Chapter Six

GABE FOLLOWED HIS GRANDFATHER down the stairs and around the staircase landing to the kitchen, where the fragrance of butter and wheat and the floral scent of citrus water perfumed the moist air. This was Werner Brandt’s domain, and his past as a professional baker was evidenced by the no-nonsense approach he had taken with its decor: rather than the elaborate Victorian style his grandmother had favored, the kitchen was all functional tile, flat-paneled cabinets, and stainless steel. Back when the town had been thriving and the B and B was regularly booked, the cooking and baking for guests had kept him busy enough; now Opa baked for several of the town’s cafés and restaurants. He said he did it to keep busy in his retirement years, but Gabe suspected it also covered expenses that the guesthouse and his Social Security checks didn’t.

Gabe reached for one of the dozen round scones perched on a cooling rack, and Opa fixed him with his signature glare. “Don’t touch them. They’re still hot and they’ll fall apart the minute you pick them up.”

As soon as he looked away, Gabe snatched one off the rack. It immediately crumbled into pieces, and he shoved half of them into his mouth. His grandfather shook his head in mock disgust. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“Totally worth it,” he mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs. “Orange and almond?”

Opa relented slightly at his words, his expression softening. Gabe blinked to restore his sudden blurry vision. Opa might have done the official baking for the B and B, but it was Oma from whom Gabe had sat across the island, watching her fix dinner. Guessing the spices in her food had turned into a game that even his most sullen teenage self hadn’t been able to resist. Oma and this kitchen had been his touchstone when he needed it most. Even five years later, it was hard to believe she was gone.

Apparently Opa was thinking the same thing, because he placed a glass of chocolate milk in front of Gabe and slid another scone in his direction.

“I miss her,” Gabe said softly. “I can’t help feeling she would have taken one look at Kendall and known exactly what to say to convince her not to sell.”

“She did know how to read people, your grandmother.” Opa dragged a stool around the side of the island and perched on the edge. “The first time she and I met, she took one look at me and said I was going to take her out to dinner.”

“Oma? She always said she’d played hard to get.”

Something close to a guffaw escaped Opa’s lips. “Your grandmother? Hard to keep, maybe. Hard to get, no. She knew what she wanted, and once she went after it, no one could stand in her way. I’m just lucky one of those things was me.” He sent Gabe a look. “I sense a bit of that in your Kendall. It ran in the family. Stubborn as an ox, Connie Green. Her daughter, too.”

“Trust me, she’s not my Kendall. And she wants nothing to do with her Green history, stubborn or otherwise. They’re strangers to her.”

“Then maybe that’s your task. Make them not strangers. Help her understand her connections to this town. Or at least that’s what Greta would say.” Opa looked at him significantly and reached for the damp rag to wipe down the countertop.

Gabe sighed. That was easier said than done. If the stubborn Green blood ran through her veins, she wasn’t likely to change her mind once it was made up. He changed the subject. “Does she really look just like her mother?”

“Spitting image. A little older, of course. Caroline was barely eighteen the last time we saw her. Your grandmother always wished . . .” He shook his head. “But wishing doesn’t bring anyone back, does it?”

Gabe had the feeling they weren’t just talking about Caroline Green now. Opa’s gaze had gone distant, and Gabe hesitated to interrupt what he expected was a deep dive into memory. After forty years of marriage, he had a lot of material to choose from.

Kendall chose that moment to poke her head into the kitchen. “Can I come in?”

“Of course, of course.” Opa waved her to a seat. “Have a scone. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

Kendall pulled up the stool next to Gabe and shot a look at his glass. “That doesn’t look like coffee.”

“What can I say? I still like my chocolate milk. Just don’t tell the voters. Half of them asked me if I was shaving yet when I put myself up for the office of mayor.”

Kendall chuckled. “To be fair, you do have a young face.”

Just what every guy wanted to hear from an attractive woman. “Not that young, I hope. It’s been at least two years since anyone asked me if I wanted a kids’ menu.”

He saw Kendall repressing a smile behind the mug of coffee his grandfather set in front of her and counted that as a point in his favor. “So what are your plans for the rest of the day?” Gabe asked. “We can go back to my office and fill out the forms for the court, but you won’t be able to file until tomorrow. I’m happy to drive you to the courthouse in Georgetown. It’s about thirty miles.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have things to do.”

“Not really. All the planning for the fall festival is complete, and anything else my staff needs, they can reach me on my cell.” He leaned over and lowered his face. “I’ll tell you a secret. Mayor doesn’t really do that much. The city council has to make all the decisions. I just execute them.”

“You execute the members of your city council?” Kendall cracked, her eyes sparkling.

Gabe grinned. “Only if they make the wrong decisions. I tell you what. You finish your coffee—or better yet, take it in a to-go mug—and I’ll show you around town. But you might want to put on another layer or two. The temperature is going to drop quickly as soon as the sun goes down.”

Opa obviously understood what he had in mind, because he smoothly produced a stainless steel travel mug from one of the cupboards. “That’s an excellent idea. Take her over to the Pine View Cantina for dinner when you’re done. Their dessert menu is excellent.”

Gabe laughed, even though Kendall looked confused as to what was so funny. “Humble as always, I see.” He hopped off the stool and then circled the island to give his grandfather a quick hug. “I’ll have her home at a decent hour; don’t worry.”

Opa ignored him and instead turned his attention to Kendall. “Here. Take another scone to go. I’ll give you a little paper bag for it.”

Gabe smiled to himself as Opa transferred Kendall’s coffee to the mug, pressed a bag into her hand, and shooed them out of the kitchen. His grandfather was right: he had to make her feel a personal connection to the town. Operation Win Over Kendall Green had officially begun.