Second Chance (Cold Springs Series Book 1) (3 page)

“How come he gets to choose?” the girls started in.

“Because I said so!” Theresa snapped as Mike’s hand came down hard across Theresa’s face.  “Mikey, please.  Now eat nicely and we’ll watch a movie later, okay?”

“PB and Js on fine china.” Sam couldn’t help it. She met Theresa’s look of scorn with a wide smirk.

Sam held her sister’s glare as long as possible but was the first to look away. 

They sat down at the table.

“So you’re taking over Aunt Jean’s diner.”  There was that look on her face, like Theresa thought it was a crazy idea.

“I am.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I have a lot of work ahead.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”  Theresa cut her sandwich with a knife.

“You’re right.  It is a lot of work.”  She’d already submitted her business plan and got the startup loan she needed to stock the diner and do minor repairs.  Plus she had rolled her 401K over to an IRA.  She didn’t want to touch it, but it was there if need be.

“Aunt Jean was a wonderful person, God rest her soul, but she was no businesswoman.  She didn’t have a clue what she was doing.”

“She ran it for over thirty years,” Sam was quick to defend.  “I should think she had some idea what she was doing.”

“Yes, and she barely scraped by.  She never had a vacation her entire life.”

“Maybe she didn’t want one.” 

Theresa laughed.  “Who wouldn’t want or need a vacation?” 

Sam did her best to maintain composure. Theresa and Shawn went to a five-star resort every winter.  Mother told her about them every year. 

“Don’t get mad, Sam.” Theresa touched her arm.   “All I’m saying is that you should have thought this through.  You don’t know the first thing about running a business.  I don’t want to see you fail, but frankly, I can’t see anything else happening with this.”

“She can get her old job back,” Mother added.

“Well, that’s good, at least.”

Sam hated that she felt the need to defend herself.  “I won’t need to get my old job back.  I will make this work.  You’ll see.”

This time, Theresa placed both hands on her arm.  “If you want to come back to Cold Springs permanently, I think that’s great.  I’d love to have you close by.  We all would.  I just don’t see this diner as a viable prospect.  You could get yourself a nice office job in the city and commute.  That would be a whole lot less stressful.  Don’t you want less stress?”

Sam wanted to ask Theresa how she knew what amount of stress she could handle, but she held her tongue.  She hadn’t finished her sandwich yet, but she suddenly felt full and threw the container in the trash and stood.  “I’m going back to the diner and do some work.”

“So soon?” Mother asked.  “You just got here.”

“Well, like I said, I have a lot of work to do.  It’s not going to get done by itself.”

“Why don’t you do the sensible thing?”  Theresa called to her as she made her way out the door. “Sell the place and share the money with us.”

Sam stopped cold in her tracks. Mother and Theresa had inherited nothing from Aunt Jean’s estate. Aunt Jean had left everything in her bank account to Burt and all her possessions and the diner to Sam.

Sam couldn’t deny that the situation was awkward at best. Sam would have thought Aunt Jean would leave
something
to Mother, being that they were sisters. And to Theresa? Perhaps Aunt Jean was like the majority and thought Theresa already had everything. Nevertheless, perhaps Sam should have fought the will, demanded that the diner and all Jean’s possessions be sold at auction and the proceeds split evenly.

But she hadn’t. She wanted this diner. She wanted to make a new life here in Cold Springs where everyone knew everyone and people could be trusted.

And she wanted to think the best of her family. Even Theresa.

Silently, she let herself out and went back to the diner.

CHAPTER TWO

Sam’s blood was boiling by the time she got back to the diner.  The more she thought about her perceived obligation to sell the diner and split the money with them, the more irritated she became.  She had every single right to inherit this diner.  It was what Aunt Jean wanted. Theresa and Mother hadn’t even spent any time with her. Like the time she came down with pneumonia, who had been the one to fly all the way back here and take care of her? Not Theresa and Mother, that was for sure.

Sell it and split the money with them!  Theresa had to get the last dig in.  Every.  Single. Time. 

Sam didn’t know what it was about her sister that angered her.  Maybe because she was the favorite in their mother’s eyes.  Sam had grown up under the scrutiny of a mother who expected both daughters to be track stars or homecoming queens, and when Sam didn’t deliver…Theresa rose to the top.  Maybe that’s why she never read her mother’s books.

Letting herself in the front door of the diner, Sam had trouble shutting it again and had to body slam it to get it to line up correctly to be locked.  She’d have to hire a contractor to take a look at that. 

She remembered the man who had phoned her cell earlier.  Ian Woods.  If Burt recommended him, he was probably reliable.  Maybe she shouldn’t have given him the cold shoulder.  It was just that all she could think of was the Ian Woods she’d gone through school with.  How embarrassing would it be if he turned out to be one and the same?  Facing him after his rejection, even after all these years, would still be humiliating. 

