“Thank you, but that wasn’t all me. Once I bought the factory, everyone started working together. I used my first quarter earnings to add the white facade over the corner with the columns and awnings. Then the Scouts made all those flower boxes their project a few years ago, and all those benches, they were donated through a fundraiser the senior class at the high school worked on.”

“It makes a big difference. You’ve been an inspiration.”

She blushed. “I don’t know about that, but it’s been pretty neat to have the whole town working to improve Bailey’s Fork. But enough about me. I’m sure your restaurant in France is much fancier than my factory. French and all that.”

An acute sense of failure flooded over him. “Well, I don’t exactly have my own restaurant.” His own accomplishments seemed like a cop-out now. The two of them had dreamed of nothing but owning a restaurant and bakery of their own.

“Oh? I’m sorry. I just assumed—”

“Right. Yeah, but things work differently in the culinary world over there. I work for Francois Dumont. He owns six of the finest restaurants in the country. He’s the chef who awarded me that first scholarship to culinary school. He’s famous worldwide.”

She stood there staring at him. “You work for him?”

“I’m the executive chef of Dumont. His flagship restaurant. Rooted in family history.”

“His family. Not yours. I’m sure I should be impressed,” she said. “It all sounds very fancy, but I’ll be honest, all I’m hearing is that you left me to go to school so you could open the restaurant of your own dreams someday.” She brow arched. “But really you just left me to go to school and never came back.”

She didn’t even know what Dumont was, clearly. “It’s an honor to work for Francois.” But that was a lie. Working for Francois was a pain.

“Well, then I’m really happy for you. You’ve made it a long way from Bailey’s Fork.”

He’d thought so when he’d left France, but now, after seeing her again and hearing about her success, he was second-guessing his decisions. They’d had big plans together.

“There’s nothing wrong with Bailey’s Fork,” Andrew offered.

“You don’t really mean that.” She stared into his eyes. “This town wasn’t enough to keep you here or to bring you home.”

Quiet hung between them.

His plans had shifted and changed like the dunes of the Outer Banks during hurricane season. Once he’d gotten to Paris, he’d started to believe that he could only reach his dream by staying close to the best chefs, but somehow Kelly had managed to exceed her lofty goals right here in their own backyard and taken that success nationwide.