7

Gabe tossed back the covers and planted his feet on the wooden floor. The red numbers glowed on the clock radio, the same one that had been on that same nightstand when he was a boy: 5:45.

Of course it was.

In less than twenty minutes, he showered, shaved, dressed, and made his bed so tautly not even his father could have found a flaw to complain about.

He flipped on the kitchen light, then started the coffeemaker. After pulling on his work shoes, he quietly unlocked the outside door and stepped into the early-morning sunrise. Dew moistened the grass, and birds scolded each other from the limbs of the nearby trees. A peacefulness blanketed the horse farm, the calm before the hustle of a new day.

Once inside the stable, he greeted Daisy first and slipped her an apple-flavored treat. Then he said hello to the other horses while pouring grain into their bins and stroking their noses. After letting the horses loose, he mucked out the stalls, a job he never minded despite the odor and mess. Replacing the dirty straw, inhaling the freshness of the flat golden strands—he wasn’t sure why, but clean stalls held a wholesomeness he found appealing.

No rush, Tess had said.

Too bad he couldn’t spend the rest of his life doing this. But that would be taking advantage of her kindness, and while he appreciated having a place to live while he sorted things out, he needed to get back on his own two feet.

After a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and sausage links, he headed to the garage to find the tools he needed to fix the dishwasher. As he crossed the graveled drive, a Jeep Cherokee swung alongside him. The window lowered, and AJ Sullivan propped his elbow on the frame.

“Hey, Gabe,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Has Tess told you about the big Heritage Celebration we’re having at Misty Willow in a couple of weeks? That’s when we’re making the official announcement about it being listed on the historical registry.”

“She mentioned it.”

“We still have a lot to do to get ready, and I could use some help. It’s a temporary job, but if you’re interested . . .”

“I am.”

“Appreciate your enthusiasm, but don’t you want to know the details first?”

“I’ll do just about anything that needs doing.”

“Glad to hear it. I have a teacher’s training thing at the high school tomorrow, so can you start on Thursday?”

He’d start that very minute if AJ wanted him to. “Just tell me what time and where to be.”

“Come to my place. Say around nine.” AJ grinned. “I know the farmers around here consider that a late start, but I like to have breakfast with my girls.”

“Can’t blame you for that. Besides, then I can help Tess with the morning chores around here.”

“There’s one other condition.”

“What’s that?” Gabe asked warily.

“Tess told me you played baseball in high school. I want you on our church softball team.”

Gabe chuckled. “Whatever I was expecting, it sure wasn’t that.”

“Does that mean you’re in?”

“I haven’t played in a long time.”

“It’ll come back to you. Besides, it’s mostly for fun.”

“Yeah, right.” Gabe chuckled again, enjoying the long-lost feeling of being included in something good. “I’m in.”

“Great. First game is tomorrow night. Tess can tell you how to find the ballfields.”

“What about practice?”

“Meet me there an hour early. We’ll get you warmed up.”

“You’re the boss.” Gabe gestured toward the house. “You want to come in? There’s still coffee in the pot.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got to get going.” AJ pulled an envelope from the Jeep’s console. “Could you give this to Tess for me?”

“Sure.” Gabe glanced at her name on the envelope. “I am grateful for the job, AJ. For the chance.”

“We’re glad to have you for a neighbor. Glad, too, that Tess has someone here. It’s been lonely for her since Rusty died.”

“I know she misses him.”

“We all do.” AJ gripped the steering wheel with one hand and shifted gears with the other. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. Come early if you want pancakes.”

“I’ll do that.”

Gabe stepped to the side while AJ backed up and headed down the drive. No wonder Tess thought so highly of the Sullivans.

He peered toward the sky, squinting against the sun’s cheery brightness. It’s a start. Thank you.

Amy pressed the slender roller into the painting tray and applied the luscious shade of dark teal to the top of the cabinetry beneath the cottage’s long row of windows. She’d already painted the shelving and sides of the lengthy built-in. Though most of the cabinets had open shelves, four had doors, which she’d taken outside. They were next on her to-do list.

For now, she delighted in the smooth movement of the roller across the cabinet as the rich paint covered the faded ivory. As fanciful as it sounded, giving the cottage a makeover was like a healing balm to her restless spirit.

Besides, the rooms probably hadn’t been painted since before AJ moved into the place. That must have been, what, at least six or seven years ago? He probably thought once was enough. He was oh so wrong.

Amy doubted he’d have repainted Gran’s bungalow before his wedding if Shelby hadn’t insisted. Men!

Though, to be honest, Amy had behaved badly when she heard about that project. She understood it—the bungalow was Shelby’s home now. And she’d made terrific color and fabric choices. But it stung to see Gran’s home transformed from a serene showplace to a lively kid-friendly jamboree.

Surely AJ felt it too, at least a little. He’d spent the most time there with Gran. Going to church, treating her to lunch, and watching all those silly Cary Grant movies.

Amy pressed the roller too hard onto the cabinet, and paint splatted onto her shirt and the window.

“Great,” she muttered. She hurriedly wiped the paint off the glass, then smoothed the splotch on the cabinet.

