The cafe on crescent lem.., p.1
The Cafe on Crescent (Lemon Sugar Book 2), page 1
The Café on Crescent
Carolyn Finch
Contents
The Cafe on Crescent
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
The Cafe on Crescent
By: Carolyn Finch
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-7772999-8-9 KDP
978-1-7772999-9-6 Ingram Spark
978-7778340-0-5 Ebook
This book is published in Canada July of 2021
Canadian Certificate of Copyright 2021
Created with Vellum
The Café on Crescent is dedicated to Trevor and Melanie.
Chapter 1
Bright, hot July sunshine poured into Lucy Lemon’s bedroom window as she scowled at the ugly maid’s uniform hanging on the back of her door.
Hateful thing!
She dragged her attention from the uniform and the long back-breaking day of work it represented as she heard the sound of a hammer banging on the eaves of her house.
Confused by the noise, she threw open the window to peek outside. Lucy’s eyes narrowed as she looked right into the kneecaps of her brother-in-law, Lester Lemon.
“What are you doing here?” Lucy scrambled to pull on a dressing gown.
Her skin crawled as Lester bent down to peer into her bedroom. “I’m adding some scroll work to the eaves and peak of the house.” Lester stepped down the ladder so he could get a better look at her.
Anxiety quickened Lucy’s pulse.
It is no coincidence that you’re here this early working at my bedroom window. You’re trying to see me in my unmentionables!
Clutching her dressing gown around her like a shield, she braced herself for a confrontation.
With a scheming brother-in-law like Lester, she had no choice but to deal with his presumptuous behaviour—immediately!
Scroll work!
Lucy raced down the stairs and across the veranda. Standing at the bottom of his ladder, she scowled up at him.
“Lester, I’ve asked you not to work on my house. I can’t afford this.” She heard the tremor in her voice. Swallowing down her frustration, she tried to sound tougher than she was.
“Marry me, and you keep your house. You can quit working at the hotel.” Lester leered at her.
“Never.” Lucy straightened her shoulders.
Lester shrugged; he held the scroll work against the eave, and then, with three hard hits of his hammer, he secured the wood.
“Come down off that ladder,” Lucy begged.
Lucy knew that Lester knew she didn’t have what it took to stand up to him. The Lemon house would be his, eventually; it was just a matter of time. As soon as the house went into tax sale, he was ready to pounce and buy it. Lucy would be out on the street unless she married him.
He knew it.
She knew it.
He pounded the last nail into the scrollwork that did look lovely against the eaves and then started down the ladder. “I’m not letting my family home become an eyesore just because you can’t keep up with the repairs.”
“I am trying my best, but scrollwork is a luxury I can’t afford, and it isn’t necessary…”
At the bottom of the ladder, Lester turned on her. “We could be very happy if you weren’t so stubborn.” Bending down, he picked up another handful of nails. Dropping the nails into his pouch, he defied her request to stop working on the house.
“Please, pack up your things and leave my property.” Lucy heard a noise behind her. She turned to see Mr. Tavish, her neighbour, rest his forearms on the fence that divided their properties. A fence she wanted to smash to pieces with a hammer, as it threatened her precious tree that straddled their property line. Lucy gritted her teeth as Mr. Tavish shot her a grin.
He nodded at her instead of saying good morning. She narrowed her eyes in response. Mr. Tavish, a Scotsman, had returned from war a little on the thin side. Now, he was back to his big, burly self because Mrs. Daindridge, their neighbour from across the street, constantly dropped off butter tarts for him.
Mrs. Daindridge and Mrs. Carr swoon over Mr. Tavish shamelessly!
He had a head of russet-coloured hair and brown eyes that always seemed to be laughing at her. Mr. Tavish towered over everyone, and this morning, Lucy couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between his solid bulk and skinny, pale Lester Lemon.
Mr. Tavish grinned at her as he sipped his coffee from a tin mug, watching them as if he were in the front row at a theatre.
She willed him to walk away, to spare her embarrassment.
No luck.
Even though Mr. Tavish was physically massive, between him and Lester, Lester was the bigger threat. She couldn’t afford scrollwork, paint, or a man to install any of it.
Of all the men on earth, I don’t want Lester messing with my scrollwork—or anything else!
“Lester, I asked you to leave. I mean it.” Lucy wrapped her arms around herself as she turned her back on Mr. Tavish. “If you don’t leave, I’ll have to alert the constable.” Her voice shook, and her hand clutched her dressing gown tighter.
