Luna walked into the offices the next day, butterflies going crazy in her belly. This morning was their weekly staff meeting for the core crew, and Jameson would be witness to it.
She’d been halfway to a panic attack all night, and with every step down the hallway, that percentage increased. She was at a solid 99.5 percent as she got to the doorway of their staff room, because whether she wanted to come clean about being part owner or not—and for the record, she still did not—she knew if she didn’t, Jameson would out her.
Everything would fall apart and no one would like her anymore.
Great, and now her heart thundered in her ears and she was breathing too quickly. She sucked in air for a four count and was holding it and trying to count to seven before releasing it when someone reached around her to hand her a brown bag.
“If you eat the muffin inside,” Jameson’s voice said in her ear, “you can breathe into the bag after.”
She turned to face him. He was wearing another button-down and very nice pair of pants, both of which fit him perfectly, but no tie or suit jacket. And he was in work boots. New work boots. Nope, that was not going to make her smile . . . “We’re reforming you.”
“I’m trying to fit in.”
She snorted.
“You don’t think I can?”
She looked at his unbuttoned collar, shirtsleeves shoved up his forearms, which looked tan and surprisingly strong. Then she tipped her head up to meet his gaze and realized something. “You’re a chameleon.” She pointed at him. “You can change your stripes and colors at will.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Fitting in.”
At this, her anxiety doubled down, because she was about to very much not fit in anymore. Her cell buzzed, and grateful for the interruption of her impending anxiety attack, she pulled it from her pocket.
“Is it a text from your grandma?” Jameson asked with charming hope.
She showed him her phone.
Gram: What does spilling the tea mean? Not the liquid kind, I don’t think.
Luna: It means giving good gossip.
Gram: So tonight when I go to your mother’s house, I can ask her to spill the tea on where she purchased the stick that’s up her patoot?
Luna: No! Or at least make sure I’m there so I can see her reaction.
Jameson was smiling. “Why do I get the feeling you’re two peas in a pod?”
She’d never thought of it like that, but he was right, and the knowledge was somehow comforting.
He waggled the muffin at her again but she gently pushed it away, too nervous to eat. “Thank you, really, but I can’t eat right now.” She paused. “Unless it’s chocolate?” she asked hopefully.
“Bran. With raisins.”
She blinked. “So you hate me then.”
“Of course not. The muffin’s amazing. I bought it at the place next to the tavern—Sugar Pine Bakery.”
At the mention of the tavern, she remembered their kiss, and promptly started breathing too fast again.
“Would it be easier for you if we go in there as two strangers who didn’t meet at the bar the night before I came to the farm?”
“No worries either way,” she said, while actually worrying both ways, plus a secret third way. Nerves had her taking a bite of the muffin. She froze in surprise, then moaned and took several more bites. “Okay, so you’re right about the muffin.”
“I’m right about a lot of things.”
She rolled her eyes and looked at her watch, shoving the rest of the muffin into her mouth. It was time for the meeting that would inevitably change her life, and not for the better. This had her shoving her face inside the now empty bag to breathe.
Jameson waited until she got a couple of gulps of air down, then moved closer and kept his voice low. “It’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that.”
“What’s going on?” Willow asked behind them. “Did she watch a Harry Styles video? She always hyperventilates whenever she watches him.”
“I’m fine!” Luna yanked the bag from her face. “Fine.” She turned to face Willow, who looked like a million bucks, of course.
Willow must’ve mistaken Luna’s expression because she said, “If you’re upset because I’m late while holding a coffee I obviously stopped for, you should know it’s much better than me being on time without this coffee.”
“Agreed.”
“We ready?” Jameson asked.
“Almost,” Willow said. “I’m just waiting to see if my coffee chooses to use its powers for good or evil today.”
“We don’t want to rush that choice,” Luna explained to Jameson. She peeked into the staff room. The rest of her crew were already there: Chef, Milo, Stella, Jeb, and Shep. Feeling sick, she put a hand to her belly.
“Hey.” Willow ran a hand up her arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She managed a smile, even as her stomach churned. She stepped into the room and looked at everyone. “I know we usually open with the week’s progress, but I need to talk to you all first.” She could feel the weight of Willow’s stare, along with her concern, but Luna couldn’t go there right now or she might start crying. “Can everyone take a seat?”
This took longer than it should have. It always did. Because first, everyone needed to pour themselves coffee or tea. And then there was a discussion on the latest episode of Survivor, and the inevitable debate over which of them would make the best survivor. Luna always maintained it’d be her, but no one ever believed her. Currently, everyone’s money was on Chef, because he could cook.
