“Hated every minute of it, as I recall,” he said with a smile.
“That’s beside the point.” She gave him a look filled with frustration. “I’m not telling her to bring in leather settees and mood lighting, for heaven’s sake. I’m just trying to give the place some beachfront charm. It’s depressing in there.”
“Rustic?” Boone suggested.
She gave him another of those piercing looks. He shrugged. “B.J. mentioned it.”
“Okay, yes. Rustic. Would you tell me why she couldn’t keep that dining room closed another couple of days until it aired out? I’m sure it’s only because she didn’t want to lose the business.”
“Maybe it’s because she knew there would be folks in town counting on her,” Boone suggested gently. “Emily, you know how many regulars that place has. It’s not even about the tourists, though they keep us all going. It’s about the locals who like to gather there to see their neighbors, catch up on what’s going on around here. Far more than my restaurant, Castle’s is an important part of the community.”
She frowned. “Okay, maybe. But what is so wrong about sprucing the place up?”
“Maybe it’s more about the timing,” he suggested, though he was convinced of no such thing.
Emily rolled her eyes. “If I thought that’s all it was, I could get this in motion and she could have the work done when the tourist season slows down, but trust me, she’ll have none of that, either.”
Boone allowed himself a small smile at the annoyance in her voice. He actually understood the point she was trying to make about bringing Castle’s interior up-to-date. He’d paid an expert much like Emily to design the ambiance for the interiors of the Boone’s Harbor restaurants to be inviting and classy. He hadn’t wanted stuffed fish and decoys hanging on the walls. He’d wanted a look that would work as well in a city like Charlotte as it would here on the coast.
“Maybe you should give Cora Jane a little credit,” he suggested mildly. “She seems to know what her customers want. She’s been in business here a lot of years.”
“I’m just saying I think they’d like it even better if we brought some of that sunshine inside,” she grumbled.
“Thus the blue paint and sunshine yellow trim,” he said. “B.J. mentioned that, too.”
“Did he also tell you Grandmother’s reaction?”
Boone barely managed to hide a grin. “He did.”
“Yeah, well, she could get her wish. Maybe I will do it over her dead body. Maybe one of these days, if she hasn’t already driven me into an early grave, I’ll come back here after she’s gone and paint the whole place in the wildest colors imaginable. A brilliant flamingo pink and blazing fire engine red come to mind. How’s that for a shocker of a combination?”
It took everything in him to bite back the chuckle that threatened. “It’ll be an attention-getter, all right. And then what? You harboring some desire to run a restaurant that’ll keep you tied to this place?”
“Hardly. Samantha, Gabi and I will sell it for top dollar.” She glanced at him. “Maybe even to you. That is what you’re angling for, isn’t it? To get your hands on this location?”
The camaraderie of the moment disappeared in a heartbeat. Boone froze at her words. That she could think such a thing, even for a single second, stunned him.
“Since I know you’re upset, I’ll let that ridiculous remark pass.” He leveled a look into her eyes. “You should know me better than that, Em. You really should.”
He turned on his heel and walked away, seething. Once in a while, he felt a hint of the old connection between the two of them, a suggestion of the us-against-the-world mentality that had kept them together as teens. Right this second, though, he realized they’d never been further apart.
* * *
Emily stared after Boone, feeling small and spiteful and mean. She’d hurt him just then. Maybe she’d meant to do it, even, but when her barb had struck its mark, she’d immediately wanted to take it back. He’d come after her just now, listened to her complaints, tried to offer comfort, and how had she returned the favor? By suggesting he had underhanded motives for helping out her grandmother. Even now, after seeing the bond between the two of them, she’d been suspicious and unreasonable.
Sure, it had been a stupid, knee-jerk remark because she was hurt and angry, a suggestion she honestly didn’t believe, but thinking it, much less saying it aloud, had been uncalled for. Boone didn’t deserve that from her.
Of course, admitting the mistake to herself was one thing. Apologizing to Boone was quite another. She needed to do that, and sooner rather than later.
Uttering a sigh of resignation, she put her sneakers back on and crossed the street, hoping to make amends. Instead, she was just in time to see Boone and B.J. leaving the parking lot. Boone didn’t even glance her way, though B.J. waved excitedly and called her name.
She gave B.J. a wave in return and stared after Boone with regret, then slipped into the restaurant kitchen through a side door. She found her grandmother at the stove dishing up bowls of crab soup. Cora Jane glanced up at her.
“I could use your help in there,” her grandmother said as if they hadn’t been arguing less than an hour ago. “We’re swamped, inside and out. Gabi and Samantha are trying to keep up with the regular wait staff, but we could use another pair of hands.”
Emily nodded and grabbed an apron and an order book. Though waiting tables was only a distant memory, she’d spent enough summers helping out here to know the drill. As Boone had said, she hadn’t liked it, but she had mastered it, because it was her nature to do everything well or not do it at all.
Even as that thought struck her, it occurred to her that maybe that’s
