CHAPTER FIVE

“HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?” EMILY SNAPPED OPEN TUESDAY’S EDITION of the Messenger and turned to page three. “Sara’s first article.”

“Is that today’s edition? I haven’t seen it yet,” Dan said eagerly.

She held the newspaper out to him and waited while he slipped on his reading glasses, which were almost identical to her own, she noticed with a secret smile. They were alone in Dan’s house, sitting in the family room, where she had found him working on his laptop.

Emily had already read the article but couldn’t resist reading it again, and their heads were bent close together as they each held one side of the paper.

Dan sat back first. “Not bad for a start. She managed to give McAllister credit without insulting the police department. That was tricky.”

“Not bad at all, I thought,” Emily countered, trying not to sound too proud of her daughter. “I saw Sara last night. She was worried it didn’t come out right. Wyatt made her rewrite it.”

Dan took off his glasses. “Good for him. The copy has been a little ragged since I left.”

“Really? I haven’t noticed any difference,” Emily teased him, with a smile. “Sara is so excited about this job, she could barely sit still last night. Thanks again for hiring her, Dan.”

“I didn’t do it as a favor to you, if that’s what you’re thinking. She got the job on her own merit. Which is what you really wanted to hear, right?” His warm, knowing smile distracted her.

“Well, yes,” she admitted. She looked away. He was getting to know her a little too well lately, she thought. She wasn’t used to this. Not with a man, anyway.

“How are you doing today?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I’m horrible. Haven’t you noticed?” he replied grumpily. “I wake up every morning, still surprised to find this hunk of plaster on my leg—and mad at myself for pulling such a stupid stunt. You’d think after all these years of sailing, I’d know better than to get knocked out by my own boom.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. It was just an accident. Sometimes things happen for a reason.”

What she really meant was: Sometimes God is trying to tell us something. In Dan’s case, maybe it was “Slow down, pal.” But she knew that Dan wasn’t a churchgoer. She also knew this was hardly the time to try to win him over in that direction.

“And what could that reason be?” he asked. “So I can watch more of the all-news channel or sit-com reruns? Catch up on my reading?”

“I don’t know.” She paused. “Maybe to give me someplace for lunch besides the Clam Box?”

She reached down next to the couch and picked up a picnic basket, then set it between them on the coffee table. She had discreetly stashed it there when she’d come in, while Dan was still distracted with his computer.

“You brought me lunch? Why, bless your heart.” He caught her eye with a look that gave her a fluttery feeling in her stomach. “You didn’t have to do that, Emily. I can get myself into the kitchen and fix a sandwich.”

“Yes, I know. But when I called and spoke to Lindsay before, she said no one would be home this afternoon, so I volunteered. I just hope the menu meets your current standards. No truffles involved,” she warned.

“No truffles necessary,” he assured her, with a laugh.

Emily spread a red-checkered cloth on the table, then took out some cold drinks, sandwiches, and chips. Dan chose the ham on rye, looking quite content.

He chewed for a moment, and his eyes grew wide. “Mmm, spicy mustard.”

Emily bit down on her lip to keep from laughing at his expression. “Too much for you?”

“No, not at all,” he mumbled, as he took a drink. “Just snuck up on me. I didn’t take you for the spicy type.”

She smiled and looked away. “You never know.”

As Emily started her sandwich, she suddenly noticed the time. “Mind if I put on channel five? Sophie Potter’s show is starting today.”

Dan looked puzzled. “Sophie’s on TV? When did that happen?”

“Dan, I’m surprised at you. That’s been in the works for a while.” Emily picked up the remote and found the right channel. The show hadn’t started yet; it was just a commercial.

“Some people from channel five came to film the Harvest Fair for the local news, and when they saw Sophie, they thought she’d be perfect for a new show they had in the works,” Emily explained. “You know, cooking and crafts, that sort of thing.”

“Sounds perfect for her. Sure, let’s watch.” Dan struggled to turn his wheelchair toward the TV, and Emily quickly rose to help.

“Here, I’ll do that,” she said. “The wheel got twisted, I think.” She rested her hand on his broad, hard shoulder a second, and he glanced up and met her eyes. She smiled back at him briefly then felt self-conscious and looked away.

As she stood behind him, she noticed his hair was actually more silver-gray than blond. It was still quite thick, too. He was lucky, she thought. Most men in their late forties would envy that. He needed a haircut, though; maybe that would be a good project for some future visit. She would have to remember to bring scissors sometime soon.

