Grace unpacked the last three boxes in the stockroom. The grand opening was in nine days, and then Sweet Tea would be in business.

Rachel and Scarlett Jo had been working nonstop with her to get the shop ready. Grace loved what they had produced. There was nothing Victorian about the place, nothing smelling of mothballs or dust. The atmosphere was vibrant and alive, just like Grace was starting to feel inside.

One small thing kept gnawing at her, though. She couldn’t get Zach Craig out of her mind. She had avoided him for the last two weeks. He seemed to be avoiding her too, and that was probably good, but it still made her sad.

Zach was the kind of man she desired. Well, the man he was becoming was the kind of man she desired. The trouble was, he was married, albeit unhappily. He didn’t need her as a distraction, and she didn’t need him as one either. She shook her head at the thought and put a white teapot and teacup with the Sweet Tea logo up on the shelf with the others. And that was when the horrific crash happened.

Grace and Rachel came running from opposite doors—Grace from the stockroom and Rachel from the office, both headed toward the front of the store where the crashing noise had come from.

“I’m going to kill her,” Rachel said. “I swear that woman has broken more stuff. You’re going to run out of inventory before opening day.”

“I should probably quit letting her carry breakables,” Grace said as she followed Rachel.

“You think?” Rachel snapped.

As they entered the front of the store, the sun illuminated the beautiful toile-patterned walls, the antique red armoire that sat behind the beadboard hostess stand, the shelves of delicate teacups and teapots. Scarlett Jo stood in the center of it all as if she were glued to the pink-and-white tile beneath her. Shards of several bone-china cups lay forgotten around her feet.

“Scarlett Jo, why can’t you keep from breaking stuff?” Rachel scolded. “Can’t you make it through one day without your hands dropping something or your chest knocking something over or those hips of yours bumping into something? Just one day? I swear . . .”

Scarlett Jo wasn’t listening. She just stared out the window toward the street, where Fred, the window cleaner, was standing. Grace had hired him to do the windows before the store opened. She’d felt it was worth the investment. But Fred wasn’t cleaning at the moment. He too stood frozen in place, his eyes locked on Scarlett Jo.

Moving closer, Grace noticed that Scarlett Jo’s hands were shaking violently. Tears flowed down her face. But she remained motionless, her eyes glued on Fred.

Then, in an instant, Fred was gone. Grace grabbed one of Scarlett Jo’s arms, and Rachel grabbed the other. “Scarlett Jo, sit. Baby, sit.” They maneuvered her over to a chair, and Scarlett Jo slowly sank into it. A soft cry came from her lips, and her tears flowed like a leak from a broken faucet.

“What is it?” Rachel asked. “What happened?”

Grace patted her leg. “Was it Fred?”

Scarlett Jo looked up at Grace, her eyes wide. “Fred.” The name came out in a whisper.

Grace turned to Rachel. “Go call Jackson. Then get her some water.”

Rachel ran from the room, and Grace knelt beside her friend. “Do you know him—the man at the window?”

Scarlett Jo nodded.

“Can you tell me about it?”

Scarlett Jo shook her head.

“You’re scaring me a little, honey. Has Fred hurt you or something?”

Scarlett Jo bit her lip, and that painful cry seeped out again.

“Okay. It’s okay,” Grace told her. “Rachel is calling Jackson, and we’ll get him to take you home.”

Rachel came around the corner with the water. “Jackson’s on his way. He was at Zach Craig’s office for some—”

Before she finished her sentence, Jackson and Zach rushed through the front door. Jackson ran over and knelt beside Scarlett Jo. “Hey, baby doll, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Scarlett Jo looked at Jackson, her blue eyes still streaming with tears. She nodded slowly.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

Her words came out in a pained whisper. “It was . . . Fred. He was here.”

Jackson glanced at Grace, and his jaw twitched. Obviously he knew who Fred was—and wasn’t happy about Fred being there. He stood and took Scarlett Jo by the arm. “Okay, honey. It’s okay. Let me just get you home.”

Jackson looked at Zach when he finally got Scarlett Jo to her feet. “Make Grace lock the door.”

