Read Online Once in a Blue Moon by Eileen Goudge - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Eileen Goudge
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San Francisco.
Before she could get a word in, Ollie observed, “You look beat, boss.” He smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry; I have just the cure.” From the glass display case alongside the marble counter, he withdrew a decadent-looking chocolate cake and slid a slice onto a plate. “It’s my newest creation—chocolate with coffee whipped cream. I named it Devil’s Slide.” As in the aptly named stretch of Highway 1 just north of Blue Moon Bay. His smile widened into a grin, showing the chip in one of his front teeth from when he’d run afoul of an iron gaff at age fourteen, the one disastrous summer he’d apprenticed on his dad’s boat.
“Mmm . . . hmmmnnhh,” she mumbled around the bite of cake he forked into her mouth. It was delicious. She didn’t know which was the biggest draw here—the books or Ollie’s baked goods. She only knew that when he moved on, once he’d saved enough money for his own business, he’d be impossible to replace. “Divine,” she pronounced when she could speak without spraying crumbs. “I’d eat the whole thing if it wouldn’t go straight to my hips.”
He heaved a sigh. “That’s what skinny women always say.” Women who watched their weight were the bane of his existence.
She laughed. “How do you think I stay skinny?” Admittedly it wasn’t just that she managed to refrain from sampling all but a sliver here and there of Ollie’s treats; luckily for her, she was built this way. Her boyfriend had once likened her to a Modigliani, all vertical and no horizontal, with her long lines and narrow features, her gray-green eyes that looked, he said, as if she were thinking deep thoughts even when she was doing nothing more intellectually demanding than going over a grocery list. He appreciated, too, that she wasn’t the least bit flashy, though his image of her could be a bit confining at times. The night before, when they’d been leaving for the restaurant, he’d paused as they’d passed under the porch light and used his thumb to rub away some of the blush she’d applied to her cheeks. “There. Better,” he’d said, smiling at his handiwork. Lindsay knew she should have felt flattered that he preferred her au naturel , but instead she was left feeling the way she supposed teenaged girls must when their parents disapproved of the way they were dressed or thought they were wearing too much makeup.
“What’s the latest from your lawyer?” Ollie inquired as he was returning the cake to the display case.
Lindsay dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Nothing, but if he phones, it’d better be good news. I’m afraid today’s quota for bad news is already filled.” She’d heard earlier in the day from one of her customers, a real estate agent named Helen Adair, that the county tax assessor had submitted a report favorable to the Heywood Group. Which didn’t bode well for her. Any more news along those lines and she would have to officially write this off as a crappy day.
Ollie straightened. “Okaaay. So I guess you don’t want to hear what happened with Randall Craig.”
“What about him?” she asked with trepidation.
“The dude can’t make it,” he informed her. “He called a little while ago to let us know. You were busy, so I took the message. He said to tell you he feels terrible about it and that as soon as he has an opening in his schedule, he’ll stop by and apologize in person.”
“Great. Just what I need,” she said with a groan.
“Yeah, I know. Sucks, doesn’t it?” Ollie commiserated.
She frowned at him. “Why am I only just now hearing about this?”
“Well, as you can see, I’ve been kind of tied up,” he replied good-naturedly, gesturing toward the customers packed in at the tables.
Even with his brow furrowed in sympathy, Ollie wore the look of someone completely in his element. However busy or backed up, he never became stressed and was rarely in a glum mood. Nothing warmed his heart more than the sight of
Before she could get a word in, Ollie observed, “You look beat, boss.” He smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry; I have just the cure.” From the glass display case alongside the marble counter, he withdrew a decadent-looking chocolate cake and slid a slice onto a plate. “It’s my newest creation—chocolate with coffee whipped cream. I named it Devil’s Slide.” As in the aptly named stretch of Highway 1 just north of Blue Moon Bay. His smile widened into a grin, showing the chip in one of his front teeth from when he’d run afoul of an iron gaff at age fourteen, the one disastrous summer he’d apprenticed on his dad’s boat.
“Mmm . . . hmmmnnhh,” she mumbled around the bite of cake he forked into her mouth. It was delicious. She didn’t know which was the biggest draw here—the books or Ollie’s baked goods. She only knew that when he moved on, once he’d saved enough money for his own business, he’d be impossible to replace. “Divine,” she pronounced when she could speak without spraying crumbs. “I’d eat the whole thing if it wouldn’t go straight to my hips.”
He heaved a sigh. “That’s what skinny women always say.” Women who watched their weight were the bane of his existence.
She laughed. “How do you think I stay skinny?” Admittedly it wasn’t just that she managed to refrain from sampling all but a sliver here and there of Ollie’s treats; luckily for her, she was built this way. Her boyfriend had once likened her to a Modigliani, all vertical and no horizontal, with her long lines and narrow features, her gray-green eyes that looked, he said, as if she were thinking deep thoughts even when she was doing nothing more intellectually demanding than going over a grocery list. He appreciated, too, that she wasn’t the least bit flashy, though his image of her could be a bit confining at times. The night before, when they’d been leaving for the restaurant, he’d paused as they’d passed under the porch light and used his thumb to rub away some of the blush she’d applied to her cheeks. “There. Better,” he’d said, smiling at his handiwork. Lindsay knew she should have felt flattered that he preferred her au naturel , but instead she was left feeling the way she supposed teenaged girls must when their parents disapproved of the way they were dressed or thought they were wearing too much makeup.
“What’s the latest from your lawyer?” Ollie inquired as he was returning the cake to the display case.
Lindsay dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Nothing, but if he phones, it’d better be good news. I’m afraid today’s quota for bad news is already filled.” She’d heard earlier in the day from one of her customers, a real estate agent named Helen Adair, that the county tax assessor had submitted a report favorable to the Heywood Group. Which didn’t bode well for her. Any more news along those lines and she would have to officially write this off as a crappy day.
Ollie straightened. “Okaaay. So I guess you don’t want to hear what happened with Randall Craig.”
“What about him?” she asked with trepidation.
“The dude can’t make it,” he informed her. “He called a little while ago to let us know. You were busy, so I took the message. He said to tell you he feels terrible about it and that as soon as he has an opening in his schedule, he’ll stop by and apologize in person.”
“Great. Just what I need,” she said with a groan.
“Yeah, I know. Sucks, doesn’t it?” Ollie commiserated.
She frowned at him. “Why am I only just now hearing about this?”
“Well, as you can see, I’ve been kind of tied up,” he replied good-naturedly, gesturing toward the customers packed in at the tables.
Even with his brow furrowed in sympathy, Ollie wore the look of someone completely in his element. However busy or backed up, he never became stressed and was rarely in a glum mood. Nothing warmed his heart more than the sight of
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