Meet Me on Love Lane Read online

  “Your mother made me cookies?” Duncan said, his voice suddenly soft and sweet.

  Emma nodded and pulled a small white box from her massive tote. “I was coming to bring these to the station when I saw you pulled over here.”

  She handed him the box, and watching him open it was like seeing a child on Christmas morning.

  “You’re like magic,” I whispered through the still-open door. “And honestly, what does your mother put into these cookies that they’ve reduced a grown man to this?”

  “Shhh, you’re not out of the woods yet, lady. He’s got to agree to release you to me. And you owe me an explanation,” she whispered back as we intently watched Duncan shove an entire beautifully decorated cookie into his mouth.

  “Why I’m here … ,” I began, snickering when Duncan dived into the box for another cookie. “That’s sort of a long story.”

  “I figured as much, since I didn’t even get a text that you were coming.” A tinge of hurt peeked through her voice again.

  Emma Peroni was the only person I reconnected with as an adult, more because she was so persistent that I couldn’t say no. Besides my dad and Gigi, I should have told her I was coming.

  With all the love I had for her, I wasn’t sure now was the best time for a reunion or an explanation. Emma knew everyone in town and was engaged to the mayor. Running into someone like her when you’re literally a hot mess isn’t exactly an ego boost.

  “How about the condensed version? I have fifteen minutes to spare,” she said, checking her watch.

  “Fifteen minutes. Okay, condensed version. I’m in Hope Lake for the summer—” I stopped when Duncan choked on the cookie he’d just shoved into his mouth. “Or I can leave earlier, depending on how things go.”

  Emma nodded slowly, as if she was deciding how to react. “But why? And what are your plans while you’re here?”

  I laughed, slapping my thigh. “That, my friend, is the million-dollar question. As an aside, if you have an answer that pays a million, please let me know.”

  “We need more time to get to the bottom of this. I’m clearing my morning for you,” she exclaimed, sliding her phone from the tote.

  “How do you find anything in there? It’s like Mary Poppins’s carpet bag.”

  Emma sucked in a breath, offended. “Carpet bag? This is Gucci! Cooper bought it for me for our anniversary. I’ll have you know, everything is organized within an inch of its life.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  She mock frowned. “I’ll let that slide since you look like you just spent the weekend partying in Vegas. I’m assuming you’re feeling like it, too. For now, I’d like to know why you’re in the back of Duncan’s car.”

  I winced. “Partying in Vegas? That bad, huh?” There wasn’t a mirror nearby, but that might have been a good thing.

  “Charlotte, your bags have bags.”

  “If someone would have just let me go, I’d be at my grandmother’s by now and snoozing the horrible day away but, noooo,” I said, stretching the word out dramatically. “I had to go and get pulled over without a license.”

  “And driving with your phone in your hand,” Duncan chimed in around a mouthful of cookie. “Let’s not forget all the fun stuff.”

  “What does that mean?” Emma asked suspiciously.

  Duncan smiled. “It means that if she steps a toe out of line, you’re in trouble. Keep her in line, Peroni.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Did I forget to mention the hefty fine?”

  The urge to give him the finger was strong, but I was sure there would be an added charge for that.

  “And we’re taking the car back to the station. Your dad will have to come for it later.” He whistled, and the other cop pulled away in my father’s car, tooting the horn as he sped down the road.

  Emma smiled at Duncan, blinking her eyelashes softly at him. “Duncan, if I bring you some of Sophia’s pasta fagioli tomorrow, will you let my friend go with a little old warning?”

  Duncan turned, considering what she had just offered, wiping the crumbs from his uniform as he grinned at her. “I suppose, since it is her first offense, but you’d have to sign for her.”

  “Emma, it’s fine, you don’t have to,” I protested. “I can wait for my dad to be done with his patients before he gets me at the station.”

  She glanced at her watch again. “You don’t look like you’re going to make it that long, Charlotte. You’re going to sit there, half asleep and looking like hell—no offense—for a couple more hours? I don’t think so. What kind of friend would I be?”

