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Synopsis
A charming second-chance romance about a big city chef whose return home to help run her family's wedding planning business means reuniting with the man who broke her heart.
Chef Aurora Shipley spent years slicing, dicing, and chopping her way up the ladder of L.A.'s competitive restaurant scene, but when her sisters needed her help, she dropped everything to return home to Texas. With her family’s Orchard Inn now on its feet, it's time for Aurora to head back to the big city. At least there, she won’t keep running into ex-boyfriend Jude Jones or her high school bully Erica, who now needs Aurora and her wedding planning business to throw the celebration of her dreams. Will Aurora let the past go long enough to send the bride off without a hitch and ignore her traitorous heart urging her to stay and try again with Jude?
As a teenager, Jude Jones foolishly listened to his father and let Aurora Shipley slip away. In the intervening years, the sweet, shy girl grew into a stunning, capable, confident woman, and her reappearance is messing with Jude's focus, which should be on expanding Jones' Family Herbs. He broke Aurora's heart once, and she broke his, too. This time will Jude be strong enough to fight for her—for them—and a future together?
Release date: June 6, 2023
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Print pages: 352
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Second Chance at the Orchard Inn
Heather McGovern
Chapter 1
The scent of sweet cinnamon lured Aurora Shipley down the hall and up the stairs to the main level of the Orchard Inn. The smell grew stronger, pulling her into the kitchen.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Her sister, Beth, bright-eyed and with a big smile across her face, leaned against the counter, drumming her fingers on the back of her tablet.
Ugh. Morning people. “How much coffee have you had?”
“None. It’s still brewing.”
How? Aurora could barely make coherent words happen and her sister was already working on that blasted tablet of hers.
Aurora plopped down in a chair at the counter and propped her chin on her hand. “Wake me when it’s ready, ’kay?”
“Will do. Sawyer made cinnamon rolls for us too. They should be ready in about five minutes.”
Years of working in the food service industry did not a morning person make, and being the current, temporary chef for her family’s inn hadn’t changed that. The inn might serve breakfast at 8:00 a.m., but Aurora kept late hours, prepping food, creating menus, experimenting with recipes, and anxiously contemplating her path in life and what her future may hold.
Y’know, normal one o’clock in the morning stuff like that.
The coffee pot beeped its completion and Aurora poured a big mugful.
She focused on her coffee; hints of caramel laced through every sip. She needed the caffeine to function, but she was particular about a coffee’s flavor profile. Nutty, hints of sweetness, warm notes, and nothing too overpowering. Miss her with blueberry pecan or coconut coffees. No thank you.
Half a cup down, her brain began to function. She’d been up even later than usual, reading over an email from her boss in California. Her time here in Texas was coming to an end. He’d sent her the menu for next month, which was only two short weeks away, and asked when she’d be free to talk about her return.
Beth refilled her mug and floated over to sit next to her. “Late night?” she sang.
Aurora pulled the mug closer. “You need to go somewhere with all that morning cheer.”
But then, Beth was always cheerful nowadays. Apparently, love did that to people.
“Pssht.” Her sister patted her head, more than a smidge patronizing. “Drink your coffee. You’ll be fine.”
Free to talk about her return.
Aurora sipped her coffee.
A couple of weeks into the leave of absence that allowed her to return home and help her sisters with the floundering inn, all Aurora had wanted was to get back to L.A. She had a career to pursue, people to impress, ladders to climb. Her goals were in Los Angeles, but she couldn’t leave her sisters in the lurch. So she’d worked with them at the inn the past two months and, together with Beth and Cece, they’d turned the Orchard Inn around.
In doing so, they’d all grown closer, arguably tighter than they’d been as kids.
Now, the notion of leaving her sisters again—like she had at eighteen—was more unsettling than back then, or even how it would’ve been two months ago.
“Smells like breakfast is almost ready.” Sawyer strolled into the kitchen like he’d been up for hours too.
He rubbed his hands together and took a deep sniff as he opened the oven door. “Oh yeah. We’re in business now.”
A cinnamon scented fog filled the kitchen, and Aurora’s salivary glands came to life.
Sawyer cooked only about five things, but the rolls were now his specialty.
He set a plate of ooey-gooey cinnamon rolls on the counter and dropped a kiss on Beth’s temple. “This ought to help get the day going.”
Beth turned to kiss him before sliding the plate closer.
“Hey, don’t hog the goods. Sawyer made them to share.” Aurora tugged the plate toward her.
Sawyer sat small plates in front of them. “Someone feed this girl, quick.”
He’d recently leveled up from boyfriend to fiancé, and he was a regular Saturday-morning staple at the Orchard Inn. Her sister had never been happier. Then again, with treats like this, who wouldn’t be?
Aurora reached for a roll, taking a bite and letting the warm sweetness melt in her mouth, while the glaze stuck to her lips.
“Shut your mouth,” she said with her mouth still full.
Sawyer chuckled as he joined them at the counter.
“These are too good.” She took another bite. “Are you trying to take my job? Because I’d happily let you have the Saturday-morning shift. Let me roll out of bed around ten, as long as you save me leftovers.”
Sawyer laughed fully then, the rich baritone sound oddly soothing, even in the morning. “I cannot run a kitchen. Filling a request from my sweetheart is one thing.” He shared a smile with Beth. “But multiple things, for multiple people? No way. Besides, I only know how to make these and a steak dinner. Pretty sure your guests prefer a star chef, not a cowboy.”
“Oh.” Beth set her coffee down with a clunk. “That reminds me. Aurora, the couple who checked out yesterday—here for their anniversary—they went on and on for about ten minutes about your brunch. I thought the husband was going to cry when he started talking about the quiche.”
Well, in all honesty, her quiche was worthy of tears.
She’d shed a few of them while trying to impress her then-boss, years ago.
At first, she’d cried tears of frustration, the head chef being unimpressed with any and everything Aurora did, yet still tapping her to create and prepare the feature menu item for the restaurant’s Mother’s Day brunch.
Nothing like the mind games of a demanding, brilliant, narcissistic head chef to riddle Aurora with self-doubt and then throw her on center stage and demand perfection.
Wanting to do more than just a typical quiche Lorraine or veggie, Aurora had tried variations on spinach, artichoke, and even lobster. None of them were just right, none of them up to the level of expectation she held for herself. Finally, she’d found the perfect combination of sundried tomato, spinach, and goat cheese. It wasn’t a ground-breaking combo, but the concentration and quality of each ingredient was what made the quiche perfect.
