THE GALLERY TOUR had exceeded Paul’s expectations tenfold. He had never seen Annie so animated, so intent on absorbing everything she saw. The impromptu trip to the bookstore had been another highlight. After asking for directions to the photography section, she had poured over books on basic photography, finally settling on two—a six-hundred-page encyclopedic volume and a beautifully illustrated book on basic digital photography.
The gallery and bookstore visits had taken longer than expected, which meant they had missed the reservation he’d made at a bistro near Lake Calhoun. Another time, he’d decided, and instead they had settled for deli sandwiches and bottled water at a place around the corner from the bookstore. The deli was crammed with tiny tables and abuzz with the conversations of patrons, and Paul couldn’t think of any place he’d rather be. Annie—blue eyes lit with enthusiasm, looking happier than he had seen her in a long time—took his breath away.
“Thank you for convincing me to spend the day with you,” she said. “I hadn’t realized how much I needed time away. Thank you for taking me to the gallery and bookstore, for the photograph and the books. It feels like Christmas.”
He didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself, but he hoped by Christmastime their relationship would be solid enough for them to move from more than friends to something more like “maybe we’ll get married someday.” There was no rushing her, though. He knew that. He also knew she was sensitive to what other people thought, that it had been less than a year since Eric had passed away, that getting involved with another man so soon might be perceived by some as an impropriety.
So no, Paul did not intend to propose right away. It was far too soon. And if there was one thing he knew about Annie, she and the farmhouse were a package deal. Nonnegotiable. If he wanted to be with her, and if he dared to hope she would feel the same way some day, then he had to accept that.
For now he had his own obligations to fulfill. His father was still doing well at home, and while he had never expected to feel this way, this wasn’t the time to consider moving him into long-term nursing care. So no, Paul wasn’t about to propose anytime soon.
That said, he did want to finally be able to say “I love you” without scaring her off. And maybe even have her say it back. The thought made him smile, and then he felt himself grinning. A goofy grin, no doubt, but he couldn’t help himself.
“What’s so funny?” Annie asked, peeling back the paper wrapper around her turkey-bacon club. “Me, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning?”
Her knee bumped his and she didn’t move it away. Paul sobered.
“Trust me. I’m not laughing at you. I like seeing you happy, and you look happy today.”
He loved the way her self-consciousness made her nose turn pink. “I am happy,” she said. “You have no idea how grateful I am that Emily gave me her old camera, and that you brought me into the city to see the exhibit at the gallery. I wish I had thought to bring the camera with me. I’d be taking pictures of everything right now.”
He glanced around the busy deli. “What would you photograph in here?”
“See those jars of pickled vegetables on the shelf by the window? The way the light filters through them? They remind me of stained glass windows. I would definitely take a picture of those.”
He never would have drawn the parallel but now that she had, he could appreciate the likeness.
“And check out that huge old brass-and-copper espresso maker with the eagle ornament perched on its top.”
The vintage machine was still in operation and held a place of honor on the counter. Paul had noticed it as soon as they’d walked into the restaurant.
“It sort of reminds me of an altar.”
Huh. She was right.
“So we’re eating in a place with an altar and a stained glass window. What does that say about us?”
She shrugged. “We have an appreciation for good food.” He could practically see the wheels turning. “Do you know what I’m thinking?” she asked.
“You think this would make an interesting post for Emily’s blog,” he suggested.
Her eyes flashed. “Exactly. Now I’m really disappointed I didn’t bring my camera.”
“Can’t you take photos with your phone?”
“Oh. Of course I can. I always forget about my phone.”
She pulled it out of her bag and checked for messages before she clicked on the camera app. She took a few seconds to frame the shot of the jars of pickled vegetables and then turned slightly in her chair to capture the massive espresso machine. She took several other shots before she turned back to him with a smile.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“One more.”
Before he understood what was happening, she snapped one of him.
“There. Now I’m done.”
Okay. Interesting. “Is that for the blog?” He hated to ask but he had to know.
“No. Emily blogs about people. My posts are about other things, mostly food and stuff around the house.”
“Except the one about the wedding.”
“You read it?”
“Wouldn’t have missed it.”
“I hope you don’t mind. I don’t know who took the photograph of us dancing, but I decided to use it since neither of us was completely recognizable in it.”
“I didn’t mind at all.” Quite the opposite. He had been flattered. Who wouldn’t be? They looked incredibly good together. He was encouraged by her willingness to use a picture, publicly, that so clearly depicted them as a couple. And to the people who mattered, they were completely recognizable.
Annie was checking messages again.
“Anything from Rose?” he asked.
Without looking up from the screen, Annie shook her head.
That should be a relief. It was a relief. From the time they had left the house, Annie hadn’t said anything about the girl and he hadn’t dared broach the subject. Yes, he was concerned about Annie’s blind trust in her half sister. However, there was a fine line between that and breach of privacy, and it was a line he would never—could never—let himself cross.
“There’s a text from Emily, though.” She smiled and angled her phone so he could read it.
Just left Mrs. Potter’s place. Dad’s there with Libby. Soooo cute together. ♥
The message made him smile, too. All three Finnegan sisters were devoted to their father and wanted to see him happy. He loved that about this family. He was also secretly grateful to the two younger sisters and their dad for not only championing him, but also providing opportunities for him to be alone with Annie. Today had been the exception—not that he could fault them for having lives of their own.