  Duncan shrugged and mumbled something like “Your funeral,” but Emma appeared unfazed.

  “Do I have to sign something, or is my word good enough for today?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I know where to find you.”

  She reached up and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “I’ll bring the soup in time for your lunch tomorrow.”

  Duncan blushed and thanked her, not sparing me a second glance. Fine by me.

  “My morning is cleared now. What are your plans after I spring you? Can I buy you brunch, or do you want to head to Gigi’s to sleep?” She slipped the phone back into her pocket. “Not that I would blame you.”

  “Brunch sounds like the best thing in the world right now. Food, then sleep,” I said as my stomach unleashed a cacophony of hangry sounds.

  “Emma,” Duncan grunted, pointing a meaty finger in my direction as he sank back into his cruiser. He handed me my purse and nearly-dead phone before pulling away and shouting, “Don’t forget, stay outta trouble.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain!” she said, with an awkward salute.

  “Can we call my dad to let him know you’re—what did you call it? Springing me? Make sure we use those words,” I insisted, knowing that he would find it hilarious.

  “Already done. Once Duncan agreed to let you go, I shot your father a text. He said to stay out of trouble.”

  I had a feeling that was easier said than done.

  * * *

  WE ARRIVED AT the 81 Café after Emma rummaged around in her purse to find me a phone charger.

  The deli was a quaint little hole-in-the-wall not far from where I’d been pulled over. It was a random weekday, around mid-morning, and yet it was filled to the gills. Cars streamed in and out of the lot, some parked sideways in the empty grassy space next to the door.

  “What are they giving away?” I asked with a laugh. She pulled into a spot labeled RESERVED FOR MR. MAYOR, which was just to the right of the blue-painted disabled spots.

  “Oh, look at you, fancy pants. Getting hitched to Mr. Mayor has loads of benefits.”

  “That it does!” She preened, flashing the giant diamond on her left finger for me to see.

  “Is that a mayoral perk for everyone? When your dad was mayor, did he have a prime spot, too?” I teased, but a sense of unease still rushed through me. I was trying to keep a low profile. Having lunch with the former mayor’s daughter at a busy deli in town after nearly getting arrested wasn’t exactly flying under the radar.

  “Maybe we should try somewhere else?” I asked nervously, seeing a crowd through the large windows. “Or just get takeout?”

  “Nah, it’ll be fine. They have the best sandwiches in town. We can pull up a stool at the counter if need be,” she insisted, sliding out of the shiny white Jetta. “I’m actually surprised the guys aren’t here.”

  “What guys?”

  “You know, the guys. Cooper, Nick, Henry.” Her eyes searched my face as if I should have known who they were. I knew Cooper was the mayor and her fiancé, but I didn’t have a clue who Nick and Henry were. “They’re here a couple of days a week. If not all three guys, at least one is usually planted on a stool at the counter.”

  “All this for a sandwich?” I asked, wringing my hands as I walked through the front door.

  The counter was filled with about a dozen people crammed together on a row of tall stools. Mismatched
tables filled with diners dotted the black-and-white-checkered floor. There was enough room to get through the maze of tables, but barely. Each plate was piled high with a sandwich that covered its entire surface. What space wasn’t sandwich was filled with a pickle spear and chips.

  “This is nuts!”

  Emma nodded excitedly, scanning the room for an empty table.

  A stout waitress with a smoker’s rasp called out from behind the packed counter. “Emma, honey, take the booth in the corner. I’ll be over in a second to clean it off.”

  “It’s been wild here since JOE opened,” Emma exclaimed, sinking onto the light blue vinyl seat. “Tourism is up almost forty percent from this time last year, and it’s not even the busy season yet.”

  Somewhere deep in my brain, a needle scratched.

  “Who’s Joe, and really? Tourists? Here?”

  I had vague memories of weekends away from Hope Lake. Anywhere my mother could take me to for a couple of days just to escape.

