Chapter One
Danny gawped behind his N95.
He blinked. Rubbed his eyes, then squinted, certain his fraying nerves must have finally pushed him over the edge he’d been skating since the pandemic, and his breakup with Paul had prompted him to move back to Gran’s days before Covid lockdown.
His ex—no mask—smiled his winsome best. “Surprise.”
“Shit,” Danny said.
Paul chuckled, eyeing him up and down. “You look good.” He arched a quizzical eyebrow at Danny’s N95. “Different, but still good.”
Flimsy bakery box buckling in his grasp, Danny snorted and headed toward the kitchen of the B&B. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any.” He navigated around displays of pottery mugs and whatnots etched with the inn’s logo as well as matte photos of the inn, local landmarks, and landscapes that Lila and Bill had staged around the reception area as impulse-buy mementos.
Paul followed him, unheeding of postcards he knocked off a table. They scattered to the carpet like falling snow. “Just hear me out.”
Scowling, Danny nodded to Bill who stood over a skillet at the stove while Danny settled the Black Forest layer cake he’d decorated with shaved chocolate curls onto the countertop of the kitchen’s breakfast bar. “Raspberry scones and peanut butter bars with caramel glaze in the van,” he told his client. “Macadamia nut shortbreads and lemon tarts for your event this afternoon are ready too.”
“Thanks. Lila is so excited to host one of our pre-Covid events again that she’s about to dance a merry jig.” Bill expertly folded over one half of an omelet stuffed with colorful peppers, repeating the maneuver in a side-by-side second skillet moments later. “We’re busier for the holiday weekend than expected, though. No reservations, but city folk still have the travel bug, I guess.” Hs smirked at Paul hovering over Danny’s shoulder. “Any chance you can bring more baked goods before Sunday?”
“No problem.” Danny glanced at Paul, who was a very big problem. “Cheesecake?” he offered Bill.
Paul thinned his lips.
The B&B owner whistled. “He’s lactose intolerant, right?”
Right. “People crave decadence on Valentine’s Day,” Danny said with a shrug. “Indulging that decadence is on-brand for Walnut Grove Inn.”
“And you are the right man to deliver it.” Plating the first omelet, Bill snickered. “Whatever you can bring over will be outstanding.”
Bill’s wife whirled into the kitchen as he plated the second omelet. Lila flashed a saucy grin at Danny while Bill worked his magic, garnishing the pair of breakfast plates with a quick brush of melted butter over the omelets and a sprinkling of fresh parsley and chives.
Neither of them wore masks, but they didn’t have an eighty-year-old or a stroke survivor still under Covid restrictions at home.
“Did you ask him about the fancy chocolates?” Lila asked Bill. Not waiting for an answer, she pivoted to face Danny. “Heya, Danny, is there any talking you into extra bonbons this weekend? With the weather turning cold, guests are sticking by the fire and our hot chocolate bar is always popular. The individually wrapped sweets are vanishing.” Lila grabbed the breakfast orders Bill had prepared. “If you can have more here by noon tomorrow, I’ll add a big tip to our online payment.”
“I’m bringing over cheesecake, anyway.” Danny never turned down more work. “Consider it done.” He mentally readjusted the rest of his day. “Do you need the chocolate-dipped spoons too?”
Backing toward the swinging doors that led to the dining area, Lila nodded. “If you can manage it, but our inventory isn’t quite as low. We’ll last the weekend. Skip the spoons if you’re pressed for time.”
At least he’d already prepared that item for their standing order scheduled for next week. “Naw, I can do it. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
“Hey,” Paul interjected, grabbing Danny’s bicep.
Danny refused his ex the attention he transparently expected, wriggling out of his grasp on his way out to bring in the rest of the inn’s baked goods. “Be right back,” he told Bill.
Paul shadowed Danny’s brisk march to his delivery van. No coat, so when the winter wind sliced through them on the wide front porch of the B&B, Paul shuddered in his cashmere Ralph Lauren pullover. “Can you stop? Please?”
“Working, Paul.” Danny flung the twin rear doors of the van wide to reach for the remaining boxes on wire shelving inside. “You used to respect that.”
“Ten minutes.” Paul grimaced. “I flew into Pittsburgh and rented a car to drive an hour and a half south because God forbid this backwater have a decent airport. You know how much I hate driving, Daniel.”
“Daniel was Pops and Dan’s my dad. I’m Danny. Just Danny,” he said, revisiting an argument he’d tired of before he’d even left Paul, who’d judged “Danny” too plebian for his firm’s cocktail parties. “FYI, a phone call would’ve spared you the trouble of the drive.”
“You won’t answer your phone. Or read my texts.”
“There’s your clue.” Danny had loaded up a bakery box tower of the inn’s holiday weekend order so he jerked his jaw at other products still neatly stacked in his van. “Friday mornings are a busy delivery window for me.”