Sam could still recall every detail of that night so long ago.  She’d saved for months to buy a prom dress, and rehearsed for weeks how she would ask Ian to accompany her.  She’d almost passed out when he’d said yes.  Just thinking about it brought back a rush of nerves.  She waited hours for him to come by and pick her up.  Theresa laughed it up when she found out Sam had been stood up.  She’d reiterated that the whole thing had been set up as a joke on her, that someone like Ian Woods would want nothing to do with the geek girl brainiac. 

Despite all the years that had gone by, if Ian Woods was one and the same, Cold Springs was awfully small, and it was almost inevitable that they would cross paths, especially when she reopened the diner. 

Bypassing the kitchen that seriously needed cleaning, she hurried upstairs to the apartment.  Mother had offered her spare bedroom if Sam wanted to stay there while she fixed up the upstairs apartment.  Sam appreciated the offer but had refused.   Living with Mother, even temporarily, especially with Theresa always intruding, was not going to work.  She shouldn’t feel so irritated, but she couldn’t help it.  Those two fed off each other and had a perfect way of pressing her buttons, even if they didn’t mean to.  This was why she seldom came home to visit…and now she was here for good.

She let herself in the apartment and shut the door.  All the walls were painted white and were still in fairly good condition despite the dust.  Built-in shelves and drawers lined one side of the one-room apartment.  She stared at the salt and pepper shakers of various sizes and shapes which cluttered the shelves.  Aunt Jean’s customers were always giving her shaker sets over the years.  She had some from Cancun, a pair of slot machine shakers from Las Vegas, even a set replicating the Great Wall of China that a customer had given to her upon returning from a business trip overseas.  The memories were too close, offering no place to run.

There was an attic crawl space.  She could box everything up and temporarily put Aunt Jean’s things in there for a while.  At least for now so she wouldn’t feel so guilty, not as guilty as she would if she got rid of everything.  

She stepped into the bedroom.  Aunt Jean’s bed was made.  A single twin bed.  Photos of friends at the diner lined one dresser.  There was another of her mother when they were little.  By the nightstand were framed photos of various sizes of her and Burt.  They looked so happy together. 

Sam had no right removing any of these things without Burt’s permission.  She thought about calling him, but it seemed too personal and felt she should do it in person.  She quickly hurried downstairs, eager to be away from Aunt Jean’s personal things. It was like she were still alive up there.  Like Sam was intruding.

Which was certainly a problem Sam hadn’t foreseen.  She had thought living upstairs would be fine.  Just an empty apartment she could make her own.  She hadn’t expected it to be so alive with a living memory of everything that was now gone.

Perhaps coming home had been a mistake.  Tears stung the back of her eyes as she jumped in her vehicle and backed into the street.  She didn’t belong here.  Were Aunt Jean alive, she’d have the right words Sam needed to hear.  She’d fix things, or at least reassure her.

It hadn’t taken more than five minutes to reach Burt’s house, a small ranch with a separate two-story detached garage. Dusk was quickly settling.  Sam hadn’t realized that she’d spent so much time at the apartment, but she had spent more time than expected picking up her car and even more at Mother’s and admitting she was now exhausted was an understatement. She shouldn’t have come here tonight.

Burt had every light in the house on, which was odd considering he usually worried about conserving electricity.              

She turned her vehicle off and hopped out, knowing Burt never bothered locking his door.  She didn’t knock, just let herself in unannounced. Knowing Burt, he would scold her for knocking, saying she wasn’t a guest, that only strangers knocked.

Sam heard talking and stopped in her tracks.

“Did you meet her yet?” Burt asked

“No, and I don’t intend to.” 

“Why not?”

“What’s the point?” came the familiar voice.  It was not Burt but the voice that had called her from the train.  Ian. 

It was rude and presumptuous to just barge in here and assume Burt had no one over.  No one had been parked in his driveway.

“Look,” came Burt’s voice.  “Every man’s got to have somebody.”

Was he talking about Jean?

Sam backed up, started to leave when she felt something move under her foot.  A cat yowled, nearly scaring the wits out of her.  Burt and his guest came running.

“Uh, hi.  Sorry about the cat.  I uh, stepped on him…or her.”  She looked around, but the cat had run off.  “I hope he’s okay.”

“He’s all right.”  Burt waved his hand.  “C’mon in and sit down.  You remember Ian?”

Ian.  That Ian Woods.  Of course, it was the same Ian. How many Ian Woods did she think lived in Cold Springs? Sam smiled probably the dorkiest smile she could muster.  Yup. Just like being sixteen again.

He wore jeans, ripped at the knee, and a white T-shirt.  His face—five o’clock shadow—had a chiseled jawline and thick, dark hair that hadn’t begun to recede yet. And his eyes, the same ice blue as when he was seventeen. Only he wasn’t seventeen. He was older.  He looked different.  Serious. 

Sam backed up against Burt’s refrigerator.

“Hi, Sam.”

“Hi” was all Sam could mutter.  Gone was the boyish grin.  She expected some sort of sarcastic remark from him but was relieved when none came.  Ian was just unusually quiet.  Deathly quiet.

Burt was headed toward the living room.  Sam stopped him before he could disappear.  “I can’t stay.  I just wanted to ask you about Aunt Jean’s things.”