  “Oh yeah, and it’s only going to get worse, but better, if you know what I mean. Crazier and busier. Insanity! I love it!”

  “And who’s Joe?” I said, holding up the menu so the waitress could clean off the table.

  “Oh, it’s not a who but a what. It’s this kick-ass outdoorsy spot out on the river: Jackson Outdoor Extreme—JOE. White-water rafting, paddle boats, canoeing, kayaking—you name it, they do it. They’re even building a zip line through the mountainside that ends at the lake on the other side of town. You should check it out while you’re here!”

  “Sounds like a lot, but sure,” I agreed, having no intention of doing so. I wasn’t planning on dying here because of a zip line.

  She carried on for a few minutes. “Rail biking, fishing, hiking.”

  My head was spinning. With her schedule being as crazy as it was lately, I only ever saw Emma’s life via her Instagram, and that was an innocuous look into her, not the town. We’d kept in touch, but it had been sporadic since the engagement.

  “Help me understand something,” I began sincerely, shifting in my seat to lean a bit closer to her. I didn’t want to attract attention to us, let alone the conversation. “What happened to this place? How did you get tourists? Big companies? And what the hell is rail biking?”

  Emma furrowed her brows, looking confused. “I’m not sure I follow, but to be fair, I have wedding brain on top of a bunch of projects that I’m working on, so talk slowly and I’ll do my best.”

  Ah, another distraction to keep the heavy topics away from me. “How’s the wedding planning going?” I asked, remembering her story from last week that showed her, and her family, outside a bridal shop.

  “Oh my God. Don’t even ask. They’re all driving me insane. At this point I want to E-L-O-P-E,” she whispered the letters, ticking off each one on her fingers.

  I smiled.

  “Don’t change the subject to bridezillaland,” she said. “Now, what do you mean, ‘What happened to this place?’ The deli? Hope Lake? Pennsylvania? The States? I can wax poetic about each one of them, so buckle up. Oh, and why are you here again?”

  I chuckled, not doubting for a second that she could go on forever. Emma was always a force to be reckoned with. I took a sip of the water that the waitress left after she cleaned off the table and thought about how to broach the subject.

  “I’ll preface this by saying that I’m tired, hungry, probably smelly, and mentally exhausted, so don’t expect any sort of rational thoughts here. But, to sum it up, I just got fired from my job and blacklisted in my field in basically the whole of New York City.”

  “Oh my God, that sounds awful. Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, sympathy and empathy oozing out of her.

  “We’ll come back to that, over beer preferably.”

  “I know the perfect place! We’ll go as soon as you’ve recovered. Now, stop stalling! What do you want to know about Hope Lake?”

  I exhaled, feeling some of the weariness seep from my body. “I mean, I obviously haven’t been here in a while, but I always thought it was different.” I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to say. I thought it was a hellhole? A depressing one-horse town? Somewhere to avoid at all costs?

  “I just grew up thinking it wasn’t somewhere I ever wanted to come back to. So what happened to it? Mind you, I hardly remember a thing from when I lived here as a kid. It’s like I blacked it all out.”

  Emma’s mouth flattened into a thin line, a crease forming on her forehead. “There’s a lot to unfold in that ramble, but for starters, why did you never want to come back here? I just always thought your mom wouldn’t let you.”

  I took a deep breath. My brain was growing wearier by the second, and I couldn’t come up with something nicer to say. “It started out that way when I just left, but as I got older my mother always made living in this town out to be her greatest regret. So as the memories faded for me, I just started believing her.”

  I held up my hand when she drew in a deep, scathing breath. “I know, I know. Trust me, it wasn’t great hearing that she hated everything about this place—which included my dad, grandmother, and essentially me, since I was a product of her time in Hope Lake. I think she hated it so much that that was why she never let me visit. In hindsight, that’s pretty shitty to do to your kid. But I’m sure you know, she wasn’t exactly a Mother of the Year candidate. I feel like it says something that I waited to return until years after she died.”

