by Olivia Miles
It sounded nice, when you stopped to think about it.
“Come on now, you really plan to stay single forever?” Luke asked.
Mark stared at him. “And you don’t?”
“Point taken.” Luke couldn’t help but grin ruefully.
Mark helped himself to a mug of coffee, drinking it black, as he had always done. “Come on, Luke. We’re different, you and me. I like my independence, I like doing my thing. But you—” He shook his head. He wasn’t buying it any more than Luke was. “You don’t like being alone, Luke. And, if I may be frank, it doesn’t suit you.”
Luke guffawed, almost spitting his coffee back into his mug. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Mark’s eyes roamed over him. “It means look at you. Sitting here every morning you aren’t at work, going home to that empty house. You say you don’t like the way it’s decorated now, but the truth is that you like a woman’s touch.”
“That’s not it.” Luke shook his head.
“No?” Disbelief danced through Mark’s brown eyes. “Then why do you still have those floral pillows on your bed?”
“Paisley,” Luke muttered into his coffee mug. He drained the remains, grimacing at the dregs at the bottom.
Mark leaned almost imperceptibly forward, his eyes sparked with mirth. “What was that?”
“Paisley,” Luke said firmly. “They’re not floral. They’re… paisley.”
Mark laughed heartily, attracting the attention of a few other lone men at the counter. A good ol’ boys club of Briar Creek widowers, Luke thought to himself. He stared stonily at Mark, not finding any of this remotely funny.
Why should he expect Mark to understand? Mark had never been married, much less in love. “You can’t understand,” he snapped. “You’ve never lost someone you loved.”
As soon as he said the words, he regretted them. The shadows that darkened Mark’s face sent a wash of shame over his gut. Of course Mark knew how it felt to lose someone you loved. His father had walked out on their family when Mark was ten years old. He’d never heard from him since.
“I’m sorry,” Luke said. “That wasn’t fair.”
With a shrug, Mark stepped forward and refilled his mug. “If you’re not ready to move on from Helen, that’s your business. I want you to be happy, that’s all.”
Happy. Luke couldn’t exactly remember the last time he had been happy. There had been a time when he felt content, but happiness… well, that was reserved for a life free of regrets or indecision. Or guilt.
“So you didn’t answer my question,” Mark said.
“About seeing Grace again?” Luke’s eyes flew open. “Let it go, man!”
“Sorry, cousin, but I can’t.” Mark lifted his hands helplessly.
“And why is that?”
Mark slid his eyes in the direction of the door. “Because she just walked in.”
Luke stiffened. Without turning his head, he followed Mark’s gaze to the front of the crowded room, his pulse quickening as Grace spared him a tight smile.
Bet she’s regretting stopping in here this morning, he mused. But then, she knew Mark was his cousin. This was a family joint; he thought she could respect that. Much the same way that he avoided the Fireside Café.
His brow knitted as he stared at his hands splayed on the Formica counter. What was this, a mob town? A he-had-his-turf, she-had-hers type of understanding? How juvenile could it get? He was thinking like a kid, not like a thirty-year-old man.
Maybe that’s who he was with Grace—the boy he was back when he knew her. She had a way of bringing out the kid in him, and not always in a good way.
He took a long, slow sip of coffee, hoping to look occupied as Mark came around the counter and gave Grace a proper greeting.
“Grace!” Luke could hear the grin in his cousin’s voice. He kept his eyes trained on the kitchen window, waiting for the pancakes he wished he hadn’t ordered. Now he’d be forced to stick around, when what he really should do was leave. “To what do I owe the honor?” Mark continued.
Grace slid into the empty stool next to Luke, and he turned to her. “Hello.”
“I hope it’s okay that I’m here,” she said.
Luke’s brow knit, but Mark bellowed, “Of course, it’s okay. Coffee?” he asked, as he finished filling a mug.
“Thanks.”
Luke slid her the creamer and then, after a pause, reached down the length of the counter for those multicolored sweetener packets she liked.
“You remembered how I like my coffee,” she noted, and he thought he could detect a flicker of wonder in her tone.
“Honeybee, I remember the first time you ever tried coffee,” he said, chuckling. The bitter brew had clearly come as a surprise, but determined even at age fourteen, she hid her grimace and drank the entire cup.
She laughed, tossing her head back until her chestnut hair cascaded over the back of her coat. Sobering, she stirred not one but two blue packets into her small mug, shaking her head. “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that,” she said ruefully.
Luke was aware of Mark’s eyes on him as he set the pancakes in front of him. Refusing to meet his stare, Luke doused his stack with syrup and took a bite. He nudged his head in the direction of Grace’s mug. “Doesn’t look like much has changed,” he said.
“I do still like it sweet,” she admitted.
“Guess the girl I knew is still there,” he mused. “New York didn’t change you too much.”
“I’m still here,” she said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “I’m still the same girl you knew.”
Luke pulled in a breath, slowly blowing it out. He didn’t want to hear this—he didn’t want to believe that the Grace he knew and loved and had spent every day of ten years talking to and laughing with was sitting right next to him. It hurt too much to think that she was still there, and that she had been all this time.
