by Irene Hannon
She was out of here.
And much faster than most of the other vendors. Rarely did she have much unsold merchandise to haul home, and the photos and lavender netting she used to decorate her booth were easy to take down. Fifteen minutes flat, she was ready to roll.
“You’ve got this routine down pat.”
She swiveled toward Marci, who waved as she jogged over.
“Comes from practice.” She set the wreaths into the trunk and closed the lid. “It helps that vendors are allowed to pull their vehicles up to the booths after the market closes. That expedites the process. What are you doing down here on a Friday night?”
“I’m writing a story for the next issue on the myrtlewood booth, and I need a few photos to go with it—which I almost didn’t get. I forgot the market was closing an hour early tonight so the town could set up for that 5K run tomorrow morning. Not that it would have been a big deal if I had to wait a week. I’ll probably bump the story to leave space for the big news in our little hamlet, anyway.”
“You mean the runaways?” What else could it be?
“Yes. I’m going to focus on the inspiring turnout of local citizens to assist with the search and tie it back to the outpouring of support the town gave to the idea of sponsoring a refugee family. We’re blessed to live in such a special town.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
“So how are Logan and Molly doing?”
Marci was the third person today to ask her that question.
Why did everyone in town think she had inside information about her neighbors?
“I haven’t talked to Logan since last night.”
“Oh.” Marci regarded her. “Well, I’m assuming everything’s fine. I saw his car at the urgent care center as I drove here. If there were any issues, I doubt he’d have gone in today.”
He’d been at work all day?
That could explain why she hadn’t heard from him—although he’d gotten off two hours ago, and he’d had plenty of time to—
“—you think of him?”
Drat.
She’d been zoning out on conversations since the market opened—as more than one customer had noticed.
“Sorry. I, uh, was distracted for a minute.”
“I said, now that you’ve gotten to know our new doctor, what do you think of him . . . off the record?”
She busied herself sweeping a few cookie sample crumbs off the counter of the booth. “He seems very nice.”
“More than, from everything I’ve heard. Did you know he made a house call for Rose Marshall from the garden club? She has the flu and felt too sick to drive, so he swung by after work earlier this week.”
No, she didn’t know that.
But she wasn’t surprised.
Logan West was the real deal.
“I thought house calls had gone out with the dodo bird.” Jeannette kept her tone conversational as she brushed off her hands.
“My point exactly. If you ask me, he’s a keeper—just in case you happen to have any ideas along those lines.” Marci grinned and gave her an elbow nudge. “By the way, I haven’t forgotten about the feature on the farm and tearoom. You’re up next. Gotta run—Ben and I have a dinner date.” With another wave, she bounded off.
Lips flexing as the energetic editor disappeared into the crowd, Jeannette circled her car, slid behind the wheel, and twisted the key in the ignition.
As she slowly drove down Dockside Drive, taking care to edge around the vendors loading their vehicles, she couldn’t dispute what Marci had said about Logan.
He was a keeper—if you were in the market for one.
But last night had been scary. If the situation had gone south, she would have been right back where she’d been in Cincinnati—all because she’d let herself get too close to the doctor next door and his charming niece.
Thank heaven she’d dodged a bullet on that one. Everyone was fine.
This time.
Tomorrow could be a different story though.
However . . . if she backed off, eventually her emotional attachment to them would fade.
It was an easy solution—if that was the outcome she wanted.
The very question she intended to ponder long and hard during the weekend ahead.
“She’s home!”
At Molly’s excited announcement, Logan fumbled the lightbulb he’d been screwing into the kitchen fixture.
Somehow he managed to grab it before the glass shattered on the floor.
Good grief.
He hadn’t even been this nervous during his first surgery assist.
And why was Jeannette home an hour early? The market never closed until eight.
Whatever the reason, he’d better shift into high gear and get over there or she’d be deep into some baking project for tomorrow’s tea.
He finished securing the bulb and descended the stepladder, trying to rein in his pulse as doubts began to nip at his confidence.
What if the approach he’d decided on didn’t work? After all, it wasn’t the usual tactic guys used to woo a woman. That would involve flowers and invitations for high-end dinners and dates for dancing or movies or concerts.
Those were all fine—and they’d come later . . . if the lady was willing.
But he wanted this straightforward, with no frills. He’d be honest about the life she’d have if they did date and if the relationship got serious.
And he was also going to tell her exactly how he felt—not a usual pre-dating strategy, but it seemed appropriate in this case.
Especially after Molly had reminded him last night that despite all his efforts to win her affection, he’d somehow forgotten to say I love you.
“Are we going over now?” Molly skipped into the kitchen, Toby on her heels.
“Let’s give her ten minutes to unpack the car.”
“I can carry the brownies.”
“That works.” He handed her the small white bag of goodies he’d picked up at Sweet Dreams. “And bring a doggie treat for Toby.”
The pup gave a happy yip at the mention of his name and followed Molly over as she trotted across the room to retrieve one.
