Ian straightened his tie with one hand and made his way toward the town hall. He’d spent the entire week paying a personal visit to every viable business along Main Street, meeting with owners about investing in the condominiums. He knew many of them were struggling, and even though McKay had several investors lined up in Peoria, he wanted to give the local business owners of Peaks an opportunity to benefit from these condominiums in a more personal way, no matter how small. And he needed the distraction.
From the problem that had become Robin Price.
Despite meeting with the zoning board, checking the property for easements, and having a mile-long list of investors, Ian still had not secured the site. For the first time in his career, he had no idea what to do. So he ignored the problem. He didn’t return Dad’s messages and he avoided thoughts about the weekend that lay before him—one that sheltered an anniversary he wished he could blot from existence.
The soles of his polished shoes padded against the ground as he buttoned his lapels with one hand and shouldered open the front door of the town hall. Ian greeted an auburn-haired woman sitting behind a long, polished desk. She smiled kindly and told him to go on back. He made his way down the hallway, where familiar laughter filtered through the open doorway of the mayor’s office. Ian stopped short. Not only was the mayor there … so was his father.
“Come on in, Ian.” Mayor Ford waved him inside, his cheeks filled with color.
Dad sat with his elbows propped on the armrests of his chair, as if his presence in Peaks, as if his presence here—in Mayor Ford’s office—was nothing out of the ordinary.
“You never mentioned your father would be joining us today,” Mayor Ford said.
“I wasn’t aware of it.”
“It was a last-minute decision.” Dad clasped his hands. “I had an appointment cancel, so I thought I’d come check on things here. Get an update and make sure everything’s going as planned.”
“I think you’d be proud to know, Mr. McKay, that this son of yours has charmed most of the town.”
Dad looked at Ian. “What about the resistant café owner? Have you charmed her?”
The muscles in Ian’s shoulders tightened. Why was Dad checking up on him?
Mayor Ford centered his pencil cup. “Robin’s not easily charmed, I’m afraid. And we’re racing time—which is why I’m glad you and Ian are both here. I have an interesting proposition to make.” He clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. “Let’s get right to it, shall we?”
Ian’s skin prickled. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear whatever interesting proposition Mayor Ford had to make, but he set his briefcase beside the empty seat and settled into the chair.
“If we’re going to turn Peaks into a bedroom community, not only do we have to offer the best, we have to offer it first. We’re convinced you build the best, but none of that matters if your condominiums go up after Fixtel opens. The employees will already have moved elsewhere, perhaps buying in Le Claire or across the river in Port Byron.”
Tightness rippled from Ian’s jaw down into his neck and shoulders. He knew exactly what Mayor Ford was going to suggest.
“You probably have experience with eminent domain.” Mayor Ford scratched his earlobe. “Basically, we’d force her to sell.”
Dad crossed his leg and clasped his hands over his knee. “Yes, we know what eminent domain means, Mayor Ford.”
The mayor chuckled, but as soon as he realized he was the only one laughing, the sound curdled. “The municipality of Peaks would condemn Robin’s property. We’d pay her fair price for the land and we’d sell it to you. I know this sort of thing is usually reserved for state highways and the like, but a few of the council members and I have done our research. We think we’re in a favorable position.”
Ian couldn’t believe it. He promised Robin it wouldn’t come to force, but that was exactly what Mayor Ford wanted to do.
“It’s a pretty bold move,” Dad said.
Mayor Ford picked up a pen and gave it a few taps against his desktop. “Yes, well, I’m confident we won’t end up in court over this.”
“You do realize,” Ian said, squishing the words between his teeth, “that eminent domain is a court procedure.”
“The threat of it will be enough to get her to sell.”
“She’s a lot more determined then you’re giving her credit for.”
“Robin’s a great gal and I understand that she’s emotionally attached. She’s had a nice run with her café, but I’m convinced these condos are exactly what this town needs.” The mayor pulled a pocket calendar from the top drawer of his desk and flipped through the pages. “We have another town meeting scheduled in a few weeks. The fourteenth of July, I believe. We’ll discuss condemnation then and move forward from there. That is, if you’re still interested in building.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Of course we’re still interested.” Dad’s words sliced through Ian’s objection. He stood and shook the mayor’s hand.
Ian blinked several times, then exited the town hall behind his father. As soon as they stepped into the sun, Ian stopped. “Do you mind telling me what in the world that was about?”
“You’ve been MIA for a week. You haven’t returned any of my messages, which means I had nothing to report at our Wednesday meeting. If you were any other employee, I’d call you into my office and we’d have a serious discussion about the future.”
But Ian wasn’t any other employee. He was the boss’s son, which meant his future was secure, whether he wanted it to be or not.
Dad stepped closer. “This is the most important deal in the history of our company. I gave it to you because I thought you were the best man for the job.”
“Maybe you thought wrong.”
Dad’s eyes filled with disappointment. “Please tell me you’re not letting things get personal between you and this café owner. If you’ve learned anything from the divorce, I hope it would be that messes are usually created when we mix business with pleasure.”
