across the bar and pumped Darcy’s hand with a grip so firm it bordered on crushing. He glanced around the pub. “You the owner?” Darcy nodded. “You’ve got a good business here. I always like to meet the competition.”
Darcy handed him a stemmed glass with the Stella Artois emblem. “I beg your pardon?”
Wayne’s grin made the toothpick stick up at a cocky angle. “I bought the old hair salon across the street. I’m going to turn it into a wine bar.”
“Is that right?” Darcy took his money and put it in the cash register. “Well, we’re a friendly bunch around here. It’s a small town but big enough for both of us.”
“That’s the spirit. Keep each other on our toes, eh?” Wayne glanced around again, his gaze lighting on Tony and his bricklayer mates. “We would have a different clientele, though, wine bars being a bit more upmarket than a country-style pub. No offense.”
“None taken.” Darcy’s smile hardened slightly. The guy was a jerk. “I take it you’re new to the village?”
“Oh, I don’t live here. I’ve got a winery with a restaurant in Red Hill. My financial planner suggested I start up another business. You know, for a tax write-off.” He looked out the window onto the quiet street. “This place is a bit of a backwater.”
“We like to think it has character,” Darcy said.
“Yeah, real cute. I notice some big houses along the cliff and on the north side of town. There’s a bit of money here.”
The more Wayne opened his mouth, the less Darcy liked him. “This is a diverse community—some rich, some middling, plenty of working folk.”
Wayne was in here checking out the competition. Darcy wasn’t worried. He knew his clientele, who, for Wayne’s information, included doctors, stockbrokers and teachers as well as tradesmen and business owners. They came for the friendly atmosphere and the familiarity of his establishment. They liked their beer and they tolerated his limited wine list.
No upstart wine bar could compete with that.
Setting aside his distaste for the guy’s attitude, he stuck out a hand. “Welcome to Summerside.”
CHAPTER THREE
Late February
E MMA MENTALLY ADDED UP the days and weeks since her last period as she walked briskly along the corridor of Ward 5G North. When she figured it out she stopped dead, forcing an orderly pushing a patient on a gurney to weave around her.
Six weeks.
She would definitely call that overdue. Add in the breast tenderness she’d been experiencing and the frequency of having to pee... A smile spread across her face. She wanted a baby so badly.
Tracey, filling in paperwork at the nurses’ station, glanced up as Emma approached. “What are you grinning about?”
“Nothing.” She leaned over a filing cabinet and pulled out a drawer, pretending to riffle through the files for a patient’s case notes. She didn’t want to say anything about the baby, not even to Tracey, until she knew for certain.
If she was pregnant, the baby had to be Darcy’s. She’d been out with a few men she’d met online in the past four months but she hadn’t liked anyone enough to do more than kiss them good-night.
Tracey reached for the phone. “I’m going to call Barb and Sasha. Where do you want to go for drinks after work?”
Drinks were a Friday-night ritual for her and Tracey, plus Sasha, a midwife, and Barb, who was a manager in hospital administration. But alcohol would be out of the question if...
Emma stayed Tracey’s hand before she could punch in any numbers. “My niece is having her birthday party this afternoon.”
She hadn’t planned to go even though she was invited. It was too hard. Tessa was turning three, as Holly would have been if she’d lived. The girls had been born, amazingly, on the same day. Twin cousins, she and Alana had called them. Emma had a present for Tessa all wrapped and ready to drop off at the door. But if she were pregnant, maybe, just maybe, she would be able to bear to see
Darcy handed him a stemmed glass with the Stella Artois emblem. “I beg your pardon?”
Wayne’s grin made the toothpick stick up at a cocky angle. “I bought the old hair salon across the street. I’m going to turn it into a wine bar.”
“Is that right?” Darcy took his money and put it in the cash register. “Well, we’re a friendly bunch around here. It’s a small town but big enough for both of us.”
“That’s the spirit. Keep each other on our toes, eh?” Wayne glanced around again, his gaze lighting on Tony and his bricklayer mates. “We would have a different clientele, though, wine bars being a bit more upmarket than a country-style pub. No offense.”
“None taken.” Darcy’s smile hardened slightly. The guy was a jerk. “I take it you’re new to the village?”
“Oh, I don’t live here. I’ve got a winery with a restaurant in Red Hill. My financial planner suggested I start up another business. You know, for a tax write-off.” He looked out the window onto the quiet street. “This place is a bit of a backwater.”
“We like to think it has character,” Darcy said.
“Yeah, real cute. I notice some big houses along the cliff and on the north side of town. There’s a bit of money here.”
The more Wayne opened his mouth, the less Darcy liked him. “This is a diverse community—some rich, some middling, plenty of working folk.”
Wayne was in here checking out the competition. Darcy wasn’t worried. He knew his clientele, who, for Wayne’s information, included doctors, stockbrokers and teachers as well as tradesmen and business owners. They came for the friendly atmosphere and the familiarity of his establishment. They liked their beer and they tolerated his limited wine list.
No upstart wine bar could compete with that.
Setting aside his distaste for the guy’s attitude, he stuck out a hand. “Welcome to Summerside.”
CHAPTER THREE
Late February
E MMA MENTALLY ADDED UP the days and weeks since her last period as she walked briskly along the corridor of Ward 5G North. When she figured it out she stopped dead, forcing an orderly pushing a patient on a gurney to weave around her.
Six weeks.
She would definitely call that overdue. Add in the breast tenderness she’d been experiencing and the frequency of having to pee... A smile spread across her face. She wanted a baby so badly.
Tracey, filling in paperwork at the nurses’ station, glanced up as Emma approached. “What are you grinning about?”
“Nothing.” She leaned over a filing cabinet and pulled out a drawer, pretending to riffle through the files for a patient’s case notes. She didn’t want to say anything about the baby, not even to Tracey, until she knew for certain.
If she was pregnant, the baby had to be Darcy’s. She’d been out with a few men she’d met online in the past four months but she hadn’t liked anyone enough to do more than kiss them good-night.
Tracey reached for the phone. “I’m going to call Barb and Sasha. Where do you want to go for drinks after work?”
Drinks were a Friday-night ritual for her and Tracey, plus Sasha, a midwife, and Barb, who was a manager in hospital administration. But alcohol would be out of the question if...
Emma stayed Tracey’s hand before she could punch in any numbers. “My niece is having her birthday party this afternoon.”
She hadn’t planned to go even though she was invited. It was too hard. Tessa was turning three, as Holly would have been if she’d lived. The girls had been born, amazingly, on the same day. Twin cousins, she and Alana had called them. Emma had a present for Tessa all wrapped and ready to drop off at the door. But if she were pregnant, maybe, just maybe, she would be able to bear to see
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