Back to the Good Fortune Diner (35 page)

“Go on,” she said flatly when he paused for breath.

“When I met you, I was...overwhelmed by the fact a beautiful, smart, caring woman like you would want to have anything to do with me. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you first messaged me online. You’re everything I could possibly ever want. And I was terrified that you’d see how much of a loser I am.”

“Loser?” She appeared genuinely puzzled. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, Selena. Look at me. Thirty-four and living with my parents, working for them in a small-town Chinese restaurant with no real income of my own. Someone must have said something about how I might only be with you for your money.”

The discomfort that flitted across her features confirmed his suspicions.

“It was my sister who made me face the facts. You were right, talking with her was helpful. Even if she kind of knocked me for a loop at first.” He grimaced. “But she also made me realize nothing else matters except what I feel for you. I was bogged down by the idea that I should be the breadwinner and supporting you. It scared me that I could want something so bad and realize I hadn’t earned it.

“I can’t tell you that one day I’ll make as much as you do in some job here in New York. Right now, I’m making fifteen dollars an hour working in a Chinese barbecue restaurant as a cook and waiter on the dinner shift. Frankly, I don’t know that I want to do anything else. I love cooking. I love the restaurant business. But I would give all that up to become your trophy husband and raise our children if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

Tears shone in her eyes behind her glasses. She pressed a trembling hand against her heart. “Shouldn’t you be on your knees or something?” she asked in a choked whisper.

“I would already be on them if I had a ring.” He dropped to his knees anyhow. “Selena, will you marry me?”

She shook her head. “All this melodrama and you come here in the middle of the night, expecting me to give you a life-changing answer now?” She laughed shakily, and Daniel smiled.

“I’ll stay on my knees until you do give me an answer.”

“Get up, you goof.” She flung her arms around him as he shot to his feet and wrapped her in his embrace.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, you idiot,” she choked out. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

Hot tears of happiness welled in his eyes. He squeezed her tight. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for what I’ve done. Anything you want, Selena, just name it.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He did. And he didn’t stop.

* * *

T
IFFANY HAD A LONG THINK
ALL
S
UNDAY.

Puffy-eyed and exhausted from a night of emotional diarrhea, all she could think about was the week ahead. If she could focus on taking one step at a time, taking things day by day, it would all be more manageable.

But the thought only drove her into a deeper depression.

Daniel hadn’t come home last night. She’d worried about him briefly, but then received a text around three in the morning, informing her he’d gotten back together with Selena and wouldn’t be coming home. How nice for them, she’d thought bleakly, though in the light of the morning, over a strong cup of coffee, she had to admit she was happy for her brother...and a little envious.

She tried to settle down to read, but found herself staring blankly at the page, the words blurring together. She was watching the clock, she realized, counting down the minutes to Chris’s departure.

Ridiculous. What was she going to do? Run to his hotel and fling herself in front of the car to stop him from leaving? He had to go home. Simon had school. William needed to be cared for and the farm needed its farmer.

What did Tiffany need? A brain transplant, apparently, because the way her thoughts were headed, she couldn’t believe she wasn’t going crazy.

There was absolutely nothing for her in Everville—not careerwise, anyhow. If she went back, she’d be throwing her hard-earned English degree out the window. That act of rebellion that had broken her away from her parents’ expectations would be for nothing. If she went back, what would she be facing except humiliation? Failure? She would become Tiffany, the brainy Chinese girl who couldn’t keep a job, poor thing.

She closed her eyes. Here, she was something. She was editorial assistant at Haute Docs Books. She was a gatekeeper, a publishing demigod.

But she was tired. And overworked. And alone.

And she was miserable.

She had to face it. She woke up every day dreading her life. She went through the motions, but her work was joyless, Sisyphean, even. But she was sticking around because she was certain it was what she’d been born to do.

There was only one thing she could think about doing, now.

She opened her laptop and started typing out her letter of resignation.