Then she caught herself. Was she letting herself get too involved? Too attached? She always knew her friendship with Dan could lead to something more. Maybe it was leading there already. But in a few weeks when Dan got his cast removed, where would that leave her? Emily wondered. With a heart full of feelings for a man moving quickly in the opposite direction?

As if sensing her conflicted thoughts, Dan suddenly glanced over his shoulder. “Anything wrong?” he asked.

“No.” Emily came around from behind his chair and sat down on the couch again. “It’s just that it’s getting late. I need to go back to the office soon. I’ll just watch for a few minutes.”

Avoiding Dan’s curious stare, she turned to the TV. Country-style fiddle music sounded, and the words A Yankee in the Kitchen flashed on the screen. The background was a sweeping shot of Potter Orchard and their grand old Queen Anne–style house. Then a pair of hands used a stencil and brush to add New England Cooking and Crafts. With Sophie Potter.

“Look, it’s the orchard,” Emily exclaimed. “I didn’t realize they were filming it right at the Potter place.”

Sophie appeared on the screen, standing on her porch with a basket of apples over one arm. “Hello, everyone, and welcome to our first show,” Sophie greeted her audience.

“Sophie! Yeah!” Emily cheered and clapped.

“Quiet down. I can’t hear a thing,” Dan said, with a laugh.

“I’m Sophie Potter and this is my husband, Gus.” Dressed in a flannel shirt, dungarees, and his ever-present red, white, and blue suspenders, Gus Potter put his arm around his wife’s shoulder, smiling so broadly, Emily was sure his face hurt.

“Look at Gus,” Dan said. “He looks likes he’s just about to burst at the seams with pride.”

“They’re so sweet together.”

“Yes, they are,” Dan agreed.

Still in love after decades, the Potters had the kind of relationship that seemed ideal—at least from the outside. Emily had once been madly in love with her own husband. But she and Tim had only been married two years when a fatal car accident turned her into a very young widow.

Would she and Tim have gone the distance, like the Potters? She had always thought so.

“This is our orchard in Cape Light, Massachusetts,” Sophie continued. The orchard was set on a bluff above the town, and the camera showed the magnificent view. “We pick peaches in summer and apples in fall. Then there’s a berry patch and honey from our bees,” Sophie added. “But as much as I love working outdoors, I love puttering around my kitchen even more.

“Come on in, folks.” Sophie beckoned her audience with an engaging grin, as the camera followed her into the kitchen. “Today I’m going to make Yankee Pot Roast, with seasonal vegetables. It’s easy,” she promised.

“Mmm, pot roast. My mother used to make it once a week when I was a kid,” Dan said.

If he’s looking for a cook, he’s got the wrong girl here, Emily thought with amusement.

Sophie tied apron strings around her ample waist. “Once we’ve got the roast going, I’ll show you how to make this lovely stenciled apron.” She held up the apron edge. “I’ve got little pineapples on mine, but you can choose any pattern you like. It’s a nice touch for curtains or a room border. And stenciling is a simple, economical way to decorate.” She grinned again and picked up a large bowl and a wooden spoon. “We’ll be right back after this commercial message, so don’t go away!”

An advertisement for stain-removal spray came on. Emily and Dan sat back and looked at each other. Then they both started laughing.

“She’s a natural. Good old Sophie Potter. I can’t quite believe it,” Dan said, shaking his head.

“She’s wonderful,” Emily agreed. “What a big day for her and Gus. I’m going to send her some flowers. If this show works out, I guess they’ll be able to keep the orchard.”

“I knew Gus had some health problems, but I didn’t know things had gotten that bad,” Dan said, looking concerned. “In that case, I’ll tune in every day to help her ratings.”

“Somehow I’m having trouble imagining you stenciling little pineapples on the wall, Dan.”

“If it comes to that, you’ll know I’ve really gone off the deep end,” he said, with a sigh.

She laughed at him then glanced at her watch. “Gee, it’s getting late. I have to get back to the office.”

“Oh, that’s right. You are the mayor. I almost forgot.” The warmth in his blue eyes and soft smile kept her rooted to the spot. At that moment she wished she could forget and stay longer. “So, how is everything at the Village Hall?” he added. “Any good news stories brewing?”

“You forget, you’re not in the business anymore,” she reminded him.

“I’m too old to learn any new tricks now. I’ll always be curious about politics. What’s going on with that federal grant you applied for? Did the money come through for the Emergency Response Program?”

