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restful, too.”
    â€œThat’s okay.” Jake shrugged. “I like listening to you. Besides, if someone starts doing an imitation of a windup monkey, it’s best to let them wind down on their own.”
    â€œA windup monkey!”
    â€œYeah, you know.” He made motions in front of himself as if he were clanging a pair of cymbals. “A windup monkey. You obviously have something you want to talk about, but you’re not sure how to start. Instead of asking what’s really on your mind, I figured I’d let you go on about whatever you want till you wear yourself down. Eventually, you’ll come out with it.”
    Lacy straightened her spine, bristling. “What’s really on my mind is that I don’t like being called a windup monkey.”
    â€œLook, most guys who get wounded tend to suffer in silence, but every now and then when I was in the hospital, a jarhead would start blabbing a blue streak about everything and nothing—anything to keep from talking about what was really eating him.” Jake scooped up a bite of dessert and then went on. “I’m just saying that stress is stress whether you get it on a battlefield or in a boardroom. You need a way to get rid of it. I didn’t mean to tick you off, Lace.”
    But he had.
    Mostly because he was right. She wanted to talk to someone about a lot of things—about how she felt about losing her beautiful Back Bay shop, about Bradford’s betrayal, about Daniel and his on-again, off-again marriage, about how she was ever going to pay back that awful loan, and most especially, what would she ever find to do with herself in Coldwater Cove? Her list of challenges was overwhelming. But she couldn’t tell him about any of that.
    Life in Boston had taught her not to trust anyone, men in particular. Opening her heart was an invitation for it to be stomped on. She could only rely on herself.
    â€œI hate to eat and ask you to run,” she said, “but please finish your dessert. I have so much to do here and I’m the only one who can do it. I need to get back to work.”
    â€œReally? Is that how they do it in Boston?”
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œDump unwanted dinner dates.”
    â€œJake, it’s not like that.” And since when did this become a date? “But you’re right. I do have a lot to deal with right now. I just can’t talk to you about it.”
    â€œHow about Danny?” Jake pushed away his nearly untouched cobbler. “Is he the one you can talk to?”
    â€œNo. They’re my problems. I’ll deal with them on my own without help from either of you,” she said, upset that he was making her feel defensive when she’d done nothing wrong. “But you have to admit you’ve got a reputation for having the attention span of a gnat when it comes to relationships. Have you forgotten that, of the two of you, you’re the one who is the player?”
    â€œ Was the player. I haven’t been that guy for a long time.” Jake rose and headed for the door with a seemingly lovesick Effie meowing after him. He stopped at the threshold. “Just remember one thing, Lace. People change. Danny Scott is the one with another woman on the string now.”
    The door banged shut behind him. Lashing herself with her long tail, Effie scowled at Lacy.
    â€œGive it a rest, cat. Jake leaves all the girls sooner or later. Don’t think for a skinny minute that you’re any different.”

Chapter 6
    Why watch reality TV when I can work at the Green Apple? There’s a whole lot more “reality” going on at the grill and it smells a good sight better than any TV show!
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    â€”Ethel Ringwald, waitress who’s liberal with both dessert portions and advice
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    â€œY ou were the best cub reporter I ever had, so I’m guessing you remember the drill. Your main focus will be writing general interest stories.