Allow me to help, Ethan offered, following her before she could object. In the kitchen, Jessica pulled ingredients from the refrigerator. Make yourself useful and slice the bread.
To her surprise, Ethan rolled up his sleeves and did as instructed. He handled the knife with unexpected skill, cutting even slices from the artisan loaf. You’ve done that before, she observed.
I worked in a deli through college. At her startled look, he added, did you think I was born a CEO? Honestly? Yes, Ethan laughed, a rich sound that transformed his face again. My father was a high school science teacher.
My mother was a nurse. I grew up in a two-bedroom house in Rochester and worked every summer from age 16. Jessica handed him tomatoes to slice.
So how did you become? She gestured vaguely at his expensive watch and tailored shirt. The heartless corporate titan, he supplied dryly. Your words, not mine.
I created an algorithm that revolutionized supply chain management while still in grad school. Built a company around it. Made some good decisions, some brutal ones.
He deftly arranged the tomato slices on the bread. The rest is business history. And somewhere along the way, you stopped speaking to your mother, Jessica added softly.
Ethan’s hands stilled. That’s a complicated situation. Family usually is.
Jessica turned to the stove, stirring a pot of soup she’d set to warm. You’re not close with yours, he asked, moving beside her to help. Jessica kept her eyes on the pot.
My parents died when I was in college. Car accident. I’m sorry.
The simple words held genuine sympathy. It was a long time ago. She reached past him for bowls, her arm brushing his.
Again, that unsettling awareness flared between them. And after college… Ethan pressed gently. Where did Jessica Porter go before she arrived at this diner? Jessica ladled soup into bowls with precise movements.
New York. Finance. It didn’t work out.
Wall Street. Ethan’s interest sharpened. Which firm? Does it matter? She placed the bowls on a tray.
That life is behind me now, he. It matters because you’re running from something, Ethan said quietly, and whatever it is has forced someone with obvious intelligence and education to hide in a small-town diner. Jessica turned to face him, her composure slipping for the first time.
Not everyone who steps away from corporate America is running or hiding. Some of us simply discovered that success by those standards comes at too high a price. The raw honesty in her voice silenced him.
For a moment they stood facing each other in the dim kitchen, the storm raging outside while something equally turbulent built between them. Who hurt you, Jessica? Shew. Ethan asked finally, his voice barely audible above the wind.
Her laugh was soft, bitter. The better question is, who didn’t? Before he could respond, the back door of the diner burst open, sending a blast of cold air through the kitchen. Jessica whirled around, startled, as a man staggered in from the storm, snowcoating his expensive overcoat.
Thank God, the newcomer exclaimed, stamping his feet. I thought I’d freeze to death out there. Ethan stiffened beside her.
James, he said flatly. What are you doing here? The man looked up, recognition and relief washing over his face. Ethan, I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.
Your mother called the office looking for you, and when I heard you’d gone out in this storm— He stopped abruptly as his gaze fell on Jessica. For one suspended moment, recognition flashed in his eyes, followed immediately by something darker. Fear.
Jessica Porter, he said, his voice suddenly strained. Well, this is— Unexpected. Jessica had gone perfectly still, her face drained of colour.
James Harrington, she whispered. Of all the diners in all the storms. Ethan looked between them, his analytical mind racing to connect the pieces.
You two know each other. It wasn’t a question, but James answered anyway, his charming smile returning too quickly. Ancient history.
Miss Porter once worked at my investment firm. He extended his hand. Small world, isn’t it? Jessica stared at the offered hand like it was a venomous snake.
Very small, she agreed. Not moving to take it. And getting smaller by the minute.
The kitchen seemed to shrink around them, the air suddenly thick with tension. Ethan looked between Jessica and James, noting the rigid set of Jessica’s shoulders and the forced casualness in James’s smile. Miss Porter was one of our brightest analysts.
James continued smoothly when the silence stretched too long. Left quite suddenly, as I recall. I had my reasons, Jessica replied, her voice steady despite the pallor of her face.