Grace stood too. “Jackson, what is it?”

Jackson turned to her. “It’ll be okay. She just needs to get home right now.”

“Okay. Sure.”

Jackson and Scarlett Jo walked out of the building. Zach turned toward Grace, deep concern on his face. “Grace, who is Fred?”

She felt flustered. “He’s just a guy. He washes windows.”

Rachel interjected. “She hired him to get them clean before the opening.”

Zach started toward the door. “I’m going to see if I can find him. What’s his last name?”

Grace followed, shaking her head. She knew it. She just couldn’t remember it. “I don’t know . . . It’s—” she searched her memory—“like a country singer.”

Rachel left the room and came back. “Here, Zach. This is his card.”

“I’ve never seen Scarlett Jo like that,” Grace murmured, tears now coming to her eyes. “I don’t understand what happened. One minute—”

Rachel just stood there. “Whatever it is, it’s got to be bad.”

“I’ve got to go now. I’ll be back later. But you lock this door. Both doors. Lock up tight and then go stay in the back.”

Grace protested. “Zach, that’s ridiculous. He’s a window—”

“Grace, don’t argue with me!” His hands were on her shoulders, his eyes anguished and urgent. “You’ve got to do what I said. Lock this door. If anything happened—”

He stopped himself. “Lock the door, Grace.” Then he was gone.

Grace didn’t move. She just stared at the door. Finally Rachel walked up from behind her and twisted the lock. Then she turned to Grace.

“Something strange is going on around here. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to find out—starting with you and Zach Craig. Grace, I saw the way he looked at you. Are you going to deny it?”

Grace lowered herself into the chair Scarlett Jo had been sitting in and looked up into the eyes of her friend. A friend she had shared everything with. Until . . . well, until Zach.

Scarlett Jo drank an entire glass of water before she came up for air. This was crazy. It couldn’t have been him. But it had to be. She would never forget that face. Those eyes. Those eyes . . .

“Are you sure it was him?”

She shook her head wildly and stomped her feet on the kitchen floor. “Jackson Newberry, do not ask me that again,” she said through her tears. Scarlett Jo was a soft soul. She wept easily at movies where dogs died or when her kids were sweet. But she rarely cried over her own pain. Now she couldn’t seem to stop. Seeing that man had dislodged something she thought was over. Dead. Dealt with.

“I’m sorry,” she said when the tears finally slowed. “It just seems so odd that he would be here. I mean, Mississippi is a long way from here.”

Her eyes suddenly widened as panic raced through her again. “What if he knew we were here, Jackson? What if he came here for me?”

His look made it clear he had already thought about this—which sent her fear soaring. Then he obviously realized what his expression had done to her. He pulled her into his arms. “Babe, that can’t be. I’m sure it isn’t like that. Maybe there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. But I can assure you, I’ll find out.”

She held tightly to his strong neck. She always felt safest in Jackson’s arms. He’d loved her back to life years ago. They had fought their way together through all of that pain. And they’d both thought it was behind them—until today. Until she saw his face in that window and all the fear returned—as real as the bile in her throat.

She released Jackson and ran for the bathroom. The sweets she had consumed that day were quickly expunged from her gut. She could only pray the fear would go with them.

The sun was getting low in the sky when Zach phoned Grace from outside her store. The front door opened, and Zach instinctively wrapped his arms around Grace. He noticed she was shaking. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“Did you find him?”

“Not yet.”

“Who is he, Zach?”

“I’m still not sure. Everyone I talk to says he has worked for them for the last six months and never done anything but clean windows really well.”

He heard the sound of someone clearing her throat, and Grace immediately removed herself from Zach’s arms. Rachel stood close by, her face stern.

“Hey, Rachel.” He nodded to her. “Listen, why don’t y’all close up shop for today and go home.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking home is good.” Rachel emphasized the word home. Zach figured she was making a point.

“I’ll check in with Jackson and see if I can get some more information. And if I need to go talk to some of my friends at the police station, I can.”

“You think he’s a criminal?” Grace asked.