It resulted in the first compliment her head chef ever gave her.
“Not bad,” he’d said.
Might as well have been skywriting and a parade to Aurora. Later that day, tucked away in the janitor’s closet, she’d wept tears of joy.
“I bet they leave an amazing review on Tripadvisor.” Beth pulled a small bite of her cinnamon roll off with a fork, having no idea of the emotional roller coaster one quiche had caused.
“Good.” Aurora’s brain began feeling less fuzzy, her mind fully kicking into gear with thoughts of cheese, heirloom tomatoes, and kitchen trauma.
Her goal, in returning to the Orchard Inn, was bailing her family out of having no chef after a disastrous wedding reception. Then, helping her sisters rebuild the inn’s brand into something sought-after and admirable. But she’d also gotten a break from the pressure cooker of being a chef in one of Los Angeles’s most popular, and demanding, restaurants.
Aurora had never, and would never, admit she needed a break. But taking a couple of months to return home and work at the slower pace of the family business had restored some balance to her life. She felt more centered, and she remembered she was darn good at this chef gig.
Rebuilding the inn’s reputation was well on its way—some might even say complete—but admitting her work here was done meant going back into the fire and facing her future.
Was she ready for that?
“Where’s Cece?” Sawyer asked after their youngest sister.
Aurora turned her thoughts to the here and now. “Sleeping in, probably. We went for a long walk yesterday. She did great, but I think it wore her out.”
Cece had fallen on a solo hike and hurt her ankle about a month before. She was out of the boot and cleared to get some activity but was wisely taking it slow. Yesterday was the longest walk so far and, while she’d done great, the effort had to have been exhausting.
Not to mention, she’d stayed up late in the kitchen with Aurora, catching up on gossip and taking dibs on when Beth would marry Sawyer, and how much of a control freak she’d be about the event.
If their late-night session prevented Cece from getting this breakfast, they’d all be in trouble.
Motion in her peripheral vision caught Aurora’s attention.
“What in the— What are you doing to that poor roll?” She stared Beth down.
“What?” Beth haphazardly stabbed the roll with her fork again, tearing off a jagged bite.
“Stop. You’re mutilating it.”
“Don’t tell me how to eat my breakfast.”
“You’re not eating it. You’re torturing it. Sawyer, tell her she’s doing it wrong.”
Sawyer was too busy licking his sticky fingers.
“See? Sawyer knows.”
“I don’t like my fingers getting all gooey,” Beth argued.
“Then at least cut into it like a piece of cake. Don’t stab at it like you’ve got a pickax. You’re killing me. Next, you’ll be putting ketchup on your steak.”
“No.” Sawyer shook his head dramatically while chewing. “Don’t blaspheme at breakfast.”
Aurora grinned. “What are you going to do when you serve steak at your wedding reception and some guest asks for ketchup?”
Sawyer threw his hands up in outrage. “Absolutely not. There will be no ketchup at our wedding.”
She chuckled at his reaction, and Beth joined in.
“This is not a laughing matter,” he insisted. “There is nothing we’re going to serve that should need ketchup. Not the steak, not the potatoes. Not with your cooking. It will be perfection exactly as is. Maybe we’ll allow some salt and pepper, but even that’s questionable.”
Beth stopped laughing and her gaze shot toward the window.
Aurora set down her coffee. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Beth was a terrible liar. She was thinking about Aurora leaving for California.
She and Sawyer had been talking about Aurora a lot lately. Several times, Aurora entered a room only for them to hush immediately, and then awkwardly begin blabbing about the weather or going horseback riding. When really, they’d just been mid-discussion about Aurora, their wedding, and the future without Aurora nearby.
They’d probably get married in about six to eight months and, by that time, Aurora was supposed to be long gone.
Back to L.A., back to her dream and the hard work of someday being named head chef at one of the premier restaurants in the country.
She wouldn’t be here to prepare their wedding feast. Heck, she’d be lucky if she got a couple of days off to fly in and be a bridesmaid, then leave again, not to be seen for months, maybe even years—given a chef’s schedule.
“I could maybe take some time off and come back long enough to help with the wedding,” Aurora fibbed.
There’s no way she’d get that kind of time off. She’d used up all her favors by taking this current leave.
Beth turned to face her. “We both know that’s not realistic. Not if you’re back in California.”
If.
That was Beth’s way of saying, “But if you aren’t in California, you could stay here with us and we’d all live happily ever after, so do exactly that, okay?”
Honestly, Aurora had considered it.
She’d lie in bed at night, wondering what life might be like if she stayed in Texas and remained the chef at the Orchard Inn.
But, while the past two months had been a blessing for her and her sanity, being a bed-and-breakfast and wedding chef was not her happily ever after. She didn’t want to be a caterer. Being the inn’s chef wasn’t her culinary dream, and she couldn’t stay home forever.
Home was the place of her dreams. The past lurked around every corner and reminded her of him.
The only thing scarier than returning to L.A. and fighting for her future was staying here, letting her dreams die, and having to deal with the past.
No thank you.
“I can help you find another chef,” Aurora offered. “I’ll get Cece to help me put something online. We’ll line up interviews. I’m not going to leave y’all high and dry, sis.”
“I know, I know.” Beth nodded and swallowed hard. “But they won’t be you.”
Aurora stared down into her black coffee.
Her sisters had made no secret of their wish for her to stay. They’d been supportive when she left for school and remained supportive during her years of striving and hustling in kitchens across Southern California. Now that she’d returned for a couple of months, and they’d bonded again, sharing the love and challenging one another as only sisters can, they were less enthusiastic about California being the place to make her dreams come true.
“It’ll all work out in the end.” Sawyer walked up behind them and squeezed them both with an arm over each of their shoulders. “You’ll see.”
“I hope you saved me one of those cinnamon buns or heads will roll.” Cece joined them in the kitchen, moving better than she had in weeks.
“You know we did.” Sawyer hopped up and grabbed her a plate. “I’ll even warm it up a little.”
“You’re my hero.” Cece smiled at him. “I don’t care what Beth says about you.”
“Hey,” Beth protested.
Sawyer and Cece had been thick as thieves since the day they met, and it warmed Aurora’s heart. Sawyer was the big brother Cece had never had but had probably always wanted.
Cece would hate it if she knew, but Aurora worried about their little sister.
Not the kind of worrying Beth did, but still, she loved the idea of Cece having someone else around who cared. She’d been diagnosed with a very mild case of cerebral palsy when she was born, but Cece had undergone surgeries and therapy, and worked hard to be an independent, capable young woman. She was stronger and more determined than all of them combined.