“You’ll do no such thing.” Quick as a viper, Lester lunged at her. He clenched the hammer in his left hand, towering over her. “You owe me fifty dollars, and you owe the town three hundred in back taxes. If you weren’t so stubborn, you’d listen to reason and realize marriage to me is the only solution.”
The smell of alcohol from his breath washed over her.
How could anyone drink alcohol this early in the morning?
Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she took a step back. The look of menace in his eye made Lucy’s skin crawl. She scrambled to get further away from him by taking another step back, hitting the solid wall of her house. “No!” Lucy gasped in protest as he reached out to hold her in place.
“Lucy, you have nothing, and you come from nothing. An orphan…” Lester said orphan like it was an insult. “I am offering you a roof over your head, respectability, and life where you don’t have to worry about where your next meal is coming from. I want a wife, and I want this house.” Lester took a step closer. “Lucy, I want you.”
“I said no.” Lucy’s stomach twisted with revulsion.
Lester leaned in, and a lock of hair that he had slicked back and greased within an inch of its life slid down his oily forehead.
She recoiled as far away from him as she could get.
“You’re running out of options. I can make sure you have everything you want.” Lester moved closer still. “You know what they say about you, Lucy? They say you’re a drain on the community.” He reached out to stroke her cheek, as if the words he said were an endearment instead of a threat.
She flinched, and her throat tightened with unshed tears as he spoke what she believed to be the truth.
“They say instead of taking such an enormous bulk of the money from the field, if you just did the right thing and got married—to me—all your problems would be solved. This lets me keep my family home. I don’t want to take it from you when the house goes up for tax sale. But I will take it from you, Lucy. In fact, I can take anything I want.”
Mr. Tavish cleared his throat from the fence line.
To Lucy, it sounded like a warning.
“Get your hands off me,” Lucy hissed at him. “The field is going to pay what I owe.”
Lester leaned in and whispered in her ear. “But it won’t pay what you owe me.”
“Let go of me.” Lucy fought against his hand holding her in place.
Suddenly, Mr. Tavish materialized beside them. Lucy looked wildly from Lester Lemon to Mr. Tavish.
“The lass asked you to take your hands off her,” Mr. Tavish said politely.
Lester looked at Mr. Tavish, dropped his hand from Lucy’s arm, then took a step back.
Lucy took a deep, shuddering breath.
“We just have a little misunderstanding about how this scrollwork lo
Mr. Tavish’s stance changed. He winced as he put weight on his right leg.
Frustration and humiliation washed over Lucy. “I have asked him to leave, and he is refusing.”
“She’s hysterical.” Lester dismissed her. His movements were jerky with anger as he picked up another piece of scrollwork and made a move to go back up the ladder, completely disregarding her and her wishes.
Lucy knew he thought of her as a piece of property his brother had left behind—just like the house.
“It’s not yours, yet.” Mr. Tavish’s jaw clenched so hard, a muscle stood out. “She’s asked you to leave.”
Lester’s eyes tightened. “Did she tell you I’ve been to the town? I can sell my herd and pay the land tax today. It relieved the town to know that she would be one less burden they have to worry about. Once Lucy sees sense, we’ll get married, and we’ll be very happy.” Lester’s thin lips curved into a hard smile.
“Never!” Lucy shook her head.
Lester defied both of them by putting his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder.
Mr. Tavish took a step forward. “She asked you to leave her property. You’ll do as she asks.”
Lester’s face reddened with fury. He whirled around to face Lucy again.
Quickly, Mr. Tavish moved closer to Lucy, partially blocking her from Lester’s rage.
“You are being ridiculous,” Lester hissed at her. “You’ll see reason soon. Mr. Holt agrees with me.”
Lucy stood up straighter. He was lying, and she knew it. Nash was a good friend. “Nash is still the mayor,” Lucy shot back at him, safely behind Mr. Tavish’s broad shoulder.
Lester bristled with resentment. “Not for long. He’s leaving…”
“Nash assures me that the town has the appropriate funds set aside for my situation.” Lucy raised her voice.
“Appropriate funds,” Lester mimicked her with contempt. “This is my family home!” Lester roared. “You will not continue to own my family home!”
“Mr. Lemon!” Mr. Tavish boomed at Lester. “Get out of here, or I will throw you out.” Mr. Tavish shifted so his entire body shielded Lucy from Lester’s wrath.
The blood drained from Lester’s face. Throwing the scrollwork at the base of the ladder, he turned on his heel and stalked off the property. He leaped into his truck and spun his tires as he took off.