She could have done all those things with Gran too, if she’d lived as close to her as AJ did. It wasn’t Amy’s fault she had to work ten-hour days or that she was obligated to attend more social functions in a week than AJ attended all year.

After finishing the final section, she stood back to admire her work. The gleaming color was a perfect complement to the pale teal walls and the glossy white baseboards and window frames. No longer a worn-out man cave, the entire room now had an air of sophisticated tranquility.

Her conscience panged as she balanced the roller’s handle onto the tray. What if AJ felt the same way about the cottage as she did about the bungalow? That by repainting the room, she had erased his presence from it?

He had once sought refuge from hurt and loneliness in this place, just like she was doing now.

Her cell rang, interrupting her gloomy thoughts. Ignoring it, she washed her hands at the kitchen sink. After the voicemail alert sounded, she accessed the message.

“Hi, Amy. This is Logan Cassidy. Been a long time since we chatted. When you get a moment, I’d like to talk to you about one of your former clients. Call me. Thanks.”

She smiled to herself, pleased to know her prior employer had lost at least one client when she hadn’t returned. Hopefully more than that. Sometimes she missed the rumor-shooting gallery, though she was glad the bull’s-eye was no longer on her own back. She’d had enough of that last year after abruptly walking away from her prestigious position.

Not that she’d exactly walked.

No, she’d danced the hours away and ended up in a hospital emergency room. Abandoned and alone until Brett arrived. These past months, including two stints at the clinic, had been grueling. She never wanted to go through that again.

A day at a time. She only had to get through one long, lonely day at a time.

As she poured a glass of juice and dutifully recorded it in her notebook, she chased away her gloomy thoughts by mentally flipping through the clients she’d left behind. Who was most likely to turn to Logan Cassidy for assistance?

A rap sounded on the front door, and Gabe smiled at her through the window screen.

“Hey, there.” He held up a container. “I brought Jonah’s cookies.”

“I thought you were dropping them off at Brett’s house.”

“I’m without wheels and you live closer.”

The annoyance she wanted to feel wasn’t cooperating. Probably because he’d kept his promise to Jonah.

“Come on in,” she said. “Door’s unlocked.”

As Gabe entered, he eyed the canvas-covered furniture she’d pulled willy-nilly into the center of the room and wrinkled his nose at the smell of fresh paint.

“You’ve been a busy girl.”

“Woman.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not a girl. Or hadn’t you noticed?” She added only the merest hint of suggestiveness to her tone.

“I noticed,” he said flatly. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

So much for teasing the grown-up stable boy. “None taken.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, but Amy didn’t feel the need to end it.

Finally Gabe did. “Have you heard from Jonah? Or his dad?”

“Not yet.”

“I was just wondering how his appointment went.”

“It’s nice of you to be concerned.”

“Aunt Tess told me something about the accident. Said her church had been praying for Jonah.”

“I think a lot of people were doing that.” But not me. Amy had been so wrapped up in her own life, she’d given little thought to Jonah during the long weeks he’d been in a coma. At that time, the boy had been Brett’s problem, a mistake they all thought had been dealt with when Meghan discovered she was pregnant. Sully paid her to disappear, but last year AJ had found her and Jonah too. A child none of them knew existed.

If Amy could go back to that time, to when Jonah was unconscious and Meghan needed all the support she could get . . . But that was useless thinking. The past couldn’t be relived, only discarded.

“Are there enough cookies in there for me to try one?” she asked with more enthusiasm than she felt. Habit calculated the calories before she could stop the number from flashing in her brain. Dread filled the empty spaces inside her and knotted her stomach. She pressed her hand against her abdomen. If he said yes, she’d have to eat one. She couldn’t.

A smile started at one corner of Gabe’s mouth and gradually spread to the opposite side. A noncommittal, lazy smile that caught her breath and quickened her pulse.

“I’m sure there is, but only if you promise not to eat them all.” He popped open the lid and tilted the container toward her.

“Maybe I better not.”

“Not even a small one?”

He didn’t mean it. She knew he didn’t mean it. But the placating words sounded so much like something Brett would say. They echoed in her head until she couldn’t stand them anymore.

“Who told you?” she asked, then stepped backward and closed her eyes. She was overreacting, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Told me what?”

She took a couple of deep breaths and let other words flow inside. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. My soul knows it very well. The self-talk calmed her breathing.

“Amy, are you okay?”

She opened her eyes but didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m fine,” she said.

“Can I get you something?” he asked. “Maybe a glass of water?”

Before she could answer, he grasped her elbow and led her to a chair. She perched on the canvas-covered arm, and he knelt beside her. “What just happened?”

“Nothing.” She stared at her bare feet and toes polished a vibrant and glittery violet. So appropriate for summer, she’d thought, when the pedicurist offered her a choice of colors. Flecks of teal paint dotted her flesh.

“I thought for a minute there you were going to pass out,” Gabe said.

She met his gaze and felt self-consciously warmed by the worry in his hazel eyes. The same hazel eyes that had looked into hers a lifetime ago before he slipped the jagged arrowhead into her hand. The simple gesture had given her more comfort, more strength than he could possibly know. That was the last time she’d seen him.

