A Chance at Love (A Ferry Creek Novel): (a billionaire romance novel) (2 page)

___TWO___

Living in the small town of Ferry
Creek, North Carolina - or any small town for that matter - the simplest way to
survive was to appreciate the small things in life. For Bobby Strate, his
commute to work was a simple flight of steps. Not bad, until winter came and
they needed to be salted since they were exterior steps with no cover. He was
also able to get downstairs to the diner he ran for his family and get
everything turned on then head back up to his apartment above the diner and
enjoy a hot cup of coffee that never tasted quite as good as the diner's and
catch some of the morning news before everything downstairs was heated up and
ready for another day of cooking.

Serving the folks of Ferry Creek
had been in Bobby's blood for as long as he could remember. An old photograph
of Bobby, no more than four or five years old, standing on a wobbly stack of
milk crates, pouring refills of coffee to laughing men at the counter was a
mainstay in the diner, no matter how much Bobby hated it. It always made him
wonder what kind of trouble the diner would get into if that were to happen in
today's world. These were the kinds of thoughts that went through a business
owner, thoughts that never occurred to Bobby before taking over the popular
diner-slash-restaurant that his family had owned for almost eighty years.

Being the only one in Ferry Creek
that could run the restaurant, Bobby moved into the apartment above the diner
and took it over when his father became ill. If it wasn't for the timing of all
of this and the staff that worked there, the place would have closed in the
first month. Ironically, the day Bobby's divorce to Annie was finalized, he had
a U-Haul packed up to head to Ferry Creek when he received a called that his
father had taken a heart attack. That's when life was thrown into high gear.
The heart attack led to tests and tests showed a heart disease that left the
doctors patiently explaining to Bobby that his father was living on borrowed
time.

Bobby rented a storage unit and
tossed all of his shit in it and moved into the apartment. He always called it
his
shit
because essentially that's all it was. Little pieces of dumb
furniture, knick-knacks and small treasures, all of which symbolized the years
and failed attempts to keep his marriage to Annie alive. When they finally
decided to make things work for the kids - Billy being six and Claire being
three - it lasted all of six months. Six months of pure bliss as they bought
shit they didn't need, charged meals they couldn't afford, took trips that were
all marred by silly arguments and blowout fights in the car. Finally Bobby was
in the shower one morning when Annie opened the door and dropped the bomb. As
sad as it was, when Annie opened the door that morning, Bobby's first thought
had been,
please... don't want to have sex..
Even their sex life had
become a twisted routine to keep an image alive that had died long before their
first
whoops
that resulted in Bobby being born. Claire was supposed to
be the baby that brought the family together, but how the hell could an infant
fix a broken marriage? A part of Bobby hated himself each time that thought
went through his head, but those had been Annie's words, not his.

He clearly remembered that
conversation with her, right towards the end of their marriage.

"How can this not work? We
had another baby to make it work!"

"Annie, don't talk like
that. You make Claire sound... like an item or something."

"She's our daughter and we
had her so we could stay together..."

The words were harsh but they were
truthful. They both knew what they were doing when they hopped back into bed to
make another baby.

When it came time to fight or
negotiate about custody of the kids, Bobby called Annie and met her at a small
cafe between Ferry Creek and Fitchers. Fitchers was only a thirty minute drive
west of Ferry Creek and was the small town that Annie dreamed of. She still lived
in the house Bobby bought. Bobby told her there was no use in fighting over the
kids. They were happy in Fitchers. They had a house. School. Friends. He
wouldn't fight her, but he wanted to see his kids. That, and the rest of the
divorce, was surprisingly smooth. Even Bobby's lawyer, Timmy Nrash, an old high
school friend, told Bobby he felt bad taking money for the divorce.

Bobby paid him and even settled a
fair amount of money for Annie. His only request was that she wouldn't come
near the diner. Ever. It wasn't hers to mess with... and for all Bobby cared,
it wasn't his either.

