that whole thing.
How red were her cheeks?
“Can you get me a vanilla latte to go?” Beth asked.
“Not until you tell me what on earth Dina was talking about. Also, it’s sort of pathetic that you were in the ninth grade before you had your first kiss.”
“Dina’s got her facts wrong,” Beth said. “And I can’t help it if I was a late bloomer. Besides, who are you to talk? Summer before ninth grade is hardly any better.”
“So you didn’t buy Fairwind?” Callie frowned. “And I was holding out for your brother.”
Beth shook her head. “Molly did. She’s trying to get me to invest or take on this project with her or something. Terrible idea, but you know Molly. And I know. Ben’s an idiot for not realizing how awesome you are.”
Callie slapped a hand over her gasping mouth. “Molly bought Fairwind Farm?” She did nothing to hide her excitement.
“This is not a good thing, Cal.”
“Are you kidding? Finally Willow Grove can have its farm back.” Her shoulders slumped. “And yes, your brother is an idiot. Too bad he’s still so hot.”
Beth shook her head. Leave it to Callie to get wrapped up in the nostalgia—and the romance—of a thing. “Callie, please. I’m trying to find Molly a way out of this mess.”
“What mess? Even Dina thought it was a great idea.”
Beth scoffed. “What does that woman know?”
But she could tell by the look on her friend’s face that whether Beth wanted to believe it or not, Dina did know business. They’d competed all through high school and, thanks to their relatives, through college too. But then Beth had done the unthinkable and stayed in Willow Grove while Dina carved out a life for herself in the city, complete with a rich husband, booming business and, apparently, teeth whiter than freshly fallen snow.
“Maybe you should think about it?”
“Are you kidding? You know how my sister is with these crazy ideas.” Beth shook her head. “If I’m going to do something crazy, I’m not doing it here.”
Callie’s eyes fell. “But it’s not a bad place to live.”
“Of course it’s not. But it’s too . . . simple . . . for me.”
“A lot of people like simple.” She stood. “I’ll get your latte.”
“Cal, I didn’t mean—” There she went again, not understanding the emotions of those around her.
Callie stood behind the counter, going through the motions of making Beth’s favorite drink. Beth watched as a couple purchased two of Callie’s famous pies—something her friend had fought her father to sell. The place was called Butler’s Bake Shop, for heaven’s sake, but they’d been more of a café than a bakery, and JimBob Butler wasn’t open to change.
Beth had been the one to help Callie with a presentation—loaded with facts and figures and projections and visual aids—to convince her parents to expand their menu with the baked goods Callie loved to make. Waiting for JimBob to respond had been agonizing, but finally, he’d given one stern nod, while Verna simply shook her head.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she’d said.
“No risk, no reward, Mama.” Callie had beamed.
She’d been so excited that day. So excited to have a little piece of something that was all her own. And look at her now. Her baked goods were the talk of the town.
In fact, people said the pies were just like the ones you could buy at Fairwind Farm all those years ago.
No risk, no reward.
No. It was not a good idea. None of it.
And yet, what if . . . ?
When Callie returned to the booth and set her latte down without a word, Beth couldn’t help herself.
“You really think this is a good idea? This Fairwind Farm thing?”
Callie had been intent on pouting, and it showed on her face, but they never could stay mad at each other for long. “Yes. For once, I think your sister got it right.” She slid back into the booth. “And you think so too, don’t you? But you don’t want to admit it.”
Beth pressed her lips together. “No, of course not. It’s really, really stupid. And really . . .”
Callie leaned in closer. “What?”
“A ton of work.”
“Since when has hard work scared the invincible Beth Whitaker?” Callie’s raised eyebrows offered a challenge.
Before Beth could respond, a woman behind them let out a squeal, stealing their—and half the diner’s—attention. Beth turned and found Marion Proctor, with her bottle-dyed fiery-red hair, heading straight toward her.
“Little Whitaker!” Marion said, obviously confusing her with Molly. “My husband told me you bought the Fairwind Farm!”
Beth shook her head, begging the old lady to lower her voice, but she could almost see the gossip ripple through Butler’s like the water in a pond after skipping a stone.
“It’s about time. Poor Harold, after all he went through—that terrible tragedy—he should’ve moved away years ago, before the farm fell to ruins the way it has. But I speak for many, many people when I say we will be there to help you with whatever you need.”
“I’m sorry, Marion, I think you have me confused with my sister—”
“Some of my very best memories are from our trips to Fairwind,” Marion said, ignoring her. “Verna!” She called to Callie’s mom, who stood behind the counter. “Did you hear the Whitaker girls bought Fairwind Farm? They’re going to renovate it. We get our farm back!” She clapped her hands like a little girl about to get an ice-cream cone.
Verna rushed over. “Why didn’t you tell me this, Callie?” She swatted her daughter on the arm with a dish towel.
“I just found out, Mom.” Callie’s raised eyebrow told Beth her friend wasn’t happy she’d found out the way she had.
Verna sighed one of those nostalgic, overly romantic sighs. “I can still remember all of our families meeting out there for those big summer bonfires at Fairwind.”
Marion clutched Verna’s arm. “I remember. Everyone would gather around the fire and sing and make s’mores. Sometimes it felt like the whole town was there.”
“It was so good for our little community. Kept everyone together. It hasn’t been the same since.”
Beth had loved those bonfires. Her parents had often led the group in some of their favorite church songs. She and her friends would look forward to those nights because they got to stay up way past their bedtime, catching fireflies and eating toasted marshmallows.
The women prattled on, and a buzz shot through the diner as the locals picked up on the news, albeit faulty, that Beth and Molly had purchased Fairwind Farm.
She would’ve expected them to drone on with their opinions on how things should be run, but in every bit of conversation, she picked up nothing but excitement at the prospect of Fairwind coming back to life. Maybe none of them had realized how much they missed the old orchard until someone mentioned the possibility of getting it back again.
If that was the case, she had to wonder if maybe this little town really did have what it took to support Molly’s harebrained idea.
How had Molly predicted this when Beth had so obviously missed it?
“Ma’am?” Mr. Handsome’s voice cut through the chatter, and everyone paused.
“Oh, my,” Marion said. “Aren’t you good-looking.”
Callie pushed through the others. “I’m sorry. Are you ready for your check?”
He nodded.
“Follow me this way. I’ll get you taken care of.”
Before he left, Mr. Handsome tossed one more look toward Beth, and she found herself helpless to look away.
“Normally our service is a lot better than this,” she heard Callie say as she led him toward the register. “There’s not usually this much excitement.”
“Little Whitaker, you should get his number.” Marion literally did gawk at the man, whereas Beth had just looked.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Beth stood. “I’m perfectly happy being single.”
“And I’m perfectly happy being thirty pounds overweight.” Verna and Marion laughed.
“Will we ever marry these girls off?” Verna said as Beth pushed her way past them. “At this rate, I’ll be dead and buried before Callie has a serious relationship.”
Their voices didn’t seem to quiet even as Beth put distance between them. She waved to Callie, who had just made change for the handsome stranger, and walked out the door. She needed to clear her head—and she certainly couldn’t do that with half of Willow Grove prattling in her ear.
Oddly, when she got in the car, she found herself driving a familiar road—one that led to an old, worn-down farm that seemed to beg for a second chance.