Second Chance at the Orchard Inn, page 1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by Heather McGovern
Cover art and design by Daniela Medina
Cover images © Shutterstock
Cover copyright © 2023 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
Only Home with You copyright © 2022 by Jeannie Chin
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ISBN: 9781538737460 (mass market), 9781538737453 (ebook)
E3-20230307-NF-ORI
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Restaurant Review
Discover More
Don't miss...
About the Author
Also by Heather McGovern
Only Home with You
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
About the Author
For more from Jeannie Chin...
Read Forever
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Lee, Sean, and ReyRey. Without your love and support, none of this would be possible.
Chapter 1
The scent of sweet cinnamon lured Aurora Shipley down the hall and up the stairs to the main level of the Orchard Inn. The smell grew stronger, pulling her into the kitchen.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Her sister, Beth, bright-eyed and with a big smile across her face, leaned against the counter, drumming her fingers on the back of her tablet.
Ugh. Morning people. “How much coffee have you had?”
“None. It’s still brewing.”
How? Aurora could barely make coherent words happen and her sister was already working on that blasted tablet of hers.
Aurora plopped down in a chair at the counter and propped her chin on her hand. “Wake me when it’s ready, ’kay?”
“Will do. Sawyer made cinnamon rolls for us too. They should be ready in about five minutes.”
Years of working in the food service industry did not a morning person make, and being the current, temporary chef for her family’s inn hadn’t changed that. The inn might serve breakfast at 8:00 a.m., but Aurora kept late hours, prepping food, creating menus, experimenting with recipes, and anxiously contemplating her path in life and what her future may hold.
Y’know, normal one o’clock in the morning stuff like that.
The coffee pot beeped its completion and Aurora poured a big mugful.
She focused on her coffee; hints of caramel laced through every sip. She needed the caffeine to function, but she was particular about a coffee’s flavor profile. Nutty, hints of sweetness, warm notes, and nothing too overpowering. Miss her with blueberry pecan or coconut coffees. No thank you.
Half a cup down, her brain began to function. She’d been up even later than usual, reading over an email from her boss in California. Her time here in Texas was coming to an end. He’d sent her the menu for next month, which was only two short weeks away, and asked when she’d be free to talk about her return.
Beth refilled her mug and floated over to sit next to her. “Late night?” she sang.
Aurora pulled the mug closer. “You need to go somewhere with all that morning cheer.”
But then, Beth was always cheerful nowadays. Apparently, love did that to people.
“Pssht.” Her sister patted her head, more than a smidge patronizing. “Drink your coffee. You’ll be fine.”
Free to talk about her return.
Aurora sipped her coffee.
A couple of weeks into the leave of absence that allowed her to return home and help her sisters with the floundering inn, all Aurora had wanted was to get back to L.A. She had a career to pursue, people to impress, ladders to climb. Her goals were in Los Angeles, but she couldn’t leave her sisters in the lurch. So she’d worked with them at the inn the past two months and, together with Beth and Cece, they’d turned the Orchard Inn around.
In doing so, they’d all grown closer, arguably tighter than they’d been as kids.
Now, the notion of leaving her sisters again—like she had at eighteen—was more unsettling than back then, or even how it would’ve been two months ago.
“Smells like breakfast is almost ready.” Sawyer strolled into the kitchen like he’d been up for hours too.
He rubbed his hands together and took a deep sniff as he opened the oven door. “Oh yeah. We’re in business now.”
A cinnamon scented fog filled the kitchen, and Aurora’s salivary glands came to life.
Sawyer cooked only about five things, but the rolls were now his specialty.
He set a plate of ooey-gooey cinnamon rolls on the counter and dropped a kiss on Beth’s temple. “This ought to help get the day going.”
Beth turned to kiss him before sliding the plate closer.
“Hey, don’t hog the goods. Sawyer made them to share.” Aurora tugged the plate toward her.
Sawyer sat small plates in front of them. “Someone feed this girl, quick.”
He’d recently leveled up from boyfriend to fiancé, and he was a regular Saturday-morning staple at the Orchard Inn. Her sister had never been happier. Then again, with treats like this, who wouldn’t be?
Aurora reached for a roll, taking a bite and letting the warm sweetness melt in her mouth, while the glaze stuck to her lips.
