Still, shouldn’t she have cut her ties with Boone when Emily had, out of family solidarity or something? Even as the thought formed, Emily knew better. Grandmother wouldn’t abandon Boone the way Emily had. In fact, though she’d never voiced her opinion, Emily knew Cora Jane had judged her harshly for what she’d done, choosing a career over the man everyone knew she loved.
“What’s Boone after?” she asked suspiciously.
“After?” Samantha echoed with a puzzled look. “I don’t think he wants anything. Cora Jane says he’s been a huge help to her with the restaurant. That’s all I know.”
“If Boone is being a huge help, then he wants something,” Emily declared with conviction. Wasn’t he always after something? That had been her experience, anyway. Once upon a time he’d wanted her, and when she’d said she needed time to explore the world a bit, he’d let her go and married Jenny Farmer about ten seconds later. Last she’d heard they had a little boy. So much for that undying love he’d declared he felt for her. Maybe she’d left, but he was the one who’d delivered a betrayal so deep she’d never really recovered.
“He probably wants the Castle’s by the Sea property,” Emily speculated direly. In her dark days, hadn’t she entertained that thought more than once, imagining him courting her even back then with an ulterior motive? How else to explain his rapid-fire marriage to someone else after she’d gone? True love couldn’t possibly have been so fickle. “I’ll just bet he’s hoping this hurricane will be the last straw and Grandmother will sell that prime beachfront location to him.”
Samantha slanted a wry look at her. “You do know that Boone already has three very successful seafood restaurants, right?”
“Three?” Emily echoed, startled.
“Sure enough. Boone’s Harbor on the bay opened first. Now he has one in Norfolk and one over in Charlotte. I think there’s some guy who’s like his administrative assistant who scouts out the new locations and gets them operational, but Boone’s definitely in charge. Grandmother says the reviews have been great in all those cities. She has a collection of them. I’m surprised she never sent them to you.”
“She probably assumed I wouldn’t be interested,” Emily said, oddly deflated by the news. She wanted to believe the very worst about Boone. Needed to believe it, in fact. She didn’t like thinking she’d misjudged his ambition or that she might have made a terrible mistake in being so quick to let him go. She didn’t believe in regrets, so what were these twinges all about?
Her sister studied her with obvious confusion. “I thought you were long over him. You did break up with him, right? Not the other way around? I always thought Jenny was his rebound romance.”
“Over him?” Emily huffed indignantly. “Of course, I’m over him. Haven’t given him a thought since I left here ten years ago.” Liar, liar, her conscience shouted.
“Then why the attitude?”
“I just don’t want him taking advantage of our grandmother, that’s all. Cora Jane is too trusting for her own good.”
Samantha laughed at that. “Cora Jane? You must have some other grandmother in mind. Cora Jane’s as savvy as they come where business is concerned and sharp as a tack when it comes to judging people.”
“She’s not immune to a man with Boone’s considerable charm, that’s all I’m saying,” Emily said irritably. “Let’s drop this. It’s giving me a headache.” She looked around and frowned. They were in the jammed parking lot of a discount store. “Why are you pulling in here?”
“To stock up on your brand-new hurricane cleanup wardrobe,” her sister said, then added, a little too cheerfully, “Let’s not forget the flip-flops and sneakers.”
Emily regarded her with dismay. The only flip-flops she wore these days came from a designer shoe salon on Rodeo Drive.
“Okay,” she said sourly, “but you and Gabi better remember that I don’t scrub windows.” She hesitated, then added, “Or floors.”
Samantha draped an arm over her shoulder as they crossed the busy parking lot. “Fine, Cinderella. We’ll leave the grease trap to you. That’s always fun.”
Emily scowled at her. It promised to be a very long couple of weeks, especially if Boone was likely to be underfoot.
2
“Daddy, are we gonna help Ms. Cora Jane?” B.J. asked, his expression as excited as if they were going to the circus.
“If she’ll let us,” Boone told his eight-year-old son. In his experience Cora Jane never asked for help and wasn’t real crazy about accepting it when offered. He’d learned to be incredibly sneaky about making sure she and the restaurant were looked after.
“Do you think she’ll make me pancakes like Mickey Mouse?” B.J. asked. “The little pancakes that make the ears are the best part.” A guilty expression passed over his face. “Hers are better than Jerry’s, but don’t tell him. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
Boone laughed, well aware of how competitive the cook and Cora Jane could be at times. “I doubt she’ll have the kitchen open,” Boone told him. “The storm water’s barely receded. You know what a mess things are over at our place. Castle’s didn’t look much better when I checked it out yesterday.”
He also knew that Cora Jane was the kind of woman who liked to feel in control of things. No hurricane would throw her off course for long. By tomorrow, she’d probably be cooking whatever she could on the gas grill even if she couldn’t get the oven up and running.
He gave his son a warning look. “Don’t be asking her for pancakes, okay? Not till we see what the situation is. We’re here to help, not to make more work for her.”
“But she always says making special pancakes for me isn’t work,” B.J. said earnestly. “She says she does it out of love.”
Boone chuckled. Of course she’d tell B.J. something like that. Hadn’t