Nevertheless, it was always good to have people around who cared.
The same went for Beth. Sawyer was there for her, supportive and steady.
Aurora did feel a bit better about leaving with Sawyer there, but only a bit.
Somebody needed to be there to referee when Beth and Cece butted heads. It didn’t happen very often nowadays, but it would happen.
Cece grabbed her warm cinnamon roll with both hands and dove right in.
“See?” Aurora lifted an eyebrow at Beth. “Cece knows how to eat.”
Sawyer cracked up at the expression on Beth’s face.
“Okay, fine. Y’all go on, eating like heathens and judging me. But one of us won’t have to wash her face after breakfast. Just saying.”
They wrapped up breakfast and Aurora and Cece did indeed need to wash the tips of their noses.
Aurora washed her hands, popped two breakfast casseroles in the oven, and made another pot of coffee while her sisters finished getting ready.
“Why don’t you let me fix the fruit and put out the casserole while you and Cece go to the market?” Beth offered when she returned to the kitchen.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, I’m serious. I know you like to peruse the veggies and you should enjoy going before you leave town. Do you not want to go?”
“I didn’t say that, but—”
“Sawyer is here to help me. You’ve fixed breakfast. We can serve it. Plus, if you don’t go to the market early, all the good produce will be gone.”
This was true.
She could get in one last trip to the Saturday farmers’ market before it was time to buckle down and find the Orchard Inn its new chef and get ready to head west. Maybe she’d find some good corn, tomatoes, and okra. She could make an old-fashioned southern supper for her sisters and Sawyer. A family meal before their family had to split up, again.
Aurora shook her head. Her time in Texas was winding down and making her downright sentimental.
She was taking a trip to the market with Cece, not a walk down memory lane.
Chapter 2
Am I good?” Jude carefully made his way to the back of his pickup truck, attempting to see around the three boxes stacked in his arms.
“If by good you mean about to have an on-the-job injury, then yeah, you’re good.” His youngest sister, Bonnie, stopped him with a hand against the middle box. “I’m taking this top one.”
With the top box gone, Jude could see the giant pothole a couple of feet ahead. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Bonnie followed him to the back of his truck, and they loaded the boxes of dried lavender for the Saturday farmers’ market. They’d already loaded pallets of fresh, potted lavender, rosemary, and fennel, along with sprigs of thyme, sage, basil, and oregano. If they were lucky, they’d sell out of everything, same as last Saturday.
“I thought we were going to get this fixed.” Bonnie toed at the loose gravel and dirt around the pothole.
Jude swiped his brow with his bandanna. “I’m working on it. I made the mistake of trying to get Dad to sign off on paving at least the beginning of the driveway, up to the parking lot, instead of constantly filling in potholes with more dirt and gravel.”
Bonnie huffed a laugh. “How’d that go?”
“About as good as you’d expect.” Jude shook his head. “He’s not okay with spending the money for paving right now, so I’ll just fill these in myself next week.”
“But we’ve got the money to at least pave the driveway and make it nice. We’re busy and all the traffic—”
Jude moved one of the pallets in his truck bed, arranging the boxes so they were more secure. “You’re preaching to the choir, Bon. I told him exactly that. Folks don’t need to dodge potholes as they’re pulling into the farm. We get all these retail shoppers now. They don’t want to bump around in their Benzs and BMWs and pop a tire on their way to get their lavender and oregano.”
“Should I try talking to him?” Bonnie asked.
“You’re welcome to try.”
They walked back to the shop, using the part of the driveway nearest the store as their loading area so as not to take up any parking spots. The farm’s retail shop was bustling on a Saturday, and they tried to stay out of the way while preparing to go to the market.
Before they reached the store, Bonnie stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Is Dad going to the market with you?”
Jude considered his words before speaking. The last thing he wanted to do was stir up concern with his sister and have her going back to their mom and dad to inadvertently open a can of worms with his father knowing his children had been discussing his health and ability to work. Jude could just hear it now.
Jude is worried about Dad. Dad doesn’t go to the market anymore and his energy gives out so quickly, and Jude said he had heart palpitations the other day and…
“I don’t think so. Not today,” Jude said instead. “He’s going to stay here and help you and Mom and Meredith at the store.”
“Oh.” Lines formed between Bonnie’s eyebrows. “He’s not up to it, huh?”
Jude started walking. “I’m not getting into this again.”
“Maybe we should try talking to him about it.” Bonnie followed.
“We tried that. He got angry and didn’t talk to me for two days.”
“Maybe if Jenna talked to him.” Bonnie volunteered their middle sister, as if she had the magic wand that would make John Jones open up and discuss his vulnerability or admit any signs of weakness.
Jude stopped walking and turned to face Bonnie. “I think you need to accept that Dad isn’t the kind of person we can reason with, using things like logic and general concern, okay? Mom knows he needs to go back to the cardiologist, and she’s trying to get him to eat better. If anyone can get through to him, it’s her. I think the best thing me, you, and Jenna can do is leave it be. Unless you want him to ice you out for a few days, I suggest you let it go for now.”
Bonnie sighed and rolled her eyes. “I know, but…”
“It’s aggravating to ignore the obvious? Frustrating to not be able to speak freely about family issues?”
His sister nodded, looking deflated.
“I know.” He pulled her into a hug, hoping he could ease some of her worry. Their dad was a bullheaded man, but they loved him. It should be okay to say, “Hey, we want you to live a lot longer, and maybe you should do a few things to make sure that happens, because we love you and don’t want to lose you.” But that wasn’t what their dad heard when they showed concern. He heard some nonsense like he was failing as their patriarch and they wanted him out of the picture. “Listen”—Jude stepped back and met Bonnie’s gaze—“we’re in this together. We’ll figure something out when it comes to Dad, but let’s give it a few days. Let me at least get through the weekend in peace.”
“Fine.” She shrugged.
They began walking again.
“So just you and Jenna are running the booth today?”
“And Wyatt.” Jude included his one-year-old nephew in the staffing lineup.
“Oh, Wyatt. He’ll be a huge help.”
“Hey, he’s our salesman. Don’t underestimate the power of a cute baby when it comes to luring in customers. He gets them in the booth, and we sell our wares.”
Bonnie laughed as they made their way around to the back of the building to the workroom of the store.
“So, you going to be okay with Dad today?” Jude asked as they stopped inside the door.
“He’s not an invalid.”