“Meet me in a few hours then. You have to eat.” Paul crossed his arms, voice wheedling as he shivered. “The owners allegedly provide a tolerable luncheon on weekends.”
Danny hadn’t missed Paul’s condescending compliments either. He strode across the B&B’s porch, pausing for a reluctant nod to show the manners his Gran had drummed into him when Paul rushed to open the front door for him. “I need to get home when I’ve finished deliveries. Gran’s taking Uncle Hershel to an appointment so my regular deliveries don’t run late, but I’m anxious to hear what Doc Gallagher says.” He’d coerced Gran into a promise to call Danny’s cell when they were done at the clinic. Thanks to Hershel’s test results already having been uploaded to the patient portal, they knew Hershel’s heart was still okay. No worse than usual anyway. They were just looking forward to fresh guidance now that Covid was endemic, hopeful things could ease up since their county was green on the CDC map. But Paul didn’t need to know that this doctor’s visit wasn’t, technically, urgent. “The inn isn’t my only client requesting extra product this weekend, either. Valentine’s Day is a huge sales rush for the bakery arm of my business. I have a lot of work ahead for my afternoon.”
Paul scrambled in front of him and stood, feet planted wide, arms crossed for sheer belligerent effect instead of bracing against the February cold. “You might as well talk to me because I’m not going away.”
Sighing, Danny put the baked goodies the B&B set out as snacks for their guests on the counter. At least Bill, rinsing the skillets in the double sink, had the grace not to gawk at the drama unfolding in his kitchen. Oh, he was listening. Small towns were small towns and Danny didn’t begrudge Bill or anyone else juicy gossip, including at his expense. Most days, Danny would’ve hooked one of the stools from beneath the countertop bar and enjoyed a heavy ceramic mug of coffee while he, Bill, and Lila chewed over the latest rumors between serving customers. Especially when the gossip was about Danny, who liked to stay fully apprised and updated on whatever shenanigans the county had decided he was up to.
Just…not today.
Not over Paul freaking Hardy, an ex who should’ve stayed in his ex-boyfriend lane way the hell in Brooklyn where he belonged.
What a clusterfuck.
“We’re hosting that afternoon tea at three,” Bill said into the expectant silence.
Danny groaned. “Lila told me you’d filled the guest list.”
“We’ll make room,” Lila said, nudging through the swinging doors from the dining area with her hands full of empty plates she’d bussed from the tables. Circling the counter to place the dishes in the other side of the sink, she curved her mouth into a mischievous smile, dark eyes glinting with wry humor as she beamed at Danny and Paul “For you, I’ll set up seating on the dining room patio with outdoor heaters blasting so there’ll be no added risk to Hershel.”
Because of course she would.
“Fine.” Danny threw his hands in the air. “I’ll try to make it back at three.” He glared at the instantly gloating Paul. “No promises.”
“Cool,” Lila and Bill said in unison.
“I look forward to it,” Paul said with a satisfied smile.
“Glad somebody is.”
* * *
Climbing into the driver’s seat of the van after dropping off cookie trays and brownie platters at Hayes Market for Valentine’s shoppers, Danny finally ripped the damn mask off.
Freedom!
Like most everyone else, Danny loathed masks with every fiber of his being. He didn’t hate them enough to put his medically fragile elderly great uncle at risk, to say nothing of Gran. She was healthy as a horse and Danny was convinced she would probably outlive them all…as long as Danny didn’t expose her—and Hershel—to infection while he delivered to clients and otherwise served his customers in public spaces. Almost nobody wore masks now. So Danny did. Not surgical masks, either. He paid more for the best filtration. Gran and Uncle Hershel were worth the additional expense and inconvenience of tracking N95s down.
With deliveries done for the day, he could be comfortable, though.
He glanced at his phone to check the time. Wrinkled his nose.
He could still make it to the B&B for lunch, but he’d known he probably could when he’d lied to Paul about being too busy a little while ago. The entitled expectation Danny would upend his workday at his ex’s whimsical demand had rankled.
He owed Paul Hardy nothing.
Despite current events, however, theirs hadn’t been a particularly acrimonious breakup, at least not in Danny’s memory. Yeah, Paul had cheated on him, but the shame-filled confession two years ago had provoked no shouting matches nor shattering of tossed crockery. By then, Danny thought both of them had accepted their relationship was over and were long past ready to call it quits. Instead of feeling angry or hurt, he’d been…relieved? No more pretending everything was perfect anymore. With Covid infections climbing and climbing and climbing higher still, the shine had worn off the Big Apple for Danny. Oakley, Barrows, and Smith had transitioned the office to telework as the pandemic had intensified so he could work anywhere. Alarmed at reports about the new virus killing young and old alike in New York City, Gran had pleaded with Danny to come home.
