“With homemade pastries and cookies, too,” Annabelle added.
Abby nodded. “I know the island book clubbers would love to have another place to meet, and the Tuesday-morning ladies’ group could meet there, too. Heck, we’re all so desperate for a great café that I’m sure it would be mobbed from the moment it opened its doors.”
“Actually,” Shelley said with a smile, “I own a coffee shop in Maryland, where we offer more than twenty different types of specialty organic coffees, and baked goods, too.” Maybe it was the fact that she was having one of the best mornings ever, but she suddenly found herself saying, “I hadn’t really given much thought to expanding before, but do you really think a café would do that well here?”
“Absolutely!” Abby said, while Annabelle nodded as well. “In fact, if that’s really something you would consider, you should meet my daughter, Sierra. She owns the Hideaway over on Main. She’s a chef, and she’s always talking about expanding the offerings on the island. And she’s a coffeeaholic. I bet you two would really hit it off.”
“Watch out, though,” Annabelle said. “Sierra’s a total island girl. She’ll convince you to pick up and move here in about seven seconds.”
“I’m going over there in about an hour,” Abby told Shelley. “Why don’t you stop by if you have time and I’ll introduce you?”
“I’d love that. Thank you.” Shelley could hardly believe how friendly the people here were and how vested they were in the island.
Between the idea of a sexy fling on a romantic island with the hottest guy she'd ever met—why not think positive?—and the new out-of-the-blue, but very exciting, possibility of bringing her coffee shop to the island, she was smiling like a fool as she headed out the door to see what else this magical island had in store for her.
QUINN SAT AT a table in the Hideaway with the rest of his family, discussing their grandfather’s latest mandate. They’d been at it for an hour already, and between the work he had to prepare for the RBE merger and this nightmare with the resort, his frustration was mounting by the second.
“Trent, honey, stop watching the door. Reese isn’t back on the island yet.” Their mother, Abigail Rockwell, smiled gently at her eldest son. “She’s still out in Oregon, helping her sister with her new baby.”
Trent and Theresa Nicholson, whom everyone called Reese, had married a little more than ten years ago, after a whirlwind romance the summer after Trent graduated from law school. They’d moved to New York City, and for reasons that none of the rest of them completely knew or understood, Trent and Reese’s marriage had ended before the following summer. Reese had moved back to the island, while Trent had stayed in the city. While it was impossible for them to completely avoid each other when he did come back for short visits to the island, both of them clearly did their best to stay out of each other’s way. For the most part, the Rockwells avoided talking about Reese around Trent, but Abby was obviously trying to put him at ease during his time on the island so that he wouldn’t be stressed about running into her.
Trent shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not worried about running into Reese.”
Sierra touched Trent’s shoulder, her expression empathetic as she said, “First loves are hard to forget.”
“Right,” Quinn said under his breath. A little brotherly teasing was too tempting to resist. Especially when as far as he could remember, Trent and Reese had never been able to keep their hands off each other. The quickie wedding hadn't surprised any of them. Only the almost-as-quick divorce had.
“Can we get back to the matter at hand, please?” Trent cleared his throat. “We all have businesses to get back to, and the longer we put off our decision, the more power Chandler thinks he has.”
“Besides the fact that he can’t demand that the three of us give up our lives and move back to the island,” Derek said, “there’s no way I’m going to take part in anything that demeans Dad by completely cutting him out of the resort he’s given his entire career to. And the fact that he totally left Sierra out of the negotiations also rubs me the wrong way.”
“I appreciate where you’re coming from, Derek,” Griffin said as he met Derek’s angry gaze and also put a hand over Sierra’s and gave it a comforting squeeze. “But the responsibility for the resort, and the island, doesn’t have to fall on your shoulders.”
“Your father had an idea of what your grandfather was up to,” their mother told them. “He wasn’t blindsided by this.”
“Even so, it’s not right.” Derek turned his attention to Trent. “Did you read the edict?”
Trent reached into his briefcase and pulled out the document. “Every word, several times over. Look, I know we’re all angry and frustrated, but I think we need to focus on the things that matter most. We can’t let him sell the property to a conglomerate. Not when so many island residents rely on the resort to earn a living.”