“I know. I mean are you going to be okay—not getting annoyed with him?”
“I’ll be fine.” His sister closed her eyes and held out her hands as though she were meditating. “I’ll be the picture of inner peace and zen.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hey.” Her eyes flew open. “Do you think she will be at the market today?”
Jude narrowed his gaze before walking away. “I don’t know who you mean, but no.”
Bonnie quickly followed. “Her sister Cece came by the booth last week. You don’t think she’ll bring Aurora along this week?”
He tried to focus on the last three boxes of lavender that he needed to load.
Aurora. His high school sweetheart. She of the golden hair, blue-green eyes, prettiest of smiles, sharpest of minds, and quickest of humors. Part of him would love to see her again, while the other part would rather twist an ankle in one of those potholes.
He’d broken her heart way back when, she’d run off and headed west, and there was a big, gaping hole where their relationship used to be. Friendship and love—now an empty space.
If he did see her again, what was he supposed to say?
Hey. Sorry about breaking your heart and being a selfish prick ten years ago. Friends now?
He’d like nothing more than to make peace with what they’d left unresolved. But how?
Aurora Shipley hated him, no doubt. The last thing she’d want to do is swing by the Jones’s farm tent and browse their lavender and herbs.
“Hello.” Bonnie waved her hand in front of his face. “I said, now that she’s back in town, you don’t think Aurora will ever drop by?”
Jude met Bonnie’s gaze before hoisting up the three boxes of lavender. “No, I do not.”
Perhaps he should prepare himself in case she did.
How was he supposed to do that exactly? He counted the end of their relationship as one of his biggest regrets. Sure, he was just a silly teenage boy at the time, but regardless, Jude had always held himself to a higher standard. He should’ve handled things better, been better.
He hoisted the last three boxes in his arms and made his way out the store. If he did run into Aurora Shipley, he had no idea what he could say to fix the past. Still, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he wanted to see her again. He wanted to say the things he couldn’t all those years ago, and maybe finally make things right.
Chapter 3
Aurora drove them into town. She and Cece debated—some might say bickered—about who would take the wheel. Cece, in typical fierce independence, insisted she should, but Aurora won on principle. Her car was still in L.A., so she hadn’t gotten to drive anywhere lately.
A bribery of blueberry scones from the Great Bakery booth had also helped Aurora extract the keys.
As she drove, the winding rural roads turned into the wide streets of the residential area near downtown. The streets were shaded by the trees lining both sides, and they passed in and out of light, as if playing hide-and-seek with the sun.
Closer into town, the streets became more commercial, with the stone and brick buildings of business, retail, and gift shops. Restaurants. The settling of Fredericksburg by German immigrants showed up in flags on storefronts, the variety of German restaurants and bakeries, and the architecture of the landmarks and churches.
People strolled the sidewalks, milling about in common spaces and outside shops.
“Take a left up here and park behind the fabric store. You won’t find any parking closer to the market, and they close down part of Main Street on Saturdays, so pedestrians don’t have to worry about the cars.”
Aurora did as she was told and parked behind Cece’s favorite store. They took a ten-minute detour so Cece could pop in and see if they’d gotten any new fabric since the day before yesterday.
They had not.
“Nothing yet,” Cece declared, leaving the store as she hitched her bag of reusable bags higher on her shoulder. “I keep hoping they’ll get some bolts of autumn-like fabric. Something with orange and yellow. I want to make new pillows for the seats in the gazebo. Freshen it up for when fall comes.”
“That would be pretty.”
“Maybe get some pumpkins out there. Decorate it a little for photo ops and stuff.”
Fall was Cece’s favorite season. Like most addicted hikers, she was drawn outdoors by the changing leaves and cooler temperatures.
Of course, in Texas, it took a little longer for said cooler temperatures to show up.
Today, even before noon, it felt like they were living on the sun.
Aurora grabbed one of the fashionable ties off her wrist and twisted her long hair up into a messy bun.
“People are all about the photo ops and videos now,” Cece continued. “Between Instagram, TikTok, Snapchat, YouTube, and whatever comes next, we need places where guests will want to take cute vids and pics, and post them. It’s free advertising, really.”
Cece wasn’t wrong, that was for sure. Aurora wasn’t a huge social media fan herself, but she was guilty of watching a few travel and foodie YouTube channels.
“That’s actually a brilliant idea, Cece.”
“I know. I’m full of them.” She smiled as they walked toward the market, the live music slowly growing louder. “Like, we need to do more with our branding. We have an IG account, but I’m the only one who posts. You need to start posting images of your food.”
“We post a lot of the wedding food.”
“No.” Cece shook her head and whipped out her phone. “I’m talking about the stuff you cook outside of events. When you mess around, creating new recipes. Post them. See this account?” She held the screen up in Aurora’s face. “This lady cooks using only old-fashioned kitchen utensils and old-school methods. She has thousands of followers. You come up with incredible combinations and unique ideas, and you should post them. You’d help your branding and its content for the inn.”
“Branding and content for the— When did you become such a marketing genius?”
Cece tossed her hair good-naturedly. “Since forever. Plus, I haven’t been able to go hiking, so I’ve spent a lot of time online. I mean a lot of time.”
They reached the closure of Main Street and walked another block to the Marktplatz in the center of town. Tents circled the Vereins Kirche, the octagonal building in the center of the market, and dotted the green space around it.
Produce, baked goods, wildflowers, honey, spices, paintings, pottery, jewelry—you name it, someone probably had a booth for it at the farmers’ market. Originally, it’d begun as a true, produce-only market, but the popularity and draw for tourism over the years helped it grow into so much more.
Aurora first stopped at a booth with corn and summer squash. She picked up an ear and peeled back a corner of the husk to reveal the kernels beneath. Golden yellow and plump, the corn looked perfect. But did she really want to buy it now and haul corn around the market all morning?
“You could wait and come back to get some later,” Cece suggested.
Corn this pretty wouldn’t last until later though. The farm’s booth would sell out within the hour.
“No, I want to get it now and not risk losing out.”
“You’re going to make me carry sacks of corn around, aren’t you?”
“No.” Aurora began picking out the best ears of the bunch. “I’m going to make you help carry sacks of corn around. I’ll get two and you can just carry one.”
A few minutes later and they were both loaded up with two bags of corn each.
Aurora scored a deal by buying in bulk, and this was some of the prettiest corn she’d ever seen.
Better to have too much than not enough.
“I guess I could take these back to the car while you look around some, and I’ll just find you.”