She slipped her phone into her bag, ate the last bite of her sandwich and dropped the crumpled paper wrapper into the plastic basket.
“I’ve had a wonderful time, Paul. Thank you again.”
“I hope we can do it again.” Soon.
“Me, too.”
He stood and eased himself through the narrow space between their table and the one next to them, then helped her with her jacket. She smiled up at him and he was on the verge of kissing her when it seemed something over his shoulder caught her attention.
“Is it snowing?”
He half turned and glanced through the window behind him. Sure enough. Huge, thick flakes floated to the ground. It would have been a pretty scene—a photo-worthy one—if they didn’t have a two-hour drive ahead of them.
“It sure is.”
Worry lines appeared on Annie’s forehead. She hastily pulled on her gloves and picked up her purse. “I hate driving in the snow. Maybe we shouldn’t have come all the way into the city, or maybe we shouldn’t have stayed for lunch.”
Not wanting the day ruined by unnecessary concern, he steered her between the tables to the door. “We’ll be fine. My car has good snow tires, and the roads won’t be too bad yet.”
He had plenty of experience driving in winter conditions far worse than this. In Chicago, he’d had his fair share of late night calls when he’d had to get to the hospital, regardless of the weather and road conditions. A patient had taken a turn for the worse, another doctor was ill and Paul needed to cover. And then there’d been the time when a loaded school bus had been hit by a semi on the interstate. What had started as a light snowfall had unexpectedly turned into a full-on blizzard by midafternoon, and although he’d been having a rare day off, he’d had to drive to the hospital as soon as the call came through.
Telling Annie these things now would not alleviate her concerns so he kept them to himself. Even for his own peace of mind, he wished he hadn’t remembered the school-bus incident.
Outside the restaurant, afternoon shoppers were scurrying to their cars. He was glad he’d found parking nearby and as he opened the door for Annie, he briefly held her gloved hand in his.
“Don’t worry, okay?” This was like telling a mother bear not to protect her cubs. “I’ll get us home in one piece.”
By the time he started the car, she had her phone out. “I’m calling Rose to let her know we’re on our way.”
“Good idea.”
“Hmm. No one’s answering at the house.” She paused, then left a message. “Dad. CJ. It’s Annie. Paul and I are leaving the city now and it’s snowing. We’ll be home as soon as we can.”
Paul eased into traffic. The snow was melting the instant it hit the ground, so the streets were wet but not slippery.
“I’ll try Rose’s cell phone.” There was a touch of panic in her voice, reminding him of the morning she’d brought Isaac to the clinic after he had fallen off his horse. And given the way Eric had died, Paul completely understood her overprotectiveness.
“She isn’t answering her phone, either. What if—”
“Annie. They’re probably outside, taking the dog for a walk, maybe.”
But the message she left in Rose’s voice mail was a little more agitated. “Rose. Why aren’t you picking up? It’s snowing really heavily here.”
Actually, no, it isn’t.
“Give me a call as soon as you get this. By then I should be able to give you an idea of when we’ll be home.” She ended the call and lowered her hands to her lap with the phone clasped between them.
Paul could tell her exactly when they’d be home—the roads were clear and traffic was moving along nicely—but he knew they’d both be better off if he could keep her distracted.
“Do you have more ideas about the church and food article you’re thinking about writing for the blog?”
“Well…”
Her response was hesitant at first but he listened and asked the occasional question as he maneuvered onto the freeway and out of the city. To his dismay, the snow was falling heavier as they drove east and traffic was starting to slow. If Annie noticed—and of course she did—she didn’t say anything. Instead she kept talking about her next story, which then segued into another subject.
About twenty minutes outside of Riverton, they encountered a bad stretch of highway and he had to slow down because the car ahead of them fishtailed on an icy patch. Although Paul slowed and kept a safe distance before it was safe to pass, Annie stopped talking and focused on the road ahead while periodically sneaking peeks at her phone to see if she had missed a call or text message. Every time she looked up again, he could tell she hadn’t and he knew it was killing her.
* * *
THIS WAS IT, Libby thought. This thing with Thomas was the real deal. This was love. After more decades than she cared to acknowledge, she was ridiculously, crazily, madly in love with her high-school crush. The surreal part was this time her feelings were reciprocated. He was a thoughtful man in the broadest sense, with ideas and views about society and politics and world events, and yet he wasn’t opinionated. What’s more, he valued and respected her thoughts on those topics. And he made her feel young again, the way he’d pulled her onto his lap and kissed her.
After their brief make-out session, she had poured more coffee and they had settled in the living room to watch a documentary on Iceland—a place that, oddly enough, interested both of them.
The phone rang as the credits rolled, and as she got up to answer it, the scene outside the living room window caught her attention.
“Oh, my goodness. Look, Thomas. It’s snowing.”
“So it is,” he said. “I should probably get home.”
In the kitchen, Libby picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Libby. Hi, it’s Emily. Is my dad still there?” There was no mistaking the concern in his daughter’s voice.
“He is. We just realized it’s snowing so he’ll be on his way home right away. Would you like to talk to him?”
“Sure…no… I mean…could you please tell him to meet me at the hospital? There’s been an accident.”