Second Chances in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #3)

4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A fter lunch, when the crowd had thinned out and the café had quieted down, Angie drove over to the town hall, where she stood in line at the clerk’s office for an application for a food truck license. The fact that it would only be operational for the warm summer months appealed to her. It wouldn’t be too much more to take on, and she’d have all winter to plan for it. There was plenty of time.

Three people stood ahead of her in line. Hopefully they weren’t all there for the food truck application. The person at the counter stepped away and the clerk called, “Next!”

She hoped this wouldn’t take too long. She needed to get back to work. As she stood there, she checked her phone repeatedly, scanning for any messages from her staff. There were none.

“Evangeline,” said an unmistakable voice behind her.

Angie closed her eyes, choosing to ignore the way the sound of his voice made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. She turned and came face to face with Tom.

“Tom.”

Why did he always seem to turn up? Were the Fates conspiring against her? Granted, he wasn’t too shabby to look at. His hair was close-cropped and his beard neatly trimmed. His solid, muscular biceps suggested he never missed arm day at the gym. One of the tattoos on his arm was the official seal of the United States Army, a nod to his military service. She tried to avoid meeting his gaze. Up close, she had a front-row seat to those magnificent eyes of his: hazel, an interesting mixture of green with striations of amber. If she stared long enough, she feared she’d get lost in them. Annoyed with herself, she tried to dismiss those thoughts from her head. And the best way to do that was to show irritation.

“Are you here for the permit for the food truck?” he asked.

“I am. You?”

“Yes. It’s a great idea. Figured I’d better get down here and apply.” He regarded her. “I guess you had the same idea.”

“Yes, Sherlock.”

He grinned.

“It’ll be pretty crowded if everyone and their brother shows up at the beach with a food truck next summer,” she said.

“That’s why there’ll be a limit. Five.”

She was about to blurt, That’s it? but reined it in, not wanting him to know she was unaware of this stipulation. No sense in giving him any kind of advantage.

“I’ve got my one hundred words ready. ‘Why I think I should be granted a truck license.’” He patted his front pocket.

“Me too,” she said quickly. One hundred words? How had she missed that? Here she was with only one person ahead of her in line, and she now had to come up with a reason for why she thought she was the best person to operate a food truck on the beach? Her annoyance rose.

“Are you perpetually ticked off, or is it a day-to-day thing with you?” he asked, grinning.

She would not oblige him with a reply. Curtly, she said, “May the best man win.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Or woman.”

With a heavy sigh, she turned and faced forward, waiting for her turn. He chuckled behind her. Had he been placed on this earth to irritate the hell out of her? To be the stone in her shoe? Sometimes, it seemed that way. He was a charmer, of that there was no doubt. But she was not the type to fall prey to those kinds of charms. She’d learned the hard way. One terrible marriage at nineteen to a bad boy, all because he had a motorcycle, had cured her of that.

When it was her turn, she was handed an application and told to fill it out and bring it back with the fee. There was no way she was leaving the building without handing it in, so she took it to one of the wooden counters that lined the back wall. The two pens on the counter were dry.

She walked back to the clerk, who was now shooting the breeze with Tom. She scooted up next to Tom until their arms were touching, and a tingle went through her, causing her eyes to widen. She cut them off mid-conversation and said, “I need a pen.”

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to get back in line, Angie,” the clerk said sternly.

She looked up at Tom, who regarded her with amusement, and said, “Tom doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t,” Tom agreed.

“Thanks.”

The clerk pulled a pen from a box on his side of the counter, muttering something about rules, and handed it to her.

With as sweet a smile as she could muster, Angie said, “Thank you.”

She filled out the application quickly. The usual questions of name, address, et cetera, she filled out as if on automatic. But the last page asked for a hundred-word essay about why she thought her food truck would add value to the Lavender Bay beach community. She’d hated having to write essays back in high school, and nothing had changed since then.

Whistling interrupted her thoughts as Tom parked himself about three feet away from her. As she’d done, he filled in the form quickly, and when it came to the last part, he pulled a piece of lined paper out of his pocket, unfolded it, and laid it down on the counter in front of him, copying it onto the application form.

She was still gathering her thoughts, still having not written one of the one hundred words required, when Tom, still whistling, picked up his things, looked at her, and winked. “Good luck, Evangeline.”

“Yeah, you too, Tom.”

Once he was gone, she found it much easier to concentrate on what needed to be written, trying not to think about how his presence left her feeling slightly undone. She returned her attention to the essay and pushed Tom far out of her mind.

“What are you doing here?” Louise Cook asked the following morning, when Angie stopped by her mother’s house on Heather Lane.

“Good to see you too, Mom,” Angie said good-naturedly. “I had to take the morning off, thought I’d stop by.” The previous day, she’d forgotten to cancel the mammogram and was now committed. She wasn’t in her mother’s house five minutes when perspiration began to line her brow. “Mom, what do you have your thermostat set at? Cremate? It’s roasting in here.”

“I’d rather be hungry than cold,” Louise said.

“Maybe you could turn it down a degree or two? I feel like I should put on my bathing suit,” Angie said.

Her mother arched an eyebrow. “Do you own a bathing suit, Evangeline?”

“Actually, no I do not.”

The conversation pivoted.

“Why did you need to take the morning off?” Louise asked.

Angie rolled her eyes. “A stupid mammogram. I meant to cancel it yesterday but now it’s too late,” she said with a huff. “As I’m forty, Dr. Acker suggested I go for one.”

“It’s a good idea,” Louise said seriously. “You’ll have a baseline they can use to compare all your future mammograms.”

“Oh goodie,” Angie said. This was one of those things she filed under “time suck.” If it had nothing to do with baking or running the café, she wasn’t interested.

“Don’t be like that. These things are important. And what did I always tell you when you were kids: Sometimes, we have to do things we don’t want to do. Or like to do. There’s coffee there, by the way,” Louise added.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll have a cup.” Angie walked over to the coffeemaker, took a mug off the stand, and poured herself a cup. She joined her mother at the table.

“As I was saying,” Louise continued, “these tests aren’t for the fun of it. Early detection is the best weapon against cancer.”

“I suppose,” Angie conceded. Theoretically, she understood the importance of mammograms but reality-wise, it was a major hassle. “Does it hurt?”

“More of a discomfort.”

Changing the subject, she said, “What’s new around here?”

“If you joined us once in a while for Sunday morning coffee, you’d know,” Louise said.

Every Sunday, a gathering was held at her mother’s house: Maureen, Nadine, sometimes Maureen’s husband Allan and all the grandchildren. Nadine’s only child, Emma, was home from college as well as Maureen’s youngest, Ashley. Aunt Gail would be there, along with Esther and Suzanne and her kids.

“I don’t have the time.” Angie said remembering Esther’s comment about this phrase being her anthem.

Her mother tilted her head slightly and smirked. “Really? Come on. No one is that busy.”

Angie bristled. “Well, I am. Owning your own business means eighty-hour work weeks.”

Her mother sighed. “We never see you. You’re missing out on so much.” When Angie didn’t reply to that, Louise continued, “Family and relationships are the most important thing.”

“I must have been home sick from school the day they taught that,” Angie joked.

“I hope someday you realize it before it’s too late.”