“Shut your mouth,” she said with her mouth still full.
Sawyer chuckled as he joined them at the counter.
“These are too good.” She took another bite. “Are you trying to take my job? Because I’d happily let you have the Saturday-morning shift. Let me roll out of bed around ten, as long as you save me leftovers.”
Sawyer laughed fully then, the rich baritone sound oddly soothing, even in the morning. “I cannot run a kitchen. Filling a request from my sweetheart is one thing.” He shared a smile with Beth. “But multiple things, for multiple people? No way. Besides, I only know how to make these and a steak dinner. Pretty sure your guests prefer a star chef, not a cowboy.”
“Oh.” Beth set her coffee down with a clunk. “That reminds me. Aurora, the couple who checked out yesterday—here for their anniversary—they went on and on for about ten minutes about your brunch. I thought the husband was going to cry when he started talking about the quiche.”
Well, in all honesty, her quiche was worthy of tears.
She’d shed a few of them while trying to impress her then-boss, years ago.
At first, she’d cried tears of frustration, the head chef being unimpressed with any and everything Aurora did, yet still tapping her to create and prepare the feature menu item for the restaurant’s Mother’s Day brunch.
Nothing like the mind games of a demanding, brilliant, narcissistic head chef to riddle Aurora with self-doubt and then throw her on center stage and demand perfection.
Wanting to do more than just a typical quiche Lorraine or veggie, Aurora
It resulted in the first compliment her head chef ever gave her.
“Not bad,” he’d said.
Might as well have been skywriting and a parade to Aurora. Later that day, tucked away in the janitor’s closet, she’d wept tears of joy.
“I bet they leave an amazing review on Tripadvisor.” Beth pulled a small bite of her cinnamon roll off with a fork, having no idea of the emotional roller coaster one quiche had caused.
“Good.” Aurora’s brain began feeling less fuzzy, her mind fully kicking into gear with thoughts of cheese, heirloom tomatoes, and kitchen trauma.
Her goal, in returning to the Orchard Inn, was bailing her family out of having no chef after a disastrous wedding reception. Then, helping her sisters rebuild the inn’s brand into something sought-after and admirable. But she’d also gotten a break from the pressure cooker of being a chef in one of Los Angeles’s most popular, and demanding, restaurants.
Aurora had never, and would never, admit she needed a break. But taking a couple of months to return home and work at the slower pace of the family business had restored some balance to her life. She felt more centered, and she remembered she was darn good at this chef gig.
Rebuilding the inn’s reputation was well on its way—some might even say complete—but admitting her work here was done meant going back into the fire and facing her future.
Was she ready for that?
“Where’s Cece?” Sawyer asked after their youngest sister.
Aurora turned her thoughts to the here and now. “Sleeping in, probably. We went for a long walk yesterday. She did great, but I think it wore her out.”
Cece had fallen on a solo hike and hurt her ankle about a month before. She was out of the boot and cleared to get some activity but was wisely taking it slow. Yesterday was the longest walk so far and, while she’d done great, the effort had to have been exhausting.
Not to mention, she’d stayed up late in the kitchen with Aurora, catching up on gossip and taking dibs on when Beth would marry Sawyer, and how much of a control freak she’d be about the event.
If their late-night session prevented Cece from getting this breakfast, they’d all be in trouble.
Motion in her peripheral vision caught Aurora’s attention.
“What in the— What are you doing to that poor roll?” She stared Beth down.
“What?” Beth haphazardly stabbed the roll with her fork again, tearing off a jagged bite.
“Stop. You’re mutilating it.”
“Don’t tell me how to eat my breakfast.”
“You’re not eating it. You’re torturing it. Sawyer, tell her she’s doing it wrong.”
Sawyer was too busy licking his sticky fingers.
“See? Sawyer knows.”
“I don’t like my fingers getting all gooey,” Beth argued.
“Then at least cut into it like a piece of cake. Don’t stab at it like you’ve got a pickax. You’re killing me. Next, you’ll be putting ketchup on your steak.”
“No.” Sawyer shook his head dramatically while chewing. “Don’t blaspheme at breakfast.”
