Okay, a big, handsome, laughing, naked man.
The smile lingered on his lips and in his pale blue eyes. “Seriously, Jen,” he said, leaning toward her again as though this was an intimate restaurant rather than a busy café. “I do want to talk to you about something. See, I was thinking we could—”
“Jenny?” said a deep, masculine voice.
We could what? she thought in frustration. But she arranged her face in a welcoming smile and stood up. “Philip,” she said warmly. “You must have caught the early train.”
He nodded. “I know you said you didn’t need anything, but I had to come.”
And with such perfect timing, she thought. “Well, I’m glad. Philip, this is Rourke McKnight. Maybe you remember meeting him last summer at the Bellamys’ fiftieth anniversary celebration… And Rourke, this is Philip Bellamy. My…” Father. It was still impossible to get that word out. Father implied many things that Philip Bellamy was not. It implied a connection between a man and his daughter that simply didn’t exist for them.
“Sure, I remember.” Rourke stood and offered a firm handshake. “Please, sit down.”
“You really didn’t have to come,” Jenny said, feeling both giddy and self-conscious, as she always did around Philip. “I’m glad you did, though.”
She had first met him one day last August, when he’d simply shown up on her doorstep and said he believed he was her father.
Just like that. In one moment, he’d solved the biggest mystery of her life. Since then, the two of them had been in a sort of awkward dance, bumbling toward each other and then backing off, trying to figure out what their relationship would be.
Part of her wanted the situation to be as simple as a Hallmark card, in which she opened her heart to him and brought him into her life. But another part was filled with doubt. She had only his word that he’d loved her mother and planned to marry her. Only his word that he had no idea Jenny had ever been born. And since she didn’t know him, she didn’t know how good his word was.
“Rourke’s been kind enough to give me a roof over my head,” she told Philip. “Temporarily, of course. We were just talking about my options.”
Philip beamed at her. “Then I came just in time,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”
Jenny was about to ask him to clarify, when Laura came down from the upstairs business office.
“I heard you were down here,” Laura said to her. “Hi, Rourke.” Then she turned to Philip Bellamy. “Hello.”
Philip stood and politely took her hand as he greeted her. “Laura. It’s been a long time.”
Rourke pushed back from the table. “I should go. I’ve got some things to take care of.”
Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. Jenny couldn’t tell if it was true or if this was just a polite cop-out. Cop-out. Ha, ha.
He held a chair out for Laura, who looked pleased as she had a seat.
Don’t go, Jenny thought. Finish what you were saying. You wanted to talk to me about…?
“See you later,” Rourke said. “Good seeing you,” he added with a nod in Philip’s direction.
“Was it something I said?” asked Philip, watching him go.
“He works hard,” Jenny answered.
“Has he figured out what caused the fire?” Philip asked.
“An investigation team is working on it,” she said. “It was an old house. I expect the cause will be faulty wiring.” She busied herself busing the table. “So, is this your first visit to the bakery?”
He and Laura exchanged a glance.
“The first in a long time,” he said.
“You were here before,” she said. A chill slid over her skin.
“Anyone who comes to the town of Avalon visits the Sky River Bakery.”
Then Jenny noticed the expression on Laura’s face. “You two knew each other…back then.”
Laura simply nodded. “I’ve been here all my life. I knew the Bellamys, Philip included.”
Philip looked around the café. The skiers were layering on their gear, preparing to head out. Matthew Alger had finished his coffee and crossword puzzle, and was getting ready to leave, too.
“My God,” Philip said. “Is that who I think it is?”
“You know him, too?” Jenny asked.
“I did a long time ago.” Philip got up and approached Alger. “I recognized you right away.”
They shook hands, but it was clearly not a warm handshake. Alger had a sort of boyishness that made him look younger than his age. His hair was blond, impeccably styled in a cropped, Rutger Hauer-like fashion. He was shorter than Philip and not so well built, but he had a certain presence. He greeted Philip with a peculiar cordial distance, then walked over to Jenny’s table.
“What’s the progress on the fire investigation?” he asked her.
“The salvage crew just finished up,” she said, a little startled by his interest.
“So quickly?”
“There wasn’t much to salvage,” Jenny said.
“Zachary tells me you’re taking some time off.”
“I am,” she said. “I’m trying, at least. I seem to find myself torn between managing the bakery and dealing with the fire.”
“Well. I hope you’re able to save some of those irreplaceable family treasures.”
The comment startled her. Sentiment, from Matthew Alger? “I hope so, too. Thanks.”
After he left, she and Laura gave Philip a quick tour around the bakery. “It all started with my grandmother’s rye bread,” she said. “Maybe you knew that.”
He shook his head. “Mariska didn’t tell me much about the family business.”
What did she tell you? Jenny wondered. That she hated it here, that she wanted to run away? That having a child wasn’t enough to hold her?
“Gram started out baking bread in her kitchen,” she said in a neutral tone, reminding herself that her mother’s choices were not Philip’s fault. “My grandfather would deliver the loaves door to door. Eventually, they moved into this building. The coffee shop opened about thirty years ago. I basically grew up here.”
“She was adorable,” Laura
