A Father's Second Chance. Mindy Obenhaus

had he gotten himself into?

      * * *

      Gage was the last person Celeste wanted to see this morning. While she was more than grateful for his help last night, she was also embarrassed. What must he think of her, passing out on his porch in her pajamas—princess pajamas, no less—behaving like a crazed drama queen and then falling asleep on his daughter’s bed? He probably believed she was downright loony.

      And now they’d be working together on a festival? God, You definitely have a sense of humor.

      “I still have to wrap my brain around all that needs to be done, then I’ll lay out a plan of action.” Blakely’s blue eyes moved from Gage to Celeste. “Think we could meet in a day or two?”

      “Should be fine.” Gage seemed less than enthused about the prospect.

      “Sure.” Celeste scanned the restaurant, all too aware that she needed to see to her customers. “Now, about that cinnamon roll?”

      “That would make my day, Celeste.”

      She turned in the order before returning her attention to Gage. “How about you? Another roll? Some protein, maybe? Eggs?”

      “No, I’m good. I need to get a move on.” He grabbed the pan of rolls and shoved out of his chair. “How much do I owe you?”

      “Not a thing. I’m indebted to you for putting up with me last night.”

      “I guess we’re even then.” He turned, then stopped. “My contact info is in the file. Just let me know what you decide.”

      “I will. Thanks again, Gage.” Relief washed over her when he walked out the door. If his estimate fit her budget, she was ready to give him the green light and get her “suite” dreams on the path to becoming a reality.

      When she looked back at Blakely, her friend was wearing a nice little smirk. “So, just what did Gage have to ‘put up with’ last night?”

      Celeste’s cheeks grew warm. “Nothing like you’re thinking.” She removed Gage’s dishes, grabbed a rag from the sink beneath the counter and began wiping.

      “Oh?” The arch of Blakely’s brow had Celeste blushing all the more. “And what am I thinking?”

      She halted her cleaning. “Why did nobody tell me that bears roam around town at night?”

      Blakely’s expression shifted to one of concern. “Why? What happened?”

      “I had a close encounter with one in my garage.”

      “Oh, no. What did you do?”

      “I left, of course.” She tossed the rag back into the sink and leaned against the counter. “And discovered that Gage lives across the street from me.”

      Blakely laughed. “What? Did he hear you screaming?”

      “I didn’t scream.”

      “Order up.”

      She grabbed Blakely’s order, eyeing the two alongside it. “I banged on his door.” Without waiting for a response, she snagged the other orders and was on her way. Not so eager to hear what Blakely had to say next, she refilled coffee cups, delivered tickets and took someone’s money at the register while her friend ate.

      “I forgot to ask how your meeting went yesterday.” Blakely licked a blob of frosting from her fork.

      Thank goodness they were off the topic of bears. “Not bad. At least he has an appreciation for historical architecture.”

      “Do you think you’re going to hire him?” There went that grin again.

      “Possibly. I can’t say for certain until I see his quote.” No point in feeding Blakely’s sudden impulse to match her up with Gage. Celeste had no interest in being paired with anyone. Least of all, Gage Purcell.

      For a Tuesday morning, Granny’s Kitchen had enjoyed a steady stream of customers, punctuated by the lunchtime arrival of a busload of senior citizens on a fall foliage tour. Finally, at two fifteen, Celeste had an opportunity to sit down in her office with a chicken salad sandwich and Gage’s quote.

      Munching on a potato chip, she opened the folder. A detailed spreadsheet showed costs for everything from demolition to labor to materials, as well as estimates for plumbing and electrical. She reviewed the three pages, making note of the lengthy list of variables. Things that could potentially occur that would affect the cost and length of the project.

      By the time she got to the end, she feared the project might be out of her reach. So she was pleasantly surprised by Gage’s bottom line. Not to mention the estimated completion date—January 1.

      Bowing her head, she sent up a brief prayer of thanks. She knew God would send her the right contractor. Now she prayed that God would grant her the grace to overlook Gage’s sometimes surly disposition. Especially when it came to her input and expectations.

      Finished with her meal, she pulled Gage’s business card from the folder. The sooner she gave him the go-ahead, the sooner he could start.

      She picked up her cell phone.

      “Celeste?” Karla poked her graying head around the corner. “Health inspector’s here.”

      “Now?” She’d been anticipating a visit. And while she had nothing to hide, the timing could have been better.

      By the time the inspector—who was very friendly, though a bit chatty—left, Celeste needed to set up for dinner. Thanks to Karla, the Mexican rice was simmering and enchiladas were in the oven, so tonight’s special was covered.

      Celeste gave the fifty-something woman a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Karla.”

      “That’s quite all right, hon. I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t do yourself.”

      Keeping one eye on the restaurant via the pass-through, Celeste grabbed a stack of red plastic baskets and lined each with a wax paper sheet so they’d be ready for tortilla chips later. Granny’s Kitchen always had more guests on enchilada night, so she wanted to be prepared. Next, she placed a stack of small bowls beside the baskets. They’d be needed for the salsa she made earlier in the day.

      The door swung open then and two little blond-haired girls entered.

      Celeste’s heart lightened as she rounded into the dining room.

      “Celeste!” Cassidy and Emma cheered in unison when they saw her, sending her over the moon with delight.

      She gave them each a hug, scanning the area outside for signs of their father.

      “We want cupcakes.” Emma climbed onto a bar stool.

      “No, Emma.” Her sister did likewise, though with more finesse. “It’s a cupcake class.”

      “Oh, you mean you want to sign up for Cupcake Mania?” Celeste moved Emma to the center of her seat so she wouldn’t fall off.

      “Uh-huh.” Emma’s head bobbed emphatically.

      Celeste again watched for Gage. “Where’s your father?”

      “He’s at the hardware store.” Cassidy adjusted the plastic headband that held her long hair away from her face. “But he said we could see if you were here.”

      Something about that statement made her feel warm and fuzzy. “Well, I’m so glad you did.” She contemplated offering them a cookie, but decided against it since it was almost dinnertime.

      “It smells good in here.” As if to prove her point, Emma took a deep breath through her nose.

      “Well, thank you.” She patted the child’s back. “That’s always a good thing in a restaurant.”

      “Can we eat here?” Emma looked at her, very matter-of-factly.

      “I,