Alexander
We descended to the ground floor, Palmer providing more historical details that would probably be useful for marketing once the development was complete. If I decided to pursue it.
Outside, Palmer locked the main entrance and turned to face me.ve had three other interested parties. Two want to tear everything down, and one wants to convert it to luxury condos exclusively. You’re the first to talk about preserving the character.
11
“The character is what makes it valuable.”
“I like you, Mr. Knight.” He extended his hand again. assessment, we’ll talk numbers.”
Get me those reports within two weeks, and assuming they support your
We shook, and Palmer climbed into his Mercedes with a final wave. I stood there for a moment, evaluating the building with fresh eyes.
Solid investment. Good location. Owner willing to negotiate. All the pieces aligned.
Except I’d taken this project primarily as an excuse to be
in
Connecticut.
***
I pulled into the café parking lot at 5:30, the sun hanging low on the horizon. The familiar bell chimed as I entered Harper’s
Haven, but the woman behind the counter wasn’t Madison.
Young, maybe mid–twenties, with a bright smile that faltered slightly when she took in my suit.
“Welcome to Harper’s Haven! What can I get you?”
‘I scanned the café, searching for Madison among the scattered customers. “Black coffee. Large.”
“Coming right up!”
She moved to the espresso machine while I continued my visual sweep. No Madison. Just regular customers nursing their drinks, a few tapping away at laptops, one reading a paperback in the corner.
Where was she?
“Here you go.” The girl set the coffee on the counter. “$3.75.”
I handed her a twenty. “Is Madison working today?”
Her smile dimmed a fraction. “She left early. Family stuff.”
Family stuff. Right.
I dropped the twenty in the tip jar and grabbed the coffee, heading for the door before she could offer change. Outside, the evening air carried that crisp Connecticut smell, all trees and fresh cut grass.
I sat in my car for longer than necessary, staring at the untouched coffee in my cupholder.
Where was Madison if she wasn’t at the café? The question nagged at me. She’d left early. Family stuff, the barista had said.
Family stuff meant she could be anywhere. Her mother, maybe. Or Christopher’s place.
I pushed that thought away before it could fully form.
She could be at home.
My phone rang, cutting through my thoughts. Anthony’s name flashed on the screen.
I answered. “Hello?”
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“How’s Connecticut treating you?” Anthony’s voice came through far too cheerfully.
I kept my eyes on the café window. “Fine. Why?”
“Just checking on my favorite brooding CEO. Also, I’m in Connecticut too.”
I straightened in my seat. “You’re here? Now?”
“Yep. Medical outreach program at the community center downtown. Same one I did last time, remember? The one where I ran into your mysterious ex–assistant who you’re definitely not obsessed with.”
“I’m not obsessed.”
“Sure.” Anthony laughed. “Look, I’m wrapping up here in about an hour. Want to grab dinner? I can grill you about your pathetic stalking attempts in person.”
“I wasn’t stalking. And Dinner sounds good.”
“There’s an Italian place called Mario’s. Great food, family–owned. Meet me there at six?”
I checked my watch. Five fifteen. “Fine.”
“See you at six.”
He hung up before I could respond.
I sat there for another ten minutes, watching customers come and go.
“This is pathetic,” I muttered, starting the car.
Mario’s was easy to find, the kind of place where families gathered and everyone seemed to know each other. I parked and headed inside, scanning the crowd for Anthony.
He waved from a corner booth, already nursing what looked like a beer. I slid in across from him.
“You look like hell,” he observed cheerfully.
“Thanks. You look like you spent the day with sick people.”
“I did. It’s called being a doctor.” He signaled the waitress. “Beer?
“Whiskey.”
“Rough day?”
“You could say that.”
The waitress appeared, young and perky. “What can I get you folks?”
“Whiskey, neat,” I said. “And whatever you recommend for dinner”
“Our special tonight is chicken marsala. It’s amazing.”
“Fine.”
She turned to Anthony. “And for you, Dr. Williams?”
“The usual, Carla. You know what I like.”
She blushed slightly. “Of course. Coming right up!”
I raised an eyebrow at Anthony after she left. “The usual? How often are you in Connecticut?”
“Once a month for the medical program. Been doing it for three months now.” He grinned. “The food’s good, what can I say?”
“Uh huh.”
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“Don’t deflect. We’re here to talk about your disaster of a day.” He leaned forward. “Did you actually talk to Madison?”
“Briefly.”
“Briefly,” Anthony repeated, drawing the word out. “That’s your entire update?”
“That’s it.”
“Riveting.” He took a sip of his beer. “Next, you’ll tell me you discussed the weather.”
“We didn’t discuss anything. She made it clear she wanted me to leave.”
“And you left?”
“Eventually.”
Anthony laughed. “You’re like a dog with a bone. Stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
The waitress returned with my whiskey and Anthony’s usual, whatever that was. Looked like lasagna. She set the plates down with practiced efficiency, smiled at Anthony in a way that suggested familiarity, and disappeared again.
“So,” Anthony said, cutting into his lasagna. “The medical program’s going well.”
I took a drink of whiskey, welcoming the burn. “That’s what you want to talk about? Your medical program?”
“Why not? It’s more interesting than watching you mope about Madison.” He gestured with his fork. “We’ve been doing monthly outreach clinics. Basic health screenings, vaccinations, and chronic disease management. The community’s really responsive.”
“Good for you.”
“It is good for me. And good for them.” He paused, chewing. “Actually ran into your Madison’s mother at one of the clinics. She .was there for a routine checkup.” Anthony’s expression turned thoughtful. “Seemed healthy. Happy. Mentioned her daughter runs a café in town.”
“Did she mention anything else?”
“Like what? Whether her daughter’s dating someone? Whether she has a secret family hidden away? Who was the boy with Madison’s mother?” He grinned. “You really are obsessed.”
I glared at him.
“Look,” Anthony continued, his tone softening. “If you want answers, ask Madison directly. Stop skulking around Connecticut like some kind of corporate spy.”
“I’m not skulking. I have legitimate business here.”
“Right. The real estate project Leo conveniently needed you to personally oversee.” He didn’t bother hiding his skepticism.” How’s that going?”
“Fine. Met with the owner today. Property has potential.”
“And Madison?”
“What about her?”
“Did you see her today?”
“I saw her near the grocery store in the morning and chatted briefly. And in the evening, I went to the café. She wasn’t there.”
Anthony studied me for a long moment. “You know what I think?
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“I think you’re terrified.”
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I took another drink. “Of what?”
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“Of actually confronting whatever happened between you two. Of finding out she really has moved on. Of discovering she’s happy without you.” He leaned forward. “You can evaluate properties and conduct business all you want, but eventually you’ll have to face her.”
“I faced her yesterday and today.”
“That’s not facing her. That’s cowardice.” (1
The word stung more than it should have. “What do you suggest I do? Force her to talk to me?”
“Maybe. Or maybe give her space and respect her decision.” He shrugged. “Either way, you can’t keep doing this halfway thing. It’s pathetic.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