Eight minutes later, after buttoning Molly into her jacket, donning his own, and tucking their beach blanket under his arm, he clipped on Toby’s leash.
“Let’s do this.”
Taking Molly’s hand, he exited onto the front porch, locked the door, and led his entourage around the hedge, toward the back of Jeannette’s house.
“The light’s on! She must be in the kitchen.” Molly pulled him along.
“Why are you so anxious to see her?”
“I like her a whole lot.”
That made two of them.
And he was hoping it would escalate into much more than that.
Holding tight to Molly’s hand, he stopped at her back door, took a deep breath . . . and tried to shore up his flagging courage.
What if this went south?
What if she refused his invitation and shut the door in their faces?
What if he couldn’t—
“Ouch.” Molly wriggled her fingers loose. “You’re squishing my hand.”
“Sorry.”
She squinted at him. “Are you scared, Uncle Logan?”
His niece was way too intuitive.
“Why would you ask that?”
“I squeeze my blankie real hard when I’m scared.”
She was also too smart.
“I’m fine.” Without giving her a chance to ask any more questions—and before his nerves kicked into overdrive—he rapped on the door.
Half a minute later, Jeannette pulled it open, her eyebrows peaking as she took in the group assembled on her doorstep. “This is a surprise. But I’m glad you’re here. Now I can give you a hug in person.” She bent and drew his niece into her arms. “I’m so happy you came back.”
“Me too.” Molly returned the hug, then wiggled free and held up the bag. “We’re going to the beach, an
d we have brownies. Want to come?”
Jeannette stood and tipped her head. “Isn’t it kind of late for a walk on the beach?”
“I came prepared.” He retrieved the small flashlight he’d tucked into his pocket to guide them home if they lingered for the whole sunset show. “And I’ll second Molly’s invitation. We’d love to have you join us.”
“I don’t know . . . I just got back from the farmer’s market and—”
“Please.” Logan gave her his most persuasive smile. “We won’t be there long.”
She hesitated.
“Please, ’Nette.”
After a moment, her taut features softened in capitulation. “I guess I can go for a few minutes. Let me get my jacket.” She crossed the room, retrieved it from the coatrack, and rejoined them.
“Can I hold Toby’s leash, Uncle Logan?”
“Sure. But keep a tight grip. We don’t want to lose him.” He passed the strap over to her, and girl and dog moved into the lead as they walked through the lavender gardens and set out on the path over the dunes.
Jeannette waited until the distance between them grew to a dozen yards, then spoke in a soft voice. “Everything okay?”
“Better than okay. We’ve had some false starts, but I think this is the real thing. She’s like a different little girl since we found them.”
“Any idea why?”
“Better than an idea. I’ll give you the whole scoop once we get to the beach. In the meantime . . . tell me about your day. How was the farmer’s market?”
“Sales were excellent, and there were a couple of interesting customers.”
He listened as she relayed a humorous story about a man whose wife had always wanted to spend a night on a lavender farm and who’d tried to rent a room for their anniversary in three weeks.
“I explained to him that I wasn’t a B&B and that most of the lavender wasn’t in bloom yet, but after he kept pushing I suggested he bring his wife to tea instead and book a night at the Seabird Inn in town—a very romantic spot, from what I hear. He said he was going to run that idea by his wife.” She brushed some wind-tossed strands of hair back from her face. “You have to admire a guy who’s willing to make an effort to please the woman in his life.”
Duly noted—and encouraging.
“Your idea sounds like a perfect compromise.” They crested the last dune, and he stopped. A gold-and-rose wash colored the sky above the horizon, and the setting sun cast a gilded swath of light across the water.
“It’s beautiful here.” The corners of Jeannette’s mouth rose as she surveyed the view.
“Yes. It is.”
She looked at him . . . and he kept his attention riveted on her to leave no doubt about his meaning.
A slight flush spread across her cheeks, and she lowered her lashes. Shoved her hands into her pockets.
Before she got spooked and hightailed it back to the safety of her house, he took her arm and urged her forward. “Let’s go down to the beach.”
He found a spot not far from the water and spread out the blanket.
“Can we eat the brownies now, Uncle Logan?” Molly held up the white bag.
“Let’s wait for a while. You can play with Toby first.” He unclipped the dog’s leash, and the beagle took off along the sand, staying back from the surf—one of the pluses of the breed. They might like to dig, but they weren’t fans of water—meaning he didn’t have to worry about sudsing up a wet dog later.
Nor did he have to worry much about Molly getting too near the water. She’d stick close to Toby.
He motioned toward the blanket, and Jeannette sat. He joined her, waiting until his niece was out of hearing distance to return to the subject his neighbor had introduced on the walk down.
“With Molly occupied, this is a perfect opportunity to give you the scoop on why she and I finally clicked.”
Based on the sudden tension in her features, some nuance in his inflection must have put her on alert that the conversation was about to turn personal. “You don’t have to. I don’t want to pry.”
“It isn’t prying to ask questions about people who are important to you. And I’d like to think Molly and I fall into that category—because you’re important to us.”