Danny had hopped a Greyhound heading to West Virginia the next morning.
Paul hadn’t chased him then. Danny had rated two calls. Only two. One, very brief, in which his ex thanked him for leaving their apartment key on the foyer table and another, even shorter, about a week later asking which dry cleaner Danny had been taking Paul’s suits to. They hadn’t chatted. Paul hadn’t checked to make sure Danny or his high-risk kin were okay. Hadn’t asked how Danny was doing at all.
Paul hadn’t begun lighting up Danny’s phone until a month ago, first with texts Danny had neither the time or interest in reading, and then calls. Persistent calls. Calls Danny had zero hesitation declining.
Why now? What for?
Covid had lasted longer than their relationship, for crying out loud, and even in the beginning, when they’d both been in love with being in love more than with each other, what they’d shared together hadn’t been that amazing. Danny had thought a lot about what had gone wrong in New York since he’d returned to West Virginia. Before he’d joined the Great Resignation and sank his teeth into growing his new business as a cottage food producer, he’d had nothing except time to dissect his life choices. The self-awareness he’d won had made ignoring Paul’s texts, when they’d started rolling in, easier. Those texts belonged to his old life, who he was before the pandemic. That Danny was gone, and good riddance. The new Danny wasn’t interested in revisiting past mistakes. Post-Covid Danny focused on his life reboot and moving forward.
Apparently, Paul didn’t have a post-Covid Paul.
Maybe the intern he’d been screwing had dumped him.
While Danny didn’t necessarily wish ill of his ex, he didn’t exactly care, either. The aggravation he’d be forced to deal with Paul anyway had made him that much more determined not to do it at Paul’s discretion. No lunch. Even if it meant cutting off his nose to spite his face by disrupting what would have otherwise been a solid block of hours to complete that day’s extra orders to make that second trip into town to meet Paul.
Danny supposed he could return to Gran’s to start on Bill and Lila’s cheesecake and the fancy chocolates for their cocoa bar. Given the amount of extra work he’d taken on, he definitely should. He wouldn’t finish by three, not a chance, but he’d make decent headway before his unwanted and unwelcome blast from the past called him back to the B&B.
Instead, he reached for his phone and dialed Gran from his Recents.
“What?” she yelled, the ambient crowd noise around her indicating she had Danny on speaker.
“Where are you?”
“Corner booth at the Chat and Chew,” Gran said.
Danny’s heart gave a happy lurch, joyous relief bubbling in his chest. “Doc Gallagher said Uncle Hershel can eat inside restaurants?”
Gran harrumphed. “No, Danny. Doc said Hershel should continue social distancing, but I dragged him into his favorite diner because I don’t like my son much.”
Laughing, Danny reached for his keys in the ignition of the delivery van. “I’m at Hayes, can be there in twenty minutes.”
“Appreciate it, but we’ll be gone afore you get here. Hershel wanted a quick coffee, say hi to his friends.” Gran snorted. “We’ve been isolated at the farm so long I think being around people makes him nervous.”
After more than two years of extreme caution and isolation, that made sense. “But he can go out?”
“Doc says so. We need to test if any symptoms—and I do mean any—show up and test again two days later in case the first test is wrong. That way, Doc can prescribe Paxlovid immediately when we catch it.”
When? Danny’s happiness nosedived. “Maybe we should still be careful.”
“Hospitals aren’t overflowing with Covid patients anymore so care isn’t being rationed. We have the vaccine and boosts, plus drugs to treat it.” Gran sniffed. “Doc says these days Covid is a lot more treatable, you just have to keep up with your shots. Barring long Covid, the virus isn’t much more deadly than seasonal flu nowadays. Not saying I particularly believe that, but it’s what he said.”
Yeah, well, the flu could kill Hershel too.
Danny froze. Winced.
He was being ridiculous.
“We don’t have to constantly monitor the CDC county map anymore.” Gran continued with a relieved sigh. “You can get a booth at the winter farmers market. See your friends. Go on a date.”
Danny snorted. As if the mountainous highlands of West Virginia’s eastern panhandle were a hotbed for the gay community. Setting up his tables in the old warehouse the farmers co-op used in the cold months would add to his winter income stream, though. He wouldn’t have to scramble and hustle for clients as much. “I have friends.” Bill. Lila. The Hayes, whose family had owned and operated Hayes Market since the early ‘40s.
“You have clients. You have customers,” Gran argued, tone turning waspish. “And Nick.”
His stomach tightened. “I like Nick.”
“I do too,” Gran said. “He’s still too old for you.”