“I think he’s something. Jackson was definitely worried for your safety, and he’s not prone to overreacting. He knows something about ol’ Fred the window washer.”

“My word.” Rachel shook her head. “Do we have to do background checks on everyone these days?”

Grace turned toward her friend. “Let’s go check on Scarlett Jo.”

“Grace, why don’t you just stay home tonight?” Zach asked. “Jackson has Scarlett Jo, it’ll be dark soon, and y’all don’t need to be out walking around.”

“Zach, I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl. I’ve lived virtually alone for a long time. I can handle walking up the street to check on my friend.”

Rachel put an arm around her. “I can take care of Grace. I pack.”

Zach let out a soft laugh. “Of course you do.” Rachel had been by Grace’s side from the moment they met. “Okay, well, be careful. And I’ll let you know what Jackson and I find out.”

Rachel looked directly into his eyes. “How about you call me, and I’ll tell Grace.”

He picked up on the note of protectiveness in her voice. Was he that obvious? He hadn’t even realized how deeply he cared about this woman until just now. But apparently his feelings were clear enough that Rachel noticed them. And clearly disapproved.

“We’ll let you know” was all he offered. Women had told him what to do for long enough.

Grace curled up beneath the covers. Miss Daisy was already snoring at the foot of her bed. That dog’s snores could rival a roomful of men after Sunday dinner. Usually Grace could sleep through the noise, but tonight she kept tossing and turning, thinking about everything that had happened that day and looking up multiple times to make sure she had activated the house security alarm. Each time, the red light blinked back the assurance she needed—until she had to look again.

When Rachel and Grace had walked over to the Newberrys’ earlier, Scarlett Jo had already gone to bed, but Jackson had said they could come see her tomorrow. Grace had insisted that he let them know if they could do anything, and he’d assured them he would. Rachel had been as worried as Grace was. The poor girl was crazy about Scarlett Jo, no matter how she talked about her.

But Scarlett Jo’s mysterious trauma wasn’t the only thing keeping Grace awake tonight. She pulled the sheet up around her neck and felt the ache in her soul. It was a deep-down kind of ache that hurt in places your fingers couldn’t touch and medicine couldn’t heal. Her heart was so torn, so confused.

She still loved Tyler—she knew that. Some days she missed him so much that it was all she could do not to find him, wrap her arms around him, and beg him to come home. At the same time she knew her life was better now. She treasured the peace, relished the deep undercurrent of excitement and anticipation that ran through this new era of her life. But she couldn’t help but be haunted by questions and worries.

Would she ever be loved again? Would she ever want to be loved . . . or touched? Could she ever be comfortable with another man? As broken as she and Tyler were, being with him still felt familiar. And it was all she had ever known because she had saved herself for him. Her wedding night had been the first time she had ever been intimate with a man. No man except Tyler had ever seen her naked—at least not since she was a child. Only he knew about the cellulite that all those glasses of sweet tea had contributed to. Would another man be able to handle that? And what about the stretch marks that she now bore, courtesy of her divorce? She had lost so much weight when it happened. And then, when the weight came back on, it had brought these new little white lines on her thighs. Who would love that?

Could Zach love that?

The thought came unbidden. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking about him, but she couldn’t seem to help it.

Zach had sat on the floor across from her and listened to her. He had shared his frustrations with her and encouraged her dreams. And he had been so worried about her today. His concern had really touched her.

Tyler used to leave the house with her in bed and the door unlocked. He’d go on the road for days and never think to ask if she was okay at home. She’d drive to work when it was still pitch-black night, and he’d never tell her to be careful. But today Zach had been petrified that something might happen to her. That kind of caring was utterly foreign to her—and so what her heart craved.

Tears flowed onto the pillow. At times the possibility of loving again seemed a world away. At other times she could practically feel it waiting to emerge, terrifying and exhilarating. She had so much healing left to do. And here was this man who was healing in all the same parts and places, who was becoming everything she longed to have. Yet he was in no way available.

Her sobs shook the bed. And she let them, hoping they would bring her that much closer to the other side of her pain.