A Bayberry Cove Makeover

A Bayberry Cove Makeover

Cynthia Thomason

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Cover

Title Page

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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Copyright

Endpages

Chapter One

Bobbi Lee Blanchard grasped her former boss’s hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you for agreeing to sell me the restaurant, Max. You have made me one happy Carolina lady.”

She walked out of the kitchen of the Bayberry Cove Kettle and joined her two best friends, who were enjoying the diner’s famous apple pie. Hardly able to contain her good news, Bobbi sauntered up to their table and said in her sweetest Southern-belle-waitress voice, “Y’all want more pie?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Louise answered.

Vicki gently rocked the stroller next to the table. “None for me, either. It’s Cory’s nap time. You can give me the bill, though.”

Louise gave Vicki a familiar look. The two women had been friends in Florida for years before settling in the small North Carolina town on the edge of Currituck Sound. Every time they came to the Kettle, they argued over who would pay. Today, Louise won. She picked up the check and patted the booth beside her. “Sit down, Bobbi Lee. It’s obvious you have news that you’re just bursting to tell us.”

Bobbi stuck her pencil through a tight curl in her salon-colored wine-red hair and settled her admirable derriere next to Louise. Her two friends had it all over her in their gym-toned bodies, but Bobbi liked her figure.

“I wondered when you were going to notice,” she said.

“You Southerners have an expression about the kind of grin you’ve been wearing since we came in,” Vicki said. “Only I don’t use that sort of language in front of babies. What’s going on?”

Bobbi sat straight and threaded her fingers together. “You are looking at Bayberry Cove’s newest entrepreneur, ladies. Guess who just arranged to buy this restaurant!”

“You, our recently redheaded friend, are the owner of the Kettle?” Louise said.

“Yes! Exactly—” she consulted her rhinestone-studded watch “—eight minutes ago, I made a deal with Max. He’s all set to start his retirement in Arizona, and he’s agreed to let me make payments on the Kettle once a month.” She smiled slyly at Louise. “Of course, I told him my very own personal attorney, Miss Louise Duncan, would draw up the papers.”

“Oh, congratulations, honey,” Vicki said.

“I’ll have to charge you for the legal work,” Louise said. “I’m pretty expensive. Gonna cost you a lot of slices of pie.”

Bobbi grinned. “You got a deal, counselor. Now all I have to do is convince Mason Fletcher to negotiate a reasonable lease between him and me for this building, and I’m in business—my very own business!”

A troubled glance passed between Vicki and Louise. Bobbi knew what they were thinking; old Mason Fletcher, whose investments included nearly five blocks of downtown Bayberry Cove, was nobody’s pushover. But Bobbi was sure she could strike a bargain with him. She had to. She’d already promised her son, Charlie, that if he finished up the semester at the junior college with good grades, she would find the money for him to go to North Carolina State. She knew Charlie would keep his end of the agreement, and nothing was going to keep her from seeing her firstborn achieve his dreams.

“If anyone can negotiate with Mason, it’s you, Bobbi Lee,” Vicki said. She looked out the window. “And speak of the devil, here he comes now.”

Bobbi followed her gaze. “Looks like I’d better get a plate of pie à la mode ready.”

“Better make that two plates,” Louise said, tapping the windowpane. “Though Mason may not need the pie—he’s already bringing a two-legged hunk of something sinfully delicious with him.”

Chapter Two

Bobbi leaned over Louise and peered at the two men walking through the manicured park at the charming center of Bayberry Cove. Old Mason, who’d vacated his personal bench in the park, had his cane in one hand and the other firmly clasped around the elbow of a younger man. They were heading directly for the Kettle.

“Who is that guy?” Vicki asked.

“And why haven’t we ever seen him before?” Louise said. “Do you know him, Bobbi Lee?”

“I don’t think so…”

She stopped midsentence and squinted. “Wait a minute. Is that…? No, it couldn’t be. He hasn’t been back in years.” But it was him. Bobbi recognized the sun-streaked brown hair, the self-assured walk and the athletic build of the teenage boy who’d been the target of her adolescent infatuation twenty years ago. “It’s a sin against nature for a fella to look that good after all this time.”

Louise chuckled. “I agree, sister. The town doesn’t know what it missed.”

“Why would he show up now, though?” Bobbi said. “He’s only made a few trips home to Bayberry Cove since his aunt Buttercup died.”

“Buttercup?” Louise said. “That’s Mason’s pet name for his deceased wife.”

“It is. Nobody around here even remembers her real name. We all just called her Buttercup.”

“Buttercup Cottage is named for her,” Vicki added, glancing at Louise. In two weeks, Louise would be living in Buttercup’s famous home as Mrs. Wes Fletcher, the wife of Mason’s grandson.

“So the guy with Mason is Buttercup’s nephew?” Louise asked.

“Great-nephew,” Bobbi Lee said. “He used to spend his summers here when he was a boy. I think he was twenty the last time I saw him. That was the year his aunt died.”

“That would make Mr. Gorgeous about forty now,” Vicki said.

Bobbi Lee nodded. “Four years older than me. There was a time those four years might as well have been a hundred for all the attention he paid me.”

“Do I detect the resurgence of a schoolgirl crush in your voice?” Louise asked. “If so, no one would blame you.”

“Hush up now,” Bobbi Lee warned. “They’re coming in!”

Bobbi almost wished she hadn’t spoken so sharply. Because when Zach Martingale came through the door with his great-uncle Mason, the diner went stone silent. The last impression Bobbi wanted to give Zach was that he was still handsome enough to suck the air out of a room.

He led his uncle to a booth, but stopped when he saw Bobbi Lee. “You’re right, Uncle Mason. She’s changed.”

I would hope so

, Bobbi Lee thought.

I work my tush off to get this hourglass figure, and I’ve paid plenty to maintain this hair. Twenty years ago I was a dishwater blonde and dumpy, and you never gave me a second look

.

He turned to her. “Uncle Mason says you’re the best waitress the Kettle ever had,” he said. “I hope you’ll continue to work here once I take over.”

Chapter Three

I hope you’ll continue to work here once I take over

.

There had been a time when Bobbi Lee might have raised a ruckus over the news that Zach Martingale was planning to yank her restaurant out from under her, but not today. She was a businesswoman now. And she would handle this in a businesslike way.

She sidled up to Zach, flashed her red-lipped smile and said, “Zach Martingale, as I live and breathe. You’ve come back to Bayberry Cove.”

“I have.” He took a deep breath as if he were still inhaling the fresh air of the park and said, “I never knew coming home would feel so good.”

“That’s because in the past twenty years you haven’t tried it much.” Frown lines appeared on his forehead and she pointed to a booth. “You have a seat with your uncle, and I’ll bring y’all some pie.”

“Don’t scrimp on the ice cream, Bobbi Lee,”