“Looks like we got it, but there’s some red tape. It seems that the funds have to go through the county first. If that happens, the village may never see the money.”

“And you’ll have a lot of irate voters asking why the town isn’t better equipped for emergencies. One of your campaign promises, as I recall.”

“Exactly,” she replied. “It’s not just because of the storm last fall. I had people asking me about it all over again after Digger’s rescue. The village does need more equipment and manpower for emergencies, and I thought this grant would be the answer. Now it might just end up a big embarrassment for me.”

“Those county commissioners can be pretty slippery,” Dan acknowledged. “But I’m sure you can handle them. Have you met with them yet?”

“I’m on their agenda for next week’s meeting. I’m going to bring Warren Oakes with me. Having a lawyer along might help.”

“Good idea.” Dan nodded in approval. “I’ll be thinking of you. Let me know how it goes.”

“Okay, I will,” Emily agreed, closing up the picnic basket.

“Thanks again for dropping by—and for the picnic.”

“No problem.” Emily finally stood up and picked up her coat. “It was fun.”

“Absolutely. You made my day,” he replied, gazing steadily into her eyes and making her feel self-conscious all over again.

She picked up her purse and the basket. “Take care of yourself, Dan,” she called over her shoulder.

“See you soon,” he answered. An unmistakable note of longing in his voice followed her through the empty house.

Out in her car, she still wondered about it. Was he just sorry to see a visitor go, being left alone with nothing to do? Or did he really want to spend more time with her?

She wanted to see more of him; she knew that much. It was risky to get more involved. That was also true. But when she was with Dan, her doubts seemed to fade away, and she simply felt happy. Maybe it was good for her to have some romance in her life after all these years, even for a short time, she reasoned. Maybe Dan would change his mind about his trip.

After all, anything could happen. So I’ll keep seeing Dan, she decided, and follow these feelings wherever it is they lead me. She turned onto Main Street, heading for Village Hall, hoping she was making the right decision.

SARA CHECKED OVER THE COPY WYATT HAD ASKED HER TO PROOF-READ, then carried it back to his desk. He was talking on the phone, so she waited for him to finish. It was two minutes to five.

Though she’d never been a clock-watcher, she was eager to leave, so she could get ready for her date with Luke.

Her second day on the job had gone somewhat more smoothly than the first. Wyatt had given her two press releases from the state government and asked her to work them up into stories. One was about a statewide rise in real estate value and the other about local levels of air pollution. He had made her revise her copy again, but at least this time, she felt more confident about fixing it.

Finally, Wyatt hung up, and she handed him her work. “Here’s the copy you gave me. I only found a few typos.”

“Thanks.” He put the pages aside. “I have a little problem tonight, Sara. That was Jane. She’s stuck in Southport. Her car broke down. She won’t be back in time to cover the tree lighting tonight, and I have to go to the county seat for a seven o’clock meeting. So can you cover the tree lighting for us?”

“Uh, when does it start?” Not the best answer for her second day on the job when she wasn’t exactly wowing her boss. But she was worried about her date with Luke.

“It’s starts at seven. I’m sure it will just be the usual: the high-school choir singing carols and a speech by the mayor. The whole business will be over by eight,” Wyatt guaranteed.

Eight? Probably more like eight-thirty or nine, she thought. Luke planned to pick her up at seven.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I have plans. I’m supposed to go out. With a friend,” Sara added hastily, not knowing why she felt obliged to describe her date in that way.

“Oh, I see. You couldn’t meet up with your friend a little later or something?” he asked. “You don’t need to come back and write this up for tomorrow’s edition. I’ll put it in on Thursday.”

The look of disappointment on Wyatt’s face made her feel guilty and as if it wasn’t very savvy to have refused.

“Okay, give me a few minutes. I’ll see what I can do,” she said finally. Wyatt smiled, looking relieved and grateful. Also very handsome, she realized. He was wearing a black sweater that made his eyes seem an even darker shade of blue.

“You’re a pal, Sara. I knew you’d come through for me.”

“That’s all right,” she said, turning to walk back to her desk. Wyatt was quite charming when he needed to be she thought, as she dialed Luke’s number.

Luke picked up right away. He sounded surprised but pleased to hear from her. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m okay, but I have a little problem about tonight.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Are you standing me up?” His joking tone barely disguised his disappointment.