Three weeks later

T
IFFANY DRANK IN
the crisp smell of dried leaves and rich earth newly turned after harvest. She’d forgotten how much she’d loved this time of year in the country. The fall fair would be coming up soon; she thought about painting something to enter into the arts contest. Perhaps a view from Osprey Peak.

Her heart rate doubled as she pulled into the gravel driveway at the Jamieson farm. A familiar figure strode toward her from the field.

“Hi, Jane,” she greeted. The farm manager didn’t say anything as she gathered her into a hug. Tiffany hugged her right back.

“Thank God you’re home. It hasn’t been the same around here since you left.” She held her away. “They’re all in there.” She nodded toward the house. “Don’t know if you need backup, but...”

“I’ll be sure to call for you if they chase me off with pitchforks and torches.” She chuckled. “Here. Insurance.” She handed the woman a large double espresso mocha latte with extra foam from the Grindery.

“You’d better marry that fool of a man,” Jane called after her as Tiff walked up the veranda.

The door was unlocked. It always was. It was something she’d have to get used to, she supposed, though she wasn’t sure she’d ever shake her city habit. Locked doors around here seemed to suggest you didn’t trust your neighbors, though. And she was through shutting people out of her life.

The door opened on silent hinges. She stepped in, breathing in that slightly stale smell of old food, animals, grease and men. Another thing she would have to become accustomed to.

She hoped.

She heard voices raised in heated discussion coming from the dining room. As quietly as she could, she peeked around the doorway.

Chris and William were sitting on opposite sides of the table, with Simon sitting at the head between them, a laptop and several books spread open in front of him. His gaze bounced between father and grandfather, and he was scratching his scalp with the tip of a pen.

“It’s not about love. It’s about duty,” William argued hotly. “Those girls, Regan and Goneril, they had the right idea. Just smile and nod and say what they were supposed to say. If what’s-her-face had gone along with it, Lear would have given her his kingdom.”

“And there wouldn’t be a play,” Chris said tiredly. “Look, Cordelia loved her father the most. She owed him the truth. King Lear overreacted and cut off his nose to spite his face.”

“You make it sound like he’s crazy.”

Simon raised a finger. “Uh, spoiler alert, Grandpa....”

Tiffany cleared her throat, and all three of them looked up.

Their expressions ranged from surprise to shock to befuddlement. Chris lurched to his feet.

“Please,” she said, staying him with an outstretched hand. “I have something to say first.”

He sank into his chair. Her pulse hammered in her throat and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

“Simon was right about me. I was playing house. I jerked you all around. I never meant to. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” William grabbed his crutches and hopped out of his seat more spryly than she ever would have imagined. “C’mon, Simon. I need your help in the greenhouse.”

“Greenhouse? What do you—”

“There are seedlings we need to...um...plant. Or...hell, let’s just go already.”

Simon looked between his father and Tiffany and followed his grandfather out. He paused at the kitchen doorway and gave her a narrowed look before disappearing. She deserved his suspicion. She vowed then to do everything she could to make him believe she’d never hurt his father or him again.

Before she could get a word out, something nudged her ankle, and she looked down.

“Mack!” she gasped, and scooped up the kitten. Her heart swelled as she cradled the purring black cat and nuzzled him. “Look how much you’ve grown. You kept him?”

“Simon did, actually. I don’t think he was willing to give him up.” Chris stayed seated, hands clasped on the table.

Tiffany sniffed. Dammit, she was not going to cry. She hadn’t even gotten to say what she had come to say yet. She was supposed to save her tears—happy or sad—for after Chris had answered her question. She set the cat down, and Mack trotted away.

“I’ve never felt like I belonged here,” she began, gripping the back of a chair. “I never fit in with my family, with school or in town. But when I came back and I started working with Simon and being with you...it all clicked. I’d spent all these years thinking I could never love this place or my place in it. I thought I knew where I belonged. And then you changed my mind, and it terrified me.