Bobby survived on a large stock
option payout from an investment in a tech company based in California. He and
two college friends invested their saving and when the company was sold and
everyone made money. Bobby's friends went to California to become angel
investors and Annie told Bobby she was pregnant and that she wanted to stay in
North Carolina and buy a house.

Those were all memories now, but
they had crept their way to the front of Bobby's mind ever since his father, in
a medically induced state, made a pretty heavy confession.

Bobby had a brother.

For all Bobby knew, his father and
mother had one son and stopped there. His mother lost a short battle with breast
cancer and his father swore that he would never remarry. He dated two women and
both relationships ended after six months.

However, none of that mattered as
much as the truth did. And the truth was that he indeed did have a brother. He
had the proof spread out on the kitchen table. If that wasn't enough to handle,
his father
’
s dying wish was
to meet his other son before he died.

Bobby stood in the kitchen of his
apartment and looked out the small window over the town of Ferry Creek. It was
coming to life against the sunrise. The colors in the sky were beautiful and
the reflection bouncing off Mac Pond was just serene. The old apartment didn't
have much to offer in luxury but Bobby never considered himself to be a
luxurious man. The view, though, was worth any shortcoming.

He sipped his coffee and licked his
lips.

It was bitter. Not enough cream but
he didn't feel like adding more.

Bobby dumped the mug and walked to
the bathroom. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, then took a minute to
stare at himself in the mirror.

Today would be the day.

It would be the day he'd call.

His brother wasn't a hidden man,
not by any means. He, in fact, was on his way to becoming one of the richest
men in the country from what Bobby read. He was a real estate developer who
stuck to his guns through the economic downturn and ended up becoming a
billionaire because of it. He didn't fire a single employee. He purchased tons
of land and property. He held it, flipped it, sold it, did whatever he wanted
to do with it. All this information came from a business journal interview done
six months ago in the DC area, which meant Bobby's brother was close but not
nearly close enough.

Once he had that information, all
it took was a quick internet search to find his brother's office and even
better, his brother's cell phone number from a business card that been scanned
and uploaded on a real estate web site.

All Bobby needed to do was make the
call.

Bobby moved from the bathroom back
to the kitchen. He looked down at the papers and pictures on the kitchen table.

"Today," he whispered.

Down the steps and into the diner,
Bobby became business owner. He went through a back door and was hit with the
smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee. It made him lick his lips as he went to the
counter. The kitchen had an open view, a feature Bobby's father wanted so
patrons could see their food and talk to the cook.

"Hey, Richie, good
morning," Bobby called out.

Richie Alderbon looked up with a
rough face, rattlesnake eyes, and a head nod. He was only fifty years old but
looked about seventy. A long stint in the Army had hardened Richie's body,
mind, and soul. On his last tour in Iraq - the one that took him out of the
Army for good
–
he lost ten
of twelve men. Richie almost lost his leg. Fortunately all he suffered was an
obvious limp.

The bacon crackled.

The kitchen door flew open and
Peggie Brock came out with her hands behind her back, tying her apron. She
stared straight ahead like a warrior going to battle. Her rich blue eye shadow
and bright red lipstick gave her more of a clown appearance but she was the
heart and soul of The Pot Diner, a mother figure to everyone who stepped
through the doors.

"Morning, Peggie," Bobby
said.

"There you are," Peggie
said. "Thought you were maybe upstairs making that phone call of
yours."

"Today," Bobby said as he
leaned against the counter.

He glanced at the clock. Ten more
minutes until they were open. The front doors were already unlocked and anyone
could come in as they pleased. And they would. They always would.

"You said that
yesterday," Peggie said. "And the day before that. And the
day..."

A bell rang and a plate clanked.

"Get it while it's hot,"
Richie called out.

"What the hell is that?"
Bobby asked.

"Breakfast," Richie said.

"For who?"

"You," Peggie said.
"Don't think I don't know you're not eating in the morning."

"I eat," Bobby said.

Peggie grabbed the plate and put it
on the counter.