Whatever.
When she realized everyone was actually sitting, looking at her, she drew a deep breath. “Okay, so I’ve got some news.”
“Oh my God,” Chef said. “Is this about the farm’s future? Were you just pacifying me when you assured me it was all okay?” He put a hand to his chest. “Silas left instructions to shut us down.” He looked at Jameson. “You’re not shutting us down, right? Shit. Silas gave me gas when he was alive, and now he’s dead and I still have gas. I need Tums. Does anyone have Tums?”
“I’ve got some, baby.” This from Stella, who started rooting through her bag, which was the size of a suitcase.
Chef took a handful.
Milo looked at him, amused. “Can we give Luna the floor again, or do you have another dramatic performance for us this morning?”
Stella shushed them. “My darling Luna’s going to tell us that of course we’re not being shut down and losing our jobs.”
“We’re not,” Luna said.
“Then what?” Willow asked.
Luna took a deep breath. “Silas wasn’t just our boss, he was also . . .” She swallowed hard. “My biological grandfather.”
Utter silence for three seconds. Then mayhem erupted, with everyone speaking at once.
“Hey,” Luna said.
No one listened.
So she climbed onto the table and gave a sharp whistle.
The room fell silent for a single beat, then Stella spoke into it. “Why, this is wonderful! You’ve always wanted to know a blood relative.” She was beaming for her. “When did you find this out?”
Luna dragged in another deep breath. “At the reading of his will.”
Willow drew in a sharp breath. “Okay, first of all, I’m with Stella on discovering a blood relative.” She said this genuinely, but then shook her head. “But you found out right before you met me at the tavern, three days ago, and you didn’t tell me? I thought we tell each other everything.”
Luna opened her mouth, but Willow went on. “It’s because you feel sorry for me. First a pity job, and now keeping things to yourself. Wow.”
“Your job isn’t a pity job,” Luna said. “Are you kidding me? Not a single person here could do your job. And I know, because we all tried before you moved back to Sunrise Cove six months ago. And I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. I just . . . needed a minute.”
Willow looked at her watch. “You’ve had a whole bunch of minutes! Someone bring up the calculator on your phone pronto! What’s three days of minutes? And don’t forget to double it for the bullshit factor.”
“Is this a business meeting?” Jameson asked. “Or high school recess?”
“I know,” Milo said. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”
Chef hadn’t moved or taken his eyes off Luna. “Are you seriously telling me that penny-pinching, grumpy old man was your grandfather . . . this whole time?”
“This whole time,” Luna said.
“And you kept it a secret from us?”
“It’s only been three days since I found out,” she said.
“And like you’ve never kept a secret,” Milo said to Chef.
“I’ve never kept a secret from you.”
“Are you sure? Because let me tell you, you haven’t experienced true heartbreak until you’ve been thinking about your leftovers all day and then come home to find that someone ate them.”
“I’m the one who made the food!”
“And you made it for moi.”
Chef sighed.
Willow had a hand to her heart. “I feel your pain, Milo. You think you know someone, but then your best friend of over twenty years tells a perfect stranger things she hasn’t told you.”
Luna sighed. “Jameson only knows because . . .” Well, here went everything. “I inherited the other fifty percent ownership of this property.”
Utter silence again.
And here it came, her biggest fear. They were all going to hate her now, just like they’d hated Silas. “But that’s actually good news,” she said, trying to spin it. “Because we can all stay together.”
“Actually,” Jameson said, pulling out his laptop, “in two months, the farm owes a balloon payment to a group of investors who covered the extensive renovations here five years ago. According to the terms, if we don’t make that payment, they can force us to sell.”
“Of course we’re going to make the payment,” Luna jumped in with, sending Jameson a quick glare. Seemed like the years he’d spent with her grandfather had given him Grinch tendencies as well. “We can fix this.”
“Just how short are we?” Stella asked. “Because I could go back to my previous profession—”
“No!” Luna said, then had to forcibly soften her voice. Her grandma’s previous profession—decades prior—had been marriage. A lot of them. “No,” she said again, more quietly. “We’ll figure out a way to make this work. Right, Jameson?”
“With a new business plan, hopefully.” He patted his laptop.
Luna was beginning to hate that laptop.
“Honey,” Chef said, looking hurt. “Why didn’t you tell us it was this bad?”
She looked at the man she’d loved and had at one time actually thought she might marry, who’d always supported her. And she was letting him down. “I’ve got a plan.”
Chef smiled. “I knew you would.”
Milo nodded. So did Stella and the others. Well, everyone but Willow and Jameson. “I’m all ears,” he said.