She swallowed and shifted her position to sit cross-legged. “You know I have an issue with getting close to people.”
“Yes—and I understand why. If you love again, you could lose again. I think that’s one of the reasons Molly didn’t warm up to me. She lost her father . . . and her Nana . . . and Button. What if she lost me too?”
“Yet you won her over.”
“Thanks to what I told her after we found them.”
“Do I want to know what that was?”
“I’m not sure—but I’m going to tell you anyway.” He locked onto her gaze. “In all the months she lived with me, I did my best to show her how much I cared for her. But I neglected to put that into words. I never said I love you—until last night. And that made all the difference.”
She sucked in a breath, alarm flaring in her eyes. “I’m not—”
“Wait.” He held up a hand. “Don’t panic. I’m not going to declare my undying love for you on this beach tonight. It’s too soon for that. But I am going to tell you that I care for you, that I think we have great potential, and that I’d like to see where a relationship could lead. I do come with a ready-made family, however.” He motioned toward Molly and Toby. “That’s why I brought them along tonight. If you sign on with me, you sign on with them. That means we won’t have the typical kind of courtship two single people with no attachments would expect to—”
“Uncle Logan!”
He gave her a rueful grin. “See what I mean?” He cupped his hands around his mouth and directed his attention toward Molly. “What’s wrong?”
“Toby won’t come.” As she called out her response, she pointed to the pup, who’d run much farther away than usual.
Logan rose. “I’ll be back in a minute. Will you wait?”
After a brief pause, she nodded. “Yes.”
He wasn’t certain about that.
Yet she was still there when he checked over his shoulder as he jogged down the beach.
But now that he’d laid his cards on the table, would she fold—or play the hand she’d been dealt?
Logan was forcing her hand.
By backing up that toe-tingling kiss with a candid declaration of his interest, he’d put the ball in her court.
As Jeannette watched the man and girl in the distance, Molly detached herself and ran back toward the blanket.
“We need Toby’s leash.” She bent to retrieve it, then smiled. “I like it when you come to the beach with us.”
“I do too.”
“Maybe you could do it more so you don’t get lonesome.”
Her throat tightened. “I’ll think about that.”
“I told Uncle Logan you should come live with us too—but he said people who live together are usually married.”
Not as much in today’s society . . . but it was never too early to begin instilling solid values in a child.
“That’s true.”
“If you want to marry Uncle Logan, it’s okay with me.”
“Um . . .” She glanced at her neighbor, who was chasing Toby and would probably have apoplexy if he was privy to this conversation. “A man and lady are supposed go out on dates and get to know each other first—and I’m very busy with my farm.”
Molly’s face grew serious. “But flowers aren’t the same as a family.”
No, they weren’t.
But if they died, they didn’t take part of you with them.
A tear brimmed on her lower lid, and she reached up to swipe it away.
“Don’t cry, ’Nette.” Molly touched her cheek. “I was kind of scared to love Uncle Logan too, but I like loving him better than being afraid. And me and you and him could make a new happy place together.”
“Molly! Where’s the leash?”
She jumped to her feet. “I gotta go. But love is better than lonesome.”
As Molly dashed off, Jeannette fished a tissue out of her pocket, her fingers once more brushing the key Charley had found on this very beach.
A key that had been through turbulent waters but received a second chance at life—and an opportunity to find a new purpose.
Kind of like what was happening to her.
Strange.
She thought she’d already found her new purpose, with the lavender farm and tearoom.
But perhaps there was supposed to be more.
Perhaps God had brought her here not simply to launch a new career but to bring an honorable man and his precious niece into her orbit.
Now it was up to her to decide whether to break free of their pull or align her trajectory with theirs.
In the distance, Logan clipped the leash on Toby, took Molly’s hand, and began walking back.
She watched them approach, the tall, handsome man and the little girl who’d lost so much but who’d chosen love over loneliness—and who’d given her an example to emulate.
And with a sudden, blinding flash of clarity, she knew what she should do.
Yes, loss was hard—especially on the scale she’d endured.
But loneliness was too.
Yes, opening her heart again was a risk—but what was the worst that could happen?
She’d be alone again—like she was now.
In the meantime, though, she could store up a treasure trove of memories that would sustain her every day of her life.
Starting today.
As the threesome drew close, Logan handed off the leash to Molly and continued toward her.
“Sorry about the interruption.” He dropped down beside her again.
“No worries. It gave me a chance to think about what you said.”
He drew up his knees and linked his fingers around them. “I debated whether I should be that upfront, but since my kiss apparently didn’t bowl you over, I figured I better back it up with words.” He offered her a sheepish shrug. “It worked with Molly, and I was running out of ideas with you. I hope I didn’t scare you off.”
“Nope. And for the record—your kiss did bowl me over.” She scooted closer, and his eyebrows rose. “Your niece also just passed on some astute wisdom. She said flowers aren’t the same as family, that love is better than lonesome . . . and that maybe the three of us should make a happy place together.”
