Angel Smits - Last Chance At The Someday Café

“Beat you to it, sis.” DJ grinned, barely taking a break from his meal.

Addie came over and settled beside Tara. “Here I thought I had a good idea.”

“It is a good idea.” Tara reached for the new bag. “At least you all know my favorite junk food.” She grinned at Addie. “And she...” Tara nodded toward her sister with a pointed glance at DJ. “She remembered I like chocolate shakes with my fries.” She pulled out the tall cup and shoved the straw through the lid. “Yum!”

“I brought this, too.” Addie’s voice was nearly a whisper. The box from the night at Mom’s. The recipes. “Thought you might need it.”

“Thanks.” Tara ducked her head, concentrating on her food instead of the warm emotion flowing inside her.

They ate until the door opened again. Wyatt came in and froze halfway across the room. His frown made them all laugh.

“Hey, big brother,” Tara greeted him. “Come join us.” Looking at the size of the white bag in his hands, she said, “Hope you’re hungry, since there’s going to be a lot left. Is Emily with you?” She didn’t see his wife anywhere.

“No,” he growled as he settled next to Addie. “DJ, the leftovers are yours.” He shoved the bag down the counter.

“Was I just insulted?” DJ nabbed a spare pack of fries from the new bag with a wide grin. “Thanks for the fries.”

“Anytime.”

DJ shrugged. “What we don’t want, I can take home to Pork Chop and Hamlet.” His son’s pet pigs were going to feast tonight.

Tara smiled, enjoying the food and the company. “We’ve got enough for Mandy and Jason, too. Too bad they aren’t here.”

“Yeah.” Addie sat back, her eyes distant as she enjoyed her own shake. Strawberry—Tara knew without even looking—Addie’s favorite since they were kids. “I miss us all being together.” There was sadness in her voice.

“They aren’t missing us.” DJ laughed and they all joined in. Jason was in Europe on his belated honeymoon with his new bride, who was touring with a ballet company. And Mandy was with her fiancé, Lane, fighting a wildfire in Canada. Tara whispered a simple prayer that they all came home safe and sound.

“Are you going to be ready to open in time?” Addie started to gather the trash, always busy taking care of everyone.

“Relax, Ad.” Tara reached out to grasp her sister’s arm. “Just toss everything the pigs aren’t getting in that barrel.” The trash can was filled with a variety of boards, paintbrushes, plastic and everything she’d swept up. “Not like there’s anything to really clean yet.”

“You don’t need any more work,” Addie admonished. “Gentlemen, clean up after yourselves.”

The look that passed between DJ and Wyatt made Tara laugh. They looked more like the kids they used to be than the men they were. It was nice.

Tara loved these people. Her family. Her siblings. She was proud of them, proud to be one of them.

Wyatt owned and operated one of Texas’s most successful cattle ranches. DJ helped him, though her brother was still a soldier at heart despite his injuries. Addie was a teacher who focused on tough kids. Her other siblings, who weren’t here—though they would be if they were in the state—were just as successful.

She was determined to be successful, too.

She looked around at the half-done diner she was trying to turn into a popular, busy restaurant. Their comments and reactions from the other night returned and sparked her feeling of inadequacy again.

What if their concerns were proven right and she failed? What if no one came here to eat? What if that Sylvie woman was right and it was an ugly mistake? The delicious burger turned to dust in her mouth.

Tara felt an arm slip around her. “Do what you always do,” Addie said softly.

“What’s that?”

“Ignore us completely.”

CHAPTER TWO

TARA’S INSPIRATION FOR the Someday Café had come from the kitchen where she’d grown up. Mom’s kitchen had been the warmest, most wondrous place in all the world—the center of the house and the center of Tara’s life. When Mom had died, Tara had grieved nearly as much about losing her safe place as she had about losing the woman she’d loved.

Now, with the café’s walls painted the soft, robin’s-egg blue, the wood floor newly refinished and all the counters and appliances fixed and cleaned, the large room sat empty.

Not for long.

She’d spent the past few months—in between meetings with Jason about the legalities, real estate and staff—roaming yard sales and flea markets to find the perfect things to decorate her new space. Now all those things were coming out of storage.

First, though, she purposefully went out to the truck and gently lifted the dining room chair that she’d taken from Mom’s place the day after the funeral.

Each of her siblings had the chair that meant the most to them. None of them matched, actually. Mom and Dad had bought the dining room set, the thick table and six chairs, at a garage sale when they were newlyweds. Six kids had done a number on nearly every chair in the house.

Tara wasn’t even sure if any of the ones they had taken were originals. The final set was a mismatched bunch of wooden chairs. Some with ladder backs. Some with straight backs. Some with curved wooden arms. Some without.

All precious and familiar.

Wyatt had the big captain’s chair with its curved arms and sturdy back that had been Dad’s. The finish on both arms was thin from Dad’s movements, rubbing the wood when he was deep in thought, and later from when DJ had had to use the arms to stand after he’d come home injured.

This one had always been hers. As the youngest, she’d been the smallest, so the Jenny Lind style had fit her best. She’d loved it. Still did.

Carrying it in, she set it near the long diner counter that was lined with the only seating places at the moment. Perfect.

“Where do you want this?” DJ’s voice echoed in the empty space. He easily carried the square wood table over his broad shoulders. She smiled and pointed to the corner.

She’d planned where every single piece was going to go. She’d imagined it all.

Wyatt and Lane came in with an oval dining table. “Right here.” Smack in the middle of the room. The biggest table, it would be the centerpiece for larger parties and events.

“I got this one, Aunt Tara.” Tyler had a lone chair—his enthusiasm warmed her. He had the same determined look as his father had carrying the table.

“Put that by the table your dad just set down.”

For the next hour, they all carried furniture and arranged to her directions the assorted, mismatched tables and chairs. Then finally, once the room was full, they brought in the boxes of knickknacks and decorations.

DJ started hanging pictures where she indicated. Tyler watched and handed him nails from a bucket.

Finally, as the sun slanted through the French doors that looked out over the wide stone patio she hadn’t even started on yet, she stepped back and admired their handiwork. She smiled with pride and anticipation. Things were finally coming together.

Wyatt came to stand beside her and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “You did good. It looks great. Mom would love it.”

For the first time since Mom had passed away, Tara felt at home. She smiled at her brother and hugged him. “Thanks for helping.”

“Anytime.”

Tyler walked over and grinned. “So, when do we get to eat?”

The room filled with laughter and Tara couldn’t resist joining in. Everything was falling into place, just as she planned, just as it was supposed to be.

* * *

MORGAN CRANKED THE stereo in the semi’s cab. The windows practically rattled, and he was certain he’d lost at least a couple years of hearing in his old age. He didn’t care. He needed something to get this anger and frustration out of his system. Geddy Lee’s voice with a screaming guitar at full volume was the perfect solution.