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Haddie nodded, hugging her mother again. Scarlett gripped her tight and then set her down, giving her a smile as she grasped her hand. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Haddie said, but her smile slipped. “They won’t let me go back to that church now.”
“Well,” Scarlett said, giving her daughter’s hand a squeeze as they approached the door to the store. “We don’t need people who don’t believe in second chances, now do we?”
Scarlett squatted in front of Haddie and held her pinkie up and Haddie released a gust of breath that turned into a small grateful smile, looping their fingers together. “No, Mommy. We don’t,” she said. Scarlett nodded, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before standing.
A bell over the door jingled when Scarlett pulled it open and they both stepped into the dim interior of the relatively small store, a stand of paint samples directly to their left and a front desk to their right. A woman, who had been bent over something to the side of the counter, straightened, offering them a smile. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Grady’s”
“Thanks,” Scarlett said, stepping forward and catching sight of what was in the box. “Oh my goodness,” she practically squealed. “How old?”
“Six weeks,” the woman said. She looked at Haddie. “You wanna hold one?”
Haddie’s eyes grew wide with delight. “Can I, Mommy?” she asked, looking up at Scarlett.
Scarlett grinned. “Sure, if it’s okay.”
As the woman picked up a tiny orange kitten and handed it to Haddie, Scarlett glanced toward the back of the store where she heard the muffled sounds of what she thought was arguing, a male and a female voice rising and falling in urgent-sounding tones. She looked back to Haddie who took the kitten gently and then held it against her chest, delicately running a finger over the tiny head. Scarlett watched her, noting the pure, unguarded love on Haddie’s face, the fierceness of her mother’s love rising up inside her so suddenly, she almost gasped. Her girl was not a cruel child. She was pure and good, her spirit filled with gentleness. It was normal for children to question that which was different, but she hadn’t done it to be unkind. How could Scarlett have ever doubted that for even a moment?
The woman who had been smiling down at Haddie as she held the kitten, glanced up at Scarlett. “I’m sure you didn’t come in to hold kittens. What can I do for you?” she asked with a warm chuckle.
“I’m looking for Mason Grady. He was recommended for some potential remodeling work.”
“Oh sure. He’s back in his office.” She glanced toward the rear of the store, worry crossing her features. “Let me just give him a ring. What’s your name, honey?”
“Scarlett Lattimore.”
“I’m Sheila by the way.” She picked up the phone next to the register and dialed, turning away slightly. “Hey, Mason, someone’s here to see you. A Scarlett Lattimore.”
She paused, obviously listening. “Yeah, I know. Do you want me to . . . right, okay. Sure, I’ll tell her.” She hung up the phone. “He’ll just be a minute. He’s got a couple people back there now but he said they’re about done.”
“Great. Thanks.” She watched Haddie love on the kitten for another minute and then heard the sound of a door open and footsteps on the linoleum floor coming toward the front. She looked up as an attractive man with curly, light brown hair appearing to be in his mid-to-late twenties rounded the corner, followed by a younger, pretty dark-haired woman and . . . Deputy West. Her heart gave a strange twist. His eyes met hers and though his expression seemed placid, she swore she saw anger simmering in his mercurial eyes. Had his been the raised voice she heard from the back? Or had Mason Grady been the one yelling . . . and about what? Scarlett shook the questions off. It wasn’t any of her business and she really didn’t care.
“Ms. Lattimore?” the man who had to be Mason Grady asked, extending his hand. “I’m Mason Grady. I hear you’re looking for help with some renovations?”
She took the man’s hand and shook, noticing that his eyes were two different colors, one brown, one blue. “Uh, yes.” She glanced at Deputy West who had stopped and was standing off to the side watching them. “Deputy West,” she murmured.
A muscle jumped in his jaw, but he nodded. “Ms. Lattimore.” So they were back on more formal terms now. All right then. Strange, unreadable man.
The young woman had walked ahead of them and was holding the door open. Scarlett noticed she had a hairline scar above her lip as though she’d once had a cleft palate. It made her no less lovely. “You coming, Cam?” she asked, shooting Scarlett what could only be described as a hostile glare. That attitude, however? It definitely detracted. What the heck?