  Emma reached out over the table to take my hand. “When you first left, I used to hear our dads talk about it sometimes. It was always vague, since I was only a kid, but it still made me feel so badly for you.” She squeezed my hand.

  “She wasn’t always … I mean, the problems with depression and anxiety sort of came and went,” I said, taking another sip of my water. Then the tears welled up. “They flared up whenever my dad would try to get custody of me. He knew what was going on but couldn’t prove it. She hated taking the meds the doctors gave her to try to manage the symptoms. She said they made her feel awful. But I don’t think she realized how bad it was when she was off them. Whenever he brought her to court, she would take the meds and be hands-on, and present. When it was over, and the family court denied him custody, she’d toss the prescription and I’d lose her again.”

  Emma sighed. “I never understood why the judge kept siding with her. My mom tried explaining it to me, but I don’t know that she knew the whole story with the meds and the visits. Your dad kept a lot of that to himself.”

  “Once, a few months after I left, I tried getting her to let me visit but my dad was in Mozambique. She wouldn’t let me stay with anyone but him. Somehow it was part of the custody agreement. Even Gigi was excluded.”

  “Which sucked,” we said in unison.

  “I think she knew that’s what the judge was looking at. All his travel kept him from gaining any sort of meaningful custody.”

  “Not to sound cold, but why didn’t your dad just not go?” she asked, and it was a question that I struggled with for ages.

  “He tried to explain the circumstances, but the trip to Africa was planned for a year. He was part of a research team and was going to be gone for six months. He tried finding someone to go in his stead, but it was too little notice for anyone in his field of study.

  “It still hurt and I know he was crushed by it, but it really solidified the judge’s decision to keep things as is.

  “By the time I was old enough to realize how important his mission work was to him, I couldn’t ask him to give it up to bring me here. Besides, by that time I was so hell-bent against this place, it was a nonissue. There weren’t many people who knew about the struggles I had with my mother or what led us to uproot ourselves from this place, so that was isolating. Coming here just felt like it would exacerbate that feeling. I had enough going on; I didn’t need more to deal with.”

  I smiled ruefully to myself. How long did I wait to tell someone all of this? First day here and I dump a quarter of m
y life on someone I hadn’t seen in ages. Looking up at her, I saw her eyes swimming with tears.

  “Maybe we should look at the menu,” she suggested, and I was grateful for the reprieve. “We’ve got all summer to talk about it. About everything we missed out on.”

  Opening the menu up, I had to bite back a moan as I examined the choices. It was just as she said—a sandwich lover’s dream. Perfect for a carb-loving gal like me. “What do you suggest? If you don’t tell me what’s the best, I’m going to order the whole menu, and I can’t afford that.”

  She slapped her menu down. “First of all, it’s your first day back, so lunch is on me. Second, get the Classic. It’s the best thing you’ll ever put into your mouth, I’m not exaggerating. Don’t tell Cooper.” She added the last bit with a quick laugh.

  I crossed my heart. Reading the description, I frowned. “Seems pretty simple compared to the rest.” Fresh mozzarella, fresh spinach, sliced tomatoes, and a basil pesto mayo on a soft bun. “It’s just that, compared to the city—”

  “I’m going to stop you right there,” she said, a bit snippy.

  “Sorry, sorry. I’m just so used to, never mind. I’m keeping an open mind.”

  “About the sandwiches, or Hope Lake?” she asked, waving the circling waitress over.

  “Sandwiches for now. The latter is going to need some convincing.”

  “Challenge accepted,” she said happily.

  “Oh boy.”

  * * *

  “YOU WERE RIGHT. That was the best thing I’ve had in my mouth in ages,” I said, slapping my hand over my mouth when an older woman walked by and laughed.

  “I told you. Don’t ever doubt me. I am all wise and ever powerful.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Oz.”

  I dug my phone out of my purse. “Oh, my dad texted saying that Dr. Max is driving him to get his car and then is going to help him deliver my stuff to Gigi’s.”

  She smiled. “I can help you unload later, if you want. Or I can just nonchalantly be there when Max shows up.”