“I’ve spent so much time trying to become someone else that I’ve ignored the person I actually am. I turned away from my family, my culture, turned away from the people who tried to be friends with me. I allowed others to define me in narrow terms, and I started defining myself in even narrower ones. And I’ve paid for it. I’ve become someone I don’t like. Someone I don’t understand.”

He watched her with a slight frown. She was rambling.

“I quit my job, Chris. I’ve moved back into my parents’ place for the time being.”

He flinched. “But...why? You were happy....”

“I wasn’t. I was miserable and tired and I couldn’t stay on top of all that work. I thought it was because things were too new still. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I couldn’t do it. But I couldn’t work under those conditions. So I quit.”

“And moved back here? Just like that?”

“Just like that.” It had taken a little longer than she’d thought it would, but Daniel had promised to take care of things for her. He would be staying in her apartment until he could get a tenant to sublet the place, and then he’d move in with Selena.

She laced her fingers to keep from raising them in a plea. “This is the only place I’ve ever felt...at home. Like I belonged.” She licked her dry lips. “I want roots, a family. I want to rediscover who I am. I was always afraid that I’d get stuck here...that if I stayed and tried to have relationships, I’d become like my parents.

“But I’m not going to get stuck,” she said staunchly, “because I’ll make my own opportunities the way you have. It’s going to take time and a lot of work. I’m thinking of offering tutoring services, maybe see if any assistant teaching positions open up. I’m not sure I want to do more school right now, but I will if that’s what it takes.” She knew she was going to sound desperate and needy, but she would never let love in unless she cracked the armored shell around her heart and opened herself up.

She took a step closer. “I’ll do whatever it takes if I can be a part of your life. I don’t expect you to let me in for nothing. I can work on the farm, clean out stalls, dig in the dirt, whatever you need—”

“No.”

The one word sliced through her. She faltered, ready to fold into herself and disappear. “No?”

“You don’t need to do that.” He stood, and in two long strides was in front of her. He grabbed her around the waist and tugged her toward him, slanting his mouth over hers.

Radiant joy burst inside her like fireworks. She clung to him, drinking him in as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” Chris whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “Please, don’t cry. I’ve been trying to fight it, but the minute I left you behind in New York, all I could think about was how to be with you.” He cupped her chin. “I didn’t try hard enough. I gave up too easily on that job. But I found out I can get a certificate through online courses. I’m going to do it.”

“Chris, you don’t need to do that, not for me.”

“It’s not for you, it’s for me.” A smile as deep and warm as an embrace spread across his face. “All I really want is a future with you. I love you, Tiffany.”

“I love you, too,” she said as fresh tears flowed. The tangled knot inside her heart loosened and her emotions unraveled. The armor was finally gone, and she felt invincible. “I love you. Oh, Chris, I love you so much.” She laughed. “Sorry, I can’t help it. I’ve wanted to tell you that since forever.”

“You have?”

“Since the day you begged me to tutor you.”

“I think I loved you the moment you walked back into my life.” He cupped her cheek. “But I knew it for sure when I thought I’d lost you.”

“When I left for New Jersey?”

“When you locked your keys in your car by the side of the road.”

She laughed, and her heart soared. More solemnly, she said, “I’m serious about staying, you know. But...I can’t live with my parents. I need to find a place of my own—”

“Say no more. We’ve got plenty of room here. I’ll kick Simon out of his room if I have to.”

“You’d put me in a separate room?” she asked in mock horror.

“You’re right. I’ll build a separate cabin for you and me. Wouldn’t want Dad and Simon to hear all the things I’m going to do to you.” He buried his face against the crook of her shoulder, kissing his way down as his hands moved to unbutton her top.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” she said as Chris pressed her against the dining-room table and shoved
King Lear
aside.

* *
* * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
The Spirit of Christmas
by Liz Talley!