Ian ran his hand across his jaw, steam building in his chest.
“I heard the way you talked about her at the banquet.”
“She doesn’t want to sell.”
“Then we brainstorm ways that will get her to reconsider.” Dad’s face turned red. “You don’t give up. I didn’t raise a quitter.”
“Oh, and what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You gave up on your marriage when it got hard and now you’re giving up on this too.”
“You have no idea what I’m giving up. And you have no idea about my marriage.”
“You’re quitting too soon, just like your mother!”
The words punched a hole straight through Ian’s anger. All the heat swooshed right out of him. “What did you say?”
“The doctors found a new mass yesterday.” Dad’s shoulders collapsed. He took a seat on the curb and dug his hands through his hair. “She’s refusing to do any more chemo.”
The café and the condemnation became something far away, something distant.
“I can’t lose her, Ian. She’s my entire world.” Dad’s voice cracked. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Lord God, tell me what to do.”
In all Ian’s life, he’d never heard his father say those words.
It was Friday afternoon. Chief Bergman and his wife were finishing their coffee up in the loft. Professor Lofton—the man who taught Robin behavioral psychology at St. Ambrose—ate a three-cheese soufflé and prepared lecture notes at a table near the back. Robin had just sent Lyle Noldt’s wife off with an entire box of oatmeal raisin cookies and now she stood behind the counter, staring at her piano. Her yearning filled the entire room. Seven days without music and the edges of her soul were turning brittle.
Kyle walked through the front door, his face creased with more lines than usual.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Carl Crammer passed away last night.”
Robin blinked several times, positive she’d heard wrong.
“He had a heart attack. Mimi couldn’t get him to the hospital in time.”
Her limbs went cold. Carl Crammer? The man who always clapped for Robin’s music? The man who couldn’t hide the twinkle of pride in his eye whenever he complained about his only son running off to Chicago? The coldness in her limbs leaked into her stomach. She’d seen Carl two days ago and now he was gone. How was it possible? Robin shuddered. Life could change in a snap. Without warning, everything could flip upside down and inside out. Just like that.
“Mimi doesn’t have any family around here. From what I’ve gathered, they’ve lived alone in that trailer home for the past fifteen years. I believe their son might be on his way.” Kyle dragged his hand down his tired face. Poor guy hadn’t signed up for this. Moving to a town that split itself in two, taking over a ministry that landed itself in the center of the conflict.
“Who’s with her right now?” Robin asked.
“Nobody. I just made sure she got home safely from the hospital. I met them at the meet and greet, but they never really came to One Life. I think I made her more uncomfortable than anything else.”
“I’ll go over to see her as soon as I’m done.” And Caleb? Who would pick him up from day care? And why was he always getting the short end of her busy stick? Her schedule was too cramped. She had no margin. “I can help with the funeral arrangements, and I’ll ask my support group to fix some meals.”
“Thanks, Robin.” Kyle squeezed her hand. “I’ll give you a call later tonight to see how Mimi’s holding up.”
She grabbed a to-go cup from the stack. “Can I get you a coffee before you leave?”
“No, thanks.” He smiled and left the café.
Robin put the cup back on the stack, tears welling in her eyes. Carl Crammer was dead and Mimi was still here. Left to pick up whatever pieces remained of life without her husband. She did not envy what that woman had ahead of her. Chief Bergman and his wife clanked down the steps, waved good-bye, and stepped out the door, oblivious to the fact that not too far away, a woman’s life had shattered to pieces. Before the door closed, Ian McKay, the man she hadn’t seen since last Saturday—the one who’d spent the week talking to every business up and down Main Street—slipped inside her café and headed toward the front counter. She turned around and pressed her hand against her middle.
“No Joe or Molly today?”
“Nope, just me.” Robin blinked away the moisture in her eyes and faced Ian with a smile that felt lopsided and stiff. “You’re not going to talk to me about investing too, are you?”
He cocked his head. “Is something wrong?”
The question almost undid her, but the jingle of the doorbell distracted them both. A woman came in with her son. Ian stepped to the side while Robin took the lady’s order. The entire time she made the iced coffee, she could feel Ian’s stare. She counted out the woman’s change with shaky hands, thanked her for coming, and watched the mother-son duo exit.
“Robin?” Ian studied her beneath a concerned brow.
“Carl Crammer passed away.” Robin cupped her forehead with her palm and shook her head. Even when she said it, she still couldn’t quite believe it. “I need to go visit Mimi, which means I have to call Bethany and see if she can pick up my son. I’d like to bring Mimi something warm, and somehow, I’ll have to make time to help arrange the man’s funeral.”
The front door swooshed open. For once, Robin wished away the customers. How was she supposed to call Bethany or make a meal for Mimi with a line at her cash register? She got the man a coffee to go, but as soon as he left, somebody else came in.
Ian came around the counter. “What’s Bethany’s phone number?”
