He looked at Abby and said, “If you’re okay with it, it sounds like a good time.”
“Great, then we’re in,” Abby said, and then she remembered that Cait was coming back on Friday. “Jules, I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but Deirdra and I just found out that we have a half sister, Cait Weatherby.”
“I did hear that. What a surprise, huh? What’s she like?”
Abby told her all about Cait and about how much she liked her. “Would you mind if she came along? I’d love for her to meet everyone, too.”
“Any sister of yours is a sister of ours,” Jules said.
Abby’s mind was three steps ahead, and she said, “Leni said she was coming in for Mother’s Day weekend. She offered to help me with marketing for the restaurant. Do you know if she’ll be here Friday night? It would be fun if she joined us, too.”
“I think she said she’s coming Saturday, but let me find out if she can come Friday instead.” Jules whipped out her phone and said, “One group text coming up!”
They made plans to meet at Rock Bottom Bar and Grill Friday evening, and then Jules hugged them both and went on her way.
“She seems chipper,” Aiden said.
“I love Jules. She beat cancer when she was little, and I swear she can find the silver lining in any situation. She’s so happy that sometimes she just breaks out in song. She never gets the lyrics right. It’s hilarious.”
“I’m glad I had the chance to meet her.”
“Me too.” Abby’s phone vibrated with a text. “This is probably her. She loves group texts.” She pulled her phone from her pocket, saw Leni’s name on the screen, and opened the message. Why am I hearing about a new guy from Jules!? Of course I can come Friday night!
“I’m sorry. This will only take a sec,” Abby said as she thumbed out a response. I swear Jules IS the island grapevine. He’s awesome! Can’t chat. We’re on a date! Will text when free. She sent the message and shoved her phone into her pocket. If she had it her way, she and Aiden would be too busy getting their groove on to text her later, but she’d fit a text in when she could. She smiled at Aiden and said, “What’s next on our agenda?”
“Buying a hammock. It’s on Remi’s list.”
“I’m pretty sure the Silvers won’t let you hang that in your room at the resort.”
He chuckled. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I hung it in your yard.”
“That’ll cost you,” she said flirtatiously.
“Mm. That’s one debt I’ll enjoy paying back right after our six o’clock winery tour and tasting.”
“You planned our whole day. I don’t think you needed any help learning to relax.”
He slid his arm around her waist and said, “But I needed a reason to want to.”
They drove to the outdoor furniture store and headed into the showroom, which was bursting with colorful umbrellas, chairs, and tables in every style known to man, in fabric, wood, iron, and plastic. A middle-aged salesman directed them to the hammocks in the rear of the store.
As they made their way through the showroom, Abby said, “I have to start thinking about outdoor furniture for the Bistro. The furniture my mom was using was so ratty, Shelley had it hauled away for us.” She pointed to a semicircular wicker couch with green cushions around a decorative metal firepit. “I’ve always wanted one of those conversation pits.”
“For your house or for the Bistro?”
“Either. It would be cool to have a conversation pit like that at home, but we’ve been so worried about the restaurant, I haven’t even talked with my sisters about what we’re doing with my mom’s house yet.”
“How about at the patio of the Bistro?”
“There’s a restaurant on the Cape that has that type of setup with the couches and a firepit out front, and customers love having drinks there and listening to the musicians they bring in.”
“Couldn’t you do that at the Bistro?”
Her brow furrowed. “My parents never had live music, but I guess we could think about doing it next year. I’ve got my hands full getting the restaurant up and running. There’s so much to do. Finding musicians—much less affording them—and coming up with schedules is more than I can handle at the moment.”
“That sounds like a good plan.” He was glad she knew her limits.
“Aiden, look.” She hurried across the room toward a set of stunning rattan café chairs and tables with simple yet elegant designs, which looked like they belonged in a French café. “These are similar to what my dad used when I was growing up.” She ran her hands along the frame and scanned the information tag. “They’re commercial grade, handwoven, and they’re artisan-crafted in Paris! I need these. They’re perfect!” she said giddily.
“I’ve got to admit, they’d really spruce up the place for the visit from the competition judges, which would work in your favor.”
Confusion rose in her eyes. “What do you mean? I didn’t enter, remember?”
“I know.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and said, “But I might have entered on your behalf. I didn’t want you to miss the deadline.”
“Aiden!” she snapped, quickly looking around to see if anyone heard her.
Aiden waved off the salesman and said, “We’re okay over here.”
“We are not okay over here!” Abby waggled her finger at him, speaking in a harsh whisper. “Why did you do that after I said I wanted to wait a year?”
“Because after tasting your cooking, I knew you could win.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?” She must have realized she was smiling, because she scowled again. “That’s no reason to go behind my back.”
“I’m sorry, babe, but I believe in you, and the free exposure could be the difference between making it your first season and going under.”
“I cannot believe you did that.” She crossed her arms, her lips forming a tight line.
“I’m sorry I overstepped.” He put his hand on her hip and, in a more serious tone, said, “But, Abby, I work with growing businesses every day, and I know what it takes to build a brand and a reputation. You want to re-create what your parents had, and with you at the helm, the Bistro has a real chance of succeeding. But you can only get so far without the right tools to back you up, including the far reach of marketing that the competition has to offer.”
Her expression softened, but her eyes narrowed. “Does this have anything to do with one-upping Wells?”
“No,” he said sharply, realizing how badly his idea had backfired. Abby wasn’t a business associate, and he shouldn’t have treated her like one. “This has everything to do with wanting to see you succeed. It’s not just you anymore, babe. Deirdra and Cait are investing, too, and you know they’re investing in you more than they are in the Bistro. I know you don’t want to let them down, so why not pull out all the stops? Win that competition and work up a finite budget that includes your staffing, overhead, maintenance, and all the other costs, and then spend your money in the right places.” He cocked a grin and said, “Beating Wells is the icing on the cake.”