“I don’t know, I quite enjoy being strapped down with produce like a pack mule,” Cece quipped.
“Ha ha, fine. Gimme.”
“Oh, wait though.” Cece hurried ahead to the next booth down.
Aurora glanced at the banner stretched across the top of the tent:
STONEWALL PEACH JAMBOREE & RODEO
And a sign on the table in the tent read, PIE-BAKING CONTEST.
Nope.
“C’mere.” Cece beckoned her into the tent. “They’re going to have a baking contest this year.”
“I see that. But I’m all good. Give me your corn. I’ll be right back.”
“You better
The scent of sweet cinnamon lured Aurora Shipley down the hall and up the stairs to the main level of the Orchard Inn. The smell grew stronger, pulling her into the kitchen.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Her sister, Beth, bright-eyed and with a big smile across her face, leaned against the counter, drumming her fingers on the back of her tablet.
Ugh. Morning people. “How much coffee have you had?”
“None. It’s still brewing.”
How? Aurora could barely make coherent words happen and her sister was already working on that blasted tablet of hers.
Aurora plopped down in a chair at the counter and propped her chin on her hand. “Wake me when it’s ready, ’kay?”
“Will do. Sawyer made cinnamon rolls for us too. They should be ready in about five minutes.”
Years of working in the food service industry did not a morning person make, and being the current, temporary chef for her family’s inn hadn’t changed that. The inn might serve breakfast at 8:00 a.m., but Aurora kept late hours, prepping food, creating menus, experimenting with recipes, and anxiously contemplating her path in life and what her future may hold.
Y’know, normal one o’clock in the morning stuff like that.
The coffee pot beeped its completion and Aurora poured a big mugful.
She focused on her coffee; hints of caramel laced through every sip. She needed the caffeine to function, but she was particular about a coffee’s flavor profile. Nutty, hints of sweetness, warm notes, and nothing too overpowering. Miss her with blueberry pecan or coconut coffees. No thank you.
Half a cup down, her brain began to function. She’d been up even later than usual, reading over an email from her boss in California. Her time here in Texas was coming to an end. He’d sent her the menu for next month, which was only two short weeks away, and asked when she’d be free to talk about her return.
Beth refilled her mug and floated over to sit next to her. “Late night?” she sang.
Aurora pulled the mug closer. “You need to go somewhere with all that morning cheer.”
But then, Beth was always cheerful nowadays. Apparently, love did that to people.
“Pssht.” Her sister patted her head, more than a smidge patronizing. “Drink your coffee. You’ll be fine.”
Free to talk about her return.
Aurora sipped her coffee.
A couple of weeks into the leave of absence that allowed her to return home and help her sisters with the floundering inn, all Aurora had wanted was to get back to L.A. She had a career to pursue, people to impress, ladders to climb. Her goals were in Los Angeles, but she couldn’t leave her sisters in the lurch. So she’d worked with them at the inn the past two months and, together with Beth and Cece, they’d turned the Orchard Inn around.
In doing so, they’d all grown closer, arguably tighter than they’d been as kids.
Now, the notion of leaving her sisters again—like she had at eighteen—was more unsettling than back then, or even how it would’ve been two months ago.
“Smells like breakfast is almost ready.” Sawyer strolled into the kitchen like he’d been up for hours too.
He rubbed his hands together and took a deep sniff as he opened the oven door. “Oh yeah. We’re in business now.”
A cinnamon scented fog filled the kitchen, and Aurora’s salivary glands came to life.
Sawyer cooked only about five things, but the rolls were now his specialty.
He set a plate of ooey-gooey cinnamon rolls on the counter and dropped a kiss on Beth’s temple. “This ought to help get the day going.”
Beth turned to kiss him before sliding the plate closer.
“Hey, don’t hog the goods. Sawyer made them to share.” Aurora tugged the plate toward her.
Sawyer sat small plates in front of them. “Someone feed this girl, quick.”
He’d recently leveled up from boyfriend to fiancé, and he was a regular Saturday-morning staple at the Orchard Inn. Her sister had never been happier. Then again, with treats like this, who wouldn’t be?
Aurora reached for a roll, taking a bite and letting the warm sweetness melt in her mouth, while the glaze stuck to her lips.
“Shut your mouth,” she said with her mouth still full.
Sawyer chuckled as he joined them at the counter.
“These are too good.” She took another bite. “Are you trying to take my job? Because I’d happily let you have the Saturday-morning shift. Let me roll out of bed around ten, as long as you save me leftovers.”
Sawyer laughed fully then, the rich baritone sound oddly soothing, even in the morning. “I cannot run a kitchen. Filling a request from my sweetheart is one thing.” He shared a smile with Beth. “But multiple things, for multiple people? No way. Besides, I only know how to make these and a steak dinner. Pretty sure your guests prefer a star chef, not a cowboy.”
“Oh.” Beth set her coffee down with a clunk. “That reminds me. Aurora, the couple who checked out yesterday—here for their anniversary—they went on and on for about ten minutes about your brunch. I thought the husband was going to cry when he started talking about the quiche.”
Well, in all honesty, her quiche was worthy of tears.
She’d shed a few of them while trying to impress her then-boss, years ago.
At first, she’d cried tears of frustration, the head chef being unimpressed with any and everything Aurora did, yet still tapping her to create and prepare the feature menu item for the restaurant’s Mother’s Day brunch.
Nothing like the mind games of a demanding, brilliant, narcissistic head chef to riddle Aurora with self-doubt and then throw her on center stage and demand perfection.
Wanting to do more than just a typical quiche Lorraine or veggie, Aurora had tried variations on spinach, artichoke, and even lobster. None of them were just right, none of them up to the level of expectation she held for herself. Finally, she’d found the perfect combination of sundried tomato, spinach, and goat cheese. It wasn’t a ground-breaking combo, but the concentration and quality of each ingredient was what made the quiche perfect.
It resulted in the first compliment her head chef ever gave her.
“Not bad,” he’d said.
Might as well have been skywriting and a parade to Aurora. Later that day, tucked away in the janitor’s closet, she’d wept tears of joy.
“I bet they leave an amazing review on Tripadvisor.” Beth pulled a small bite of her cinnamon roll off with a fork, having no idea of the emotional roller coaster one quiche had caused.
“Good.” Aurora’s brain began feeling less fuzzy, her mind fully kicking into gear with thoughts of cheese, heirloom tomatoes, and kitchen trauma.
