Chapter 8: Saffron

"Yes," I said. "That's him."

Arlo set the spatula down on the pass.

The customers suddenly got very interested in their eggs.

"Kitchen," he said.

I followed him back past the grill. The smell of bacon and the knocking pipes.

He stopped by the dish sink, where the water steamed now.

"You were engaged to the man who wants my pier."

"For seven years. Engaged for three of them."

"And you show up here two days after his notice goes on my door."

"I didn't know about the notice. I found out when you did. Off the glass."

"Is he why you came?"

"I came because the number 14 was at the corner."

He studied me with his arms crossed. His jaw worked.

"If you're here to get something for him, tell me now. Before Marigold gets any more attached."

That one stung. I let it.

"I gave him back five percent of his company the morning after the wedding," I said. "If I wanted something from Damon, I'd have kept it."

Arlo's eyebrows went up.

"Five percent of Kessington Global?"

"It was a lot of money."

"You gave it back."

"I didn't want to owe him a thing."

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then Marigold banged through the swinging door with a crayon drawing.

"I made Noelle a name tag."

It said NOEL in purple letters, with a horse where the second L should be.

Arlo looked at the drawing. Then at me. His shoulders came down an inch.

"Spell it right next time, bug."

"The horse is better than an L."

He picked up the spatula again.

"Your eggs are getting cold out there, Penhurst."

It was the first time he'd said my last name. He said it.

The next week went fast.

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