Luna was good at thinking on her feet, really good, but she knew this had to be great. “The most important thing to remember is that we’re awesome at our jobs and people love this place. We can invite the investors out here to see for themselves just how beloved the farm is to the entire Tahoe area and beyond. They’ll see the potential. Then we’ll ask for an extension on the balloon payment, or get our bank to roll it over into a loan. If we just stick together, we can’t go wrong.”
“Just keep in mind that neither an extension nor a loan is a given,” Jameson said. “Not in today’s market.”
Everyone took their eyes off Luna, to whom they’d always looked to solve any and every problem no matter how big or small, and turned expectantly to Jameson instead.
“Okay then,” Chef said. “So what’s your plan?”
And so it began. The family that had always looked to her for direction now had a new leader, and she couldn’t even blame them.
“My plan,” Jameson said, sitting there calm and steady, emoting a confidence that couldn’t be faked, “would be to think-tank this with all of you. In my experience, the people who work the business have the best ideas for how to fix things.”
Oh, he was good. Asking for their opinions meant that maybe they’d talk his ear off all damn day long, and probably nothing would get accomplished, but also? If he actually listened to them, they’d follow him anywhere.
Just like they’d followed her up until this very moment.
Willow raised her hand. “I’ve been thinking about this idea since I came on board. We could rent out the gardens for events. Weddings, wine parties, things like that.”
“Excellent idea,” Jameson said.
Brilliant idea, one Luna should’ve thought of. One slice of humble pie to go, please . . .
Shep cleared his throat. “Right now, we hand out food for people to feed the animals. We could charge for the food.”
“I like it,” Jameson said.
Stella raised her hand next. “I sent my idea to Luna a while back.”
“Uh, maybe now’s not the time,” Luna said quickly because she knew what was coming. A train wreck.
“I’m all ears,” Jameson said.
Stella beamed. “We need to add some new equipment. We’ve got benches in the Square and also at the botanical gardens, but they’re made of hard stone, and people of a certain age need a little cushion if you see what I’m saying.”
Luna relaxed, because that wasn’t what she remembered her grandma’s idea being.
“This whole place is bordering on ageism,” Stella said. “You’re missing an entire demographic of sixty-five and older. For instance, we also need a machine that dispenses things like ibuprofen and Metamucil.”
There it was . . .
Chef choked on his tea. Shep and Jeb grinned. Milo and Willow laughed. And everyone turned in unison to see Jameson’s reaction.
To his credit, he didn’t laugh at Stella. “That would be . . . interesting. I’ll put that on our list of things to consider.”
“And Viagra,” Stella added. “Viagra in the vending machine.”
“I wouldn’t be mad at that,” Milo said with a smirk. “But how’s Viagra going to help the farm make money?”
“Oh it won’t,” Stella said. “But it’d help my social life.”
Jameson was looking at her with an admirably straight face. “The Viagra, while . . . interesting, is a no-go. It’s illegal to dispense drugs.” He looked around with what might’ve been a flash of desperation. “Anyone else? Anyone?”
Luna leaned into him. “Hey, Bueller, need the brown bag?”
He rolled his eyes. Good to know she was rubbing off on him. “We could charge for parking,” she suggested.
Jameson nodded. “We could also up the entrance fee by twenty percent and still be competitive with other attractions in the area.”
Good point, but 20 percent seemed too much. “Ten percent.”
Jameson nodded. “I’ll take it.”
Shep raised his hand. “What about adding a farmers market?”
“Yes,” Chef said. “With food trucks. Everyone loves a good food truck.”
Luna straightened. “Hey, that’s a great idea. Why didn’t you say something about it before?”
Shep shrugged. “I put the idea in the suggestion box a month ago.”
Everyone’s head swiveled to Luna. Right. The suggestion box. The one she’d put up several years ago, which had been used by the crew to tattle on each other, so she’d stopped looking. Her bad. “You could’ve just told me. We’re all open with each other here.”
There was an awkward silence and Luna felt her stomach sink a little. They weren’t all open with each other?
“A farmers market is good,” Jameson said into the awkward silence. “It’s also a big step. Let me run some numbers to see if it’s viable, although off the top of my head, for this venue, during the late spring and summer months, it makes a lot of sense. But . . .” He looked at Chef. “It’d cut into the Bright Spot’s revenues.”
Chef shook his head. “It’s a different clientele. More foot traffic means more money for all of us. And to be honest, I could take off whatever days we run a farmers market. I wouldn’t mind having some more personal time . . .”
Luna stared at him, shocked. “You eat, live, and breathe the café. What do you need personal time for?”
He looked at Milo and smiled. “A life.”