Her goal, in returning to the Orchard Inn, was bailing her family out of having no chef after a disastrous wedding reception. Then, helping her sisters rebuild the inn’s brand into something sought-after and admirable. But she’d also gotten a break from the pressure cooker of being a chef in one of Los Angeles’s most popular, and demanding, restaurants.
Aurora had never, and would never, admit she needed a break. But taking a couple of months to return home and work at the slower pace of the family business had restored some balance to her life. She felt more centered, and she remembered she was darn good at this chef gig.
Rebuilding the inn’s reputation was well on its way—some might even say complete—but admitting her work here was done meant going back into the fire and facing her future.
Was she ready for that?
“Where’s Cece?” Sawyer asked after their youngest sister.
Aurora turned her thoughts to the here and now. “Sleeping in, probably. We went for a long walk yesterday. She did great, but I think it wore her out.”
Cece had fallen on a solo hike and hurt her ankle about a month before. She was out of the boot and cleared to get some activity but was wisely taking it slow. Yesterday was the longest walk so far and, while she’d done great, the effort had to have been exhausting.
Not to mention, she’d stayed up late in the kitchen with Aurora, catching up on gossip and taking dibs on when Beth would marry Sawyer, and how much of a control freak she’d be about the event.
If their late-night session prevented Cece from getting this breakfast, they’d all be in trouble.
Motion in her peripheral vision caught Aurora’s attention.
“What in the— What are you doing to that poor roll?” She stared Beth down.
“What?” Beth haphazardly stabbed the roll with her fork again, tearing off a jagged bite.
“Stop. You’re mutilating it.”
“Don’t tell me how to eat my breakfast.”
“You’re not eating it. You’re torturing it. Sawyer, tell her she’s doing it wrong.”
Sawyer was too busy licking his sticky fingers.
“See? Sawyer knows.”
“I don’t like my fingers getting all gooey,” Beth argued.
“Then at least cut into it like a piece of cake. Don’t stab at it like you’ve got a pickax. You’re killing me. Next, you’ll be putting ketchup on your steak.”
“No.” Sawyer shook his head dramatically while chewing. “Don’t blaspheme at breakfast.”
Aurora grinned. “What are you going to do when you serve steak at your wedding reception and some guest asks for ketchup?”
Sawyer threw his hands up in outrage. “Absolutely not. There will be no ketchup at our wedding.”
She chuckled at his reaction, and Beth joined in.
“This is not a laughing matter,” he insisted. “There is nothing we’re going to serve that should need ketchup. Not the steak, not the potatoes. Not with your cooking. It will be perfection exactly as is. Maybe we’ll allow some salt and pepper, but even that’s questionable.”
Beth stopped laughing and her gaze shot toward the window.
Aurora set down her coffee. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Beth was a terrible liar. She was thinking about Aurora leaving for California.
She and Sawyer had been talking about Aurora a lot lately. Several times, Aurora entered a room only for them to hush immediately, and then awkwardly begin blabbing about the weather or going horseback riding. When really, they’d just been mid-discussion about Aurora, their wedding, and the future without Aurora nearby.
They’d probably get married in about six to eight months and, by that time, Aurora was supposed to be long gone.
Back to L.A., back to her dream and the hard work of someday being named head chef at one of the premier restaurants in the country.
She wouldn’t be here to prepare their wedding feast. Heck, she’d be lucky if she got a couple of days off to fly in and be a bridesmaid, then leave again, not to be seen for months, maybe even years—given a chef’s schedule.
“I could maybe take some time off and come back long enough to help with the wedding,” Aurora fibbed.
There’s no way she’d get that kind of time off. She’d used up all her favors by taking this current leave.
Beth turned to face her. “We both know that’s not realistic. Not if you’re back in California.”
If.
That was Beth’s way of saying, “But if you aren’t in California, you could stay here with us and we’d all live happily ever after, so do exactly that, okay?”
Honestly, Aurora had considered it.
She’d lie in bed at night, wondering what life might be like if she stayed in Texas and remained the chef at the Orchard Inn.
But, while the past two months had been a blessing for her and her sanity, being a bed-and-breakfast and wedding chef was not her happily ever after. She didn’t want to be a caterer. Being the inn’s chef wasn’t her culinary dream, and she couldn’t stay home forever.
Home was the place of her dreams. The past lurked around every corner and reminded her of him.
The only thing scarier than returning to L.A. and fighting for her future was staying here, letting her dreams die, and having to deal with the past.
No thank you.
“I can help you find another chef,” Aurora offered. “I’ll get Cece to help me put something online. We’ll line up interviews. I’m not going to leave y’all high and dry, sis.”
“I know, I know.” Beth nodded and swallowed hard. “But they won’t be you.”
Aurora stared down into her black coffee.
Her sisters had made no secret of their wish for her to stay. They’d been supportive when she left for school and remained supportive during her years of striving and hustling in kitchens across Southern California. Now that she’d returned for a couple of months, and they’d bonded again, sharing the love and challenging one another as only sisters can, they were less enthusiastic about California being the place to make her dreams come true.
“It’ll all work out in the end.” Sawyer walked up behind them and squeezed them both with an arm over each of their shoulders. “You’ll see.”
“I hope you saved me one of those cinnamon buns or heads will roll.” Cece joined them in the kitchen, moving better than she had in weeks.
“You know we did.” Sawyer hopped up and grabbed her a plate. “I’ll even warm it up a little.”
“You’re my hero.” Cece smiled at him. “I don’t care what Beth says about you.”
“Hey,” Beth protested.
Sawyer and Cece had been thick as thieves since the day they met, and it warmed Aurora’s heart. Sawyer was the big brother Cece had never had but had probably always wanted.
Cece would hate it if she knew, but Aurora worried about their little sister.
Not the kind of worrying Beth did, but still, she loved the idea of Cece having someone else around who cared. She’d been diagnosed with a very mild case of cerebral palsy when she was born, but Cece had undergone surgeries and therapy, and worked hard to be an independent, capable young woman. She was stronger and more determined than all of them combined.
Nevertheless, it was always good to have people around who cared.
The same went for Beth. Sawyer was there for her, supportive and steady.
Aurora did feel a bit better about leaving with Sawyer there, but only a bit.
Somebody needed to be there to referee when Beth and Cece butted heads. It didn’t happen very often nowadays, but it would happen.
Cece grabbed her warm cinnamon roll with both hands and dove right in.
“See?” Aurora lifted an eyebrow at Beth. “Cece knows how to eat.”
Sawyer cracked up at the expression on Beth’s face.
