Chapter Three
Maddie climbed the steps to her apartment, wrestled the door open with what energy she had left, then closed and locked it behind her. What a day. While she was used to frequent surprises working where she did—especially from feisty innkeeper Ruby Masterson—today had been nuts. Like, nuts nuts. That harmless fib to Ruby must have ticked off the relationship gods or something because the rest of the day had gone downhill after that.
Lucky her.
“Hey, Fido, I’m home.”
Her goldfish perked up as Maddie flipped on the kitchen lights, drifting to the water’s surface in anticipation of his late evening meal. She shook a few flakes into his bowl, watched him inhale them in his usual nom-nom-nom style, then turned and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. There was a new box of Chablis in the refrigerator calling her name tonight. Working at the Checkerberry might be physically exhausting, but her mind had a habit of kicking into high gear after the dinner rush, consumed by ideas for the next meal, or how to make the last one better. Ideas, ideas, ideas. And now Cole.
Thank goodness for wine, otherwise known as Maddie’s cure for overthinking. Half a glass was all she’d need to dull the hum and allow her to relax.
She reached into the fridge, unable to ignore Stephanie’s silver glitter covered gala invitation hanging from a magnetic clip on the freezer door. Why had she let both Miles and Ruby get under her skin earlier? Now she not only had to come up with a boyfriend in a matter of weeks, but convince him to attend this silly second-chance prom event, too.
Then there was the whole deal with Cole. A dating coach? Had that idea really come out of her mouth?
Maddie shook her head and pushed the wine box’s stopper in. If she’d been smart, she would have just asked him to go to the gala and been done with it. But his good looks and close proximity had left her feeling intimidated, so she’d sidestepped the invite and asked for his help instead. Probably a good thing, since he clearly wasn’t interested.
“I’m flattered and all, but…”
But. Of course there was a but. Like high school all over again.
She took her more-full-than-usual wineglass to the living room and sank down onto her couch with a sigh. No, it wasn’t nearly as bad as high school. At least now she was free of braces and raging acne. Plus, growing her hair out in college definitely had her looking much less like a boy. But even with all those changes, she still wasn’t confident in social settings. Growing up an only child hadn’t helped her much with that. Neither did being raised by a grandmother who worked from before dawn to after dusk and who expected no less of her.
An expectation that seemed entirely normal and didn’t bother her for many years.
Living in a small farming community in northern lower Michigan, it wasn’t often Maddie saw other kids her age outside of school during their elementary years—most of them were expected to help with their own families’ businesses. But as she and her classmates moved on to middle and high school, priorities changed. The farm kids were suddenly spending more time away from home, gearing up for sports scholarships and college, while Maddie was confined by absent parents, a tough economy, and an ailing grandmother. Sure, she’d envied the other kids from time to time. But she’d never blamed her grandmother or bemoaned their situation—she just accepted it and did the best with what she had. A good thing, since time with her Grandma Bea was coming to an end sooner than either of them would have liked.
She took a sip of wine and sank lower into her secondhand plaid fabric couch. So much had changed since high school. Since college, and the wool getting pulled over her eyes by Harrison. Since losing Grandma Bea.
But Ruby Masterson had brought her out of those dark days and back into the light. A little faith in her had gone a long way, and beneath Ruby’s ever-encouraging gaze Maddie’s chef skills had flourished. Not that she hadn’t been good before, but now she had the confidence to go with it.
Confidence in the kitchen, that was. Everywhere else she still felt like an outcast. Now she had a Cute Guy to win over, her fragile ego to protect, and a kitchen to share with a man whose voice alone was enough to make her knees go weak, let alone the very sight of him.
Maddie took a good long drink and turned her gaze to the ceiling. “Could use a little help from you up there, Grandma. ’Cause I have no idea what kind of mess I’m about to get myself into.”
…
Cole sat on a worn, three-legged chair in his room, guitar on one knee, eyes closed, and face turned to his window and the starry sky beyond, dreaming. The recent turn of events sure felt like a dream, anyway. A few more dollars in his wallet and a nod from Sheridan Realty, and the business he’d first envisioned while doing time might just become a reality.
His own guitar shop.
For as long as he could remember, life had been tough. The memories of his father had grown more and more faded as the years went by, but he held on to the knowledge Luke Granville had been a good man. Hardworking, dedicated to his family. The accident on I-27 north had been unpreventable, according to the people who know such things. Ice was rare in Lubbock, and Texans invincible. Or at least, the ones who insisted he make that last delivery by five o’clock rather than wait a few hours so the sun could melt the ice away must have thought all Texans were invincible. Cole’s father and the pickup truck driver who T-boned his semi had unfortunately proven otherwise. That left Daisy Mae Granville with no husband, no income, and a little boy who asked day and night when Papa would be coming home.