Burt turned toward her, his expression troubled.  She felt as if she’d said the wrong thing and felt immediately guilty.  “What do you want to do with everything?”

“It’s your place now.”  He turned and continued on to the living room.  “I’ve got TV to watch.”

His tone was sharp.  Avoidance.  That was why Aunt Jean’s things were still there.  Sam should have known.  Of course, she’d known.  What else had she expected?

“Well, maybe I’ll just box things up,” she called into the living room.  “You can go through them when you’re ready, okay?”

“Dammit, I told you, they’re not my things!”

Sam jumped back, feeling as if Burt had slapped her.  Rarely had she heard him swear…well, except when there was a punchline attached to it.  He’d certainly never sworn at her.  She realized where it had come from, that it wasn’t Burt, but grief talking, but it still hurt. 

Sam started to leave, realized that Ian’s gaze was on her and tried to avoid making eye contact.  “Well, I suppose I could take her clothes to a thrift store or something.”

“We can put them in the back shed.”  Ian motioned toward the back of the house.  He caught the door as she opened it and followed her outside.  “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’ll have time in the morning.  I’ll help you box and load up everything.  We can use my truck.”

Ian’s voice was like warm chocolate, and Sam felt warmth rush to the pit of her stomach.  Sam was both shocked and surprised by his eagerness to help.  She wondered how Ian had gotten to know Burt.  Sam had known Burt her whole life but she’d never known Ian to follow in Burt’s or Jean’s lives. The only place Sam had ever known Ian was from school.

She wondered how Ian’s life had unfolded since high school. Obviously, he hadn’t left Cold Springs which was a fine path to take with his life, although she couldn’t help but feel a little envious, which was stupid. 

She didn’t even know where that had come from.  No one had forced her to leave Cold Springs or forced her to lose touch with the people she grew up with.  She only had herself to blame for that.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“You barely know me.”

“I know Burt.” He was quick to answer. “I know he wouldn’t want Jean’s things thrown out, and I know he certainly thinks a lot of you.”

Sam didn’t see any point in arguing. She needed the assistance, and Ian was right. Burt wouldn’t want Jean’s things thrown out. Maybe in time he would want to go through them himself. If they were stored in his shed, he’d have his own timing and he’d have no rush to do it. Maybe it would make things easier on him.

“All right.  Tomorrow then, if you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

“No trouble at all.”

“Okay, well. Thank you.”

She got in her vehicle and drove back to the diner.  All the while, she wondered how odd it was that someone would offer to help when they barely knew her. Plus there was nothing in it for him. No one ever did anything like that in the city.

Of course, Cold Springs had always been friendlier than New York City. That was one of the reasons why Sam wanted to come back. There was no personality in the city. Nothing was personal. Here everyone had their nose in everyone’s business, and while it was often annoying, sometimes it was just…nice. In the ten years she’d been away, Sam had missed nice. Nice felt good again.

It was dark by the time she let herself in and made it back upstairs to the apartment.  She had every light turned on and it still didn’t feel right.  She was an intruder here. On one hand, it was as if Aunt Jean would come around the corner any minute and welcome her with open arms into her home, and on the other hand, Sam was an intruder and had no right messing around in Jean’s things, moving and rearranging—certainly not taking her things to Goodwill. Even though Aunt Jean had left everything to Sam, it still felt wrong.

Shoulders slumped, she looked around the room.  There was no way she was sleeping in Aunt Jean’s bed. Not that she had died in it. Sadly, Aunt Jean had suffered her heart attack while talking to the customers she loved downstairs in her diner. Nevertheless, Aunt Jean’s bed was too personal. The entire bedroom made up the way it was, was too personal. She would sleep on the loveseat in the little living room.

Making sure the door was locked, she kicked off her shoes, quickly changed into yoga pants and a T-shirt, and found a blanket and extra pillow in the top of a closet in the hallway. She had expected the most sleepless, uncomfortable night of her life with her feet hanging off the end of the loveseat.  She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

~ * ~

True to his word, Ian’s truck was waiting in front of the diner first thing the next morning.  He drove a beat-up Ford F-150, an older model with rust taking over much of the blue paint.

“Thanks for offering to help.” Sam held the door for him.  The breeze had a brisk chill to it, sending cold straight to her bones. She would have to shovel the sidewalk this winter, she suddenly thought. The thought was an unwelcome one.

“It’s no problem.  I wasn’t doing much today.”

“How do you know Burt so well?” she blurted as he passed by.  She decided the only way to know was to bluntly ask. That and she felt a bit overprotective of Burt now that she was back in town, or maybe now that Aunt Jean was no longer around. Or maybe a combination of the two.

Ian shrugged.  “I started going to the diner before…before I left town.”

Sam got the distinct feeling that Ian didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t know why, just something she picked up on. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“No, thanks.” He went to pull the door shut and the knob came off in his hand.  “Well, that needs to be fixed.”

Sam gave a surprised start.

“Good thing you know somebody.”  He flashed her a cocky grin.  “I’ll get my tools.”