Dread weighed on Lucy.
Lester Lemon would not give up.
The battle had just begun.
Chapter 2
Mortified by the altercation, Lucy trembled as she tucked hair behind her ear.
“If he comes back, just come and get me,” Mr. Tavish said to Lucy. “No need to bother the constable.”
“Thank you.” Lucy fumbled with the tie of her robe, wrapping it around herself tighter. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the fence line. She told herself not to say anything, as Mr. Tavish had just stepped in on Lester, but she couldn’t stop herself from protesting the building of the fence. “I appreciate you stepping in, but while you’re here, I am asking you again to please stop building this fence.”
Mr. Tavish sighed from deep in the recesses of his patience. “Listen, you’re upset and in no mood to discuss this.”
“I don’t want you to take that tree down. I can tell from the line of the fence that you plan to wear me down until I am forced to let you remove the tree.” Lucy fought to keep her voice steady.
Etta Lynne, her friend and boarder, slipped down off the veranda and slid her arm around Lucy in support.
“Mrs. Lemon, the tree is dead.” Mr. Tavish’s tone indicated that he had lost his patience about this situation long ago.
Lucy’s face crumpled at the word dead.
Mr. Tavish groaned under his breath. “A fence raises the property value.”
“I don’t care about property values. I care about that tree. My husband carved our initials into it. I can’t bear to have it taken down.” Devastated, Lucy could barely force the words past the lump in her throat.
“I need a quick sale on this house.” Mr. Tavish held his hands out in supplication. “I’m engaged, and we have recently moved up the date of the wedding. I need to make enough to start up again in Winnipeg. I only have three weeks!”
Lucy crossed her arms over her chest.
Mr. Tavish’s jaw tightened. “My fiancée is not used to hardship.”
“I am sorry, but I insist that you build around my tree.” Lucy lifted her chin belligerently.
Mr. Tavish scrubbed his hands over his face. “Listen, lass. I have battled through a war; I have scrimped and saved to give Elsie the life she deserves. I need the best possible price on this house. If this fence doesn’t go up—”
“Then move it over two feet, and we’ll both be happy!” Lucy held her hands out in supplication.
“The property line is not two feet over, and that makes my property look smaller.” Mr. Tavish threw his hands up in the air.
Out of the corner of Lucy’s eye, she watched her gossipy neighbours, Mrs. Daindridge and Mrs. Carr, straining to hear their conversation. They pretended to fiddle with the pink zinnias at the edge of their property line.
“Can we discuss this inside?” Mr. Tavish seemed to notice the old ladies as well and lowered his voice.
“No,” Lucy said, refusing to be moved.
“There is a solution that would save your tree.” Mr. Tavish tossed the dregs of his coffee into the nearby shrub.
Lucy’s eyes narrowed as she anticipated a trick.
“I didn’t want to offer it because I didn’t want it to look like I was taking advantage of a war widow.” Lucy cringed at his use of the term war widow. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, and Lucy noticed his arm hair was like copper wire.
“What solution?” Lucy pressed her lips together, worried about what sort of solution he might scheme up that would benefit him and not her.
“I could move the fence over onto your property and make a small gate, so you can still visit your tree. Your property would look smaller, but if it’s going to end up as Lester’s anyway, it really doesn’t matter to you, right?”
“It will not end up as Lester Lemon’s property!” Lucy’s eyes flashed with fury.
Mr. Tavish frowned. “If what he says is true—”
“It’s not true! But”—Lucy brushed her blond hair out of her eyes—“taking a few feet of my property sounds like an excellent solution. I appreciate that.”
“Well, no need to feud with a neighbour.” Mr. Tavish grinned, having finally resolved the issue. “I’ll get to work moving this over and—”
“You promise, a little gate, though,” Lucy demanded.
“I promise.”
Lucy felt a weight lift off her. He was keeping her tree safe.
Her dead tree.
A tree that, once she lost this house, would be all she had left of the day Russ had asked her to marry him. This tree was where she had wept all the days he had been at war and the day when she’d received news he wasn’t coming back.
“I’ll keep my eyes open if Lester comes back. Take good care, Mrs. Lemon. I’ll get to work on this fence,” Mr. Tavish said as he limped away.
Etta hugged Lucy and then took her hand. “Come on.”
Lucy followed Etta to the veranda where Cali, Etta’s sister, looked up from baby Josh and gave her a look of sympathy. All three women, who had come together out of financial destitution, had become as close as sisters.
