5

Chloe followed Myra Goodwin out of the shop on McIntyre Street, her thoughts a chaotic jumble of excitement. The site was perfect for what she had in mind. It already contained the basics she would need for a bakery. A good coat of paint and a few upgrades would at least get her started. However, she would eventually need more specialized ovens and at least one industrial-sized refrigerator. The rent was a little more than she’d hoped, but not outrageous.

“So what do you think?” Myra stopped tapping on her phone long enough to look at Chloe. She pushed her reading glasses up onto her short, silver hair.

“I’m definitely interested,” Chloe said. “But I’d need time to apply for a bank loan to cover the startup costs.”

Myra frowned. “This is a hot property. How long are we talking?”

Chloe tried not to laugh. Myra made it sound like the place was a coveted condo in downtown Manhattan. “A couple of weeks should do it.” Paul owed her severance pay, which Chloe expected any day. Still, she would likely need a small business loan to get going.

Myra considered her for a moment. “I’ll tell my client you’re interested, but if another offer comes through, I won’t be able to hold it.” She tapped a finger on her phone. “I guess I could let you know if that happens.”

“Thank you so much.” Chloe held out her hand.

Myra shook it. “I’ll be in touch. Let me know if you get the funding.”

“I will.”

Chloe mulled her options as she walked. Her best source of money—the one she’d planned to use for a business one day—was her trust fund. After her mother died, their family home had been sold and all investments reverted to her estate, which Chloe wouldn’t have access to until she turned twenty-five. Almost two years away. But as executor of the estate and guardian of her trust, Nick had the power to overrule that stipulation. Should she ask him for some of the money now?

Nick would never hand over the money without a detailed explanation.

Was she prepared to bare everything? Her stomach clenched with dread. No, she wasn’t ready for that type of discussion. A loan seemed her best option.

Chloe headed home to dig out her business plan. With a few tweaks, it would be ready to present to the bank by tomorrow.

****

Aidan hung up the office phone and dropped his head into his hands. A dull throbbing pulsed at his temples. Mrs. Merriweather couldn’t cook for at least a month. And every replacement he’d called couldn’t fill in.

Frustrated, he pulled out a drawer and grabbed a bottle of aspirin.

Mrs. Merriweather had suggested he ask Chloe for help—cheerfully admitting she’d been prompted by a call from Maxi.

Aidan thought about throttling his meddlesome sister.

Being around Chloe every day was not a good idea given his unwanted attraction. But other than restructuring the entire Home Economics curriculum for this semester, what real choice did he have? He picked up the phone to call Maxi who was more than happy to provide him with Chloe’s number.

Fifteen minutes later, Aidan finished the salami sandwich he’d brought for lunch.

A soft rap sounded on the door.

“Come in.”

“Hi. The secretary wasn’t at her desk.” Chloe’s amber eyes held a hint of tentativeness. “Am I interrupting?”

“Of course not.” He gestured to his guest chair. “Thanks for coming so fast.”

He tried not to stare at the gloss of her hair, the perfect cut of her jacket, or the swing of her skirt above another pair of crazy high heels.

“What did you want to see me about?”

He cleared his throat. “I wondered if you’d given any thought to Maxi’s idea about helping with the home economics class.”

“Not really.”

“It turns out Mrs. Merriweather will be side-lined for at least a month.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Concern flooded Chloe’s features. “Mrs. Merriweather got me interested in being a chef. I can’t believe she hasn’t retired yet.”

“You can’t keep that woman down. Even this injury won’t stop her for long.” He folded his hands. “Which brings me to her suggestion.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Have an experienced cook come in to do the hands-on portion. Mrs. Merriweather would be there to supervise the kids, prepare the written lessons and tests, that sort of thing. Any chance you’d be interested in helping out for a few weeks?” Why were his palms sweating?

Chloe frowned. “I don’t know...”

She’d been adamant about not wanting to do this. But she was out of work, and a cash incentive might help.

“I could pay you a small fee for your time. We usually offer a stipend to anyone who comes in to share their expertise with the kids.”

She hesitated. “Actually I’m thinking of starting a new business venture.”

“What type of business?”

A smile lit her eyes. “A coffee shop and bakery.”

“So you’ll be staying in Rainbow Falls?” Why did that thought both excite and terrify him? The knowledge that Chloe would be going back to Manhattan had been the main reason Aidan refused to think about a relationship. That, and the fact he’d sworn off romance for the next fifty years.