“What?”
“Your friend’s phone number? I’ll call her and ask if she can pick up Caleb.”
Robin handed a woman her change. “You don’t have to do that.”
The door opened again.
“C’mon, Robin, you can’t do it all,” he said. “Let me help you.”
His words brought a lump to her throat. She hesitated for a moment, then scrawled the number on a napkin. Ian disappeared inside her kitchen while Robin served her customers. Four in total, two of whom gave her the thumbs-up for supporting One Life and fighting against Ian McKay. If only they knew the man was in her kitchen. A good twenty minutes passed before her café emptied of customers—including Professor Lofton—and Ian had yet to resurface. What was he doing back there? She looked at the clock. Five to three. Close enough. She flipped the sign on the door from Open to Closed, then stood frozen in place, nerves playing leapfrog until she smelled fried onion and garlic.
When she pushed open the door, she found a very familiar scene. “You’re cooking?”
“Lasagna. I figured it’s a safe bet. I’ve never met anybody who doesn’t like it.”
The muscles in Robin’s chest constricted. Ian was cooking a meal for Mimi?
“Bethany said not to worry, she’d pick up Caleb at three thirty sharp.”
Robin stepped all the way inside her kitchen, the door swinging behind her. Ian let her lean against the prep table and pray for Mimi while he navigated the small space. When he finally broke the silence, he did so with a simple request. “Do you have a pan?”
Robin grabbed one off a shelf and handed it over.
He began layering in the ingredients. “Do you mind if I ask why you do it?”
“The support group. The funeral. All of it. If anybody has an excuse to sit those things out, it would be you.”
“I can’t sit any of it out.”
“Why not?”
Because I know what it feels like.” She picked up the chef knife and rinsed it off in the sink. “I’ve worn those shoes. So how can I not be there for someone who’s going through the same thing?”
Ian shook his head.
“What?”
“I’m fighting Mother Teresa.”
Despite Kyle’s somber news, she laughed. “I am a far cry from Mother Teresa, trust me.”
He pulled several lasagna noodles from the box and met Robin’s gaze. “I’ve never met anybody like you.”
Her stomach did several somersaults. “You’re giving me too much credit. My reasons are not entirely selfless.”
“No?”
“Helping people who are going through what I’ve been through makes me feel like Micah’s death wasn’t in vain. It gives the pain I went through a sense of purpose.” Robin placed the knife on the bottom of the sink. “I just wish Caleb didn’t have to suffer for it. Being a single parent isn’t easy.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you do a great job.” Pain peeked out from his eyes, bringing a shadow to his face that had nothing to do with the light. At that moment, she’d give anything to know what he was thinking. What pain did Ian McKay carry? But it left before she could inquire. “You’re a wonderful mother,” he said.
“If you can believe it, I used to want five.”
Ian coughed. “Kids?”
“I know. Crazy. And it’s impossible.” Robin wiped her fingers off on a towel, the diamond of her ring catching the light. “It is now, anyway.”
“You’re still young.” Ian smiled. “Anything’s possible.”
Robin wanted to tell him no, not that. But then she remembered Mimi and those dark days after Micah’s funeral. If it was possible to get through such suffocating grief, then maybe Ian was right. Maybe anything was possible. She wanted to believe that. More than he could know.
Ian sprinkled mozzarella cheese over the lasagna and whistled. Watching him cook was like watching her mother play the piano—magical. Robin wanted to give him something in return for all his help. He couldn’t possibly know how much it meant. But what? She studied her injured finger, remembering the lost look on Ian’s face that day she sliced it open. When he slid her wedding ring back in place. “You know that day in your car, after you took me to Dr. Dotts?”
Ian stopped his sprinkling.
“I let you assume something that wasn’t one hundred percent accurate.”
“Oh?” He leaned toward her.
“You assumed Micah bought my ring.”
“He didn’t?”
Robin shook her head. “My dad did.” She twirled it with the pad of her thumb and let out a shaky breath. “Part of the reason I freaked out is because I’m sentimental and it’s my wedding ring. But I also freaked out because it belonged to my mother first. She wore it for twenty years before Micah ever put it on my finger.”
The two of them stood inside the small kitchen, surrounded by the smell of onions and garlic and browned meat, Robin’s intimate confession nestled between them.
“That’s kind of sad,” Ian finally said. “But romantic too.”
She smiled down at the sink, charmed by this man who thought her mother’s ring was romantic. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
“Hey, Robin?”
“Yes?”
“I have to tell you something.”
The air in the kitchen hummed with energy, but when she looked up, the crinkle was gone from his eyes. It made her stomach turn into a ball of lead.
“The mayor is going to speak with the town about condemning your property.”
“Condemning my property?”
“It’s when the government forces you to sell.”
The quivering in her knees spread until both of her legs quaked beneath her. “That doesn’t sound legal.”
“Unfortunately, it is.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and had the audacity to look tortured, as if this turn of events troubled him as much as it troubled her.