“He’s perfect for me.” He’d tried explaining that the twenty-year age gap between he and their closest neighbor was part of what made the math professor so appealing. Danny liked his confidence. He was drawn to the older man’s maturity, the wisdom he’d acquired, his stolid sense of purpose. Guys Danny’s age were like him—exploring who they were and what they wanted to become, unrelentingly focused on growing and establishing themselves in careers, in their personal lives, in their political beliefs…Despite the self-awareness he’d attained during Covid, Danny still struggled to figure his life out, just like his peers. That was true under normal circumstances, but with the tumult of the pandemic, especially so.
Not Nick. Nick had taught college-level math almost as long as Danny had been alive. He knew what he liked and wanted, where his life was headed.
Nick’s certainty was almost as sexy to Danny as the man’s salt-and-pepper hair, his knowing smile, and the wicked sparkle in his blue eyes promising Danny an expertise in bed that knotted his stomach with edgy arousal. The man was a teacher, a super-geek of the first order…and, in Danny’s wildest fantasies, would push him beyond his limited experiences, no matter how much of a slut Danny had been when he’d arrived in New York with his shiny new associate degree in hand a few years ago. Danny craved that. He wanted to sail past his boundaries and Nick was the man he wanted at the helm.
Gran was stubborn. She wasn’t opposed to Danny hooking up with Nick. In Danny’s experience, parents and parental figures loved geeks, who tended to be responsible citizens, settled in their careers, financially stable… What wasn’t to like? Gran was by no means immune to that. She felt Danny should try guys closer to his own age first.
Danny couldn’t be less interested in anyone, save Nick.
Unwilling to argue it again, Danny heaved a sigh. “Tell Hershel he should at least grab a slice of the pie I dropped off at the diner earlier.”
Gran sniffed her disdain at the deflection, but only said, “I’ll try, but he’s already making eyes at the door.” She grunted. “Me, too, if I’m being honest. I guess being around other people again will take some getting used to.”
The pandemic was over, according to the world. Even the president had said so and everybody sure acted like Covid was in their collective rearview mirrors, and had for months…except for those who were high risk, who had still been social-distancing, still masking even when the rest of America had gone about its merry way. Despite vaccination and boosters as well as Paxlovid to treat the sick, the chronically ill and disabled remained terrifyingly vulnerable to a disease the scientific community still didn’t understand. Covid restrictions had remained in place for those most in peril of severe outcomes. Patients at the local cancer center hadn’t gone shopping, with or without a mask. The disabled, like Uncle Hershel, hadn’t attended bingo nights at the fire hall or shot the shit over coffee with friends at his favorite diner like he had most mornings all his health-issue-riddled life in too many days to count.
Hershel had barely been anywhere in years.
Because mental health was important too, Doc had okayed Hershel attending outdoor events and his great uncle had liked helping Danny at farmer’s markets during the warmer months. He’d enjoyed the county fair last July too, even if he’d done so behind a mask that made breathing difficult for him—everything made breathing a challenge for his elderly great uncle. Locals knew Uncle Hershel’s health was fragile and if they didn’t, the cane he relied on for the limited walking he was able to manage should’ve been a neon sign.
Summer tourists had still been mean. Ugly.
“Take that mask off.”
“What’re you scared of? The flu?”
No.
Death.
Hershel had been afraid of dying alone, in a coma, choking on a ventilator.
Gran and Danny, who loved that cantankerous old coot more than anything, had been scared right alongside him. Whatever the doc ordered for Hershel was the rule of the road for Danny and Gran too. When the biweekly farmers markets at which Danny sold his products had moved indoors once the weather turned cold, Danny had given up his booth to rely on online orders and product placement in regional stores through the lean winter months. He’d ignored the dirty looks and nasty comments about his mask when he made deliveries and tried not to mind driving half an hour every week to the lone store in their rural area that offered online grocery orders for pick up. Gran had learned to watch church services on YouTube and met with her regular Tuesday morning Bible Study group only when they organized events outdoors. Which they mostly had because Gran was over eighty, as were the other fine ladies of First Ebeneezer. Even the ones who had thought Covid was a bunch of fake news hooey had loved Gran enough to include her.
As an agnostic, Danny hadn’t had church lady friends to visit. He hadn’t seen anyone except farmers market customers when the weather was fair and his delivery clients when it wasn’t. He’d turned down so many offers for dinner or drinks with old schoolmates since he’d returned to Mineral County that none of them bothered to call him anymore. He had work…and more work. Nobody cared about the high-risk or the loved ones determined to keep them alive these days, if they had ever cared in the first place. This was just his life now—he, Gran, and Uncle Hershel against the world—and had been for the last couple of years.
Except for Nick.
Danny could always rely on Nick.
“We believed in the science when Hershel’s doctors told us to stay home. Now, we have to believe in the science when they say it’s safe for you and Hershel to go out. Stay for lunch,” Danny said into his cell. “I’ll meet you at the farm later.”
“Will do. Love ya, Danny boy.”
Click.