Compelling ones. James removed his snow-dusted coat, hanging it as if he owned the place. Water under the bridge, surely? He turned to Ethan.
When Eleanor called looking for you, I was concerned. The roads are treacherous. You drove all this way because my mother called the office.
Ethan’s scepticism was evident. I was already in Burlington for the Nortec acquisition meeting, when I couldn’t reach you. James shrugged.
You know how I worry. Jessica wordlessly gathered the food she’d prepared onto a tray. I should take this to Eleanor.
As she tried to pass, James shifted, blocking her path. Let me help you with that, Jessica. We have so much to catch up on.
I’ve got it, she said flatly, sidestepping him. Ethan observed the interaction with growing suspicion. James.
A word? He gestured toward the walk-in pantry, away from the kitchen’s main area. Once inside, Ethan didn’t mince words. What history do you have with her? James raised his eyebrows.
Straight to the point, as always. She worked at Harrington Capital for about eighteen months. Promising career until she had some kind of breakdown.
Ethical crisis, she called it. He shook his head. Shame.
She had potential. And that’s all. Now, what else would there be? James’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Don’t tell me the great Ethan Mitchell is interested in a diner manager. She’s hiding something, Ethan said, ignoring the jab. And based on her reaction to you, it involves Harrington Capital.
James leaned against a shelf. Ethan, you know how these young idealists are. They come to Wall Street thinking they’ll change the world, then can’t handle the reality of business.
Jessica couldn’t separate her personal feelings from professional decisions. It made her unstable. She seems anything but unstable to me.
You’ve known her for what, a few hours? James laughed softly. I employed her for over a year. Trust me, there’s a reason she’s serving coffee in Vermont instead of managing portfolios in Manhattan.
Ethan studied his friend and business partner carefully. James had been his right-hand man since Mitchell Innovations began, instrumental in their meteoric rise. They’d weathered countless storms together, professional and personal.
Yet something about James’s too-casual dismissal of Jessica bothered him. She took care of my mother, Ethan said finally. I owe her for that.
Of course you do. Just don’t mistake gratitude for something more. James clapped him on the shoulder.
Now, shall we join the ladies? I’m starving. When they returned to the main dining area, they found Jessica and Eleanor seated in a booth, talking quietly. Jessica’s posture remained tense, but she’d regained her colour.
She looked up as the men approached, her eyes skipping over James to focus on Ethan. Eleanor’s been telling me about your childhood science experiments, she said, a forced lightness in her tone. Apparently, you were building robots while other kids were riding bikes.
Mother exaggerates, Ethan replied, sliding into the seat beside Jessica while James took the spot next to Eleanor. I do not, Eleanor protested. You rewired the entire basement when you were twelve, nearly burned the house down.
That was one time, Ethan said, the corner of his mouth lifting. James reached for a sandwich. Ethan was always ahead of the curve.
It’s what makes him such a brilliant CEO, willing to take calculated risks that others avoid. Even when those risks affect people’s lives? Jessica asked, her question seemingly innocent, but with an undercurrent that made Ethan look at her sharply. Business always affects lives, James replied smoothly.
The trick is focusing on the greater good rather than individual sentimentality, and who decides what that greater good is, Jessica pressed. Those with the vision and authority to make such decisions, James answered. Wouldn’t you agree, Ethan? All eyes turned to him.
Ethan considered his response carefully, aware of the sudden weight his words carried in this strange tableau. I believe in ethical business practices, he said finally. Profit without principle is ultimately unsustainable.
Jessica’s expression remained neutral, but he caught a flicker of surprise in her eyes. Noble sentiments, James remarked, though sometimes difficult to apply in practice, as Jessica discovered. He turned to her.
How long have you been in Burlington? It must be, what, three years now? Under four, she corrected, her jaw tight. Four years, James echoed thoughtfully. Amazing how time flies.
You know, Ethan, Jessica was involved in an interesting situation before she left Harrington Capital. Perhaps she’s told you about it? The subtle threat in his tone was unmistakable. Jessica set down her spoon, her knuckles white…