Daisy Mae. Cole felt the muscles in his neck tighten—a natural reaction to thinking about his mother. In his younger days, he’d felt bad for her, losing so much so fast. She and Luke had married young and hit the road, thrill seekers looking for adventure. What they got was her pregnant the minute they stepped foot in Texas and Luke a trucking job to provide for his growing family. Often, Cole and his mom joined him on the road, her hating to be alone and Cole having no choice but to go along for the ride. But he adored his father, looked up to him, and never minded the long hours being stuck in that semi’s cab.
Blue. It’d been blue with a white eagle hand-painted on each of its doors. In the eagles’ talons were two yellow daisies—one for him and one for his mama, held safe from harm.
But the eagles hadn’t protected them any more that fateful day than they’d protected his father. In fact, if Luke hadn’t insisted they stay behind that day, all three would have perished. Lost without the man who’d always seemed bigger than life, Cole turned to music; his mama to alcohol. Together, they hit the road, looking to escape the pain of their past.
But finding work is tough for the uneducated, even tougher when they’re drunk. Cole loved his mama and tried his best to help however he could. Odd jobs, doing work around whatever motel or rental place they were staying, cooking, cleaning—you name it, he was on it. And while his mother slept off whatever hangover she’d incurred, Cole woke with the sun, softly strumming tunes on his dime store guitar.
While he slowly healed, Daisy Mae had gotten deeper and deeper into her addictions, trading alcohol for something much more lethal: drugs. Cocaine eventually became her habit of choice, landing her in jail on charges of possession when Cole was thirteen. That was the summer he’d come to stay with his Grandpa Tom and Grandma Eileen—the most carefree summer of his life. Their chore list had been limited, the depths of their love unending.
He’d cried when they put him on the plane back to Texas, but put on a brave face for Daisy Mae. She’d looked healthy waiting for him at the airport, smiled and hugged him so tight he thought he’d break in two. He’d felt guilty for crying, for not wanting to come home, until he caught sight of the man she introduced as her boyfriend. The verbal abuse only took a few hours to begin. The physical, well, Cole got really good at disappearing when the fists started flying. His mother? Not so much. Each time Cole convinced her to leave and stay away from one brute, she’d turn around and find another who treated her just as poorly.
Apparently, that was the culture drug users were used to.
Cole, however, wanted nothing to do with it. At wits’ end, he packed his mother and all their things into the beater car she still had of his father’s the week before he turned eighteen. She’d argued with him, said it was wrong to run from their problems instead of face them like adults. But he hadn’t listened, just drove as far as that tank of gas would take them. He lectured her the entire way about how it was time for her to get clean, to make something of herself. He wouldn’t be around forever to watch out for her. At first she’d been sullen, bitter. But by the time they reached the town of Happy he felt like he’d finally gotten through to her. She was talking about going back to school, maybe finding work at a nursing home taking care of the elderly.
And as desperate as he was to see her succeed, he’d believed her. What a fool he’d been.
That same night he’d woken to find her gone. The motel’s door was ajar, their car missing from the lot. Cole had assumed the worst, worried she’d been taken by the monster they’d just traveled all this way to escape. He’d grabbed his gun—protection his grandfather of all people had equipped him with—and headed into town, praying he’d find her in time.
The tightness in his neck increased as the rest of the memory played out. Finding Daisy Mae, strung out on whatever drug she must have had on her, dragging crates of alcohol out the back door of a shop she’d clearly broken into. Him begging her to abandon whatever crazy idea she had. To get clean, to start a new life.
The flashlights shining, the police shouting, someone finding his gun.
His mother, eyes glazed, shoulders slumped, and not saying a damned word in his defense.
Seven years had passed since that day. He’d done his time, completed probation, and was a free man in the eyes of the Texas legal system. But it was the eyes of everyone else he worried about. Eyes in a new town, eyes that wouldn’t understand.
This guitar shop would go a long way toward easing his mind. To healing his wounds and helping him move beyond his past. To become part of a community for the first time in his life.
Cole drew in a deep breath, exhaled, and opened his eyes. Mount Pleasant was as good a place as any to put roots down. Better even, with his grandfather here, offering his unending emotional support. Though, it remained to be seen if Mount Pleasant would grow to accept him as easily as he’d grown to accept it.
He looked out his bedroom’s small window to the Quarter Clean-It, the laundromat’s old-fashioned neon orange sign bringing Maddie Frye to the forefront of his thoughts. Pink had tinted her pretty face as she’d admitted to needing help last night. His help. Of course he’d wanted to help her—he’d proven repeatedly over the years that he was a sucker for a damsel in distress. Too bad his mother had burned him one too many times playing that role. Now his help was going to come with a price tag.
Hopefully, he hadn’t set the price too high.