Angel Smits - Last Chance At The Someday Café

“I know that.” Tara tried to dismiss her sister’s teasing, accusatory comment.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Addie shoved a cookie sheet into the heated oven and set the timer before turning around. “I found this.” She pulled open the pantry door, lifted out a box that had definitely seen better days, then set it on the table.

“What’s that?” Tara and the others stared at the battered cardboard box.

“Open it.” Addie returned to the cookies.

Tara pushed the chair back as she stood and opened the flaps. Book spines. A rubber-banded stack of cards. Recipe cards. She gasped. “Where did you find them?” She pulled out the stack of stained, tattered cards. When was the last time she’d seen them? “Mom’s and Grandma’s?” She shuffled through them slowly, carefully—reverently.

“I think so.” Addie looked up with a smile. “You’d know better than I would. They were in the back of the pantry.”

Tara’s throat ached as memories bloomed in her mind. Of Mom shuffling through these same cards. Sticking the needed card in between the loose frame of a cabinet door. Her gaze turned to that familiar cupboard door next to Addie now. It had never been repaired. Her vision blurred.

She swiped at her eyes and looked at Jason. She frowned. Why give her these today? “Did you tell them?”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t say a thing.”

“Tell us what?” Wyatt asked. Seconds ticked by as Tara’s gaze locked with Jason’s. He simply shrugged. He wasn’t helping. It was up to her.

“I—” Her excitement grew and with an emerging smile that suddenly made it all feel real, she finished, “I bought the diner in Haskins Corners.” She hugged the precious recipe cards to her chest. “We closed the deal today.”

Tara looked around, hoping for smiles and congratulations. The silent stares were not what she’d expected. She knew she’d shocked them all, but this silence was heavy. The buzz of the timer going off was especially loud.

“Oh.” Addie broke the trance and pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven. The scent of chocolatey, peanut buttery deliciousness wound through the room, nudging everyone to awareness. They didn’t, however, smile.

She hadn’t expected total excitement from them, but neither had she expected this—what did she even call it—lack of support? Surprise?

“That’s an awfully big commitment.” DJ was frowning. “Especially for someone so—”

“Don’t say it.” She hated when they pointed out her faults.

“Young.” He leaned closer, his frown deepening, if that were possible. “Not saying it doesn’t make you any older.”

“Now, DJ.” Mandy hoisted Lucas up on her shoulder and gently patted his back in a rhythmic caress. “She’s always talked about this. That’s not a huge surprise.”

“But it is a bit of a surprise now.” Addie slowly scooped cookies off the sheet. “Why didn’t you tell us before you committed to it?”

“Because I didn’t need your help. Just Jason’s legal advice.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” Addie shook her spatula at Jason.

“Client-lawyer privilege. Sorry, it’s business.”

“That’s no excuse.” Addie roughly scooped dough from the bowl and plopped it onto the cookie sheet with an uncharacteristic thunk. “This is family.”

“Addie.” Wyatt’s voice filled with warning, and while Tara appreciated the support, his scowl told her he wasn’t any happier.

“Hon, don’t take this wrong.” Mandy put her hand over Tara’s. “We just care so much about you.”

“You all know me.” Tara’s indignation rose and her throat ached. She was not going to cry or lose her temper. She’d expected congratulations, not—not this. “You know I’ve dreamed about this since I was a kid.”

“Yes, but—” Addie wiped her hands on a towel. “This is such a big step. We expected you to work for someone else, in a fancy restaurant for a while. Learn about business before taking such a leap.”

“You know I wouldn’t let her go totally stupid, right?” Jason tried to reassure them, but that only made Tara angrier.

“It wasn’t your choice. Any of you.” She let her gaze move around the room, meeting everyone’s stare until landing on Jason’s. “I asked for your advice as a lawyer. That’s all.”

“And I gave it,” he reminded her. “It’s a good deal,” he told the rest of them. “She got a bargain and the interest rate on the loan was excellent.”

“Loan?” Wyatt snapped.

“Yes, loan.” Tara knew Wyatt’s philosophy on debt. Combine his overprotectiveness with his experience seeing his colleagues in the ranching industry fall under debt, and she knew she’d hit a nerve. “I used my inheritance for most of it, but it wasn’t enough.” She glared at Jason. They didn’t need to know the details. That’s why she hadn’t told them in the first place.

“You let her go into debt for this?” Wyatt snatched one of Addie’s fresh cookies and bit into it, hard. “What were you thinking?”

“She can handle it. It’s a solid deal.”

She didn’t need Jason to defend her, and Wyatt needed to back off. “Hellooo...” She waved her hands. “I’m still here.”

Addie put the second batch into the oven, then turned to lean against the counter, arms crossed in front of her. Her frown said more than Tara wanted to hear. She looked so much like Mom when she did that. Tara’s heart hurt.

But Mom would have supported her. She wouldn’t have gotten upset about this. Oh, Mom. I miss you, she mentally whispered. Mom had always encouraged her to follow her dreams, like she had for all of them.

And Tara was not giving up on this dream.

DJ must have seen her stubbornness on her face. “We aren’t angry with you. Do you really think you’re ready for this?”

Tara knew she was ready, but damn it, they were making her doubt herself. As the youngest, she had always felt the weight of her siblings’ shadows. She slowly looked around the room full of people she loved. Their frowns said it all.

Addie and Wyatt shared a glance. An all-too-familiar glance that spoke volumes. Tara’s emotions bubbled to the surface. “You don’t believe in me!”

They both actually had the nerve to look surprised. “We didn’t say that,” Addie said.

“You don’t have to say it.” Tara threw up her hands. “It’s all in that look.”

Tara marched to the door, wishing and praying someone would stop her and deny all her fears, reassure her that she’d misunderstood, that she was wrong, that they did have total faith in her.

No one spoke. The only sound was each of her steps through the empty rooms and finally the smack of the front door banging against its frame.

She kept walking across the yard. “Do not cry,” she repeated half a dozen times before she reached her bright red Jeep and climbed in. She slammed the door and rammed her foot on the gas before tearing out of the drive.

“I’ll show you,” she said to the rearview mirror. “I’ll show you all,” she repeated to the dust cloud that rose up behind her as she headed toward the highway.

* * *

SILENCE SUDDENLY FILLED the room, telling Morgan Thane he wasn’t alone. The driving rock beat had swiftly faded away as his younger brother, Jack, turned down the volume on the stereo.

The weights in Morgan’s fists still moved rhythmically, the soft clink of metal on metal now the only sound left.

“Do you even know what silence sounds like?” Jack asked, pulling his own earbuds free.

“You’re listening to your own tunes.” Morgan pointed at the earbuds Jack never went anywhere without.

“This is white noise to drown out your racket. That stuff gives me hives.”