“Can I get you something to eat?” Mark cut in.
Grace looked at his plate, twisting her mouth. “Those pancakes do look good.”
“Another stack, coming up,” Mark announced. “On the house.”
“Aw, thanks,” she said.
“No thanks needed. I was disappointed we didn’t have more of a chance to talk at the party.”
“Oh, I—had to leave. My mom… needed me.” Grace took a nonchalant sip of her coffee, her eyes revealing nothing.
“Yeah, a lot of people had to leave early that night.” Mark slid Luke a glance. “We’ve missed you around here, Grace.”
There was a long pause. Finally, Grace said, “Well, it has been a long time.”
“Next time don’t stay away so long.” Mark grinned and Luke reflexively narrowed his eyes.
It was so easy for him, Luke thought. He could love Grace as a friend, for who she was, not what she was to him. He wasn’t invested, not the way Luke was.
“Well, there’s a chance I might be sticking around a little longer than I expected,” Grace said, and Luke almost choked on his coffee. He swallowed the large gulp, covering his mouth with his hand.
What the hell did she say? He suddenly wished his mug contained something a little harder than coffee.
“Really?” Mark said and Luke glanced up, locking on to his cousin’s wide eyes.
Don’t even think about smirking, he silently warned.
“I’m sure you know that my dad’s bookshop is closed,” Grace said. She drew her shoulders up, beaming proudly. “Well, I have an idea that might save it.”
Luke’s gut knotted. “What’s that?”
Even before she opened her mouth, he knew. He knew the way Grace thought, the way her brain churned, and he just knew with Grace, she was going to be focusing on something bigger and better. Expansion.
“Well, I noticed that there’s an empty storefront next door,” she said, and Luke’s pulse stilled. He refused to look at Mark, whose stare he could feel burning a hole through him.
“Uh-huh,” he grunted. He shoveled anot
her forkful of pancakes into his mouth.
“Now I don’t want to give too much away,” she grinned, and he could see the light in her eyes—the light that took hold when she got one of those ideas of hers. When she got inspired. “I mean, it might not work or anything…”
“You’re thinking of growing the store?” Mark offered.
“Something like that,” she replied, with a knowing wink.
Luke knew this was the perfect time to mention that he was the current lessee of that space she had her eye on, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Handing over this bit of information was like handing over Helen, giving her up. It would give way to endless questions he didn’t want to answer and, frankly, wasn’t ready to yet. He didn’t want to have to explain or justify anything to Grace, or anyone else for that matter. He wanted to do what he needed to do, even if it was contrary to what everyone else expected from him.
“So you’re going to reopen the store?” His eye was starting to twitch again.
She bristled. “Well, I guess so, temporarily at least. I mean, technically it’s still ours until the end of the year. And after that, well… we’ll see!”
He didn’t like the way she was talking, this vague sense of time. Staying a little longer than expected was one thing, but moving back permanently was another. And infinitely worse. “Don’t you have to get back to New York?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It’s not like I have a job waiting for me.”
Mark glanced at him and then back to Grace. “Yeah, how are things going in New York, Grace? You uh… seeing anyone?”
Luke fixed his gaze on his cousin. Hard. Mark refused to meet his eye. Typical, Luke thought to himself.
Silence stretched and Luke became faintly aware that he was nervous. The anticipation of hearing more about Grace’s current life had reached its peak. Everything he had never known, never wanted to know deep down, was about to be revealed. He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it.
“Nope,” she said briskly. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and played with the back of her earring—something she did when she was nervous. A pink glow heated her cheeks and she looked down, smiling sadly. “I dated someone for a while, but that’s over now.”
Luke felt his jaw tense. So she had moved on. His saliva suddenly tasted metallic. Grace—his Grace—had been noticed by another. This man, this stranger to him, had spent time with her, kissed her, held her… He stopped himself. He’d told himself he wanted her to be happy, and he did. Just not with someone else. It might not have been fair of him, but he couldn’t help it.
“I figured a pretty girl like you would have been snatched up, married by now,” Mark said with a grin. “Career got you too busy?”
“No,” she said hurriedly. She looked down at the table. “We were engaged, actually. But… that’s over now.”
Luke glanced at Mark as his stomach dropped into his gut. Engaged.
“Sorry to hear it didn’t work out,” Mark said smoothly.
Grace shrugged. “I—I guess I haven’t found what I’m looking for yet. Or…” She hesitated. “I guess that I haven’t been lucky enough to find someone who wants the same things that I do.”
“And what’s that?” Luke heard himself ask, his tone a notch sharper than he had planned.
Grace squared her shoulders, lifted her chin. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, and he stared at her profile, looking for something, a hint into her soul perhaps, maybe a glance into her heart. But she had hardened again, putting up that wall.
He had lost her.
Her pancakes were up and they ate, chatting idly about people in town, both taking a twisted interest in condemning the tinsel and lights that Mark had shamelessly hung all over the diner.
When she’d finished the last of her food, she set down her fork and smiled. “I was hungry,” she admitted.
He fought off a grin. “I noticed.”
“Hey!” She swatted him with her napkin and then tossed it onto her plate. “I haven’t eaten much since I’ve been back in town. I woke up feeling better this morning.”
