Second Chance Summer - Olivia Miles

1

Summer in Blue Harbor was Amelia Conway’s favorite time of the year, and not because of all the tourists who made frequent stops to her lakefront café and kept her business going for the quieter months. Summer in her northern Michigan hometown had a way of stirring up memories even sweeter than those from birthdays and holidays, reminding her of long, lazy days spent splashing in the lake, riding bikes with her sisters, and picking cherries at her family’s orchard. It meant dinners on the picnic table behind their house with warm pie and melting ice cream, and staying up late, waiting for the fireflies to appear.

It was a time to breathe. And dream. And, once upon a time, fall in love…

Amelia watched a young couple at the corner of the patio reach across the table and take each other’s hands. They’d split a dessert—a sign of true intimacy by her books—and soon she imagined they would take a walk along the lake that was glistening in the waning sunlight.

She took their signed bill and bid them goodnight, her gaze drifting to the empty storefront adjacent to her own business. Not long ago it had been a sweet little stationery store, run by Gladys O’Leary. But Gladys had no takers when she wanted to retire last fall, and rumor had it that sales had been slow for years. Amelia had been eager to see who would move into the space next, knowing it would drive traffic to her café, but so far, it sat dark and empty. And unwelcoming.

Well, no sense in worrying about it tonight. Tonight she didn’t need any extra customers pushing through the door. She was barely keeping up with the ones she had.

With a sigh, Amelia finished clearing a table and walked back inside Firefly Café, where a line had already formed in the few minutes since she’d been outside. Her sister Maddie had come around from the counter, looking frazzled.

“I just cleared two tables on the patio,” Amelia told her. They were short-staffed tonight, because it was a Thursday and usually weeknights were more of a local crowd. But it was August, and that meant families were coming to town for a week or two, not just a weekend. It also meant that summer would soon be over. Nearly as quickly as it had started.

Amelia went back to the kitchen where she checked the schedule and was relieved to see that tonight’s staffing oversight wouldn’t repeat itself. Maddie had stepped up her hours, and from tomorrow through Labor Day weekend, they’d have three people on hand around the clock, thanks to her seasonal help. She just had to get through tonight.

And stop that alarm from going off.

She hurried to the oven and flung the door open, almost forgetting to grab an oven mitt before she pulled the now burnt flatbread from the middle rack. She set the pan on the range, cursing under her breath.

“I got those two couples seated and another in the front room—” Maddie waved a hand through the smoky air as she came deeper into the kitchen. “Jeez. Is something on fire?”

“Nearly.” Amelia sighed, and then, because she had no other choice, she went to work on another bruschetta-style flatbread—a favorite here at the café, made with three different cheeses from the local dairy farm, and basil and tomatoes picked straight from her own garden.

“Table twelve?” Maddie asked, looking at the order slips. “I’ll bring them a house wine to make up for the delay.”

House wine meant it came from their family’s orchard and winery, located right here in Blue Harbor.

“Thanks, Maddie.” Amelia tossed her youngest sister a grin over her shoulder as she rolled out the dough she kept in large batches in the fridge.

Once that was settled, and Maddie announced that the couple was thrilled by the reward of their inconvenience, they worked in silence for a few minutes. Amelia on the savories; Maddie on the sweets. Amelia knew that eventually her younger sister would want to do something on her own, open a bakery, or start a small cookie company. She’d always been good at baking, and pie was her specialty. For now, Maddie seemed happy for the work here and Amelia was happy to give her the space she needed to create and experiment, and share a little of her wisdom, too. Even, she thought, as she lathered some homemade pesto over the flatbread, the mistakes.

Once that was in the oven and the timer was set, she glanced