“No, not at all. I mean, I still want to get together. It’s just that Wyatt asked me to cover the tree lighting tonight at the green. It’s sort of an emergency. I was wondering if we could have dinner after? It should be over by eight or so.”

Luke didn’t answer, and his silence made her nervous. She already knew that when he got quiet like this, it wasn’t a good sign. Then she felt annoyed. She’d just started at the paper. He knew how important this job was to her. He really ought to understand.

“I’ll go with you,” he offered, surprising her. “Unless you would rather I didn’t,” he added quickly. “I don’t want to make you nervous while you’re working or something.”

“You won’t. But it’s going to be really corny,” she warned.

“I can handle corny. Once a year, I mean,” he said seriously, making her laugh. “We can grab a bite in town after you’re done. It will probably be too late to go up to Newburyport.”

“I guess it will. Maybe next time,” she added hopefully.

“Right, next time.” He didn’t sound mad. More like mildly let down. Sara bit the end of her pencil, wondering if she had done the right thing.

“Why don’t we meet at the green?” Sara said. “I’ll wait up front, about a quarter to seven?”

Luke agreed, and they hung up.

Sara sensed Wyatt watching her, but when she turned he quickly glanced down at the work on his desk again. “I just spoke to my friend and changed our plans,” she told him. “I can cover the tree-lighting ceremony.”

“Great.” He smiled, looking pleased. “Get some pictures—maybe one of the mayor or Santa. Or maybe the mayor and Santa together,” he added, sounding excited by his inspiration.

Sara had to smile. She had only worked for him for two days, but already she found the way Wyatt got excited about news stories funny, in an almost endearing way.

“The mayor and Santa.” She took her coat and scarf off the rack. “I’ll try not to miss that one.”

“Thanks. And have a good time with your . . . friend,” he said carefully.

Sara wondered if he had listened in on her conversation and guessed she had a date. She slung her long, striped muffler around her neck and pulled open the door. Well, what of it? It wasn’t like Wyatt was interested in her or anything. . . . Was he?

No, he was only “managing” you, she told herself, being extra nice so you’d do the story.

And it worked, she realized, laughing at herself.

SARA ARRIVED AT THE VILLAGE GREEN AT SIX-THIRTY. THE SEATS SET UP in front of the bandstand were already filled, with more people streaming into the park. It was a cold, clear night, and a pale crescent moon hung above the tall trees. The starry points of light that dotted the dark blue sky seemed to be reflected in the scattered lights out in the harbor.

A line of eager children and their parents gathered near the park’s entrance, where volunteers were giving out free candy canes and cups of hot chocolate. Sara nearly laughed aloud, seeing how some of the younger kids were bundled up within an inch of their lives, only their small, surprised-looking faces showing through the mounds of winter clothing. They stared around, wide-eyed, searching the crowd for Santa, no doubt.

She picked up her camera, kneeled down, and took a quick shot of some children pointing up at the tree. A spotlight on the stage illuminating their faces gave just the right touch, she thought. She hoped it would come out.

“There you are. Hard at work already.” Sara stood up and found Luke smiling at her. “This is some crowd. I didn’t realize there would be so many people here.”

“The whole town, it looks like,” she agreed. “But we have special seats, right up front. Being a part of the press has its privileges, you know.”

“Lead the way,” he said, grinning at her.

They found their reserved seats at the end of the front row. On sheets of paper taped to the backs of the chairs, “Press” was written in black marker.

Luke smiled at her again, as they sat down. “Gee, I feel important, like a VIP or something,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize there would be such perks, taking you out on a date.”

Sara glanced at him, feeling another twinge of guilt for her change of plans. It was sweet of him to be willing to go along with this.

The program was just as Wyatt predicted. First Emily said a few words to open the event. Sara took notes, feeling a little strange reporting on her birth mother. It was just a tree lighting tonight, she realized. What would she do if she had to cover Emily on a more controversial story?

The high-school chorus sang “God Bless America,” and then a woman named Vera Herbert was introduced as the local Volunteer of the Year, a distinction that seemed to qualify her as official tree lighter. Vera spoke for a few minutes about visiting shut-in seniors and how her volunteer work gave her the feeling of Christmas all year round.

Then Vera pulled the switch, and a collective sigh rose from the crowd. The tree really was beautiful, Sara thought. It towered over the gathering, covered with lights and red ribbons, a glittering star at its very top. The audience cheered and clapped. Luke even let out a low whistle—the type he reserved mainly for sporting events, Sara guessed. The high-school chorus began singing “O Christmas Tree,” and everyone joined in.

