Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Holland
I step into The Zesty Lemon, a charming café in Shelbyville apparently renowned for its French country ambiance. At least that’s what Kat said when she texted me yesterday to push for lunch today. This restaurant is new, as are several other boutique shops along the main street through town, and I make a note to spend a day walking through them.
I’m enveloped by the inviting aromas of fresh baguettes, buttery croissants and the faint hint of garlic and herbs from the quiches and tarts lined up in a glass case at the checkout register. For some reason, the scent of warm food immediately puts me at ease, because yes… I’m nervous to sit down and talk to Kat. I expect tougher questions are coming than what I got from Wade last night.
The restaurant is a delightful blend of rustic charm and elegant touches. The walls are painted a soft, buttery yellow, adorned with white wainscoting. Framed prints of lavender fields, quaint villages and charming farmhouses dot the walls, each one carefully chosen to enhance the café’s theme. The tables are set in small, intimate groupings, each one draped with a checkered tablecloth in cheerful shades of blue and white. Floating shelves on the wall are laden with teapots, ceramic roosters and other knickknacks, but not in an overly cluttered way that makes it seem too busy.
In all, it’s a lovely spot and I’m guessing the food will be pretty damn good.
Kat is already seated at a small table near the window covered in lacy curtains. She waves enthusiastically as soon as she spots me. I make my way over, smiling at my friend, despite the jumble of sentimentality swirling inside.
“Hey, Holland!” Kat stands to give me a tight hug. “I’m so glad we’re doing this.”
“Me too,” I reply and realize, I genuinely mean it. Even through my trepidation over the imminent questions, I’ve missed this woman. “It’s been way too long.”
A waitress appears and pours us some waters, but Kat is insistent I not even bother to look at the menu. “Trust me… the quiche Lorraine and the strawberry walnut spinach salad are to die for.”
Smiling up at the waitress, I hand her the menu I hadn’t even cracked. “Looks like that’s what I’ll have.”
“Same for me,” Kat says brightly. When we’re alone, she launches right in. “How’s it feel to be back in Shelbyville?”
“Strange,” I admit with a chuckle. “But also kind of nice.”
“This place has grown a bit since you left.” She looks around at the nearly filled restaurant. “And yet it’s still the same old Shelbyville where nothing has changed.”
“Some things have changed,” I say, looking at her pointedly over my water glass rim. “Like the Mardraggons and the Blackburns are actually friends.”
I’m not intentionally forestalling when I’ll inevitably need to answer for my actions, but I am genuinely curious to learn more of these developments.
Kat snorts. “I would not say our families are even remotely close to being friends, but Gabe and I sure have made a bridge of sorts.”
“You told me all about how you two connected at dinner the other night but what’s the full story on Ethan and Alaine Mardraggon?”
“No real story between them. Just a drunken one-night stand, but Alaine got pregnant, went back to France and had Ethan’s daughter in secret.”
Trey had mentioned as much and that Alaine had died of cancer. “How did he find out?”
“An attorney showed up at the farm after Alaine died about three and a half months ago. She left instructions that Ethan was to be told of his daughter’s existence and that she wanted him to raise her.”
There’s no stopping my jaw from dropping. I knew Alaine Mardraggon but not all that well. I’m not shocked Ethan slept with her because alcohol causes people to do stupid things, but I’m stunned he lost all that time with his daughter. “Sylvie looks like she’s around ten or eleven,” I guess, trying to add up the time that was missed.
“Just turned ten.”
A sharp twinge catches me in the center of my chest, sorrow for the little girl. “Jesus… that had to be so hard for her. Ethan too, I’m sure, but that poor little girl… losing her mom and going to a strange family.”
Kat’s eyes flash with ire. “Not just any family. She was going to the Blackburns and the Mardraggons had been filling her head with hate. At least Lionel and Rosemund were. Sylvie was a pistol when she came to us, but it was actually Marcie who got her to give us a chance.”
A discussion ensues about Marcie and I’m told all about Ethan falling hard for the sassy redhead I met at dinner the other night. And now, they’re a ready-made family with Sylvie.
“How are the Mardraggons handling this new dynamic with Ethan having custody?”