The bacon glistened from the warm
grease. The eggs were perfectly cooked, the edges just slightly darkened with
the bright yellow yolks begging to be broken with...

"Buttered toast," Richie
said.

Another plate came up and Peggie
took it.

She grabbed a mug and poured
coffee.

Before Bobby could take a breath,
there was a hot breakfast in front of him.

"Now eat it," Peggie
said. "You already paid for it."

"Thank you," Bobby said.

"Sure thing," Peggie
said. She smiled. "What are you thinking about?"

Bobby ate some toast. He swallowed
and said, "The usual shit."

"Like?"

"Oh, you know... Billy wants
to learn how to play drums. I'm the one who has to talk him out of it. I kind
of want to get the drums and send them to the house. Here, Annie, enjoy...
Claire has been sick with a little cold and Annie is making is seem like the girl
is deathly ill... and did I mention I have a dying father, and a brother who
I'm supposed to convince to come here?"

"The normal," Peggie said
and smiled.

A metal clanking sound echoed.

Bobby looked up and saw Richie
tapping a flask against the metal serving rack.

"Put that damn thing away,"
Peggie said. "All that does is bring out demons."

"Hides them," Richie said
as he tucked the flask away.

Bobby laughed and kept eating.

The food was damn good. The company
even better.

The first customer came just a few
minutes later. In the matter of ten minutes the counter filled up with the
regular customers. All sipping coffee, sharing stories about the weather,
traffic outside of town, and anything else that could have happened in Ferry
Creek from the previous day when they sat and talked. Most of them only sat
less than thirty minutes before leaving for their jobs or to begin scouring
Ferry Creek for the next good story to share the following morning. When Bobby
first took over the diner, it annoyed him to see so many people repeat the same
routine over and over. He wondered what kind of life that was to live... until
it finally connected with him.

It was a good life to live.

A damn good life at that.

With the right people, Richie
’
s cooking, and Peggie
’
s booming voice and big,
lipstick stained smile, no matter how bad of a day someone could have, it would
be cured at the teal-green round seats at the counter of The Pot Diner.

Bobby went into the kitchen and saw
Richie loading up the dishwasher, his face and eyes intense as he did so. No
matter what the man did he acted as though he was a surgeon, caring for someone
’
s life.

“
Let
me do this,
”
Bobby said.

“
No,
no, boss,
”
Richie said.
“
I like to keep it all moving.
”

Richie thought of the kitchen as
his fortress. He acted as if he was still in the Army. Bobby had a fear that
was reality of Richie
’
s
PTSD. Richie never admitted it, but Bobby did find out he saw a doctor to help
him with it. Bobby also promised himself once everything was settled with his
father he would give Richie some kind of raise. The diner didn
’
t make much money at all, but it
was a place that Ferry Creek counted on. And as much as Bobby didn
’
t want to admit it out loud, he
had fallen in love with the diner, and the people.

Bobby looked up at the clock and
sighed.

He had to check on his father soon.
He needed to make a phone call first.

Bobby sat in the old leather chair,
right at the edge, and stared at the computer screen. His cell phone sat before
him. He thought about all the things he could and would say to his brother. All
that sentimental, movie crap came to him, but he knew better. That wasn
’
t how the real world worked. You
didn
’
t just call someone
and tell them they were your brother and life would be perfect.

Especially with the man Bobby had
seen in pictures. Christ, this guy looked like his father. It was scary to see
the pictures. Bobby inherited his mother
’
s
looks.

Truth be told, Bobby was jealous.
Somewhere in his mind he pictured this perfect family, and if he couldn
’
t have had it with Annie, then
at least he could have bragged about it about himself. But that wasn
’
t the case at all. His mother
and father loved each other dearly, that was for sure. Cancer took his mother.
His father was about to die. Now he had a brother to deal with. The first thing
Bobby had asked when his father dropped this confession on him was when was
this other son born? His father smiled a weak smile and said in a hoarse voice,
“
I loved your mother
from the second I saw her, Bobby. My heart is hers, always. Never doubt that.
”