When Adam Came to Town. Kate Kelly

not? It’s my home.”

      Pops ran a hand over his chest. “Of course it’s your home. But there’s nothing here, except your family. What would you do?”

      “I’ll run the café.” She’d been playing with the idea off and on for the last few weeks, but it didn’t feel like play now. The idea fit. It felt inspired.

      “You’re an artist, Sylvie. You don’t know the first thing about running a business.”

      “Then teach me.” Her voice rose as the words tumbled out. “I’m no longer an artist. You know I’m stuck—I can’t paint anymore.... I’m twenty-six years old, and I’ve got nothing except my family, and even you don’t want me.”

      “That’s not true. Of course I—” Pops’s face contorted with pain. “I don’t feel so good. Maybe we should head back to the house.”

      “God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. Are you okay, Pops? We could sit down for a minute, or I can run home and get my car. I’m so sorry.” Sylvie beat back the burning sensation in her chest. No time for a panic attack now. If anything happened to Pops...

      Pops smiled gently at her. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you don’t slow down. I’m fine. I get a little winded sometimes. The doc says I push too hard.”

      “You always have.” Sylvie slipped her arm through his and guided them slowly toward the house. She hated seeing her father vulnerable and weak; his fragility was the first hint that things couldn’t continue as they were. But that didn’t mean he had to sell the café. If they’d only give her a chance, she knew she could make the business even more successful.

      “I have some money saved,” she said after a few minutes of silence.

      Pops patted her hand. “It’s not only the money but also the responsibility of running a business. It weighs on me.”

      “I’ve been giving it some thought. It would be good for me to try something other than painting for a change. I could run the café business. I know I could. I’ve got lots of ideas.”

      Pops laughed. “Of course you do. You’re our genius.”

      “I’m not a genius, Pops. I’m just an ordinary person with a gift.”

      He wasn’t listening. No one listened to her. The familiar pang of disappointment tightened inside as she followed her father’s gaze out to where a fishing boat was taking its time winding through the marked channel. By the bright blue hull, she could tell it was Ron Hachey’s boat. Lobster season was just around the corner, and the fishermen were anxious to get their traps in the water. Yesterday in the café, she’d heard Ron say he planned to try out his new motor today.

      Pops turned his attention back to her. “There’s not an ordinary bone in your body, honey. That’s why you can’t stay. Collina is too small for you. I know you get homesick from time to time, and that you love us. But to live here full-time? I honestly can’t see you being happy.”

      Hard to argue against such certainty. Maybe Pops was right, maybe living in Collina would drive her nuts. But she’d been here six months already, and despite the frustration of people thinking they knew what was best for her, she hadn’t been bored. Much. The fact was Toronto didn’t feel right to her anymore; the city didn’t fit. She was better off here for the time being.

      As they approached the house, she noted her father’s normally robust complexion had turned gray, and his breathing was coming in short, harsh gasps. She’d phone the doctor later and ask if Pops’s fatigue was to be expected at this point of his recovery. Maybe they’d missed something in the last checkup. It didn’t feel right to her that he still struggled to do normal, everyday things. And she likely wasn’t helping his recovery; it must have weighed on his mind, knowing he had to tell her about putting the business up for sale.

      He was right about one thing. Other than her family, there wasn’t much holding her here. If the café didn’t prove challenging enough, she’d have to leave and find something else to do.

      An insidious pounding stabbed her left temple. It felt as if her skin had shrunk two sizes too small for her head. God. She squinted, trying to ease the pain. No wonder she had panic attacks. Twenty-six years old, and she didn’t have a clue what to do next. But she was getting ahead of herself. If the café was her sole responsibility, that would be enough to keep her busy, right?

      And she wouldn’t stay just for the sake of staying—not after Pops was completely recovered, and they’d had their father-daughter talk and straightened things out between them. But that was one conversation that would have to wait. She’d upset him enough today.

      She kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you come inside for a cup of tea, and I’ll drive you back to the apartment after?” She still couldn’t bring herself to call the seniors apartments his home.

      “I’m going to see what the boys got done this morning on Adam’s house. Cal’ll drive me back.” He hugged her.

      “Would you consider not putting the café up for sale right away? I’d like to stay a few more weeks, and...it would just be nice to hold on to it for a bit longer.”

      He narrowed his eyes, reminding her of Cal when he was trying to suss out the truth. Her older brother had ridden herd on her and Dusty in their teen years when Pops was busy fishing. They never could get anything past him because Cal had learned from the master—Pops.

      “I guess I could hold off for a bit. It’s not the best time of year to sell, anyway. But I’d like to get it on the market soon. Give folks some time to think about buying.”

      “Thanks, Pops. I just need to get used to the idea.” And time to prove to her family she could run the business successfully. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”

      He waved her off. “I want to ask Adam a couple of questions. Cal will drive me.”

      Adam again. Surely Pops wasn’t going to ask Adam if he wanted to buy the café. Unless he was fabulously wealthy, and by the look of his older truck and the way he dressed, she didn’t think he was, Adam would probably have to look for work eventually. The lack of job opportunities in town was laughable. But wouldn’t that be rotten luck? Her father decides to sell the café, and Adam turns up on their doorstep with enough cash in hand to buy it.

      She hurried to keep up to her father. If Pops started talking about selling the café, she’d steer the conversation in another direction. “I’ve got a few minutes before I have to go to work. I’ll come with you.”

      Other than raising his eyebrows, Pops didn’t say anything. She never could get much past the old man. She loved her brothers and father, but her eyes often glazed over two minutes into one of their conversations about...whatever. Building, fishing, fixing engines. But this was one conversation she planned on paying attention to.

      When they walked around the corner of Adam’s house, Romeo bounded over to greet them. Sylvie bent down to scratch behind his ears and Rom leaned against her leg like he’d been waiting all day just for her. What a beautiful dog. She looked around the yard. Moonbeam hadn’t been around this morning. Actually, since Adam had moved in, the shameless hussy had barely been home at all.

      An armload of old roofing shingles slid off the roof and landed in a pile of debris ten feet in front of them. “Have you seen Moonbeam?” she shouted up at Adam and Cal.

      They both stopped ripping at the shingles. “What do you want, Sylvie?” Cal looked impatient. “Oh, hey, Pops. What’s up?”

      Nice. She got a snarl, while Pops rated a hello. She bit her tongue to hold back a snappy retort.

      “It’s almost lunchtime. I thought you could drive me home, Cal.”

      Cal shot a look in her direction.

      “I offered,” she said, defending herself. She hated that she still craved her older brother’s