He smiled at her. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Well,” she said, standing. “I should probably get to my car. It’s supposed to be ready today.”
“See you around, Grace,” he said, watching her shrug back into her coat, button it all the way to the top.
She gave him a slow smile, the kind that made him want to stand and take her into his arms, pull her close and bring her mouth to his. “See you then,” she said, and with one last wave to Mark, she turned on her heel.
He watched her retreat until the door closed behind her with a jingle, and then he stared at the space she had consumed, reveling from the encounter.
Mark’s whistle pulled his attention back, and he swung around, facing the counter. “What?” he demanded.
Mark shook his head, his laughter a low and steady rumble. “I don’t envy you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean Grace Madison, your first love, strolls into town looking like that, and then announces she might intend to stay?”
“Please. I don’t need to be reminded.”
“What the hell are you going to do about that storefront, Luke?” Mark said, coming closer. “You can’t hold on to it forever, you know.”
“I know,” Luke lied. He glowered into his empty mug and pushed it away. He ran his hands over his face, breathing deep.
“She’s going to find out who’s leasing the space,” Mark reminded him and Luke closed his eyes, desperate to block out reality.
It was all crashing down on him at once. Now, when he should be mourning his wife’s death, when he should be honoring her life, thinking of her and only her, the way he should have all along, he couldn’t stop thinking about Grace. Like always.
And now with the storefront, he was once again forced to make a decision and choose between the two women he had loved, the two women who consumed his past and who continued to haunt him, making it impossible to move on with his life in any direction at all.
That lease expired at the end of the year. He had eleven days to make a decision. His fist tightened in his lap. It always came back to this, didn’t it? Helen or Grace. Grace or Helen.
And somehow one always prevailed. It just wasn’t necessarily the right one.
CHAPTER
17
Grace flicked on the windshield wipers and squinted into the distance as the morning’s snowfall grew heavier. The tires crunched on the snow as she drove down the road, past the quaint homes decorated with red and green wreaths and garlands, some with silly-looking snowmen in the front yard.
Jane’s garage door was closed, and a swell of disappointment took hold that she might not be home. Grace realized that she should have called first, but her excitement had gotten the better of her. She had the day all planned. She would talk to Jane, then Anna, and then she would go over to Main Street Books.
The door opened on the third tap, and Grace’s expectant smile faded when she saw the flat, dead look in Jane’s eyes. Her sister’s naturally rosy complexion was peaked, and dark circles had formed under her eyes. Her hair was limp, and she was still in her bathrobe.
“Are you sick?”
Jane pulled the belt of her purple robe tighter and glanced behind her like a furtive cat. “No,” she blurted. Hesitating, she motioned into the hall with her head. “Come on in.”
Grace’s heart sunk; she couldn’t help it. She’d come here full of good spirits, and now she was feeling that heavy weight in her chest again. The whole point of coming back to Briar Creek for Christmas was to try to help her family, to be there for them and support them—God knows they needed it. And here she was, finally feeling useful, finally able to think of a way to bring a little hope back into their lives, and she couldn’t even share it with any of them.
“Sophie is coloring in the family room,” Jane said quietly. “I’d rather not disturb her. She’s usual
ly not quiet for long, and I—I needed a few moments of peace. For myself.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, causing Grace to frown.
Okay, now something was definitely wrong. Grace stood in the entranceway, her feet planted on the rug, which was doing a good job of soaking up the snow from her boots. “I can leave if you want,” she hedged, uncertain if she should even remove her coat.
“No. No, stay. Adam had to go into the office, and I could use the company, honestly.” Jane held out her arms. “Hand me your coat.”
Grace hesitated, regretting her decision to show up unannounced. “Really, I can come back later.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” Jane said, but her smile was forced, her eyes still flat.
Frowning, Grace followed Jane into the kitchen, pausing as Jane leaned her head in to check on Sophie, pressed a finger to her lips, and flashed a look of warning to Grace. Grace slid across the floorboards on socked feet, happy to see that in this newer-construction house, nothing creaked like it did back at home.
They sat down at the kitchen table. Jane didn’t offer coffee and Grace didn’t ask for any. She’d had enough at the diner.
“So you’re not sick,” Grace established.
Jane looked momentarily confused. “What? No, I’m tired, that’s all.” She blinked rapidly, as if about to cry.
Grace leaned forward, whispering urgently, “Then what is going on? You’re scaring me! Is it… Dad? Is it Christmas? That you miss him?” She knew that their mother was falling apart, but Jane had seemed so stoic, so unflappable. Had she been in denial, was it only all surfacing now, days before Christmas?
“It’s not Dad,” Jane said. “I mean, of course, it’s hard. For all of us. But, it’s not that. That’s all there… in the background. A dull pain that never really goes away but you somehow have to learn to live with anyway, you know?”
Grace nodded. She knew. Too well. She’d been living with that type of pain for years. It was the kind of pain that came with losing someone you loved. The kind of ache that never truly went away, and had a tendency of creeping back up, resurfacing, reminding you, no matter how badly you tried to block it out and shield yourself from it.
