“No,” Amy said, “this is a sign that you are finally going to take charge of your life. You’re going to get your revenge.”
“He doesn’t even remember me.”
“Even better!” Amy said brightly. “You’ll fly under his radar.” Amy pushed Elsie aside, opened a new spreadsheet, and wrote:
PLANS FOR ZOE’S REVENGE.
1. POISON
“Strike that one through. I’m a chef; I can’t go around poisoning people!”
“I know several plants that won’t kill,” Amy said. “They’ll give him mild discomfort and potentially internal bleeding.”
“No. Poison.”
“Oh, I know!” Amy clapped her hands. “Make him fall in love with you and break his heart!”
“Gross. No way.”
“At least then you could get laid!” Amy waggled her eyebrows.
I refused to remember how amazing it had felt.
“The best revenge is a life well lived,” Elsie said sagely. “You need to find a boyfriend—a nice one with a big package. Weston cannot be the only man you have ever slept with.”
“He’s not,” I lied.
Elsie raised an eyebrow.
“I told you, he ruined me!”
“Oh, are we having a Pride and Prejudice drinking session?” my granny called out, coming into the restaurant. Although she was in her seventies, she didn’t act like an old woman. She was spry and had a shock of bright pink hair.
“You didn’t sleep with any of the customers, did you, Zoe?” she asked.
“Of course not.”
Gran was disappointed. “You need to get out there. What else is there to do in a small town than fuck like rabbits?”
Amy nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what I was telling her!”
“I’m not sleeping with the customers, and I’m not sleeping with Weston.” I crossed my arms. “Besides, I don’t have time to date. I’m trying to run this restaurant.”
“This restaurant has been here for thirty-five years,” Gran insisted. “The old girl isn’t going anywhere.”
“Granny.” My shoulders sagged. “We need to look at the accounts. Elsie was generous enough to—”
But my grandmother steamrolled ahead. As usual, she refused to listen to me about how dire the restaurant’s financial situation was.
“I will not have my pretty granddaughter waste her life working all day. You need to meet people. You’ve been here months already,” she chastised me.
“I’m still settling in.”
“You need to join some clubs,” Gran insisted.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You don’t have to. I signed you up for the festival committee.”
“The what?”
“Harrogate is hosting a festival bonanza to coincide with the Art Zurich Biennial Expo and to lead up to the Founders Firelight Festival. You’re on the committee! You know I’m part of the Harrogate Girls Club, but we’re trying to concentrate our effort on town welcoming and beautification. So we spun off the festival committee. We have most of the festival planned. You just have to pull the trigger. But feel free to add some flair. The giant omelet festival is coming up next, and I know you love to cook, so that’s just the thing to get your feet wet. There are other young people on the committee!” she singsonged. “Meeting is tomorrow afternoon!”
I groaned and slumped on a bar stool.
There were a number of things I hated about small towns—the gossip, the fact that the stores all closed early—but most of all, I hated the festivals. Every weekend was an excuse to have a random festival. Then if you didn’t go to the festival—because honestly, why go to the bacon festival when you were just at the pork skin festival last weekend?—people acted as if you had skipped your great-grandfather’s funeral.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I really need to brainstorm some ways for the restaurant to attract more business.”
“That’s why I booked a booth for us at every festival. It’s free publicity.”
“I think we need to branch out a little more,” I said weakly. “Like more catering gigs.” I looked hopefully at Elsie.
“We have a few weddings coming up. Once Avery has her Broughton Estate wedding venue up and running later this year, I anticipate more business that I’ll need your help on,” Elsie replied.
After looking at the accounts, I did not think Girl Meets Fig was going to hold on that long.
The laptop dinged.
“Speaking of.” Elsie pointed.
“A catering gig!” I exclaimed.
“See,” my grandmother said knowingly, “it all works out in the end.”
“And it’s a corporate gig,” Elsie said, opening the order form.
I skimmed it. Then I reached the company name. “Oh fuck no! I am not going to be catering a meeting for Weston Svensson.”
“You can’t cancel,” Gran admonished. “You’ll upset the universe.”
Apparently things were not going to work out after all.
4
Weston
“I have a festival committee meeting this afternoon,” I reminded my brothers as we headed to the new ThinkX office in downtown Harrogate. It was located in the old shirtwaist factory building. Parker’s girlfriend, Sadie, owned the small café in the bottom-floor retail space. The building also housed the town makerspace on the ground floor, which was managed by Remington’s foundation, The Rural Trust.
“You’re on a committee?” Blade wrinkled his nose.
“Yes, because that’s part of the charm of small towns. Festival season is starting.”
“Oh, you actually want to participate,” Archer said. “I thought you had signed up to spy on Meg.”
“Why would I—”
“Since you’re going to be on the committee,” Hunter interjected, “I need you to tell me how she’s acting with the men there.”
“I’m not spying on her for you. I’m not that type of man.”
Remy shook his head slowly. “Hunter, I thought you were moving on.”
“I was,” he snapped, “until Weston decided to interject himself into my affairs.”
Blade smirked. A few weeks ago, I had invited Meg on a date. Well, not a real date. It was a business dinner to score a major client for ThinkX and, as a byproduct, Harrogate.
“It was just business,” I said flippantly, “though now that I’m in town, maybe she’ll want to sample other chocolates in the box of Svenssons.”
Hunter grabbed me by the collar. “Meg is mine.”
“You can’t own another human being.”
Hunter put his face close to mine. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Geeze.” I shoved him off. “Chill. I didn’t even get to sit next to her in the car.”
“She clearly still cares about me,” Hunter said smugly. “She was completely enraged with jealousy over Svetlana. You were right, Remy. ‘Moving on’”—Hunter made air quotes—“was the perfect thing to get her back.”