Recap of Chapter 29: Facing a Christmas alone in his cabin, Martin contacted his best friend, Fred, and they agreed to spend the holiday together. The visit took a turn when they began to look back into the past. A deeply buried secret was about to be revealed. And, although Fred warned him that things said out loud couldn’t be unsaid, the conversation took a dark turn.
Finally able to relax after the busy holiday season, Penny was enjoying a guilt-free day for herself. Tomorrow she’d have to wrestle all the Christmas decorations into storage, but today she was planted in a window at the Bread Lounge at 11 am, sipping a decadent Irish coffee piled high with rich whipped cream, and making a list. For a change, this list wasn’t about menu changes or staff schedules at the Lucky Penny. This list was about planning her future. It was such a long time in survival mode that she hadn’t thought about her personal goals. Moving and starting the business had stripped her of all creativity. Starting over is exhaustive work. But now, with a successful busy season behind her, she was ready to start thinking about herself again—about her personal goals and what she really wanted.
She tapped the pen on the pad of paper, thinking. What would the next five years have in store for Penny? The restaurant and bar were going well—turning a profit and becoming more and more popular with each month. She couldn’t help but have pride in the pub’s success. Especially since introducing home-cooked options and catering to the rhythm of the town—group meetings and the ebb and flow of school schedules. It seemed that the locals and tourists alike enjoyed down-home cuisine—dishes that made them think of home. She couldn’t count how many customers exclaimed with utter delight, “I haven’t had this in years!” So she could tick the box on that subject. Continue doing what she was doing—no major changes.
“She wondered if Matthew had similar ideas about the future and if she was part of his plans.”
After upending and reinventing her life, the first step toward feeling alive had been Matthew. Penny couldn’t prevent the smile that crept onto her face at the thought of him. Handsome and attentive, skilled and helpful, he was a great guy who featured largely in her plans. The big test had been how he stood by her side with the whole situation of the past bursting into the present. The online trolls and the bad press threatened to undo all her hard work of reinventing herself, but there he was, being helpful and supportive, not to mention loving. It didn’t hurt that he was hands-down the best-looking man she’d ever seen. A highlight reel played in her head featuring those steamy nights… and mornings they shared. She hid her smirk behind the tall mug and gazed out the window. This was not the time to get lost in those kinds of thoughts, especially since he was still in New York. Then, she was reminded that he was returning in two days’ time, which gave her list new meaning. She needed to plan a spectacular reunion that would last until morning… maybe some good wine and a delicious cheese and fruit plate. Maybe chocolate-dipped strawberries and some whipped cream. She took another sip and wiped the whipped cream off her upper lip. Never mind the food, how about some massage oils and a whole lot of nakedness?
She sighed and forced her mind back to the task at hand. The idea was to think of her life over the next five years. She hated being a walking cliché, but women have to think of their biological clock. As independent-minded as she was, if she wanted to become a mother, it should happen in the next five years—seven to the outside. She wondered if Matthew had similar ideas about the future and if she was part of his plans. He might not even have a plan—at least he hadn’t expressed one to her. She decided that information could wait to come out organically—she certainly wasn’t going to push it. His texts while he was in New York were daily, and full of sentiment. All were loving and encouraging, so there was that. She had no reason to feel like a temporary fixture in his life. She sighed. Once she focused on Matthew, all other plans to make a list flew away. She looked down at the pad of paper. She had drawn a box around Matthew’s name and gone over it many times, making deep grooves in the paper. Subconsciously, he must feature largely in her plans. Just then, her phone pinged. It was a text from Matthew. “Two days and counting. I cannot wait to pull you close.” As she was typing a response, another text came through, this time with a photo—a selfie where he was smiling wickedly. “I’m coming to get you.” Biting her lip, she packed up to leave. The list would have to wait.
On her way home, she saw on her cell that her dad had called. She waited to call him back until she had safely made it through the bar without being seen, and into her apartment. Then, Gus needed attention and to be fed, and her plants needed watering. She decided to fill the can and talk to her dad while tending to her chores. When he picked up, she could tell something was bothering him, but she couldn’t get it out of him. He claimed he was just checking on her and making sure that she and Chloe had patched things up, but she could tell something was on his mind. She assured him that Chloe was in good standing and that everything was going just fine in her world. Try as she might, she couldn’t get him to tell her what was on his mind. He did tell her that he spent Christmas with Uncle Fred, but he didn’t expand on the visit. Maybe something
happened between them or he got some
bad news. Maybe something to do with
Uncle Fred’s health?
“You sure you’re okay, Dad?” she asked, genuine concern creeping up her spine.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, honey. I’m just wallowing around here in my cabin. You know, us old guys getting together to rehash the past. It just put me in a mood.”
“Well, you know, if you get lonely over there, you can always come here and keep me company.”
“I know, sweetie, and I appreciate that. You know I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad.” She hung up with a frown, wondering what was going on.