“Okay, fine. Y’all go on, eating like heathens and judging me. But one of us won’t have to wash her face after breakfast. Just saying.”
They wrapped up breakfast and Aurora and Cece did indeed need to wash the tips of their noses.
Aurora washed her hands, popped two breakfast casseroles in the oven, and made another pot of coffee while her sisters finished getting ready.
“Why don’t you let me fix the fruit and put out the casserole while you and Cece go to the market?” Beth offered when she returned to the kitchen.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, I’m serious. I know you like to peruse the veggies and you should enjoy going before you leave town. Do you not want to go?”
“I didn’t say that, but—”
“Sawyer is here to help me. You’ve fixed breakfast. We can serve it. Plus, if you don’t go to the market early, all the good produce will be gone.”
This was true.
She could get in one last trip to the Saturday farmers’ market before it was time to buckle down and find the Orchard Inn its new chef and get ready to head west. Maybe she’d find some good corn, tomatoes, and okra. She could make an old-fashioned southern supper for her sisters and Sawyer. A family meal before their family had to split up, again.
Aurora shook her head. Her time in Texas was winding down and making her downright sentimental.
She was taking a trip to the market with Cece, not a walk down memory lane.
Chapter 2
Am I good?” Jude carefully made his way to the back of his pickup truck, attempting to see around the three boxes stacked in his arms.
“If by good you mean about to have an on-the-job injury, then yeah, you’re good.” His youngest sister, Bonnie, stopped him with a hand against the middle box. “I’m taking this top one.”
With the top box gone, Jude could see the giant pothole a couple of feet ahead. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Bonnie followed him to the back of his truck, and they loaded the boxes of dried lavender for the Saturday farmers’ market. They’d already loaded pallets of fresh, potted lavender, rosemary, and fennel, along with sprigs of thyme, sage, basil, and oregano. If they were lucky, they’d sell out of everything, same as last Saturday.
“I thought we were going to get this fixed.” Bonnie toed at the loose gravel and dirt around the pothole.
Jude swiped his brow with his bandanna. “I’m working on it. I made the mistake of trying to get Dad to sign off on paving at least the beginning of the driveway, up to the parking lot, instead of constantly filling in potholes with more dirt and gravel.”
Bonnie huffed a laugh. “How’d that go?”
“About as good as you’d expect.” Jude shook his head. “He’s not okay with spending the money for paving right now, so I’ll just fill these in myself next week.”
“But we’ve got the money to at least pave the driveway and make it nice. We’re busy and all the traffic—”
Jude moved one of the pallets in his truck bed, arranging the boxes so they were more secure. “You’re preaching to the choir, Bon. I told him exactly that. Folks don’t need to dodge potholes as they’re pulling into the farm. We get all these retail shoppers now. They don’t want to bump around in their Benzs and BMWs and pop a tire on their way to get their lavender and oregano.”
“Should I try talking to him?” Bonnie asked.
“You’re welcome to try.”
They walked back to the shop, using the part of the driveway nearest the store as their loading area so as not to take up any parking spots. The farm’s retail shop was bustling on a Saturday, and they tried to stay out of the way while preparing to go to the market.
Before they reached the store, Bonnie stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Is Dad going to the market with you?”
Jude considered his words before speaking. The last thing he wanted to do was stir up concern with his sister and have her going back to their mom and dad to inadvertently open a can of worms with his father knowing his children had been discussing his health and ability to work. Jude could just hear it now.
Jude is worried about Dad. Dad doesn’t go to the market anymore and his energy gives out so quickly, and Jude said he had heart palpitations the other day and…
“I don’t think so. Not today,” Jude said instead. “He’s going to stay here and help you and Mom and Meredith at the store.”
“Oh.” Lines formed between Bonnie’s eyebrows. “He’s not up to it, huh?”
Jude started walking. “I’m not getting into this again.”
“Maybe we should try talking to him about it.” Bonnie followed.
“We tried that. He got angry and didn’t talk to me for two days.”
“Maybe if Jenna talked to him.” Bonnie volunteered their middle sister, as if she had the magic wand that would make John Jones open up and discuss his vulnerability or admit any signs of weakness.
Jude stopped walking and turned to face Bonnie. “I think you need to accept that Dad isn’t the kind of person we can reason with, using things like logic and general concern, okay? Mom knows he needs to go back to the cardiologist, and she’s trying to get him to eat better. If anyone can get through to him, it’s her. I think the best thing me, you, and Jenna can do is leave it be. Unless you want him to ice you out for a few days, I suggest you let it go for now.”
Bonnie sighed and rolled her eyes. “I know, but…”
“It’s aggravating to ignore the obvious? Frustrating to not be able to speak freely about family issues?”
His sister nodded, looking deflated.
“I know.” He pulled her into a hug, hoping he could ease some of her worry. Their dad was a bullheaded man, but they loved him. It should be okay to say, “Hey, we want you to live a lot longer, and maybe you should do a few things to make sure that happens, because we love you and don’t want to lose you.” But that wasn’t what their dad heard when they showed concern. He heard some nonsense like he was failing as their patriarch and they wanted him out of the picture. “Listen”—Jude stepped back and met Bonnie’s gaze—“we’re in this together. We’ll figure something out when it comes to Dad, but let’s give it a few days. Let me at least get through the weekend in peace.”
“Fine.” She shrugged.
They began walking again.
“So just you and Jenna are running the booth today?”
“And Wyatt.” Jude included his one-year-old nephew in the staffing lineup.
“Oh, Wyatt. He’ll be a huge help.”
“Hey, he’s our salesman. Don’t underestimate the power of a cute baby when it comes to luring in customers. He gets them in the booth, and we sell our wares.”
Bonnie laughed as they made their way around to the back of the building to the workroom of the store.
“So, you going to be okay with Dad today?” Jude asked as they stopped inside the door.
“He’s not an invalid.”
“I know. I mean are you going to be okay—not getting annoyed with him?”
“I’ll be fine.” His sister closed her eyes and held out her hands as though she were meditating. “I’ll be the picture of inner peace and zen.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hey.” Her eyes flew open. “Do you think she will be at the market today?”
Jude narrowed his gaze before walking away. “I don’t know who you mean, but no.”
Bonnie quickly followed. “Her sister Cece came by the booth last week. You don’t think she’ll bring Aurora along this week?”
He tried to focus on the last three boxes of lavender that he needed to load.