Sara felt a little misty eyed for some strange reason and blinked. Luke glanced at her and laughed, then he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug.

“What’s the matter, got a lump in your throat?”

She pressed her head into his shoulder and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Me, too. Silly, right?” he whispered against her hair. She nodded again, and he held her even closer. They swayed back and forth in time with the music as they sang. Sara had never heard Luke sing before. He had a good voice, smooth and low. It felt good being close to him like this. She was suddenly very glad he was here with her tonight.

The next song was “Jingle Bells,” which cheered her, and by the time the chorus sang “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” Sara had fully recovered from her bout of mushiness and had both her notebook and camera up and running again.

She heard a fire-truck siren in the distance, and Emily stepped up to the microphone again. “Oh, my goodness!” The mayor gasped. “Who in the world could that be?”

The crowd shouted back the answer in a deafening roar.

“Santa Claus?” Emily asked in mock amazement. “You mean the real Santa Claus? Coming here? To Cape Light? No, it couldn’t be!”

“Yes, he is!” the children yelled back, as the fire truck cruised down a lane blocked off with orange traffic cones and then rolled up to the front of the stage.

Santa waved, then hopped onto the stage and took the microphone. “Ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas!” he greeted the crowd.

“It’s the big red guy, all right. I guess Emily didn’t note the meeting in her appointment book,” Luke commented dryly.

Sara laughed then handed him her knapsack and notebook. “Can you hold these a minute? I need to get some pictures.”

She dove into the crowd that now pressed against the bandstand and started clicking away. The next few minutes passed in a blur, as she dodged the treats Santa and his helpers were tossing out to the children.

Sara struggled to get a good photo of the mayor and Santa, as Emily told Santa that all of the children in their town were very well behaved and most deserving of gifts this year. Finally, their surprise visitor jumped back on the fire truck and headed back to the North Pole.

Sara glanced around for Luke and finally spotted him waiting at the side of the stage. She caught up to him, and he took her hand in a strong grip, leading her out of the crowd.

Finally, they were on Main Street. Luke didn’t let go of her hand, she noticed, and she didn’t really want him to.

“Should we try the Beanery?” he asked, when they came to the corner. “I hear they serve dinner now.”

“Sounds good,” Sara replied.

The café’s style was a bit trendy for Cape Light, more like a place you’d find in the city. Still, the place had caught on. Tonight Sara and Luke had to wait a few minutes for a table.

“Here’s your knapsack,” Luke said, handing it to her as they sat down. “I put the notebook inside.”

“Thanks,” Sara said, taking it from him. “And thanks for coming with me tonight. I hope it wasn’t too boring.”

“It wasn’t a problem. I liked watching you work,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half smile.

Sara didn’t know what to say. She looked down at the table and spread her napkin over her lap. “Speaking of my work, what did you think of the interview? Was it okay?”

He hadn’t said a word about the interview, and she had wondered all day if something in the article upset him.

“It was great. I clipped a copy and sent it to my mom.”

“Did you really?” she asked, with a laugh.

He nodded. “You almost overdid it on the hero angle,” he added, glancing at her with his eyes slightly narrowed. “But it could have been worse.”

“Well . . . thanks, I think.”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m really proud of you, Sara. You’re out there, writing, doing what you love to do. And you’re really good at it.”

His praise made her feel suddenly shy. “It’s just a little job on a small-town paper. It’s not exactly the New York Times.”

“There aren’t too many people around here who could do it, whether you think so or not. I couldn’t,” he countered.

“Well, to hear my new boss tell it, he’s not so sure yet I can do it, either,” she replied.

“Really? What do you mean?” Luke looked surprised.

“He hated the first draft of my interview with you. He put so many marks on it, I could hardly see the text. Then today, the same thing. I had to rewrite an article—twice.” Her voice dropped as she confessed her worst thoughts. “I think Wyatt’s sorry Dan hired me but feels sort of stuck with me now.”

“Maybe he’s just being tough on you because you’re new.”

“That’s what Lindsay, his sister, said. It feels more like it’s because I’m a bad writer, though,” she admitted. “Reporting is different from the type of writing I did in college. I only took one journalism course,” she added miserably. “I just hope I get the hang of it before Wyatt fires me or something.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Luke soothed her. “You’ll pick it up. If he gives you too much trouble, just let me know. I’ll have a little talk with him,” he said in a joking “tough guy” tone.