Aurora grinned. “What are you going to do when you serve steak at your wedding reception and some guest asks for ketchup?”
Sawyer threw his hands up in outrage. “Absolutely not. There will be no ketchup at our wedding.”
She chuckled at his reaction, and Beth joined in.
“This is not a laughing matter,” he insisted. “There is nothing we’re going to serve that should need ketchup. Not the steak, not the potatoes. Not with your cooking. It will be perfection exactly as is. Maybe we’ll allow some salt and pepper, but even that’s questionable.”
Beth stopped laughing and her gaze shot toward the window.
Aurora set down her coffee. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Beth was a terrible liar. She was thinking about Aurora leaving for California.
She and Sawyer had been talking about Aurora a lot lately. Several times, Aurora entered a room only for them to hush immediately, and then awkwardly begin blabbing about the weather or going horseback riding. When really, they’d just been mid-discussion about Aurora, their wedding, and the future without Aurora nearby.
They’d probably get married in about six to eight months and, by that time, Aurora was supposed to be long gone.
Back to L.A., back to her dream and the hard work of someday being named head chef at one of the premier restaurants in the country.
She wouldn’t be here to prepare their wedding feast. Heck, she’d be lucky if she got a couple of days off to fly in and be a bridesmaid, then leave again, not to be seen for months, maybe even years—given a chef’s schedule.
“I could maybe take some time off and come back long enough to help with the wedding,” Aurora fibbed.
There’s no way she’d get that kind of time off. She’d used up all her favors by taking this current leave.
Beth turned to face her. “We both know that’s not realistic. Not if you’re back in California.”
If.
That was Beth’s way of saying, “But if you aren’t in California, you could stay here with us and we’d all live happily ever after, so do exactly that, okay?”
Honestly, Aurora had considered it.
She’d lie in bed at night, wondering what life might be like if she stayed in Texas and remained the chef at the Orchard Inn.
But, while the past two months had been a blessing for her and her sanity, being a bed-and-breakfast and wedding chef was not her happily ever after. She didn’t want to be a caterer. Being the inn’s chef wasn’t her culinary dream, and she couldn’t stay home forever.
Home was the place of her dreams. The past lurked around every corner and reminded her of him.
The only thing scarier than returning to L.A. and fighting for her future was staying here, letting her dreams die, and having to deal with the past.
No thank you.
“I can help you find another chef,” Aurora offered. “I’ll get Cece to help me put something online. We’ll line up interviews. I’m not going to leave y’all high and dry, sis.”
“I know, I know.” Beth nodded and swallowed hard. “But they won’t be you.”
Aurora stared down into her black coffee.
Her sisters had made no secret of their wish for her to stay. They’d been supportive when she left for school and remained supportive during her years of striving and hustling in kitchens across Southern California. Now that she’d returned for a couple of months, and they’d bonded again, sharing the love and challenging one another as only sisters can, they were less enthusiastic about California being the place to make her dreams come true.
“It’ll all work out in the end.” Sawyer walked up behind them and squeezed them both with an arm over each of their shoulders. “You’ll see.”
“I hope you saved me one of those cinnamon buns or heads will roll.” Cece joined them in the kitchen, moving better than she had in weeks.
“You know we did.” Sawyer hopped up and grabbed her a plate. “I’ll even warm it up a little.”
“You’re my hero.” Cece smiled at him. “I don’t care what Beth says about you.”
“Hey,” Beth protested.
Sawyer and Cece had been thick as thieves since the day they met, and it warmed Aurora’s heart. Sawyer was the big brother Cece had never had but had probably always wanted.
Cece would hate it if she knew, but Aurora worried about their little sister.
Not the kind of worrying Beth did, but still, she loved the idea of Cece having someone else around who cared. She’d been diagnosed with a very mild case of cerebral palsy when she was born, but Cece had undergone surgeries and therapy, and worked hard to be an independent, capable young woman. She was stronger and more determined than all of them combined.
Nevertheless, it was always good to have people around who cared.
The same went for Beth. Sawyer was there for her, supportive and steady.
Aurora did feel a bit better about leaving with Sawyer there, but only a bit.
Somebody needed to be there to referee when Beth and Cece butted heads. It didn’t happen very often nowadays, but it would happen.