Did he remember that moment as clearly as she did? Did he remember it at all?

Gabe shifted his weight as he knelt by the chair, his hand temptingly close to Amy’s bare leg. He closed his fingers into his palm. “What can I do?”

“I’m fine, really. I think I forgot to eat lunch. What time is it?”

“Around 2:30 or so.”

“That late?”

“Sure you don’t want a cookie?”

“I’ll have a salad instead. How about you? I have plenty.” She stood, and he rose beside her to be sure she didn’t keel over.

“I’ve already eaten.” He pushed the container into her hands. “I’ll leave these with you and get going. Let you eat in peace.”

“Please don’t go. I mean, I wouldn’t mind a bit of company.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have sandwich stuff too if the salad doesn’t do it for you.”

“If you insist. I never turn down a home-cooked meal.” He chuckled. It was a lame attempt at humor considering all the institutional meals he’d eaten over the past several years.

“It’s not really home-cooked,” Amy said.

“Close enough.” Definitely better than prison food. He followed her to the step leading to the tiny kitchen. As she walked around the counter, she closed the notebook lying there and stuck it inside a drawer.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“I can handle it.”

“Know your way around the kitchen, huh?”

She gave him an enigmatic smile, then pulled a container of meat and cheese and another of mixed greens from the fridge.

“We’ll have to eat standing up. As you can see, things are a mess right now.”

“I can help you put things back where they belong. If you want me to.” Please say yes.

“That’d be nice. But first I have four cabinet doors to paint.”

“The ones outside? I can give you a hand with those.” Cool it, Kendall. No need to act like an overeager puppy.

“I won’t say no.” She retrieved plates and bowls from a nearby cabinet. “Sure you don’t want a salad too? The radishes and cucumbers came straight from Shelby’s garden.”

“If you insist.” He put together a sandwich while Amy topped their salads with sunflower seeds. “Did you do all this painting today?”

“The walls yesterday. The woodwork today.” She handed him a glass of iced lemonade. “It wasn’t that hard now that the pool table is gone.”

“You had a pool table in here?”

“Not me, AJ. It sat right there.” She gestured at the empty space beyond the kitchen counter. “Took up that entire corner. He and some of his students moved it out last weekend.”

“Where did they put it?”

“In an outbuilding at Gran’s. I mean at AJ’s. Where he lives now.”

“Your grandmother hired me to mow her yard when I stayed with Rusty and Tess.” He hoped to see a flicker in her eyes, something, anything, to indicate she remembered those days. But her expression remained downcast.

“It’s not the same,” she said wistfully. “Not with Gran gone.”

“Places never are like we remember them.” He bit into his sandwich, then sipped his drink. “How long did you say you’d been here?”

“Only a week. The lease ended on my apartment, and I decided not to renew. It seemed like a good time to take a break from the city.”

“How do you like living in the country?”

“I’m still adjusting. Just wish I’d gotten the painting done before I moved.”

“Are you planning any other improvements?”

“Depends on how long I stay.” She toyed with her lettuce, moving the leaves around the bowl. “What about you? Any plans?”

“I got a job offer today.”

Her eyes brightened with polite interest. “That’s great,” she said. “Doing what?”

“Not sure. AJ came by this morning. Said he needed help getting ready for some big shindig at Misty Willow. You probably know all about it.”

“I’ve heard talk.”

“You’re not involved?”

“So far I’ve managed to stay away from the planning meetings. But I’ve been asked to play emcee for the formal presentation so I’ll be onstage with all the local dignitaries.”

“Wow. I’m impressed.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, really. Though, all things considered, it was nice to be asked.”

“Considering what things?” He immediately held up his hand. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be nosy.”

“No, it’s okay.” She focused on her salad, seeming to choose her words with care. “I haven’t always gotten along with Shelby. AJ either, to be honest. Surely your aunt told you about the lawsuit.”

“What lawsuit?”

“Tess really didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

Amy put down her fork, though she hadn’t eaten more than a bite or two.

“Everyone else around here knows, so you may as well too. Before Misty Willow was protected by the foundation, AJ leased it to Shelby. I had other plans for the property so”—she bit her lip and looked him square in the eyes—“I sued them.”

Gabe stared at her in disbelief. “You sued your cousin? And his wife?”

“She wasn’t his wife then. Anyway, all has been forgiven, and to show that to the world, we’ll all be onstage together. One big happy family.”

At least now he knew what Tess wasn’t telling him. She probably hadn’t wanted to say anything else negative about Amy.

“What about you?” she asked. “Will you be at the ‘big shindig’?”

“Looks that way. Tess has an old stagecoach stored in one of the barns. If it’s in good enough shape, we’ll use it to take guests from the house back to the creek.” He proudly poked his chest with his thumb. “You’re looking at the driver.”

“You’re kidding.” This time, her interest appeared genuine, and her bemused smile revealed a slight dimple near her jaw. “A real stagecoach?”

“Are you interested in riding shotgun?” he teased, then held his breath waiting for her answer. Fear and doubt flickered across her face. The doubt he could understand. She probably didn’t want him to think she was interested in him. But what was she afraid of?