Chloe’s features hardened. “New York has lost its appeal, believe me.”

“Sounds as if you left on unpleasant terms.” He softened his voice. “What happened, Chloe?”

Her eyes widened, and a hint of fear flickered. “I needed a change.”

He was certain she wasn’t telling him the whole story, but kept his expression neutral. “I’m afraid I’ll need more than that.”

“Why?”

“If you were let go from your job, I need to know the reason. I have to be careful who I expose my kids to.”

“You’ll have to find someone else.” She jumped up.

“Chloe, wait.” He rounded the desk. “Won’t you reconsider—for Mrs. Merriweather’s sake? She needs your help.”

Her anguished expression made him feel like the lowest type of heel.

“I don’t—”

“She specifically asked for you.”

Chloe hesitated. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“What I’m about to tell you is confidential. You have to promise not to tell anyone—not Nick, Lily, or Maxi. When I’m ready, I’ll tell them myself.”

He held back a barrage of questions and nodded. “Agreed.”

They both reclaimed their respective seats.

“So,” he began, hoping to put her at ease. “I take it there were problems in the workplace.”

She gripped her hands together on her lap. “The problem wasn’t with my work. It was personal. I was seeing one of the co-owners of the restaurant—romantically—and the relationship didn’t end well. Richard forced his partner to fire me.” Color bled into her cheeks.

“That hardly seems fair. Couldn’t you sue for wrongful dismissal?”

“There’s no point. They have all the power and the legal connections. It wouldn’t be worth the time, the money, or the frustration.”

Anger hummed through his system at the lingering sadness in her eyes. But it wasn’t his battle to fight. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, firing someone for something like that is reprehensible.” His dark thoughts spiraled back to his departure from his job in Arizona. It appeared he and Chloe had more in common than he’d imagined.

“Thank you for saying that.” She seemed to come to a decision. “If you’re still willing to have me, I would like to help Mrs. Merriweather.”

“You wouldn’t object to having a criminal check done?”

“Not at all.”

A wave of relief swept through him. “Great. I’ll have Mrs. Merriweather contact you to discuss the plan.” With a quick prayer that this wasn’t a decision they’d both regret, Aidan rose. “Since you’re here, why don’t I show you where you’ll be working?”

****

The school’s large industrial kitchen wasn’t bad at all. It must have been updated over the years. The stovetops rivaled the fancy ones at Oliver’s. The ovens were functional, but the huge twin refrigerator made her drool. She’d love one like it in her future bakery.

A couple of students clad in white aprons stood at the sink, washing dishes.

“Hi, Mr. North.” One girl waved and smiled.

“Girls.” Aidan tipped his head, and then frowned. “What are you doing in here?”

“We thought we’d surprise Mrs. Merriweather and give the kitchen a good cleaning while she’s away.”

Aidan’s taut features relaxed. “That’s very thoughtful. It’s nice of you to give up your lunch period.”

One girl bounded over like an eager puppy. “What’s going to happen now, Mr. North? If Mrs. Merriweather can’t use her hand, she won’t be able to teach us to cook.” Her chemically-enhanced blonde hair fluttered around her face.

The second girl, tall and slim, with straight brown hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, remained at the sink, but peered over one shoulder.

“We’ve just come up with a solution to that particular problem. Daphne, this is Miss Martin. She’ll be helping Mrs. Merriweather with the cooking portion of the class. Miss Martin, this is Daphne Sharpe and over there is Lindsay Brown.”

Daphne’s eyes widened. “You’re a teacher?”

“No, actually I’m a chef.”

The girl looped the dishtowel over her shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be working in a restaurant or something?”

“Daphne.” Aidan’s warning held a ring of authority.

“I’m out of work at the moment so I have time to spare.” Chloe smiled. “Besides, Mrs. Merriweather taught me to cook. Now I have a chance to do something for her.”

Lindsay, the quieter girl, came forward, drying her hands on an apron. “You’re a real chef?”

The girl’s flawless complexion and serious hazel eyes complemented high cheekbones and an upturned nose. Yet an aura of sadness shimmered around her.

“I am. I used to work for a restaurant in New York. Now I’m planning to open a bakery in town.”

“I want to be a chef too. Someday.”

“I promise to share my best tips with you.” Chloe winked. “You’ll be a pro in no time.”

The hint of a smile hovered on Lindsay’s lips and a new mission bloomed in Chloe’s mind. Maybe helping Mrs. Merriweather with these students wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.