Luna’s love for him had shifted over the years they’d been together. It was now a deep, abiding friendship sort of love. A family love, because she absolutely considered him blood. But it was still hard to know he’d so easily moved on to have successful relationships while she hadn’t managed a successful anything.
Jameson nodded. “Food trucks are great, so that’s going on the list too. Low overhead for us.”
“One of my friends is the sole ghostbuster in the area,” Stella said. “She travels around to fairs and sets up a booth. She’s very popular. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to come in as often as we want her.” Again she pointed to Jameson’s laptop. “Write that down too.”
Jameson dutifully typed something. Whether it was about Stella’s friend or a smoke signal asking for help was anyone’s guess.
“Oh!” Chef said. “My boyfriend is a social media influencer and he always says if you can get them to spread the word, you’re golden.”
Milo blushed.
Chef laughed and reached for his hand.
“I think this ends our so-called business meeting,” Luna said dryly.
Everyone stopped to talk to her on their way out.
“I feel like we’re in good hands,” Chef said, nodding toward Jameson.
“I like him,” Shep said.
Stella nodded. “He’s the nicest, and so cute too.”
“Agreed,” Milo said. “Do you think he’s got a six-pack?”
Jeb, of course, said nothing. But he looked at ease, and if he had a problem about anything, he’d have at the very least texted Luna on the spot.
Chef leaned in and whispered, “Let me work some magic on your hair and set you up with him.”
“No!” She drew a deep breath, refusing to run her hand over her hair to check it, or to tell Chef that Jameson had already turned her down, because both were humiliating. “Don’t you dare.”
Willow was last. “Are you okay?” she asked with genuine concern. “Silas being blood really is a huge deal for you.”
“I’m okay,” Luna said quietly. “Thanks, and I’m sorry—”
“Nope. Don’t apologize for something you did very purposefully.”
Luna winced at the truth of that. “I just . . . needed a moment.”
Willow nodded. “And now so do I. I need some time and space.”
“Hey, that’s what you told Shayne, and now you two are separated.”
“Well, if the shoe fits . . .” Willow started to walk away but paused. “Tell me the truth. Did you ever really ask Silas for that promotion for me?”
Luna sucked in a breath.
Willow’s eyes went cold. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“No, you don’t understand. Willow—”
“Just answer me this. Now that you’re in Silas’s shoes, are you going to give me the promotion?”
Luna’s stomach hit her toes. She couldn’t bring herself to lie again, but nor could she give Willow what she wanted, it would never work. “Listen—”
“No. Never mind.” Willow turned to go, but then whirled back. “Oh, and for the record?” She nodded toward Jameson. “I like him. Certainly a lot more than I like you right now.”
When she was gone, Luna turned to Jameson, who’d been silent, just watching and taking in everyone’s reaction.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“She’s always wanted to be a manager, and asked me to see if Silas would promote her, but . . .” She grimaced. “While she’s amazing at a lot of things, managing people isn’t one of them. Silas said hell no.”
“So you’re protecting Silas? Why not just tell her he said no?”
“I’m not protecting Silas. I’m protecting Willow. It would crush her.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. “And the smoke curling out from the top of your head?”
“That’s all for you. You should’ve talked to me first before we had an open-table discussion. I’ve found with too many cooks in the kitchen, you only end up with a grease fire.”
“Okay, yes, you’re right and I’m sorry. But the place is already in flames. And they had some valid ideas.” He paused. “For all your open kindness, for how much they all care about you, why have you never asked them for help?”
She looked away, disarmed by his easy apology. “I like to rely on myself.”
“But you’ve got a great crew. You never have to rely on only yourself.”
“You’re just saying that because you came off as the good guy today and I came off as the person who after all this time of gaining their trust, broke it.”
He shook his head. “You were just trying to protect them. They’ll understand that.”
“Says the guy who’s probably never had to earn someone’s trust or love in your life.”
“You have no idea.” Before she could ask what that meant, he nodded his head toward her office. “Can we go over some things?”
She led the way. Inside her office, he moved to the window that overlooked the Square, and beyond that the beautiful orchards where cherry blossoms were in full bloom. Leaning against the sill, hands in his pockets, he murmured, “I forgot how pretty it is here.”
“You sound surprised.”
He turned to face her. “Nothing surprises me. At least not anymore.”
“Not even the idea of putting in a Viagra-dispensing machine?”
That earned her a smile. “Okay, maybe that.” He ran a hand over his jaw, which she was starting to realize was a tell. He was going to say something that he wasn’t sure would be well received.
Damn. She really should’ve stayed in bed today.