Aurora. His high school sweetheart. She of the golden hair, blue-green eyes, prettiest of smiles, sharpest of minds, and quickest of humors. Part of him would love to see her again, while the other part would rather twist an ankle in one of those potholes.
He’d broken her heart way back when, she’d run off and headed west, and there was a big, gaping hole where their relationship used to be. Friendship and love—now an empty space.
If he did see her again, what was he supposed to say?
Hey. Sorry about breaking your heart and being a selfish prick ten years ago. Friends now?
He’d like nothing more than to make peace with what they’d left unresolved. But how?
Aurora Shipley hated him, no doubt. The last thing she’d want to do is swing by the Jones’s farm tent and browse their lavender and herbs.
“Hello.” Bonnie waved her hand in front of his face. “I said, now that she’s back in town, you don’t think Aurora will ever drop by?”
Jude met Bonnie’s gaze before hoisting up the three boxes of lavender. “No, I do not.”
Perhaps he should prepare himself in case she did.
How was he supposed to do that exactly? He counted the end of their relationship as one of his biggest regrets. Sure, he was just a silly teenage boy at the time, but regardless, Jude had always held himself to a higher standard. He should’ve handled things better, been better.
He hoisted the last three boxes in his arms and made his way out the store. If he did run into Aurora Shipley, he had no idea what he could say to fix the past. Still, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he wanted to see her again. He wanted to say the things he couldn’t all those years ago, and maybe finally make things right.
Chapter 3
Aurora drove them into town. She and Cece debated—some might say bickered—about who would take the wheel. Cece, in typical fierce independence, insisted she should, but Aurora won on principle. Her car was still in L.A., so she hadn’t gotten to drive anywhere lately.
A bribery of blueberry scones from the Great Bakery booth had also helped Aurora extract the keys.
As she drove, the winding rural roads turned into the wide streets of the residential area near downtown. The streets were shaded by the trees lining both sides, and they passed in and out of light, as if playing hide-and-seek with the sun.
Closer into town, the streets became more commercial, with the stone and brick buildings of business, retail, and gift shops. Restaurants. The settling of Fredericksburg by German immigrants showed up in flags on storefronts, the variety of German restaurants and bakeries, and the architecture of the landmarks and churches.
People strolled the sidewalks, milling about in common spaces and outside shops.
“Take a left up here and park behind the fabric store. You won’t find any parking closer to the market, and they close down part of Main Street on Saturdays, so pedestrians don’t have to worry about the cars.”
Aurora did as she was told and parked behind Cece’s favorite store. They took a ten-minute detour so Cece could pop in and see if they’d gotten any new fabric since the day before yesterday.
They had not.
“Nothing yet,” Cece declared, leaving the store as she hitched her bag of reusable bags higher on her shoulder. “I keep hoping they’ll get some bolts of autumn-like fabric. Something with orange and yellow. I want to make new pillows for the seats in the gazebo. Freshen it up for when fall comes.”
“That would be pretty.”
“Maybe get some pumpkins out there. Decorate it a little for photo ops and stuff.”
Fall was Cece’s favorite season. Like most addicted hikers, she was drawn outdoors by the changing leaves and cooler temperatures.
Of course, in Texas, it took a little longer for said cooler temperatures to show up.
Today, even before noon, it felt like they were living on the sun.
Aurora grabbed one of the fashionable ties off her wrist and twisted her long hair up into a messy bun.
“People are all about the photo ops and videos now,” Cece continued. “Between Instagram, TikTok, Snapchat, YouTube, and whatever comes next, we need places where guests will want to take cute vids and pics, and post them. It’s free advertising, really.”
Cece wasn’t wrong, that was for sure. Aurora wasn’t a huge social media fan herself, but she was guilty of watching a few travel and foodie YouTube channels.
“That’s actually a brilliant idea, Cece.”
“I know. I’m full of them.” She smiled as they walked toward the market, the live music slowly growing louder. “Like, we need to do more with our branding. We have an IG account, but I’m the only one who posts. You need to start posting images of your food.”
“We post a lot of the wedding food.”
“No.” Cece shook her head and whipped out her phone. “I’m talking about the stuff you cook outside of events. When you mess around, creating new recipes. Post them. See this account?” She held the screen up in Aurora’s face. “This lady cooks using only old-fashioned kitchen utensils and old-school methods. She has thousands of followers. You come up with incredible combinations and unique ideas, and you should post them. You’d help your branding and its content for the inn.”
“Branding and content for the— When did you become such a marketing genius?”
Cece tossed her hair good-naturedly. “Since forever. Plus, I haven’t been able to go hiking, so I’ve spent a lot of time online. I mean a lot of time.”
They reached the closure of Main Street and walked another block to the Marktplatz in the center of town. Tents circled the Vereins Kirche, the octagonal building in the center of the market, and dotted the green space around it.
Produce, baked goods, wildflowers, honey, spices, paintings, pottery, jewelry—you name it, someone probably had a booth for it at the farmers’ market. Originally, it’d begun as a true, produce-only market, but the popularity and draw for tourism over the years helped it grow into so much more.
Aurora first stopped at a booth with corn and summer squash. She picked up an ear and peeled back a corner of the husk to reveal the kernels beneath. Golden yellow and plump, the corn looked perfect. But did she really want to buy it now and haul corn around the market all morning?
“You could wait and come back to get some later,” Cece suggested.
Corn this pretty wouldn’t last until later though. The farm’s booth would sell out within the hour.
“No, I want to get it now and not risk losing out.”
“You’re going to make me carry sacks of corn around, aren’t you?”
“No.” Aurora began picking out the best ears of the bunch. “I’m going to make you help carry sacks of corn around. I’ll get two and you can just carry one.”
A few minutes later and they were both loaded up with two bags of corn each.
Aurora scored a deal by buying in bulk, and this was some of the prettiest corn she’d ever seen.
Better to have too much than not enough.
“I guess I could take these back to the car while you look around some, and I’ll just find you.”
“I don’t know, I quite enjoy being strapped down with produce like a pack mule,” Cece quipped.
“Ha ha, fine. Gimme.”
“Oh, wait though.” Cece hurried ahead to the next booth down.
Aurora glanced at the banner stretched across the top of the tent:
STONEWALL PEACH JAMBOREE & RODEO
And a sign on the table in the tent read, PIE-BAKING CONTEST.
Nope.
“C’mere.” Cece beckoned her into the tent. “They’re going to have a baking contest this year.”
“I see that. But I’m all good. Give me your corn. I’ll be right back.”
“You better
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Second Chance at the Orchard Inn
Heather McGovern
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