“Don’t be silly.” Sara felt herself finally smiling again. Luke was the protective type. When she first met him, it had unnerved her. She was used to being completely independent. But gradually, she came to appreciate knowing that if she needed help, Luke was there for her.

Sara looked down at their hands joined together and thought back to the first time they met. Luke had come into the diner last spring, her first night on the job. He was so distant, she’d almost been afraid of him. Yet, something in his hesitant smile and offbeat sense of humor had touched her, even then. Maybe she had sensed that under his defenses, he was really just hurt and trying to heal. Trying to find his way, just like she was. Now she knew that she’d been right about him all along. He was a good person—a wonderful person. She was lucky to have him come into her life when he did.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She pressed her palm flat against his larger one. “You’ve got some impressive calluses here from all the construction work.”

“Sam says we won’t be able to work outside much longer. It’s getting colder, and soon there will be too much snow.”

“What will you do all winter?”

“There’s indoor work—wiring, drywall, that kind of stuff. And those courses I told you about. I think I’m going to audit some classes at the community college, just to start.”

“Sounds good,” Sara said, impressed at his commitment.

Then she thought of Luke on a college campus, meeting so many new people—so many attractive, single women—and felt a prick of worry. What if he met someone else and forgot about her? But that was silly. Luke wouldn’t just disappear with the first attractive woman he met. Besides, it wasn’t as if there was anything really serious between them, yet. He was free to see whomever he liked. And so was she.

An image of Wyatt flashed in her mind, making her feel guilty and then confused. She didn’t even like the guy. He either treated her like furniture or insulted her writing—unless he wanted a special favor, and then he poured on the charm. Why am I even thinking about him? she wondered.

A waitress took their orders, and Sara sat back, slowly letting go of Luke’s hand. The candlelight flickered over his strong features. He was good-looking, she thought, in a rough-around-the-edges way that she found extremely attractive. She didn’t need to give Wyatt a second glance. Not that way, anyway.

They enjoyed the rest of their dinner. Sara told Luke more about her visit to Maryland, and Luke described his Thanksgiving meal at Lillian’s house.

“ ‘Now I heard you were shot in the head? Is that true, Mr. McAllister?’ ” Luke quoted, doing a perfect imitation of Lillian’s imperious tone.

“Oh, no! She didn’t really say that, did she?” Sara asked, flabbergasted. She laughed and covered her mouth with her hand.

“That wasn’t even the worst of it. Ezra finally accused her of ‘incurable rudeness’ or something like that,” he replied. “I wasn’t sure if Emily was going to keel over in shock or cheer.”

“Cheer, probably,” Sara guessed, still laughing.

Finally, it was time to go. Sara hadn’t realized how late it was—past midnight. Luke walked her to her car, which was parked near the café. “I’ll follow you home,” he offered.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine,” she said. Cape Light was so crime-free, some people didn’t even lock their doors. She never worried about being out alone, even at this hour.

“I’ll follow you home and walk you to your door. Just humor me, okay?” Luke said evenly.

Reluctantly she agreed, thinking his past had made him overly protective. But when she parked on Clover Street and saw Luke’s SUV pull up behind her, she did feel watched over and cared for, as if she was important to him.

Sara’s apartment was part of a large Victorian that had once been a single-family house. Her entrance was at a side door on the wraparound porch. Luke met her on the porch steps. The night had grown colder, and their breath mingled in frosty clouds that hung in the air.

At her door she turned and looked up at him. “I had a great time. Thanks again for dinner—and for the tree lighting.”

“You’re very welcome—for all of the above.” He smiled at her and reached out to touch her hair. Then with both his hands gently framing her face, his head moved toward her, and their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss.

“Sara . . .” he whispered against her hair. After a moment, he pulled back, his arms looped loosely around her waist. “Can I see you this weekend? We can catch a movie or something.”

“That would be great,” she said breathlessly.

“I’ll call you. You’d better go inside. I don’t want to wake up your landlord.”

“It is late,” she agreed. Still, it was hard to let him go. Finally, she turned and went inside.

Sara locked her front door and stood there a moment in the dark. She felt herself smile, thinking about the way Luke had kissed her. They had kissed before, once or twice. But never like that. This time had been different somehow.

Something mysterious and exciting was brewing between them. Sara turned away from the door and headed to her bedroom.

If her relationship with Luke was a book, she could hardly wait to turn the page and see what happened next.